by Krista Wolf
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
1 - Karissa
2 - Karissa
3 - Bryce
4 - Karissa
5 - Karissa
6 - Karissa
7 - Karissa
8 - Karissa
9 - Karissa
10 - Bryce
11 - Karissa
12 - Camden
13 - Karissa
14 - Karissa
15 - Karissa
16 - Karissa
17 - Karissa
18 - Roderick
19 - Karissa
20 - Karissa
21 - Karissa
22 - Karissa
23 - Karissa
24 - Bryce
25 - Karissa
26 - Camden
27 - Karissa
28 - Karissa
29 - Karissa
30 - Karissa
31 - Roderick
32 - Karissa
33 - Karissa
34 - Karissa
35 - Karissa
36 - Karissa
37 - Bryce
38 - Karissa
39 - Karissa
40 - Karissa
41 - Camden
42 - Karissa
43 - Karissa
44 - Karissa
45 - Karissa
46 - Karissa
47 - Karissa
48 - Roderick
49 - Karissa
50 - Karissa
51 - Karissa
52 - Karissa
Epilogue
One Lucky Bride
About the Author
Theirs to Keep
A Reverse
Harem Romance
Krista Wolf
Copyright © 2020 Krista Wolf
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without prior consent of the author.
Cover photography by: Wander Aguiar
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~ Other Books by Krista Wolf ~
Quadruple Duty
Quadruple Duty II - All or Nothing
Shared
Snowed In
Unwrapping Holly
Protecting Dallas
The Arrangement
Three Alpha Romeo
What Happens in Vegas
Sharing Hannah
Unconventional
Saving Savannah
The Christmas Toy
The Wager
The Ex-Boyfriend Agreement
One Lucky Bride
Theirs To Keep
Chronicles of the Hallowed Order
Book one: Ghosts of Averoigne
Book two: Beyond the Gates of Evermoore
Book three: Claimed by the Pack
One
KARISSA
“We’ve got the plasterers here tomorrow,” I said, “and the plumbers in the morning. The electric should be all roughed out on the east wing already, but contact Marius just to make sure. We can’t be ripping the walls open once they’re stuccoed.”
“No,” my foreman smiled in agreement. “Wouldn’t be good.”
“Also, the HVAC guys need to get this shit all cleaned up before they leave today.” I pointed with my pencil, to where several jagged piles of sheet metal trimmings littered one side of the courtyard. “I saw two of them sneak off for the day already. The rest aren’t leaving until it’s all in the dumpster, though.”
“HVAC. Dumpster.” Oscar scratched at the side of his head. “Right.”
“You writing all this down?”
As usual, Oscar wasn’t writing anything down. That pissed me off, especially since I’d gotten him a new clipboard last week. I’d even threatened to duct tape it to his arm, but my foreman had only laughed.
“Speaking of dumpsters, I need that one emptied,” I said, pointing again. “Should’ve happened yesterday, really. Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“’Yeah’ doesn’t cut it,” I said, noticing he was already looking down again. “Oscar. Hey. Look at me.”
The foreman’s gaze finally swung my way. He stopped scratching at the back of his head.
“Tell me you got it.”
“I got it.”
I nodded one time, firmly, never taking my eyes from his. “Okay, then,” I said warily. “Good.”
Oscar wandered off while I surveyed the rest of the massive worksite. The fifty-five room manor was more like a palace, almost even a castle. At one time it had a name, a history, a purpose. But right now, the only thing that mattered was getting it back into shape.
I made my way along the cobbled courtyard, dodging two groups of roofers and a man running a loader stacked with large clay shingles. A crane was operating on the north side of the property, delivering the stacks up to the roof some fifty feet high.
“Well hello there, boss…”
The voice was deep and beautiful, and immediately changed my mood. Stepping through the next alcove I came face to face with Camden, his arms folded, leaning against a smooth stone wall.
“Boss, eh?” I chuckled. “The three of you are paying me, remember?”
He was wearing his sleeveless shirt again — one of the black ones that hugged his beautifully-sculpted chest. With his arms folded, his biceps and triceps looked absolutely enormous. Like he could crush boulders just by hugging them, or—
“Karissa…?”
I snapped back from whatever daydream I was about to step into. Camden’s gorgeously-stubbled mouth was curled up on one side, his crystal blue eyes piercing me like two shimmering jewels. I felt myself growing warmer, even in the shadows of the alcove.
“Everything alright?”
I pulled out my clipboard and consulted it, temporarily setting my pencil in my mouth. “Peachy,” I mumbled around the writing implement. “Today at least.”
Camden glanced at my list without seeing it and chuckled. His laugh was velvety and masculine. “Good.”
“How about you guys?”
I could see the dirt of the day upon him. Camden’s deeply-tanned arms were covered with light brown hair, and that hair was covered in sawdust. He smelled like all good things: sweat and steel and freshly-cut wood. My gaze wandered down to the worn leather tool-belt, slung low around his waist.
“Can’t complain,” he replied. “Got off to a slow start waiting for an inspector to show up, but we still did a shit-ton of framing today.”
“A metric or an imperial shit-ton?”
His smile widened. “Whichever.”
“It matters, you know.”
“Uh huh.”
Our eyes had found each other’s, and now neither one of us was willing to look away. It was like this often. The flirting happened between our look, our movements, our body language. One day, soon I hoped, it would go even further than that.
“So… you got a guess for me today?” I asked, the pencil still clenched between my teeth.
“Not yet, but Bryce does.”
“And?”
Camden shifted from one foot to the other. “It’s a good one.”
“Okay.”
“I’m hoping he’s wrong of course,” he added hastily.
“Obviously,” I said slyly. “Because then he’d win.”
Camden took a half-step closer. The movement brought our bodies to within a foot of each other. “And I want to win,” he said. His voice dropped even lower. “Badly.”
I took the pencil and casually tucked it behind my e
ar. “Then make sure you guess correctly.”
“Wanna give me a hint?”
I inhaled, letting his deliciously manly scent wash over me. Basking in the warmth I could feel radiating off of his hard, muscular body.
Hell yeah, I thought to myself. Of course I want to give you a hint…
“No hints.”
Camden’s mouth went tight. “Too bad.” He leaned back against the wall again with an almost imperceptible sigh. “Bryce thinks you were a wedding planner.”
Silence. Dead silence. In the sanctity of our shaded alcove, I didn’t even move.
“Holy shit, he’s not right is he?”
I let my handsome employer stew for a moment, saying absolutely nothing as my own grin widened. I could feel his panic growing. His internal alarm.
“No,” I said finally. “I was never a wedding planner.”
Camden exhaled, long and slow through clenched teeth. His shoulders slumped in relief.
“Was he at least close though?” he squinted.
I smiled sweetly. “No hints. Remember?”
“Yeah yeah…”
I tucked my clipboard back beneath one arm and stared up into those gorgeous blue eyes. It would be so easy to make a move right now. So simple, to just close the distance between us and plant my lips on his.
But he was my boss. One of three of them, anyway. And not that it would’ve stopped me if he’d made the move, but for me to make the choice myself… well…
It would be like snubbing the other two.
Not to mention, opening a huge can of worms.
I sighed internally. The can of worms I could deal with. In fact, I was actually looking forward to it. It had been way too fucking long since I’d had any sort of… release.
Besides, I rationalized, the guys had flirted with me off and on for weeks now. Or at least, two of them had. Roderick on the other hand…
“The deal still stands though, right?”
Camden stared down at me, his expression hopeful yet mischievous. His full, beautiful mouth looked so kissable right now I could barely stand it.
It would be so easy. So simple.
“Yes,” I said, choking my way past the lump in my throat. “Of course it still stands. I’m not exactly a woman who goes back on her word.”
It was a deal I’d made on an almost nonsensical whim, after they’d spent half a day rattling off various guesses. But now I only gave one guess per week, for each of them. One chance for my three employers to figure out who I was.
Or rather, who I’d been before this.
“First one of you to guess what I used to do before I came here…” I said slowly, reaching out to run a teasing finger along the outer edge of my Camden’s arm.
His eyes flashed. My lips curled into an even bigger smile.
“Gets to take me bed with him.”
Two
KARISSA
Not only did the key stick in the lock again, but this time the door itself refused to open. I shouldered it, trying to channel Ripley from Aliens, and promptly bounced back into the darkness of my front porch.
The frogs and crickets laughed in chorus from the surrounding woods.
I got up again, this time determined to use mind rather than muscle. The old wood was swollen, the paint flaking. Hell, it was humid enough out here that everything was swollen, including me.
Why in the world did you even take this place?
Because it was cheap, that’s why. I’d driven out to Rhode Island for a fresh start, a new beginning. A beautiful apartment in Newport, maybe even one with a balcony and an Atlantic breeze.
But Newport was way too expensive. Ditto for Middletown, Bristol, and even Ocean Grove. The further north I bounced, the more affordable things got. I ended up north of Swansea, renting an old vacation bungalow on some forgotten lake.
But the realtors were treacherous, and the photos I’d seen had put lipstick on a pig. The place turned out to be a dump, the lake a swamp. Even worse, it was in the middle of absolutely nowhere. I convinced myself that I’d move in temporarily and search for something better, just as I’d convinced myself I would enjoy the solitude.
That was almost a year ago, and neither of those things had panned out. Living out here was lame at best, and downright spooky at its worst. If it weren’t for the reno job keeping me at work twelve hours a day, I’d probably have already packed it in. The pay was solid, the work rewarding. Even better, turned out I was good at it. Real good.
Hey, who would’ve thought?
Right now I had bigger problems though. I was dirty, exhausted, and in need of a shower. If I didn’t get inside soon I’d be likely devoured by mosquitoes swarming in off ‘the lake.’
“Fuck you, door.”
Approaching the knob again, I examined the old lock. My key wasn’t fitting because something was broken off inside it. Something shiny and jagged, like the end of a paperclip.
SHIT.
A chill shot down my spine as I glanced nervously around. Someone had broken in, or at least tried to. Again.
This is bullshit this is bullshit this is bullshi—
I kicked out in frustration, and to my surprise the door swung open. It slammed into the opposite wall with a dull bang, sending a blizzard of paint-chips floating down like snow.
“Hello?”
Even the sound of my own voice seemed scary. In my own home.
“Anyone still here?”
I flipped the switch, and the overhead fluorescents flickered on. One of the bulbs refused to catch though. It sat there fluttering darkly, maybe ten-percent illuminated. The lack of any real light made my kitchen seem even more dreary and depressing than normal.
“You’re probably pretty disappointed,” I called out, still talking to my phantom intruder, “and I can’t blame you. Nothing much to steal here, I’m afraid. Unless you want that stack of bills over on my—”
I whirled into the living room, flipping that switch too. The lights came on. Everything seemed okay.
“If you’re in my bedroom that’s even more disappointing,” I continued, creeping along. “Not much going on in there, either. Unfortunately…”
Halfway through the kitchen I grabbed it: the sawed-off baseball bat I’d found in the crawlspace. It wasn’t much, but it was definitely better than nothing. The tape-wrapped handle felt heavy and reassuring in my hand.
“If you want out by now, I can’t say I blame you. I’ll just step aside, and you’ve got a clear shot to the front door…”
I pushed on the bedroom door, then hugged the wall. Nothing happened. The world was silent, except for the constant buzz of insects.
“Alright,” I said, overly loudly. “If you’re still here, and you’re still looking for trouble I’m—”
Mid-sentence I whirled, spinning into the room. Looking quickly in every direction at once, I held the baton that used to be a baseball bat out before me.
Nothing.
Carefully I checked my little bathroom, even drawing back the mildewed shower curtain where every serial killer in the world ever hid. Still nothing. The place was empty.
“Whew.”
My shoulders slumped in relief… and then I noticed it. It should’ve been obvious when I first came in, but I’d been preoccupied with other things. But now that I did see it? My heart sank.
“Awww…”
My bed was nothing but a box spring. My entire mattress was gone.
“MotherFUCKER.”
Dropping the baton I made my way into the kitchen, wondering if I would call the police. The irony of the situation made me laugh bitterly, as I opened the fridge to at least salvage the night with a few beers.
Only my beers were gone too.
I threw my head to the flaking ceiling and laughed.
“Perfect.”
I’d only had a six-pack, but at least it was my six-pack. And now it was someone else’s. Someone presumably enjoying it from the comfort of my own mattress, snuggled up beneath thirty-d
ollars’ worth of Walmart bedding.
What else did they take?
I glanced into the tiny living area to see my television was still there. Only it was cracked now, the frame broken. Someone had apparently destroyed it while trying to pull it off the wall.
“It’s a removable mount, jackass,” I sighed to no one in particular. “You pull the string behind it and lift. It’s not rocket science. It’s not like—”
CLINK.
A noise from over my shoulder caused me to whirl in panic. I spun around, gripping my weapon. Ready to defend the very last of my worldly possessions — the coffee maker maybe, if it was still there — while willing myself to feel anymore more than apathy and defeat.
Instead I saw the broken window, shattered inward. A ‘lakeside’ breeze had blown my threadbare curtains against the jagged glass, causing another shard to drop.
“Straw?” I laughed, and my laughter seemed almost maniacal. Rather than echo through the empty room, the swollen walls seemed to absorb the sound. “Meet camel’s back.”
Fishing my keys from my pocket, I left without even turning off the lights.
Three
BRYCE
“So uh… remember when you guys offered me the option of staying on the worksite?”
Karissa stretched her long arms, arching her slender back. As always she looked absolutely stunning; her bright, beautiful face framed by acres of shining blonde hair.
But it was her last sentence that sent a shiver of excitement bolting through me.
“Wait, what?”
“When you first hired me,” she reiterated, “all those months ago. You guys asked if I wanted to stay here. You said it would be a lot more convenient than driving back and forth, and it turns out you were right.”
Camden and I exchanged hopeful looks across the large, unfinished kitchen. Even Roderick, leaning against one of the framed-out countertops, raised an eyebrow.
“If the offer still stands, I’d like to—”
“Hell yeah it stands,” I jumped in. “You’re welcome to any of the rooms that you like. The finished ones anyway.”
