“Who are you calling fat, you cherub-cheeked mama’s boy!” I teased, squishing the sides of his cheeks until his face was smushed together, giving him squinty eyes and fish lips. Using a self-defense move we’d all learned as kids, he fluidly rolled me. The next thing I knew, I was pinned, and he was sticking a wet finger in my ear. I yelped. “Eww, you sick bastard!” Everyone laughed as we continued to wrestle on the floor.
“Let her up, son,” my uncle Conor ordered.
Listening to his father, Rourke released me and got to his feet, then held out his hand to help me to mine. I gratefully accepted and he pulled me from the floor into his arms for a real hug. Rourke was tall like his dad. He towered over me by at least a foot. Despite his last name being Murphy, he had the looks of a Quinn, with light brown hair and green eyes. Thanks to his father, he'd been cursed with freckles. I felt his pain. With the same cluster across his nose, we looked like siblings even though our hair was drastically different.
“It’s been boring without you around,” he said, pulling away. He gave me a devious smile. “I heard you filleted another man’s dic—ow! Damnit!”
I tried to stop him from talking by pinching the underside of his arm. Sadly, I was too late. Enough had been said and I internally groaned at what was undoubtedly coming.
“Blew it to smithereens is more like it,” Louie chimed in, adding fuel to the fire. To be dramatic, he shivered as if trying to shake away the awful memory. Then he looked to Jamie. “Remind me never to piss off Maura.”
Jamie rolled his eyes and returned to eating his breakfast.
“If you keep mutilating penises, people are going to start calling you Dick Crusher or something,” Rourke snickered.
Louie’s boisterous laugh followed before he snapped his fingers, pointing at me. “We should call her The Castrator.”
The whole room erupted with laughter; even Stefan’s shoulders were slightly bouncing.
My uncle shook his head, smiling as he opened his arms to hug me next. “They’re almost thirty years old and they still act like teenagers,” he said, his Irish accent standing out. He was the only one in our immediate family who had one. My aunt had bewitched him, so he said, while she'd been visiting some relatives in Ireland. At the beginning of their romance, his accent had used to be so thick, she could barely understand him. Pulled by love, he of course had followed her back to the States, which over time had helped to soften his words.
I stepped out of our hug. “How’s Aunt Kiara?”
“She’s doing grand. She’s mad with joy that you’re back home and was talking about visiting soon.”
“That’d be wonderful. I’d love to see her.”
“Are you hungry?” Stefan asked, already knowing the answer. I didn’t like eating early in the morning unless I absolutely had to. I preferred to wake up and move around first.
I scrunched my nose. “Coffee?”
Stefan tilted his head toward the kitchen. I ventured off in that direction, through the swinging door. The gigantic gourmet kitchen was L-shaped, equipped with two restaurant grade gas stovetops, four ovens, a walk-in refrigerator, and a temperature-controlled pantry. The cabinets were navy blue with beautiful white quartz countertops. The room was filled with natural light coming in through the large window above the kitchen sink and the glass door leading out to the pool in the backyard. At the sink with her back toward me, Jeana was humming while washing the pots and pans she'd used to cook breakfast.
“Can I help you?” a feminine voice asked, tone far from friendly. My attention snapped to the large kitchen island where a pretty blonde was leaning over with a magazine open in front of her. This must be Angela.
Damnit. She was gorgeous. She had wavy golden hair that shone in the sunlight. Her lips were plump and heart shaped. Her makeup was flawless and made her tawny-brown eyes pop. Hell, if she and I were cellmates in prison, I’d totally want her to be my bitch. That didn’t bode well for this family and, well… me. I could already tell that she and I weren’t going to get along.
Her sleeping with Louie irked me. Thinking about her poaching anyone else in my family was making me feel extremely territorial—er, I mean fiercely protective. I wonder what she’d look like if I ripped out all that pretty hair. It was an appealing thought. I'd done it to my Barbies as a little girl and she closely resembled one of the plastic dolls before it had left its protective box. Maybe it was a sign? Bitch better not hang up on me again or I'm going to make a generous donation to Locks of Love.
I forced a smile. “No,” I replied, making my way to the coffee pot on the counter behind her.
“Maura! Good morning, sweetie. I put some leftovers in the fridge. When you get hungry, let me know and I’ll reheat them,” Jeana informed me with a bright smile, then returned to the dishes.
I could feel Angela’s eyes digging holes into my back as I fixed my coffee. I was stirring in vanilla creamer when I heard the door from the dining room swing open.
“Jameson! That’s my job, silly. You didn’t have to bring that in here,” Maid Barbie said.
I pursed my lips at how overly friendly she was toward him. With a schooled expression, I turned and propped a hip against the counter. I watched Jamie stride through the room. He placed his plate and silverware next to the sink.
Jeana beamed at him with her motherly smile. “Thanks, sweetie!”
With his coffee mug still in his hand, I had a hunch where Jamie was headed next and I was blocking his way. His brows rose in question before his head tilted slightly. Refusing to move, I teased him with a mischievous smirk. “Want some coffee, big guy?” The corner of his mouth twitched. Placing my mug on the counter, I stepped closer, shrinking the space between us. “How bad do you want it?” I used a sultry voice as I cocked an eyebrow.
Thinking he was being clever, he sat his mug on the counter and picked up mine. The tiniest sip made him grimace.
“You put too much creamer in it,” he complained, scrunching his nose.
“Not everyone likes their coffee black,” I informed, grabbing his mug to fill it. I wiggled my fingers, gesturing for him to give me mine in exchange for his. He eagerly traded.
“What are you doing today?” I asked.
His gaze shifted to Angela, who was pretending to ignore us. I didn’t like that. Thinking back, he probably didn’t want to discuss work stuff in front of her. Unfortunately, at the time all I saw was red.
I invaded his space, plastering my body to the front of his as I hooked my arms around his neck. He was surprised for only a breath before he recovered.
“Do you get to be mine again today? Maybe this time Louie can watch while we wrestle around in my bed.” I knew what I was implying was wrong, especially with Jamie, who thought of me like a sister.
His eyes narrowed. Thankfully, Angela took the hint or had other things to attend to and left with Jeana trailing behind. I dropped my hands from around his neck to rest them on his chest. As if sensing I was getting ready to pull away, he put a hand on my hip.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked, plopping his mug down with a loud clank, uncaring that his coffee sloshed over the rim.
Is he mad? I couldn’t tell.
His voice was cold, but the way he was staring at me told me different. Stepping forward, he steered me by my hips until he had me pinned against the counter. His pelvis leaned into mine as his strong arms coiled around me, trapping my own between us. His hand traveled slowly along my spine until his fingers buried in my tangled hair. He tugged gently and my breath hitched as I was forced to look up at him. “Did you enjoy teasing me to get to her?”