Wild Dreams: A Friends to Lovers romance (Wilder Irish Book 12)

by Mari Carr

  “You should have invited him to join us,” Tony offered.

  Dad considered that, nodding slowly. “Might do that next time. He…hasn’t been back here since the fire, so I was hesitant to…”

  Tony nodded. “I understand. Next time, we’ll meet somewhere else.”

  “Sounds like a plan. You got the furniture from upstairs, right?” Dad asked.

  Luca nodded. “Yeah. Truck brought it all to our warehouse a couple of days ago. I’ve already started cleaning it up with smoke-damage products. You were smart to get those pieces to us quickly. Gives us a better chance of saving them.”

  The upper two floors had been mostly saved from burning but had taken a major hit in terms of smoke and water damage. They’d removed the antique pieces Pop Pop had collected over the years with Grandma Sunday that they hoped to restore, renting a moving van for delivery to Philadelphia. Luca was considered one of the best on the East Coast, when it came to refurbishing old furniture, while his twin brother, Gio, was known for his talent for building from scratch—recreating pieces that couldn’t be saved.

  Dad led them all over to the folding table and chairs they’d set up yesterday for this meeting. On the table was a large stack of photographs, compiled by the entire family, showing different aspects of the pub and restaurant as it had been.

  For the next two hours, the six of them sorted through the pictures, discussing what items Tony thought they could find online to purchase—the booths, tables, chairs, vintage glassware, and a lot of the décor fell into that category—and what they would have to build to match, the primary thing being the long mahogany bar. Gio, a master craftsman, assured them he could recreate the bar right down to the scuff marks and scratches if they wanted.

  Oliver’s phone pinged and he glanced at the screen.

  “It’s from Gavin,” he said, reading the text. “Apparently he was late leaving the last work site. Said there was an incident with his pants and he had to run home. Wants me to tell you guys he’s sorry he missed you,” Oliver said, glancing up at Tony. He wasn’t alone in thinking the Moretti boys were sex-on-a-stick hot. Gavin was going to be pissed he didn’t get to check out the eye candy.

  “Tell him we said hello. We’ll all christen this place with a few pitchers after it reopens,” Tony said.

  The heaviness Oliver had been feeling upon first arriving had lifted over the course of the meeting. Between the plans J and K Construction had in place in terms of creating a brand-new, state-of-the-art kitchen for Riley and the guarantees of the Morettis that they could restore the pub, could make it look exactly like it had before the fire, actually had him excited to see the end result.

  They were just finishing when Riley showed up.

  “There are my boys,” she said, walking over to the table to hug Tony, Luca, Joe, and Gio. Since her son, Finn, had started dating Layla, Aunt Riley had claimed the Moretti brothers—whose mother passed away when they were younger—as her own. “So what do you think?” she asked, gesturing at the pictures.

  While the family had reassured her countless times that the fire wasn’t her fault, the tightness in Riley’s shoulders and the haunted look in her eyes proved she hadn’t managed to shake the guilt she felt.

  “When we’re finished, no one will have a clue there’d ever been a fire,” Tony assured her.

  “I’d like that. A lot. So,” she said, “are you finished here?”

  Dad nodded. “Yeah, I think we’ve covered it all.”

  “Good,” Riley said, “because I’m here to kidnap my Italian Stallions. I’ve got a huge pot of chili and a pan of homemade cornbread with your names all over it. Thought the least we could do was feed you lunch before sending you back to Philly.”

  Joe wrapped a friendly arm around Riley’s shoulders. “Oh yeah. Not about to say no to that offer. Don’t tell my aunt, but your cooking is the best on the East Coast.”

  “Aunt Berta would have your head if she heard you say that—and cut you off from her lasagna forever,” Tony joked.

  “That’s why I said don’t tell her.”

  They all laughed.

  Before they could say their goodbyes, Erin showed up.

  “Oh, thank goodness,” she said from the doorway. “I was afraid I’d miss you.”

  Tony walked over and picked up his younger cousin, giving her a big bear hug. “Hey there, squeaker,” he said, using his nickname for her. Oliver had asked about it once and been told that when Erin was little and she got overly excited, she made a little squeaking nose, while scrunching up her face and pressing clenched fists against her mouth.

  After that, he and Gavin had nagged her relentlessly until she’d demonstrated it for them. Now it had become a running joke, he and Gavin imitating it whenever they got excited about something.

  Joe joined Tony and Erin, wrapping his arm around her neck to ruffle her hair as she tried to bat him away.

  “Dammit, Joey. You’re messing it up. I gotta go back to work,” she said, though she was laughing.

  “That’s what you get for not calling me Joe,” he said, the response a standard. Apparently he was Joe to everyone in the world with the exception of his family, who insisted he would always be Joey to them.

  Oliver reached over and tugged Erin away from her cousin, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Stop messing with my girl.”

  Joe slapped him on the back. “Good man. Like the sound of that. Feel better about Layla and Erin living in Baltimore, knowing the Collins men are around to keep an eye on them.”

  Erin rolled her eyes. “Sweet Jesus, Joey. Caveman much?”

  “Easy there, cuz. If Aunt Berta heard you using the Lord’s name in vain, she’d wash your mouth out with soap,” Gio warned.

  “Feel like I want to meet this Aunt Berta,” Riley mused. “Get the feeling we’d be good friends.”

  Tony feigned a shudder. “Not sure the world is ready for that friendship.”

  Erin laughed. “I concur. And while I said I left Philly for the job, the main reason was so I could expand my cursing vocabulary without fear of Aunt Berta’s bionic hearing.”

  “Unless, of course, Pop Pop is around,” Oliver said with a laugh.

  “Language,” Erin, Oliver, and Sean all said in unison, mimicking his grandfather.

  “Do you all want to come for lunch too?” Riley asked, extending her invitation to Oliver and Erin. “There’s plenty.”

  Erin shook her head. “No, thanks though. I’m only halfway through my shift. Wanted to stop by here to see my crazy cousins on my break. I’m going to grab a sandwich in the cafeteria and eat it at the nurses’ station. Between the flu bug and people taking time off for holiday events, we’re short-staffed, so I promised I wouldn’t be gone long.”

  “I’m out too. Wanna keep working here,” Oliver added. “Gavin said since he was home, he’d throw together a few sandwiches for us to eat. The two of us plan to finish framing in the walls on the restaurant side.”

  “How about you, Sean?” Riley asked.

  Dad nodded and rubbed his stomach. “Never gonna turn down your chili, Riley.”

  The Morettis packed up the photographs before following Riley and Dad outside to head over to Riley’s house.

  “So Gavin’s on his way here?” Erin asked.

  Oliver glanced at his phone and nodded. “Yeah. He’ll probably be here in a few minutes. You have time to wait? He’ll be pissed if he doesn’t get to steal some of the same kisses I’m aiming to grab.”

  He reached out for her as he spoke, robbing her lips of those kisses. His tongue teased her lower lip until she opened her mouth for him. There was something highly addictive about kissing Erin. Maybe it was the way she always tasted like cinnamon—the woman was obsessed with Altoids—or the little mews she made as she kissed, or maybe it was the way she never held anything back.

  “I love you,” he murmured. The two of them had spoken those words a thousand times in the past year, the emotion attached to them continuing to g
row with each passing day.

  “I love you too. I get off at four. Will you and Gavin be home for dinner?” Erin asked.

  “Oh hell yeah. We’re coming home,” Oliver said, gripping her hips and pulling her even closer, letting her feel exactly what her kisses did to him. He’d pay for letting himself get so turned on, considering there was no time to take her—and nowhere to hide in the cavernous, bare pub if he did. They’d sealed off the large front window with a huge piece of clear plexiglass—rather than plywood—wanting to allow in as much natural light as possible so they could see as they worked. That meant everyone passing by on the street could glance in and see what they were doing.

  Oliver had been touched over the past week by the number of patrons who’d walked by, tapped on the plexiglass, and given them encouraging smiles and thumbs-up. The support from the community had been overwhelming and wonderful.

  “But there’s a different hunger I’m hoping the three of us can take care of when we get there,” he said, reluctantly releasing her.

  Erin refused to break their union, wrapping her arms around his waist more tightly and resting her cheek against his chest. Erin was a huge hugger. “Something tells me after the last two nights, you’re going to be insatiable for a while.”

  Oliver placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you alone since…”

  “Since Gavin and I…”

  Neither of them seemed capable of saying the words. Oliver pulled away slightly, cupping her cheeks in his hands. “It’s as perfect as I think, right?”

  Erin grinned. “More than perfect,” she whispered.

  “You’re right, it is.”

  They broke apart, turning toward the folding table where Gavin stood, smiling at them.

  “You have a bad habit of spying on us,” Erin teased.

  Oliver picked up on the joke. “Especially since it’s more fun when you actually join in rather than watch.”

  “I didn’t hear you bitching about being in the audience Saturday night,” Gavin said, as he crossed the pub toward them. “In fact, seems to me, you liked watching me and Erin. A lot.”

  Oliver sighed. “You got me there.” Originally, he’d intended to remain completely apart from the action for their first time, but in the end, there’d been no way he could be so close to the two loves of his life and not kiss them, touch them. “Why are you late?”

  Gavin groaned and gave them an amused grimace. “I’d like to ignore that question, but I know there’s no way the guys at work aren’t going to fill you in, and I’d rather tell the story my way.”

  Oliver chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. “This should be good. What happened?”

  11

  Gavin pointed down to his jeans. “Had to go home to change my jeans. I was late leaving the other work site and pissed about it because I wanted to see the Morettis.”

  “Tony looked hot today. Had his hair down,” Oliver said, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Damn,” Gavin said as he sighed. Tony Moretti wore his hair long, and it was fucking hot.

  Erin rolled her eyes, though she was used to Gavin and Oliver ogling her cousins. “You two are lucky my self-esteem is unshakable, or you’d give me a complex.”

  Gavin laughed. “Your family has good genes, and you got the best of them, gorgeous.”

  Oliver ruffled her hair playfully. “Besides, you have to be used to people checking those guys out. Hell, even Dad was giving them a second glance.”

  Gavin snorted. “Sounds like Sean.”

  “No more talk about my sexy cousins. I forbid it,” Erin said. “Why did you have to change your jeans?”

  “Like I said, I was late. And rushing. Caught the damn back pocket of my brand-new jeans on a nail and ripped one whole ass cheek out of the things.”

  Erin and Oliver cracked up.

  “Oh man, I would have paid money to see that,” Oliver said, slapping his foster brother on the shoulder.

  “Yeah, well…let’s just say I picked a bad day to go commando.”

  Erin squealed loudly. “Oh my God. No! That’s hilarious!”

  Gavin was struggling to find the humor in it all. “You know the guys on the crew, Erin. They’re not going to let this go.”

  “Damn right, they’re not. You’re going to be the butt of jokes for weeks,” Oliver said, laughing even harder.

  “Asshole,” Gavin muttered with no heat, fighting to hide his own grin. “Anyway, I backed my way out of there—” He had to pause as Erin and Oliver lost it again, guffawing over his use of the word “back” in the description of his escape. Once they settled down, he quickly finished the story. “I went home, changed my jeans, made us some lunch—” He gestured to the brown paper bag he’d put on the folding table while watching Oliver and Erin kiss. “And hightailed it over here.”

  Erin glanced at Oliver. “Are we going to let hightail go?”

  Oliver winked at her, his smile huge. “Better pace ourselves.”

  “Think Lauren can fix the jeans with her sewing machine? They were brand-new jeans. First time I’ve worn them,” Gavin asked Oliver, grateful Lauren had taken up quilting. He’d lived enough of his life poor as shit that he couldn’t stand the thought of tossing a pair of jeans he’d only worn a few hours, but God knew he was hopeless with a needle and thread.

  “Depends on where the rip is. Seam’s easy. If it’s the actual material, trickier,” Erin said, glancing at her watch. “Damn. I really do need to head back.”

  Gavin grasped her hand and tugged her close. “Didn’t get to steal my own kisses yet.” He placed his lips on hers, marveling at how much he enjoyed kissing her.

  Her.

  Before Erin, he’d never felt the desire to be with a woman. Hell, it had even sort of repulsed him to think about. Now…he was quickly becoming addicted to sleeping with her snuggled between him and Oliver in bed.

  Oliver stepped closer as they kissed, the three of them forming a tight circle. “Got room for me in there?” he asked, wrapping one arm around Erin’s back, the other around Gavin’s.

  Erin turned her face to Oliver and began kissing him as Gavin ran his lips over her soft cheek, then Oliver’s rougher one.

  When they parted, Gavin was there, ready to steal another kiss, this time from Oliver.

  “Dammit,” Erin murmured as she watched them kiss. “That is seriously hot. And I am seriously late.”

  He and Oliver chuckled as they broke apart.

  “We’ll pick up where we’ve left off tonight,” Oliver said.

  “Sounds good.” Erin reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out her key fob. “Walk me to my car?”

  The three of them walked out into the bright sunshine, shifting closer to ward off the chilly December air. Oliver held Erin’s hand as Gavin wrapped his arm around her waist. They crossed the street to the parking lot and stepped next to the driver’s door of her Volkswagen Jetta.

  Erin kissed each of them once more, obviously reluctant to leave, then she lifted the fob over her shoulder and hit the button to unlock the door.

  “See you at home tonight,” she said, lifting her face for yet another kiss.

  Oliver chuckled, then deepened the next kiss, going out of his way to keep her with them. The entire thing reminded Gavin of those first love middle school phone calls, where the couple argued over who should hang up first.

  He was just about to enter the game when he heard his name.

  “Gavin.”

  His heart stopped for one beat, two. When it started again, it was racing a million miles an hour.

  He turned slowly, deliberately stepping forward as he did so, placing himself directly between Erin and Oliver and…

  “Mom.”

  He was still close enough to his lovers that he felt Oliver jerk behind him, though his attention was solely focused on her.

  The nine years since they’d seen each other hadn’t been kind to her. She was even thinner than before, something he hadn
’t thought possible. His mother had always been a frail woman, skin over bones. He’d had plenty of time to consider that as he thought about all the beatings he’d taken from her. By the time he was eleven, he’d been bigger than her and definitely strong enough to stop her.

  He hadn’t, and he knew—even in the midst of the pain she wrought—it was because he was cognizant of how fragile she was, and he hadn’t wanted to hurt her. So he’d turned his back in an attempt to mitigate the damage while seeking ways to escape.

  Right now, it looked as if a strong wind could blow her over.

  Her hair had always been dark brown, but it was more salt than pepper now, and she’d cut it shorter, the ends barely brushing her bony shoulders. There were more wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, tight lines that proved this was a woman who never smiled, only scowled.

  That fact was proven when she fought to smile at him now, the attempt shaky at best.

  “Gavin,” she said again, her voice thin, reedy.

  “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “I ran into Ms. Johnson at the grocery store. Remember her? She lived on the third floor of our old apartment building.”

  Gavin silently cursed in his head. He’d done some work for Ms. Johnson, an elderly woman who had been kind to him when he was younger, always waiting for him at her door when he got off the bus with some treat—cookies or crackers or a slice of homemade bread. To a starving little boy, she’d felt a bit like his own personal fairy godmother, and he’d never forgotten her.

  Part of him suspected she’d been the one to call the cops that night his mother had been committed, though she’d never admitted it and he’d never asked.

  He’d gone to visit her earlier this year on a whim, driven by the desire to thank her for her kindness to him when he was a kid. While in her apartment, she’d asked if he could take a look at her oven, which had stopped working. He’d fixed it, then given her his number, telling her she could call him if she had any more trouble with it.

  Since then, she’d called him once every couple of months, asking for his help with something else that was broken. He’d gone to help her every time, certain her requests were based less on her desire to fix things and more because she was lonely.