Three Irish Brothers: A Reverse Harem Romance (Quick & Dirty Book 1) Page 6

  Is this what Savannah was talking about? Is this what she wants him to show me?

  “Did you design this?” I ask, my voice soft, full of the wonder I feel.

  “Yeah,” Fionn says. His voice is stiff. Hesitant. Like he doesn’t want to admit it to me.

  I turn towards Fionn and look at him, really look at him.

  His stance is defensive, his hands in fists by his sides. I can see that he’s ready to fight back.

  He thinks I’m going to disapprove.

  Because you always disapprove, a voice sounding incredibly like Savannah’s says in my head.

  Suddenly I hate myself. I hate that I’ve done this to us. I hate what we’ve become.

  But after years of building myself up as the stoic head of the household, how do I become anything else? After years of making Fionn the irresponsible one, how do I give him room to be anything else?

  How do I bend? Soften? Change?

  How do I say sorry?

  I don’t know, but I want to try.

  “You started building it?” I ask, genuine curiosity in my voice.

  Fionn blinks at me. Once. Twice. “No. I don’t have all the materials I need.”

  “You know…” I say slowly, testing out the raw softness in my voice, a voice I haven’t used in too long with Fionn, “I’ve been thinking that we need a new milking parlor.”

  Fionn flinches. His mouth flies open, then he shuts it. “You…have?”

  I point to the plans. “With the way you have it angled, we can fit a larger group of cows to be milked at any one time.”

  Fionn’s eyes brighten. “Exactly!”

  He starts to talk at a rapid pace, his hands moving across the plans like lightning. Pointing out all the design features, the improvements, the efficiencies, all things that will either save us time, money or both.

  I stare at my brother as if he’s become a stranger. I’ve never seen him so animated, so full of purpose. He’s in his element here. Here. Not doing menial chores like I’ve had him do all this time.

  I thought I knew everything there was to know about him. I thought I knew my brother. My own flesh and blood.

  I was wrong.

  “I wonder how much you’d need to build it?” I muse out loud when he’s done.

  “I’ve actually already costed it.” Fionn walks over to a bench and grabs a sheet of paper.

  Now it’s my turn to blink at him. “You…have?”

  Fionn gives me a look as he returns to my side. “You’re not the only one good with spreadsheets and numbers, you know?”

  He hands me the large sheet of paper, actually two stapled together. On the first is a neat table detailing materials, dimensions, calculations for wastage and estimated costs for his parlor.

  On the next page is a forecast of cost savings after the new machine is installed, calculating the payback on investment and increased profits thereafter.

  Well, I’ll be damned.

  It’s a no-brainer. This machine is a good investment.

  I stare at the final cost estimate. We could do it. We have enough in savings to take this calculated risk.

  Fionn did this. He did this himself.

  Pride surges through me. I want nothing more than to grab my brother and pull him into a hug. To hold him close. I want to whisper into his ear how fucking proud I am of him.

  But my limbs feel too heavy to move.

  “If you get the money today,” I say instead, “how quickly can you get it built?”

  Fionn’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

  I nod. “It’s a great design. The financials make sense. It would help me. Us. Help the farm, I mean.”

  For a long moment Fionn just stares at me. I shift my weight, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence.

  He launches at me, wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug that almost knocks me off my feet.

  “I promise,” Fionn says in my ear, his voice all tight, “I won’t waste a single nail. Not a single inch of steel. Not a single cent. It’ll be the best fucking parlor you’ve ever seen.”

  I clasp him back, my chest growing lighter.

  “I know it will, Langer.” I use his nickname from childhood, a country Irish slang that basically means Dick, a name I haven’t called him since we were boys.

  He laughs and shoves me off him before punching my arm. “Thanks, shithead.”

  We grin at each other like we did when we were kids. When we used to run wild over the grounds of the farm, getting into the most horrendous scrapes together.

  For the first time in a long time, I start to feel…hope. Like maybe we’re going to save this farm. And maybe I don’t have to do all of this on my own.

  Savannah

  I’m pacing in a grove of trees, waiting. From here I have a clear view of the shed and the main farmhouse. I keep stopping, staring at the shed in the back garden, wondering how Fionn and Killian’s conversation is going.

  My stomach is in knots. I know they love each other. It breaks my heart to see both of them acting so distant and hateful towards each other. I don’t even know why I care so much about the brothers’ relationship.

  Finally Killian exits the work shed. I squint at him walking back to the house, trying to see whether he looks happy or not. Did he like Fionn’s idea? Did he approve?

  God knows. Killian has such a stoic look about him all the time. He has a serious case of resting bitchface. One that would rival a New York model starving on a crash diet of black coffee and cigarettes before fashion week.

  It’s only when Killian is safely out of sight that I sprint to the shed and tumble in.

  Fionn is standing in front of his plans. He turns towards me as I shut the shed door behind me.

  “So?” I ask, my heart in my throat.

  Fionn’s face breaks out into a smile. “He thinks it’s a great idea.”

  I let out a squeal as I run and throw myself against his chest. I wrap my arms around him and bury my nose into his neck. “I’m so glad.”

  He squeezes me against him. I can feel the power in his hard body, the strength in his arms, the roughness of his hands. My entire body ignites, an ache flaring in my core.

  I don’t just like Fionn. I want him. I want him badly.

  Can he tell? Can he feel the heat in my skin? The electricity flowing through my body at his nearness?

  He pulls back just enough so he’s looking into my eyes. Our faces inches away. My breath hitches, his breath hot on my cheeks.

  “It’s all thanks to you, Savannah.”

  I flush, squirming under his intense stare. “I didn’t do any—”

  His lips crash down on mine, cutting me off.

  Our mouths part and our tongues dance. I let out a soft moan as his arms crush me further against him. I love his calloused hands, worn from honest work, rough with healing cuts from building things. They slip under my shirt and run splayed across my back, the touch sending a thrill down my spine.

  My hands run across his broad shoulders and down his defined arms. I’m hungry for him. Hungry to explore every inch of his hard, muscled body with my fingers, my lips, my tongue.

  Kisses never felt like this with Theo. Never.

  Oh my God.

  Fionn is kissing me.

  My boss is kissing me.

  I can’t let this happen again, I—

  Fionn pushes down my top to reveal a breast and lowers his head to lick the tip of my nipple. Then he sucks it, hard. The sensation rips through my body like wildfire. All my inner protests dissipate into dust.

  I am in. All the way.

  I am need.

  I need Fionn like I need air.

  And I want to be needed the way that Fionn needs me.

  My hands run down his beautiful body, thrills going down my spine at the hard ridges of his muscles under his shirt. That wide, firm chest, that six-pack. I can’t wait to see it, to see him in his full naked glory. I can’t wait to touch every single part of him. To lick every single inch.


  I run my hand across the growing bulge in his jeans. He growls, the vibrations traveling into my mouth and down my spine. Oh God. He’s huge. And so hard already. Need surges through me so hard it hurts.

  In the distance, I hear Killian’s voice calling out for Aiden.

  The sound is like hot water against ice. I break the kiss, sucking in breath, and push against Fionn’s chest. He lets go of me and I stumble back, the cold air rushing between us.

  What the hell am I doing?

  I just left my fiancé, my ex-boss.

  Fionn is my new boss. And I was about to get naked with him in a goddamn shed, for Christ’s sake.

  I stare at Fionn. He looks just as shocked as I am. Just as confused.

  “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

  He’s sorry. Sorry for kissing me. I’m standing here with my tit still hanging out and he’s fucking sorry.

  The rejection rips through me. This hurts more than seeing Theo with C.C.

  Why did I kiss him back? Why did I act so fucking desperate? So needy? One kiss from him and I was ready to offer up my body. This was a mistake. A big one.

  I yank my shirt back into place, trying to keep the tears at bay. I turn on my heel and flee the shed, ignoring Fionn calling out after me.

  Killian

  There’s a place where I go to think. When the day has gotten too much.

  It’s a treehouse nestled in the edge of the small crop of trees in the back garden. Silly and sentimental, really.

  I flinch when I see that there’s already a person sitting up here. A person with long blond curls that tumble down her back looking like Rapunzel.

  Savannah is sitting cross-legged on the small balcony.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice coming out gruffer than I intend.

  She turns her head and flushes when she sees me. “Killian. Hey. I didn’t think anyone else came here.”

  I pause at the top of the ladder, my head sticking up through the trap door. I’m slightly annoyed that my spot is taken. But I can’t seem to raise the energy to tell her to leave.

  “Sorry, I wouldn’t have thought that this was your spot,” she says.

  I shrug. “It’s quiet. The other boys never come here.”

  She makes to get up. “I’ll go.”

  “No,” I blurt out. “Stay. You were here first. I’ll go.” I go to lower myself down a rung.

  “Maybe we could both stay?”

  I pause. “Both of us? Here?” In this cramped treehouse?

  She winces. “I promise I won’t say a word.” She makes a motion as if she’s locking her mouth shut. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

  That wasn’t why I was worried. I can’t admit out loud that the thought of being in close quarters with her, just her, unnerves me.

  With great hesitation, I pull myself out of the trap door and shuffle forward into the space next to her. She uncrosses her legs to give me more room.

  She’s close. Too close. So close our shoulders are brushing, her proximity creating a strange heat. Like I’m sitting next to a radiator. Even if she were painted to match the treehouse, I’d know she was here.

  Why is she here? Why is she hiding? Or…from whom?

  Fionn didn’t come to dinner earlier. I noticed that Savannah was really quiet. Distracted. Did they have a fight? Was she upset that Fionn wasn’t there? Or does she not feel comfortable around anyone else? I feel a stab of something odd in my gut before shoving it aside.

  I let out a huge breath and stare out the treehouse to the fields beyond. From up here I can see most of the farm. Usually I like the view. It reminds me of what I’m working for.

  Today it just reminds me of all I have to lose.

  I look down, unable to keep my gaze outside. I see our legs hanging out the edge of the small balcony.

  She’s wearing a set of denim shorts. Her thighs are about half the width of mine, tanned, toned and smooth. I wonder if her skin is soft. I wonder if those inner thighs of hers are sensitive. If she likes being touched behind the knee.

  When I look up, I find her watching me. Shit. She’s caught me staring at her. Again. I tear my eyes away, feeling heat in my cheeks and tightness in my jaw. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t call me out.

  The silence grows heavy, swells, until I can’t take it anymore.

  “You did a good thing earlier,” I blurt out. “With Fionn, I mean. His invention, it really could revolutionize the way we manage our milking. I’ve…I’ve never seen him so passionate, so involved in anything.”

  She gives me a one-shouldered shrug, but there’s a look of satisfaction on her face. “I didn’t do anything. It was all Fionn. He just needed some encouragement.”

  I never encouraged Fionn, is what she’s trying to say. I can’t even argue with that. I never did. I just hounded him for not doing what needed to be done.

  Guilt seeps into my blood. “You must think I’m the worst brother ever.”

  “God, no, Killian.” She places a hand on my thigh, the touch of her soft palm soaking through my jeans and into my blood, heating it up. “You love your brothers, that’s easy to see.”

  I study her face, her open features, beautiful features, if I’m honest with myself. She doesn’t look like she’s trying to pander to me.

  “They don’t see it,” I admit quietly.

  She gives me a soft smile. “That’s because they’re different men than you are. They need different things.”

  I let out a long breath. “Here I was thinking I was doing what was best for them. That I knew what was right for them.”

  She chuckles. “The curse of the oldest sibling.”

  I smile, the mood lightening. “Do you have siblings?”

  “A younger sister.”

  I nod. Savannah knows the challenges of being the eldest. All that responsibility falling on your shoulders. For some reason this comforts me.

  “Where is she now?” I ask.

  Her smiles falters for just a split second. “She is…no longer with us.”

  My stomach stabs. “Ah, shite. Sorry. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”

  Savannah shakes her head, her soft blonde waves settling around her face. “It’s fine. She died years ago. It just…still hurts a little sometimes when I remember her. Mostly I smile at the things I remember.”

  I nod. “I get it. That’s how I feel about my parents.” A sadness falls over me when I remember how utterly terrified I had been when I thought something had happened to Fionn. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost Fionn or Aiden,” I admit out loud.

  I make a promise to myself right then and there that I’ll be a better brother. I’ll try to give them what they need from me, not just what I think they need.

  I clear my throat, shaking off the wave of emotion that threatens to consume me.

  “So, what’s your story, Ms. Wolff?”

  “Me?”

  I nod. “What happened to send you running away to the remote countryside of Ireland?”

  A look of panic steals across her face. “Who’s running away? I’m not running. I have no reason to run.”

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.”

  “Did you just quote…Shakespeare?”

  I nod.

  She stares at me, blinking.

  “What?” I shift in my seat. “I like to read. I’m allowed to like Shakespeare.”

  “I never said that you weren’t. I love him, too. Which play of his is your favorite?”

  “Oh no,” I say, shaking my head. “You’re trying to avoid my question.”

  Her eyes widen. “I’m not.”

  I shoot her a look.

  “Why can’t a girl just want to leave her whole life in New York behind and volunteer on a remote farm in the west of Ireland for no reason?” She winces. “Okay, even I can hear how ridiculous that sounds.”

  I wait. Because if there’s anything I’ve learned, silence gives peopl
e the space to fill it.

  Finally, she speaks. “I found my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend.”

  I let out a curse. “Seriously?”

  “I know. I should have seen it coming, right? But I didn’t. I honestly didn’t.”

  That’s not what I’m in shock over.

  What man in his right fucking mind would even want to lay a hand on another woman if Savannah was his. She’s gorgeous, sweet, caring, and can cook like a demon…

  “Savannah,” I say through clenched teeth, “that man was a fucking idiot to cheat on ye. It was not your fault.”

  “Thank you,” she says quietly.

  I push my fists into my lap because I want to punch the fucking wall, and I’m afraid that I might in front of her. “That must have hurt real bad.”

  “Funnily enough, I’m not heartbroken over him. It was more of a shock, you know? If I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I was ever in love with him. Maybe the idea of him.”

  “What excuse did he give you?” I ask. As if there could be any.

  She let out a humorless laugh. “He didn’t give me one. The asshole told me to slap him and get over it.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nods.

  What a fucking douchebag.

  “Did you do it?” I ask, secretly hopeful that she did. “Did you slap him?”

  She shakes her head. “I punched the fucker straight in the face.”

  I let out a long laugh. One that comes from the depths of my belly. One that shakes my whole body.

  When my laughter dies down, I catch her watching me, smiling.

  “What?” I ask, but it doesn’t come out in my usual gruff tone.

  “You have a wonderful laugh.”

  “Do I now?” I can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of my lips. It’s been a long time since a woman has given me a compliment. Too long.

  She nods, a grin on her face. “I like hearing it. You should laugh more often.”

  It’s been a long time since I laughed that way. The kind of laugh that makes your whole body lighter.

  Maybe she can stay. For just a little longer.