Hold It Close (MacAteer Brothers Book 3)

by ML Nystrom

  She pushed at his shoulder to put him on his back so she could straddle him. He surmised this was one of her favorite positions, and he found he didn’t mind it at all. “I want to buy my crafty stuff. Go to yoga. Take care of my houses and maybe do some yard work. Whatever tickles my fancy, and I don’t want to have to ask permission to do so.”

  His hands came to her hips as her heated core ground against his burgeoning dick. “You don’t have to ask permission from me. You’re the one who has the money to do what you want.”

  She leaned down so they were eye to eye. “Does my being loaded bother you that much? I worked hard in my career and got lucky a few times with investments. I’m not going to apologize for it.”

  Garrett shook his head and ran his palms over her smooth thighs. “No, baby, that’s not what I meant. I’m proud of you and what you’ve done. Not many women, or men for that matter, have accomplished what you have in their work. It’s me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He watched the movement of his hands as he thought of his words. “I came to North Carolina with nothing but the clothes on my back and my tools. I have no savings. No investments. No retirement. Nothing to live on but the skill of my hands and the strength of my back. There’s very little to give you other than my love and body. That’s all I bring to the table, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me.”

  She gave a little laugh. “You have no idea how much money I have, do you?”

  He shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  She kissed him lightly. “I have various accounts, stocks, bonds, investments, savings, but bottom line is I’m worth about—”

  Garrett put a hand over her mouth. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want money to be a problem between us.”

  “Does that bother you?” Her voice came out muffled, and he dropped his hand.

  “I’m not sure. I don’t ever want you to think I’m here because of it. I also don’t want to not pull my own weight in this relationship, financially or otherwise.”

  She kissed him again. “You’re one of the most hardworking, conscientious people I know. Tell me something. Would it matter to you if our circumstances were reversed? You had a lot of money and I was poor as a church mouse?”

  “Not at all. I’d feel the same way about you no matter what. If nothing else, life has taught me money comes and goes. We have high times and low times, but it’s how we handle the ups and downs that matter and who we choose to handle them alongside.”

  “Same here, sweetheart. Get my point?”

  He grinned and kissed her. “Love you, mo shíorghrá.”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know that that means, but it sounded nice. I wish we could stay in bed all day, but I have to meet Jodie this morning at the yoga studio. She’s got some guy designing a logo for her and wants me to meet him as well. What do you have to do today?”

  “Connor has some furniture deliveries he needs help with. Owen’s got a kitchen remodel he needs another body for in the afternoon. Granite counter installation. Even he can’t lift them by himself.”

  Pal came in the room, hopped on the bed, and snuffled at their faces. Garrett scratched the dog’s head. “Crazy mutt. I’ll get the dog fed and let him out. Start coffee too while you get in the shower. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great. Meet me there in a few minutes?”

  “Sure, baby.”

  She grinned up at him before scrambling out from under the covers. He watched her round ass as she went into the bathroom. In the doorway, she paused and blew him a kiss over her shoulder. He pretended to snatch it out of the air and eat it. Cheesy perhaps, but Christ, how did he get so lucky.

  He stood unabashedly naked in the kitchen as he pulled out the kibble bag from underneath the sink. Pal spun around his calves, whining until the food bowl was placed on the floor. While the dog happily crunched, Garrett started the coffee maker. A regular Mr. Coffee one from Walmart. He smiled and lifted his phone from the charger to turn it on.

  He felt good. Lighter. Brighter. Easier. The heavy burden that had been on his back forever, holding him down, had disappeared. Poof. Vanished. It made him giddy with the freedom to breathe again. If this was happiness, it was the first time he’d ever really had it in his life, and he planned on never letting it go.

  Pal barked and scratched at the door. Garrett opened it to let him out for his business. The coffee maker burbled as he stood looking out at the yard, unconcerned about his naked state. The inn looked great with the new coat of paint and new windows. Most of the interior had been completed, and only minor details and the furniture needed to be done. He had done that. Most of the work, designs, ideas had been his. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes to revel in his contentment.

  He turned on his phone, and it buzzed repeatedly, alerting him to a bunch of messages as it finished booting up. Garrett opened the app, and a frown appeared on his face. A string of texts from Joy ran down the screen, one after another. Garrett put his thumb to the first one out of habit, then stopped.

  Nothing. Whatever Joy meant to him at one time was gone, and what he used to feel for her was nothing in comparison to what he felt for Bertie. He scrolled to the bottom of the messages and typed in one simple sentence.

  Garrett: Good bye and don’t contact me again. If you do, I’ll be the one to press charges.

  He deleted the string without reading any of them and made a mental note to change numbers for the second and last time. Mr. Coffee sputtered out the last of the precious brew. Garrett placed the phone back on the counter and looked to the bedroom door, wondering if Bertie would let him go down on her in the shower. He strode to the back of the house to find out.

  Nineteen

  We reached the pub, and Garrett opened the door for me. He held my hand, and a blast of Irish music hit my ears. People decked out in green hats and beaded necklaces crowded in every visible space. Not even the dance floor had a square inch of room. It seemed the whole of Asheville decided to come out tonight and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

  “Oy, Bertie-n-Garrett! Over here!” Connor’s booming voice and overhead wave came from the back end of the bar.

  Bertie-n-Garrett. That’s what we had become. Not Bertie. Not Garrett. Bertie-n-Garrett. Only a week, and our status as a couple was solidified. I told my sister, and the gossip brigade did the rest. Everywhere I went, congratulations and well wishes greeted me.

  “I hear you and that Garrett fellow are an item now. Good for you!”

  “He’s so handsome. And a great handyman too.”

  “Oh, I’m so happy you found someone like him.”

  Happy didn’t describe what I felt. People called it good chemistry, the first blush of romance, a schoolgirl crush, rose-colored glasses… all sorts of names for budding relationships. This was so much more. Garrett had showed me an intricate puzzle box he made from some scrap wood in Connor’s workshop. The pieces fit together into one smooth unit. Once you figured out how to put it together and installed the tiny final locking piece, it wouldn’t fall apart.

  That’s what Garrett and I were. We’d finally solved the puzzle and now locked together solidly and seamlessly. Every night, he came to my house and slept in my bed, and every morning he kissed me before he went to work, whether it be on the inn or another job. We cooked and ate together, watched TV, and talked about the future and what we wanted. Sometimes we made love, sometimes we fucked like rabbits, and sometimes we just slept. Garrett loved falling asleep with me curled into his side. I loved touching the steady pulse point in his neck.

  In my wildest dreams, I never thought I would find this fierce all-consuming love. The depth of feeling I had for Garrett far surpassed what I ever had in my marriage to Karl. Would this fire inside me burn out? Could this just be a rebound thing for Garrett? Only time would tell, but if the expression in his eyes when he came inside me was any indication, we were in this for the long haul.

  We joined the large group standing and sitting at the bar
. Connor and Beverly and Melanie and Owen stood next to Jodie and Jerry. Rhyleigh was the odd woman out but didn’t seem to mind being the only single person there. A three-layered shot found its way to my hand.

  “It’s called an Irish flag. Crème de menthe, Irish whiskey, and Grand Marnier.” Melanie had to shout to be heard above the music. “Sloane has a whole line of them going for us.”

  “Who’s got Ryan tonight?”

  “One of Beverly’s church ladies. Owen and I can’t stay out too late, but we’ll be here as long as we can. What a crowd!”

  “Yes, it is.” I had to shout back.

  “I have to tell you, I love you for Garrett. He so needs your kind of stability. That bitch he was with before? Fucking loser. Wrung his ass dry. He’s so much better with you.”

  “How many of these shots have you had?”

  “Three. I can’t hold my liquor anymore!” She giggled.

  “I thought you were still breastfeeding?”

  She picked up one of the small glasses herself. “Not anymore. My overachieving kid is sprouting teeth already. He got me good yesterday. He’s eating more solids and less breastmilk, anyway. I wanted to go longer, but I also want to keep my nipples.”

  “Oooh, TMI.” I shuddered.

  Garrett picked up a shot of whiskey and Baileys. He leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I want to keep your nipples, too.”

  I suppressed my own giggle as he put an arm around me to draw me into his body. After turning the corner, Garrett jumped from zero to a hundred. He had no trouble with PDA. Whenever we appeared together in public, he always held my hand, put an arm around my waist, or touched my back. He kissed me often, sometimes with a peck on the cheek or temple, and sometimes more intimate with a long lip lock. His manner seemed more relaxed, calmer, and above all happier.

  Connor had the same shot in his hand as Garrett. He held it out in the middle of our circle as he assumed his patriarchal role. “Good year, lads. The business has grown into something special. Bigger than I ever hoped or expected. Bev and I have been talking a lot about it, and I think we’re ready for the next step. With just Owen and me, we might not have thought about this plan, but since Garrett has joined in, I think it’s time. We’ve had a family business before, and even though we went through some rough patches, we made good money and had a lot of success. We’ve talked about the idea and with the way it’s going, we should step up our game and do it again. I propose to you the official MacAteer Brothers Home and Handyman services, LLC. Family owned and operated. I have the paperwork already started. What do you think?”

  Owen lifted a plain shot of whiskey and agreed with a simple yes.

  Melanie squealed in delight. “Effing awesome!”

  Beverly had an Irish Flag shot in her hand and lifted it to the same level as Connor’s. Equals.

  Garrett’s mood shifted. His expression grew serious before he added his glass to the collection between us. I did the same, feeling this was another turning point for Garrett. I got the impression we were about to sign a huge contract.

  Rhyleigh piped in and raised her own Irish Flag shot. “Can I be an honorary MacAteer? At least for tonight.”

  “Absolutely. Raise them high. Love. Life. Family. Sláinte!”

  “Sláinte!” we chorused back as we all threw back the shots.

  Big mistake. The liquid started out sweet but then hit me with a burn that ran like lava to my stomach. My eyes watered, and I was sure my face turned a beautiful shade of sweaty red. Beverly wasn’t doing much better. She turned to Melanie with an accusatory look. “You said these weren’t that bad.”

  The svelte blonde also had watering eyes. “I forgot,” she choked out.

  The men roared with laughter, and water glasses appeared on the bar as Sloane took pity on us. Rhyleigh didn’t have any problems, mainly because she didn’t shoot back the liquor, but merely sipped at the top layer. I sniffed back my thickening sinuses and gulped down half the water.

  The band announced it would take a break, and recorded music started up. Garrett turned to Sloane, who was making another row of colorful shots. “No karaoke tonight?”

  “Nope. Takes too much time to set up, and Gordon and I are slammed. We hired a new waitress, but she bailed on us last minute. I don’t think anyone is missing it, anyway.”

  From the size of the crowd and her rapid motions, she was right. “What happened to that Funny Tom fellow after you banned him? Garrett said he tried to get you to lift it and let him back in. I’m surprised he’s not trying to come here on a night like this.”

  Sloane stopped her double-fisted pours and set both bottles on the bar. “His nickname was Funky Tom, and I guess you hadn’t heard. He got arrested a few days ago. Apparently, he’s been caught stalking several women. Really serious shit. Harassing, calling names, showing up at their workplaces, that sort of thing. He got physical with one woman by trying to force her in his car, and she reported it. His happy ass is now facing assault and a slew of other charges. Word is he had a bunch of shit in his momma’s basement tacked up on walls. Articles about how women should be servants and submissive at all time. Torture porn pics. Some real sick shit. Supposedly, he had memberships to some men-only forums that regularly trashed women and insisted that any woman should be giving sex to any man who demands it.”

  She sighed, and her green-tipped hair moved with her head shake. “I know I shouldn’t be sharing all his business, but he was in here often enough that I should let the people he bothered know about what’s been happening. You had some trouble, Bertie, and I feel terrible it happened here at the bar. I should have spoken up and kicked him out a long time ago, but I really thought he was harmless. I’m sorry.”

  The general mood darkened a bit with Sloane’s words. I set the now empty water glass on the bar. “No apology necessary. You had no idea how bad he could get, and you took care of business when you had to.”

  Garrett set down his shot glass and reached for a second one. “Think he might have been the one to run you off the road?” His clenched jaw showed the level of his anger.

  “I don’t think we can prove anything, but I can call the deputy about it. Where is he now?”

  Sloane picked up the mass of empty shot glasses with her fingers spread out like spider’s legs and slipped them to the lower counter. “His mom bailed him out, so I supposed he’s at home. There’s a mountain of restraining orders against him now. Enough that he can’t really go anywhere much.” She wiped the counter and flipped the towel over her shoulder. “He could stay there and become a hermit with his mom, or he’ll blow up and go on a rampage. Based on his temper or his character, it’s a crapshoot. Could go either way. I bet his mom will have his ass in church talking to her preacher every time the doors open.”

  The alcohol floated around my stomach, but the burn had subsided. I decided I was done drinking for the night. “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

  The bartender shrugged. “I knew him in high school, but we weren’t friends. He got picked on a lot, and I felt sorry for him back then. He had a girlfriend for a while, but her family moved away. Best thing he had going was his status here as Funky Tom, and a lot of people liked him. If he hadn’t gotten into that rage against women shit, I think he could have found someone to love him.”

  “Sloane! A little help here!” Gordon’s bellow rang out over the music. Sloane rolled her eyes. “I’m layering shots like crazy, and he has trouble putting green food coloring in beer. Pray I can get through tonight without committing fratricide.” She moved off to the other side of the bar.

  “Well, that brought the mood down. This is still a party, though and I don’t get to go out often. Who’s dancing with me?” Melanie threw down.

  Beverly looked pointedly down at Melanie’s feet. “You can dance in those heels?”

  “I can run triathlons in these heels,” she boasted. “Come on, ladies, don’t let me down.”

  The three males had amused looks on their faces as all
four of us joined the crowded dance floor. There wasn’t a lot of room as we gyrated and bumped our hips together. Rhyleigh started twerking in a fast, perfect rhythm to the music. Beverly tried, and Melanie burst into mirth, shaking her head, not even going to attempt the rapid hip movement. I laughed, having the best time of my life. I wished I could bottle this moment and keep it forever. Garrett’s eyes caught mine, and they glowed at me. I blew him a kiss, and he pretended to eat it like he did the first morning we woke up together. A warmth sat in my belly that had nothing to do with the alcohol. Bliss. Total bliss filled me. Such contentment that emotion welled up in me, and I had the urge to cry.

  “Bow down, mere mortals! Patrick and Angus are in the hoooooouuuuuse!”

  The booming cry echoed over the entire bar, and I turned to see two perfect matching male specimens at the bar’s entrance. Both were tall, both exuded testosterone, both were ginger-haired and green-eyed. The only differences were the one with upraised arms had longish hair on top of his head brushed back from a fade and a goatee. The other kept his arms down and had his long hair tied back. He was clean shaven.

  “Patrick!” Beverly broke away to run to the pair of them, followed by Melanie. Rhyleigh and I went back over to the bar. Obviously, these were the last two MacAteer brothers. They sauntered up to our group, Patrick with his arm around Beverly.

  “Ah, me beautiful sister-in-law! Please tell me you’ve come to your senses and are ready to run away with me?”

  Beverly hugged the man and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Not a chance, little brother. You want a shot or a beer?”

  His face feigned horror. “Lass, don’t you know me? Both, of course.”

  Greeting hugs and back slaps ensued. Angus didn’t have the same exuberance that Patrick did, but he chuckled and joked just the same. “I’m so dry, dust would go down easy.”