Falling For Them Volume 2: Reverse Harem Collection

by Nikki Bolvair

  The three guys pass around my ID and erupt into laughter. I don’t know what they could find funny besides the name, Dorothea Schmidt. My resemblance to the picture, while slight at best - if I gained hundred pounds and my wavy, plain brown hair held no color - serves the intended purpose. No bouncer will question a college girl about her weight and no one will ever question the name. It’s bad enough to possibly be real.

  Snatching my ID out of the hands of a hysterical Austin, an announcement interrupts us to say docking will take place in about five minutes and those who drove on need to return to their vehicles on the lower decks to prepare for arrival. Sadness washes over me – not ready for the conversation with Bas, Austin, and Finn to end.

  Their faces tell me they share my unhappiness.

  “Well, guys, I’ve had a lot of fun. Thank you for hanging out with me but I guess we now go our separate ways,” I say to the trio as a whole. They silently converse amongst themselves without saying a word.

  “What if this doesn’t need to be goodbye?” Bas asks. “Since we don’t know the area too well and you’re free until Tuesday, would you be interested in playing our tour guide for the next few days?”

  A sense of relief washes over me as I reply, “Sure. How about I give you my number and—”

  Before I can complete my sentence, Finn interrupts me. “Or, you can spend the weekend with us maximizing our time together. We reserved a suite at the Westin which means you can sleep in your own room. You already have what you need with you since you were visiting your family. It can serve as a mini vacation before your new quarter gets going on Tuesday and you can show us the cool Seattle spots on our dime.”

  I pause, momentarily stunned by the offer.

  Our brief interaction offered me no sign they want anything more than to hang out. The time together up to this point included a little innocent flirting but nothing disrespectful or overly aggressive. Generally a pretty good judge of character, their offer seems genuine and the possibilities for a fun weekend remain endless. I may regret this later but hell, I’ll only live once, right?

  “I’m in.” I reach down to grab my bag.

  Bas yanks the handle out of my hand and slings it over his shoulder. “I got this, pretty girl. No need to carry your own bag when one of us is more than capable of carrying it for you.”

  “Thank you,” I reply as we make our way out of the ferry terminal and down the stairs to the street below.

  Austin approaches a cab from the line out front and waves us over to jump in as he holds the door open. With bags secure in the trunk, Bas situated in the front seat and myself safely buckled, courtesy of Austin, in the back between him and Finn, we make our way to the Westin to check in for the weekend.

  “After we check in, what do you think about ordering room service and watching a movie since it’s getting close to dinner time? We can leave the exploring until tomorrow,” Finn asks all of us in general during the brief ride to the Westin.

  “Works for me,” I answer. “There’s a drugstore across the street from the hotel. Can we stop and pick up movie snacks?”

  “Sounds perfect,” Austin replies as they others express their agreement as well.

  With the plans for the evening established, we check into the hotel and take a few moments to settle into the suite. As promised, the guys give me a room to myself despite my protest I can share. The bedroom they select for me contains a large king-sized bed.

  I would be lying if the idea of sharing it with one of these sexy men doesn’t appeal to me.

  At the end of this weekend, I will know how a woman should be treated. These three characterize the definition of perfect gentlemen. They carry my bag, open my doors, and buckle my seatbelt. They listen intently when I talk with no interruption as if they find me to be the most interesting woman on the planet. After a few short hours with these amazing men, I know, without a doubt, I made the right decision to spend the weekend with them.

  Chapter One

  I take one last glimpse in the mirror and glance at the clock on the wall. With forty-five minutes until my interview, I’ll be late if I don’t leave in the next ten minutes. I walk over to my closet and quickly slip on my black leather ankle boots and slide on my black wool jacket.

  “Thank you again for watching Mac, Brittany. I don’t know what I would do without you,” I tell my best friend as she tries to keep my active toddler entertained as I finish getting ready.

  Brittany and I met during our freshman year at the University of Washington during our Psych 101 class. Who knew when I sat down in a random seat in Kane Hall on the first day of school I would make a friend for life? Out of more than seven hundred seats in the largest lecture hall on the UW campus, I happened to choose the seat right next to Brittany. I’m convinced fate played a role in bringing us together.

  Comparing the two of us, some may wonder how we became and stayed friends. We’re complete opposites in most ways. At less than five feet tall and barely weighing one hundred pounds soaking wet, Brittany’s beautiful with her long, coppery, red hair and bright-blue eyes. Though tremendously quiet and shy, she possesses a lovable, nerdy quality, always wearing quirky graphic tees like the There’s no place like 127.0.0.1 shirt she sports today. Despite her shyness, she owns a fiery temper that makes an appearance from time to time.

  Surviving the last two years would have been impossible without Brittany and her family. As my rock and support system through thick and thin, I owe them a great deal and will be forever thankful. They supported me through the discovery and duration of my pregnancy, the birth of Mackenzie, and the struggle of the past fourteen months of trying to balance raising my daughter and getting back on track with school. Jenna, Brittany’s mom, did it on her own for a couple of years with Brittany before she met her husband. Jenna understands the challenges I face from firsthand experience.

  Brittany’s parents even let me stay with them for the first six months of Mac’s life and then paid my rent for the last several months in my studio apartment over the garage of one of their friends’ homes. They adopted me as a second daughter and dote on Mac, loving when she calls them nana and pop pop.

  All the while, my parents offer me little help and continuously refuse to support my decisions, causing a lack of any meaningful relationship. Mac and I only visit during the holidays. I tolerate their constant criticism and lack of approval for Mac’s benefit only. Despite how they treat me, I allow a relationship as Mac’s grandparents since they do treat her well.

  “Savannah,” Brittany says in an irritated tone, “I keep telling you repeatedly, you can stop thanking me. I love Mac and spending time with her. Now, you need to stop stalling and hit the road or you’ll be late.”

  “Yes, Mom.” I grab my purse and lean down to kiss Mac on the head.

  “Good luck,” Brittany screams at me as I head out the door. “You have this, woman!”

  Thirty minutes later, I pull up to my destination and park in the little employee lot at the back of the building off the alley. The Still Water Pub soft opened a couple of weeks ago and will host its official grand opening in two weeks. With a great, central location in downtown Seattle, a block from Westlake Center I can make out the Seattle Monorail. A wave of nostalgia rushes over me as I remember the weekend that forever changed the course of my life.

  “Hurry up, Savannah,” Austin hollers at me from up the walk. “We’re going to miss the last monorail back to Westlake Center and I don’t want to walk back to the hotel.”

  “Okay! Okay! I’m hurrying but you try running in these damn heels. It’s not easy.”

  With my feet firmly on the ground running one minute and my body flying the next, it takes me a second to register Bas throwing me over his shoulder. He takes off into a run to catch up with Austin and Finn, ignoring my objections and wiggling. He continues along like the added weight doesn’t affect him.

  and continues along like he isn’t carrying any extra weight.

  Typical to Seat
tle in early spring, the sky opens and heavy rain pours on us from out of nowhere – only feet from the entrance. Instantly drenched and freezing due to the cool temperatures, hysterical laughter erupts from me due to this unexpected Sunday night and high on happy hormones. Noticeably missing from my life lately, I allow myself to let go and embrace the joy of the moment.

  Bas slowly lowers my body from his shoulder and slides me carefully down the front of his. Once my feet touch the ground, still in Bas’s embrace, I gaze into his heated silvery-gray eyes. His expression communicates his intentions.

  My laughter instantly stops, my breath catches and my heart pounds powerfully in my chest as Bas slowly lowers his lips to mine.

  Lacking any hesitance and full of dominance and demand, the kiss engages each of my senses. Taking control, Bas leaves me no choice but to respond. My hands grip his soaking wet shirt tightly as he pulls me closer and deepens the kiss. Seeming to go on forever, the kiss only lasts a minute. I know I will not forget this kiss or this night – ever.

  Shaking my head to bring me back to the present, I take a deep breath as I walk into the Still Water Pub and straighten out my outfit from the drive over. I mentally calm myself from the panic attack rising under the surface and threatening to send me into uncontrollable tears. Determined to make it on my own, I need this job and I’m unsure what I’ll do if I don’t get it. But I can’t continue to stretch my scholarship money and rely on the generosity of others.

  Walking through the door of the pub, a sense of calm overtakes me as I take in my surroundings. The entire back of the room hosts a large, dark-wood bar with high back, wooden bar stools in the same chocolate-brown color and real wood in a deep, mahogany tone adorn the floors. Despite the darkness of the abundance of wood, the appearance is upscale and surprisingly light. Two-person, high-top tables and four-person, standard tables, fill the main area. A little seating space on the far left contains a couple of couches and coffee tables, while a stage setup on the far right completes the space.

  Even though the place screams money, the pub emanates a laid-back vibe. At a little after four on a Tuesday afternoon, amazement fills me to view the number of patrons present considering the grand opening has yet to take place. They wear an even mix of business suits and jeans.

  The employees make their rounds wearing blue jeans and deep-red, Still Water Pub tees. The casual uniform still fits in with the upscale ambiance of the place.

  My black slacks and deep-purple, v-neck blouse with cap sleeves leaves me feeling overdressed, and I would personally prefer to be in jeans as well, my standard dress. I stand a whopping five feet four inches and rock quite the hourglass figure. I own my solid D-cup bust, tiny waist, and curvy hips and thighs. Brittany calls me a brunette Marilyn Monroe who happened to be born in the wrong decade. Working out daily leaves my physique toned but still soft in the areas men enjoy.

  My deep-brown hair hangs in waves slightly past my shoulders and now features a plethora of bold, hot pink highlights. Though the color changes from time to time depending on my mood, the pink’s a favorite. A headband made from a thick, bright-white ribbon tied into a dainty bow pulls my hair away from my face. Heavy bangs frame my chocolate-brown eyes lined with naturally thick, dark lashes

  Multiple piercings, including a diamond stud in my nose, a silver hoop in my eyebrow with a hot pink stone, and multiple little silver hoops in my ears add to my eccentricity. My personal expression doesn’t end there. Tattoos cover my body, most of which can’t be glimpsed in my current ensemble, and my clothing hides a few more piercings. The cap sleeves of my shirt allow a clear view of the full sleeve tattoo of brightly colored flowers on my right arm and the bottom part of the half sleeve tattoo on the other.

  After another deep breath, I walk up to get the bartender’s attention. Huge and gorgeous, his wavy, dark-blond hair reaches slightly below his chin, which now sports a sexy, five o’clock shadow. The brightest blue eyes, framed in long, dark lashes, surely make the ladies swoon. At a couple of inches over six feet, his broad shoulders taper nicely to a trim waist. His build isn’t bulky but nice and lean, like a soccer player.

  I do my best to get my raging libido in check as I stop at the bar. Working here may wreak havoc on my hormones due to the absence of sex in my life for the past two years. This place swarms with eye candy.

  “What can I get you, darlin’?” Mr. Sexy himself asks from behind the bar.

  “Hi, I’m Savannah Rae Preston and I have an interview with Mr. Peters.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Savannah Rae. I’m Mr. Peters but you can call me Jackson. If you give me a minute, let me grab Tyler to cover the bar, I will get the other owners for your interview.”

  Jackson comes around the back of the bar and heads in the opposite direction from where I stand. My panic tries to inch back to the surface at the idea of interviewing with multiple owners. Normally relaxed, the fact I need this job raises my anxiety level and I can’t afford to screw this up. Not for me and not for Mac.

  “Darlin,’ if you will follow me, we can head back to the office. The other guys will meet us in there,” Jackson speaks from behind me.

  I turn around with a smile and follow him to the right of the bar. We head down the hallway past the kitchen and the restrooms. At the end of the hall on the left, we go through a door entering the large, conference room like office. He directs me to take a seat at the round table as I try not to stare at the three other gorgeous men in the room. Not what I need, more libido awakening eye candy.

  “Savannah Rae let me introduce you to the three other owners.” Jackson sits down next to me and points to the gentleman on my left. “This is Cooper Andrews. Next to him is Beck Johnson, and lastly, this is Chris Jameson. We’re the four primary owners and who you would report to on a day to day basis. Three others also hold an interest in the pub but don’t handle any of the day to day management as silent owners.”

  Beginning with Cooper, I take a moment to shake their hands and thank each gentleman. Cooper reminds me of James Dean with his short, black hair styled in a pompadour and dark blue eyes. Beck’s dark-blond hair - cropped close on the sides and longer on top – slightly covers his left eye making it difficult to figure out the exact share of green from this angle. Chris’s dark hair, shaved close to his head, dark eyes and dark stubble along his jaw makes him scary hot and I catch a tiny glimpse of a tattoo on his neck that peeks from under the collar of his shirt. While each of these guys dominate the space due to their size, Chris is plain massive - the type of guy you would not want to meet in a dark alley but at the same time, can make your panties wet without saying a word.

  After the introductions, Beck picks up with the interview. “As Jackson said, the four of us run the day to day operations of the bar. At least two of us work on-site on any given day during the week. On the weekends, you will work with all of us. We primarily run the bar with another employee, Tyler. We need another waitress to work the tables on the floor from six in the evening until we close on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays and from three in the afternoon until we close on Sundays. Your application indicates you’re a full-time student, would this schedule work for you Savannah Rae?”

  “Yes, sir.” Cooper tries to hide his laughter as I reply. “This schedule works with my availability. I attend classes the entire day on Mondays and in the mornings on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And please, call me Savannah.”

  Still smothering his laughing, Cooper jumps in, “We’re informal here. You can drop the sir. As the job listing stated, we pay fifteen dollars per hour plus tips. A full insurance package, which we pay for one hundred percent, will kick in after your sixty-day probationary period. There may be a possibility of more hours once the pub is more established. I assume you’re in your senior year and graduate this June. What are your plans after graduation?”

  Ah, the part of the interview I knew would happen but still fills me with dread. I don’t want to come across as flakey and unreliable, but inevitably, Ma
c will cause an interference with this job. Dealing with illness or some other parenting emergency will cause me to miss a shift or two on occasion.

  Deciding it best to take the honest route, I try to explain my situation without offering too many personal details. “Due to taking six months off from school for some unplanned reasons last year, I will not graduate until after Christmas. After graduation, I will need to search for a job to put my degree to use. Worst case scenario means I would stay for approximately the next eighteen months.”

  During this explanation, Chris examines me closely, which causes disquiet to my already frayed nerves. His intimidating stare makes me question how comfortable I’ll be working with him alone.

  As I open my mouth to continue onto mentioning Mac, he interrupts rudely with a slight frown on his face and a hint of dislike in his voice. “To be honest with you, Savannah, we need someone we can depend on and I appreciate you could be here for an extended period but your unplanned leave from school leaves me curious. Am I safe to assume whatever unplanned circumstance arose is no longer a consideration?”

  One word describes Chris in this moment: asshole. Restraining myself from reaching over the table and punching him in his condescending mouth, I close my eyes and take a moment to curb my irritation. Any number of reasons could cause an unplanned absence from school. I know with my pink hair, tattoos, and piercings some find it easy to draw conclusions.

  However, I perfectly represent not judging a book by its cover.

  While my appearance may scream stereotypical college, party girl; it couldn’t be farther from the truth, and nothing pisses me off faster than someone making assumptions about me based on my sense of style. With an inner bitch ready to shine and my mama bear about to emerge, I know once I open my mouth, obtaining this job no longer holds any possibility.

  But I still can’t quite stop myself.

  Taking a deep breath and staring directly in his dark, narrowed eyes, I answer his question while I imagine telling him to go ahead and kiss my curvy ass. “If you’re asking if I have a drug or alcohol problem, I assure you I don’t. If you’re asking if I took a break from school as a result of choosing to spend more time partying than studying, once again you would be incorrect. I left school last year when I gave birth to my daughter. And before you ask, yes, she was unplanned and is a huge consideration. I do, however, have a great support system in place to help with her. To answer you more directly, I am a twenty-two-year-old single mom and full time student taking it day by day. Will this cause a problem, Sir?”