by Sienna Blake
I pulled her long red hair out from beneath the jacket. My fingers brushed against her neck and she stiffened for a second before relaxing once again. I couldn’t help but trail my fingers along her long locks under the guise of smoothing out her hair down her back. Her hair was softer than I’d ever thought possible.
I almost tangled my fingers into a fist in those locks as I imagined what it would feel like to pull her hair while I took her from behind, her musical voice crying out my name. I yanked my hand away from her before my cock started to stiffen and I betrayed myself.
She turned around and lifted up her arms. “What do ye think?”
I grinned. My coat was far too big for her. I made an “A-okay” sign with my fingers. Something about her wearing my clothes stirred something primal in me. Like I’d marked her.
Jaysus, this woman was killing me.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked, concerned.
I shook my head. These thoughts of you is keeping me plenty warm.
She eyed my grey sweater for a long moment before nodding. We started walking again.
When we crossed over onto the land that used to belong to her parents, Orla started reminiscing over stories from her childhood—our childhood—her voice brimming with nostalgia, growing soft and breathy. She pointed out the giant ash tree that we used to climb, that Donncha had fallen out of when he was twelve, breaking his ankle. The rowan tree that her old cat, Buttons, was buried under.
“Tristan, look!”
Orla pointed, and I was surprised to see the old tyre up ahead. A thin layer of snow clung to the top of the black rubber and it swayed slightly in the wind, but the thing was still there, as sturdy as ever.
“Do you remember when my dad put this up and Aogán and Donncha got into a fight about who would use it first? So I got in it and you pushed me while the two of them rolled around on the ground, throwing punches.”
I did remember. She’d laughed at my brothers when they realised that they had both missed out on going first because of their antics.
Walking over to the swing, I brushed off the snow. “Get on.”
“Do you think it’s safe?” Her eyes travelled up the thick rope and she bit her bottom lip.
Reaching out, I gave it a rough tug with my entire body weight. It held. “You’ll be grand.”
I helped her sit in the swing. When she turned her head, our faces were close.
“Push me?” she asked, her breath caressing my face.
I nodded, my throat too thick to speak.
Orla smiled at me and I felt it all the way into the marrow of my bones. With her looking at me like that, I felt like I was floating, like I was a king. Like I could do anything.
I started to push her. Back and forth she went, higher and higher, the sound of her laughter floating on the breeze. Her red hair flew behind her, and I felt a large grin stretch across my own face.
We didn’t talk. We didn’t need to. In this place that meant so much to Orla, we were recapturing a piece of the past together, weaving it around our present and making a memory we’d take into our future.
Right there, I didn’t want to be Aogán. Or Donncha.
I was happy being me.
Aogán
The next morning, I woke earlier than usual. I’d hoped to avoid seeing Orla until after I had some coffee in my system. In fact, I’d been doing my best to avoid her since our argument yesterday. It had gotten under my skin to see her cower away from me like that.
But when I walked out of the bathroom and saw Orla’s bedroom door opening, I let out a heavy sigh. How early did this woman wake up?
There was nothing I could do to keep her from seeing me as she stepped out into the hall with a towel wrapped around her. I froze, my eyes eating up the slope of her collarbone, the strands of hair escaping from her messy topknot, and her creamy legs showing from under the towel. I felt the blood rush to my dick.
“What are you doing up this early?” I asked in a strangled voice.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” she snarked.
I grit my teeth, forcing my eyes to remain up.
I couldn’t say the same for her. Her eyes slid down my body, and I was reminded that I was standing there in just a towel wrapped around my waist. The feel of her eyes on me made my dick stiffen even further. Fuck. That was the last thing I needed. Me getting turned on and her knowing it. I didn’t even like Orla. Why the hell was I reacting this way, dammit?
I grunted, shifting myself and trying to clutch my towel in a way that it might hide my mutinous cock, my mood souring further. Before storming past her into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me. I rubbed my face and glared down at my semi-hard-on. What the hell was that about?
I heard the shower start running. I let out a groan as images of Orla naked in the shower stall, rivulets of water running over her smooth skin, assaulted me. Making my head spin. Making me want to barge right into the shower and…
And what?
Demand she leave?
Or push her up against the tiles and have her. Take her. Consume her, the very way she consumed me.
I thought that I had moved on from Orla. I thought I’d gotten over the first girl I loved. The girl I’d shared a kiss with, the only kiss that’d ever made my heart bang like a drum. The one who disappeared from my life soon after.
I’d held onto the hope of reconnecting with her for over a year, but after she didn’t reach out to me, I had to face facts. She was gone. She didn’t care.
I never told anyone about my feelings for her. Not my brothers. Not even Orla. I just jammed it into a dark corner of my heart and tried to forget. I focused on my studies, on learning the family business inside and out. On being the best damn eldest son my parents could have.
Then she just waltzed back into my life like nothing ever happened, like she didn’t rip my heart out when she left. Like she didn’t tie me up in chains of helplessness when I couldn’t reach her.
Now she was back, and it’d been the spark needed to set off the wildfire of anger burning through in my veins. It’d destroyed all the beautiful and delicate feelings I had for her.
I told myself that I was being petty by acting so cruel and cold toward her, but it was better than exploding in anger at her.
I quickly pulled on clothes so I could flee my room and the torturous sounds of the naked woman in the shower.
I had just managed to calm myself, settling at the dining room table with my coffee and a bagel when Donncha came down the stairs, wearing only his pajama pants. In typical Donncha fashion, he was worked up about something.
“Have you checked your email yet today?” he asked.
“No, what’s going on?” I picked up my phone and opened my email account.
“Barry sent the financial reports from the last quarter. It’s not good.”
I located the email and opened it, scanning the contents quickly. He was right. The Three Bears had just experienced their least profitable quarter in history.
Damn it.
A headache started to form, making my head feel like it was being squeezed in a vice. This was on me. As CEO of the company, I was responsible for the company’s successes and failures. I knew that the last three big toy releases didn’t perform as well as we hoped, but I had hoped that the numbers would reflect a more positive outcome than this.
“What are we going to do?” Donncha asked, bracing his hands against the back of a chair and looking solemn.
I rubbed my tired eyes. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’ll figure something out.”
“We can figure it out together,” Donncha insisted, but I was already shaking my head before he’d finished speaking. I didn’t want him to have to carry the weight of the entire company on his shoulders like I did. Donncha was damn good at his job of marketing. This wasn’t his burden to bear. And the fact that he thought I needed help doing mine…well, that’s a bollocks.
“I’m the CEO. Th
is is my job.” Standing, I headed up the stairs, seeking out Tylenol. The bathroom was empty, the mirror still steamed up from Orla’s shower. There wasn’t a single bottle of pain reliever to be found. I checked the bathroom in the master suite, which was empty until our parents arrived, and couldn’t find any in there either.
I knew we were running low on whiskey as well, which was bound to happen when the three Cassidy brothers were stuck under the same roof. A trip into town was in order. A good long drive would clear my head. Hopefully, I’d figure out what the feck to do to turn this ship around.
Plus, getting a few hours away from Orla would help my stress levels, too. I grabbed my keys off my dresser and went back downstairs.
“I’m going into town,” I called out to Orla and the still shirtless Donncha in the kitchen. I ignored the stab of jealousy I felt when taking in how close they were standing together and how a small smile curled at her plump lips as she looked up at him.
“Can I come with you?” Orla asked.
I froze in place for a moment, shocked at Orla’s request. “Why?”
“I want to pick up a few groceries. The place was stocked with basics, but we need a few more things.”
“So you can borrow the car whenever you want.”
“I don’t drive.”
“Don’t be such a princess.”
She glared at me. “I can’t drive.”
“You can’t?”
“Unlike you, my parents weren’t around to teach me,” she snapped defensively.
Well, shite. She had me there. I almost felt bad. I felt so bad I almost apologised.
Except the thought of being in close confines with her in the car made me equally thrilled and anxious.
“Can’t you go into town some other time?” I said. With somebody else.
She folded her arms across her chest. “I need to go now. You are going now. It makes sense that I go with you.”
“What’s the problem, Aogán?” Donncha chimed in.
Orla smirked at me. “I think he’s worried about me realising what a bad driver he is.”
“I am not a bad driver,” I said.
Donncha chuckled. “He is a pretty shite driver.”
“I am not—”
“Or,” Orla continued, “he’s probably got really bad gas and is worried about farting in the car with me there.”
“I do not have gas,” I said between gritted teeth.
Orla made a choking sound and pretended to claw at a window. Donncha roared with laughter.
“I’m right fucking here, guys,” I growled.
“Or maybe,” Orla said to Donncha, “he’s actually going to meet some girl instead of going into town.”
Donncha snorted. “As if. Aogán doesn’t like girls. Aogán is in a committed relationship…with his reports and spreadsheets.”
The two of them laughed, clutching their stomachs, ignoring my annoyance.
“For fuck’s sake. I’m not a bad driver, I don’t have gas nor am I going off to see some girl.”
Only then did Orla turn her attention to me, placing her hands on her hips, a defiant look in her eyes. “Then you won’t mind if I come.”
Damn her. She had me right where she wanted me.
Then again, she’d always had me.
“Fine,” I said, “let’s go.”
The drive into town was mercifully short. Orla tried to pull me into conversation initially, asking me about my life in Dublin, where I lived, what I liked to do after work, that sort of thing. If I was a normal fecking human being I’d have answered her innocent, curious questions. But I wasn’t. I’d already given too much of myself to her, and she wasn’t getting anything more. So after a few grunts and one-syllable answers, she stopped trying and spent the rest of the time fiddling with the radio.
I had the impression that she was dealing with nervous energy. A part of me hated that I made her feel that way, but I tried to cling to the idea that it was a good thing. The more I ignored her, the more I made her uncomfortable, the more she’d avoid me. Right?
When we got to town, I pulled up at the drugstore first. “You can stay in the car,” I grunted back at her as I slammed my driver door shut.
She didn’t listen. When did she ever fecking listen?
She followed me inside, humming under her breath, her presence making the spot between my shoulder blades prickle. I grabbed two sodas from the cold case and the largest bottle of Tylenol they had.
“Are you feeling okay?” Orla asked. The concern in her voice reached my ears, making me grind my teeth before I answered. I didn’t know why she bothered pretending that she gave a shite now. She hadn’t for the last three years.
“Just a headache.” One that you’re not helping with.
I paid quickly and handed her a soda.
She blinked at me before taking it. “You got one for me? Oh, wow, thank you.”
She sounded so surprised, I felt like such a bastard that buying her a drink would be such a big deal for her. Then I mentally kicked myself for doing something thoughtful for her. I hadn’t meant to. It’d been out of instinct. I was supposed to be sticking with the let’s be mean to Orla so she goes away plan. One that didn’t seem to be working so far.
Orla took a drink and my eyes latched first onto her plump lips around the top of the bottle, then the movement of her delicate throat as she swallowed. I wanted to be that bottle. I wanted to wrap my fingers firmly around her neck.
I tore my eyes away, clearing my throat, striding away to the car, trusting that she’d follow. Sure enough, she climbed into the passenger seat just as I started the car up.
“To the grocery store then? Is Eddie still running the local store?” She was referencing the older man who used to hand out sweets to us with a wink and a “be good for yer mammy” when he saw us come in with our parents.
I cracked open the bottle of pills and popped a couple into my mouth. Once I’d swallowed them with a mouthful of soda, I answered her, “He is, but we have another stop to make first.”
I had just remembered my ma’s directive to get the house decorated for Christmas. There was one crucial element to the decorating process.
“A Christmas tree?” Orla’s voice betrayed her excitement as she leaned forward and looked out the window.
“We need one,” I said, not quite able to hide the fact that her happiness had somehow trickled in through the cracks in my armour. “Tristan has no interest and Donncha is terrible at picking them out. So it falls to you and me.”
Her grin was ear-to-ear as we climbed out of the car. “I won’t let you down, promise.”
I refused to let myself take her words seriously. She’d let me down before. She’d let me down again. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—let myself believe her.
The tree lot was half empty but there was still plenty to choose from. We started walking around, weaving our way through the spruce trees, the smell of pine reminding me of all the Christmases we’d had as kids. Despite myself, I found my steps growing lighter, my headache easing, and my shoulders relaxing as I followed a skipping Orla through the lot. I almost cracked a smile as she danced under branches, spun between trees and squealed as she ran her fingers along the pine needles. Almost.
“Oooo, what about this one?” Orla asked, stopping beside a full tree with her arms outstretched.
I shook my head. “Too tall.”
She skipped over to another. “This one!”
I shook my head again. “The shape isn’t quite right.”
She let out another squeal as she spun off toward another tree. “Oh, you can’t say no to this one!”
I pursed my lips, holding back a grin. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” I confirmed. “Its branches aren’t even.”
Orla gasped and turned toward the tree in question. She laid her head against a branch and stroked its leaves as if it were a cat. “Don’t listen to him…I think you are perfect just the way you are.” Her eyes were o
n me when she spoke.
Something tightened in my belly.
My mouth dried up and for a brief moment my anger vanished, leaving behind the untouched affection I had for her, like a field full of freshly fallen snow.
Orla’s eyes went over my shoulder and she gasped, breaking the spell. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she ran past me, her arm brushing mine and her scent of vanilla cream dizzying me for a moment.
When I turned she was standing by another tree in solemn awe. I walked up to stand beside her. There was no need for pomp and cowing excitement. It was perfect. It was the one.
Just to be sure, I reached out and plucked a needle from one of the branches. Holding it up, I bent it until it snapped in half cleanly.
Orla was watching me with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s how you can test freshness,” I found myself explaining. “If the needle breaks like that, it means the tree is a good one. If it just bends without snapping, it’s been cut for a while and isn’t fresh.”
“Hmm. Clever,” she said.
“Hang on a minute,” I said, pulling my phone out of my pocket and holding it up. “Can you just repeat that for the camera? I need a record of it.”
Orla gasped. “Did you just make a joke?”
I humped under my breath. “Don’t know what you’re talking about. And stop grinning at me.”
I memorised the number on the tree’s tag, and I made way to the man in charge to pay, Orla half-jogging to keep up.
“You know, I’m sure there’s tons of pine trees on the Cassidy land,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go out into the woods and cut down your own tree.”
“Do I seem that outdoorsy to you? I’m a CEO now. I can’t remember the last time I chopped anything down.”
“You still look like you could.” She gestured to my body, then looked away quickly, blushing.
She noticed my body. The air I sucked into my lungs felt like it was causing my chest to puff out.
“Yeah, well,” I muttered, finding myself feeling oddly flushed. “I go to the Gallagher Gym near our offices in Dublin. Helps with stress levels.”
