The Irish Lottery: A Friends-to-Lovers Contemporary Romance (Irish Kiss)

by Sienna Blake

“Aubrey?” Darren’s concern was enough to make this dam burst.

  “We broke up,” I blurted out. Just saying it felt like a weight off my shoulders.

  Darren carefully put aside his tools and faced me. “Why?”

  I shrugged.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

  “I suppose I could say it was because his career was taking off and we’d stopped spending so much time together. Or that he wasn’t ready for marriage, but if I’m honest with myself…” I let out a long breath, “…we weren’t right for each other.”

  Darren squeezed my shoulder. “Sometimes the hardest thing is to be honest with ourselves. You did the right thing, short stuff.” The affection in his voice was a soothing salve to my wounds. “You seem…okay with it. Sad but not heartbroken.”

  “And that’s the weirdest thing,” I admitted, “I feel bad that I’m not heartbroken about it. Then angry at myself that I might have gone along with a wedding to a man who I didn’t love enough to be wrecked over.”

  “But you didn’t go through with it.”

  “I could have.”

  “Trust me, even if it went that far, I think there may have been a plot twist or two that might have stopped the wedding before you got to the vows.”

  I blinked at Darren, trying to decipher his words. Before I could ask, he spoke. “What does Noah think?”

  “I…haven’t told him?” My voice went all high-pitched at the end of my sentence.

  “What?” Darren stared at me, my laptop all but forgotten on the coffee table. “Why not?”

  It was a good question. Why hadn’t I? Something stopped me when I went to tell him the other night at work. I knew I needed him, that I wanted his support. He was my best friend in the whole world and I could trust him with anything. So why hadn’t I told him?

  “I tried to,” I said. “I just couldn’t get the words out.”

  I didn’t want to add more to Noah’s shoulders right now. His ma was sick and he was worrying about her health while struggling to raise money for her surgery. He had enough to worry about without me dumping my stupid break-up on him too.

  Yes, that was it.

  Still, as honest and true as this was, I couldn’t help feel like there was some other reason too.

  I noticed Darren was watching me carefully, a serious expression on his face that seemed to be sliding into an understanding I didn’t fully grasp. “Noah needs to know.”

  “Please don’t say anything to him,” I said in a panic. “You’re the only person I’ve told.”

  Darren studied me for what felt like forever. When he spoke, his words were measured. “I hate the thought of keeping this from Noah.”

  “I will tell him, I just need…” courage, “…time.”

  “You know you’re like a sister to me.”

  I nodded.

  “That’s the only reason I’m keeping my mouth shut about this.” Darren grabbed a tool off the table, pointing it at me to punctuate his words. “But I’m not lying to him. If he asks me if you two broke up, I’m saying yes.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. That’s all I’m asking.”

  “You seem more stressed about telling Noah than you are about the breakup.”

  I didn’t want to admit it, but Darren was right. I was sad that it was over between Sean and me. But I knew undoubtably that we’d done the right thing. The more I thought about our relationship, the more I felt like maybe I’d dodged a bullet. We weren’t a perfect match by any stretch and over the last couple days I found myself wondering if we were even a good match. The biggest emotion I felt was…relief.

  “I think you might be right,” I said softly.

  Darren lowered his attention to the laptop in his lap.

  I watched him do something with the internal parts of the laptop before he began to close it all up. The final screw went in place and he flipped it over. He powered it up and the screen flashed to life.

  I held my breath, praying it didn’t open up on the last website I’d been on: the Irish Lottery site.

  I almost cried with relief when my laptop booted up to show my desktop, messy with icons all over it, but nothing embarrassing.

  “All fixed,” Darren said, setting it on the coffee table.

  “Thank you so much,” I said, leaning in and pulling him into a quick hug. “I set aside a few hundred euros to get it fixed.” I grabbed my purse and dug through it to find the money. “Is that enough?”

  “You’re not paying me,” he said in alarm. “You’re family.”

  “Darren. I can’t give you nothing for this. I took up your afternoon.”

  His eyes warmed. “Then how about a cup of coffee?”

  That I could do. It wasn’t enough, but it was better than nothing.

  “And bickies?” I asked. “I have tea cakes.”

  Darren rubbed my hair, mussing it up. “Short stuff, you know how to treat a man.”

  From the kitchen I asked him how he liked his coffee and waited for it to brew.

  “Just however you make it,” he called from the other room.

  I winced. “You might regret that.” He didn’t know it but I loved my coffee with sugar and cream. I made it strong so there was a bitter bite, but the sweet hit the tongue first and the bitter snuck up behind. I’d top it off with a pinch of cinnamon.

  “I doubt it. It’s impossible to mess up coffee.”

  “Challenge accepted! Oops! That might have been salt, not sugar.” I stirred in two teaspoons of sugar and held back a giggle at the gagging noise he made. With a generous dash of milk and a pinch of cinnamon, I mixed it all in and cheerfully said, “Okay, and we’re ready!”

  Carefully carrying the cups and a plate of tea cakes on a tray, I set them before us on the coffee table. He was studying me intently.

  “What?” I asked.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head instead. “The coffee smells amazing,” he said.

  “Thanks. And thank you again for fixing my laptop.” I was definitely going to need it now to apply for jobs so I could stay in the country. My visa deadline was still months away. I had time. I did.

  “Stop thanking me. It’s not a big deal.” He lifted the mug of steaming hot coffee to his lips. Then made a face. “I think you really did put salt in it.”

  “What?”

  Darren cracked up. “Joking. It’s perfect, short stuff.”

  While we drank our coffees, Darren told me stories of the trouble Noah would get up to as a child. He had me laughing and smiling into my coffee at the thought of Noah as a boy. I liked seeing this side of Darren. He was usually the quietest one of the boys, but get him talking and he didn’t shut up.

  “So, any ladies on the scene for the O’Sullivan brothers?” I asked with a waggle of my eyebrows.

  Darren snorted. “Well, you know Eoin.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Still changing girls like he changes his jocks.”

  Darren make a face. “If only he changed his jocks as often as he changed girls.”

  “Ewww.” I giggled.

  “And Michael’s too busy with his work for women.” That sounded familiar.

  “And you?”

  Darren shrugged and tipped the last of his coffee into his mouth. “I…I just have bad luck with women.”

  My heart squeezed. I ran through the catalog of single women I knew to see whether I could set Darren up with any of them. No one felt good enough for him.

  “I’m not exactly a prize,” Darren continued. “I’m just a lowly mechanic.”

  I let out a loud gasp and slapped his shoulder. “Don’t you dare say that!”

  “It’s true. Most women want someone with wealth potential, like Michael, or famous like Eoin.”

  I shook my head. “Those women don’t know what they’re missing out on. You deserve someone really great.”

  Darren looked at me with surprise before grinning sheepishly at me. “Thanks, short stuff. Although,
don’t tell Noah you said that. He’ll murder me in my sleep. I should be off.” He stood.

  I stood with him and gave him a quick hug. “I’m lucky as hell to have you guys in my life.”

  “I’m pretty sure we’re the lucky ones.” He hugged me back before letting me go and looking down at me. “I do want you to think about something.”

  I nodded, staring up at him.

  “Tell Noah about your break-up. And soon. He needs to know,” he said. “Everything will work out fine.”

  Long after Darren had gone, I stared at the door, still wondering what he’d meant by that.

  Lottery Entry #3893

  Don’t judge me. I married young, you see, and I didn’t have time to fulfil this fantasy before I made a commitment. And my husband…well, he’d never go for it. He won’t even put a finger up there; he thinks it’s gross. I love him. I do. I just can’t seem to get this fantasy out of my head…

  I just need two of you. Two of you who are the biggest, if you know what I mean. One of you will lie down on his back while I straddle him, his cock in my wet pussy. And the other will be behind me, spreading my cheeks and lubing me up before easing into my virgin ass. I want to feel both of you at once.

  Be fucked by both of you at once.

  Noah

  “Holy shite.”

  Darren swiveled around in his chair, looking stunned.

  The time had come to pick the winner and we were all in Darren’s shop, much to Michael’s dismay. This time he’d been careful to touch nothing. Eoin had taken it upon himself to make sure that Michael wound up dirty, rubbing his fingers in greasy spots before affectionally clasping Michael’s shoulder or ruffling his perfectly coifed hair.

  “So?” Michael asked Darren. “Did the program pick the winner?”

  Darren nodded slowly. He inhaled and I instinctively did the same. The sharp scent of cars and rubber hit my nose, and I swallowed back the nerves gnawing at me. Why wasn’t Darren saying anything?

  “Is she hot?” Eoin asked.

  Michael glared at him.

  “What?” Eoin said, not a trace of apology in his voice. “You were all thinking it. I’m the only one who had the balls to ask.” He glanced at me for backup.

  I shook my head at him. “She could be as ugly as a mule and ten times as stubborn and I wouldn’t give a damn,” I said. “This is for Ma, not for us.” I wasn’t going to lose sight of what was really going on. I wouldn’t forget the real reason we were doing this. It wasn’t for our pleasure or for fun—it was to make sure Ma got the surgery she needed. Nothing else mattered.

  Eoin grumbled but accepted what I was saying before expectantly looking at Darren.

  “So, spit it out,” Michael said.

  “I’m sorry, Noah.” Darren refused to look at me.

  A knot formed in my gut. “Sorry for what?”

  “The program…” he mumbled, “…it’s random. I mean, what are the chances…”

  I shook my head, not understanding.

  I wasn’t the only one because Michael let out a frustrated noise. “For Pete’s sake, just spit it out. Who won?”

  Darren finally looked at me, his eyes round with apology and concern. “It’s Aubrey Campbell. Aubrey won.”

  All eyes shifted to me. The room got so quiet I could hear my blood pressure rising. I must have heard him wrong. Aubrey was engaged to be married. She wouldn’t have entered this lottery. She said she’d never even consider it because she had a fiancé.

  “Need a chair?” Michael asked me, whisking one behind me like he expected me to collapse.

  “Dude,” Eoin said, staring at me wide-eyed.

  I wanted to say something. Anything. With everyone staring at me, I felt like the whole world was coming to a halt. The blood was rushing in my ears like a turbulent ocean and something tasted metallic on my tongue. I needed for this to be a sick joke. A brotherly prank. A dream…nightmare…

  I needed…air.

  Without a word, I headed for the door.

  “I’ll go with him,” Michael said.

  “Let him be,” I heard Darren say as the door closed behind me.

  Outside, I just started walking. No destination, just me and my thoughts. They were wrong. Clearly, this was a game. One that Darren had taken too fucking far. There was no way Aubrey won. She wouldn’t cheat on Sean. She wasn’t that kind of person. I was her best fucking friend; I’d know if she liked to sneak around on people.

  Yes, this was a joke. A prank. A lie.

  Turning sharply, I headed right back in the door of the shop.

  “Fuck you,” I said, walking right up to Darren and grabbing him by the collar. Lifting him up out of his chair, I saw him raise a hand to stop our brothers from coming to his aid. “She would never—”

  “I swear I’m not fucking with you,” he said evenly while gesturing at the computer. “Go see for yourself.”

  I dropped him and stepped closer to the computer.

  In the giveaway widget under the heading Winner, Aubrey’s name was there in bold letters, as was her email address. And her fantasy:

  I just want someone to give me an orgasm.

  Oh, fuck.

  “This is a mistake,” I muttered. “Maybe…maybe Candace entered Aubrey on her behalf. Yes, that’s what happened.” One call to Aubrey and I’d know that she wasn’t the one who bought this ticket. I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

  Eoin grabbed my arm and Michael snatched my phone.

  “Give it back!” I struggled against Eoin.

  “You can’t call her!” Eoin said. “Then she’ll know it’s us!”

  Oh fuck. I couldn’t ask her about it. I couldn’t tell her that I knew.

  But this…her. She couldn’t be the winner. My body heated in anger, lust or both.

  “Fix it!” I snapped at Darren, shrugging Eoin off me. “Pick someone else.”

  Darren gave me a woeful look. “I can’t. The program won’t let me.”

  “It’s a fucking program! You can make it do whatever you want! Fix this!”

  This was going all wrong; like watching a plane careening into the side of a mountain, I could see it all happening and I was powerless to stop it.

  “The program already sent her the email telling her she won. I can’t fix it,” Darren said. “I’m sorry.”

  I could lose my best friend over this. Even if she never found out it was me, how could I live with myself keeping such a secret from her?

  A suffocating silence swelled up around me. I fought the urge to destroy something. To punch Darren in the face. To take out all three of my brothers at once. I knew it wasn’t Darren’s fault—anyone’s fault—but I needed to blame someone.

  “Well…” Eoin broke the silence, “…at least she’s hot.”

  I charged at Eoin, yelling at him that I’d rip his head off. I thrashed against a net of strong arms as Darren and Michael caught me.

  Eoin was unrepentant. “What? You know she is. You’ve been wanting to ride her since the day you met her.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that.”

  “He’s got a point,” Michael said softly. He continued quickly as I turned on him. “This could be how you could show her what she’s missing. Noah, she said her fantasy is to come. That’s a sad damn sign of the state of her love life.”

  “You’re her best friend,” Darren said, nodding. “It should be you that shows her.”

  The fury slowly drained out of my body, replaced with dark excitement pounding through my veins.

  “We’d all be there, but you and Aubrey would be the stars of the fantasy.”

  Little bit by little bit my brothers let me go, like they knew I was no longer a threat to Eoin’s life.

  I wanted this. I wanted to give Aubrey an orgasm. I wanted to please her. I knew that prick Sean was a shit boyfriend; now it was confirmed. I’d fucking break his face if I ever saw him again.

  But that didn’t make it okay for her to cheat on him.

  “I�
�don’t know,” I said.

  Could I do this? Could I not only help her cheat on her shite boyfriend, but be the one she cheated with? Could I risk our friendship like this?

  “She trusts you, man. It should be you,” Darren said in a low voice, clapping a hand on my shoulder.

  It was more fucking complicated than that. A lot more complicated.

  Or was it?

  Aubrey was an adult, capable of making her own choices. I’d never push her to step out on Sean, but if she’d entered the lottery on her own… And then to win. What were the chances? It was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

  Darren was still studying me. I finally gave him a tense nod. He let out a sigh of relief. I could handle this. We were going through with it.

  If Aubrey and I had been dealt a hand like this, maybe…maybe it was fate.

  Aubrey

  I stared at my laptop screen, refreshing my inbox for easily the tenth time. It was still there. The RE: Irish Lottery – You’re a winner! message still sat in my inbox, unopened.

  I told myself it must have been some joke. Or it was spam. One of those We got your email now! We’re selling it to everyone spambots.

  I circled the message with my mouse several times, chickening out at every pass.

  Was it really possible I’d won?

  Surely not. I’ve never won anything.

  Definitely spam.

  Definitely—

  Oh my God, Aubrey, just open the damn thing.

  I doubled clicked the message to open it, pulling my hands away before I could rapid-fire jam the escape key. It opened and my eyes jumped over the words, searching for the moment it revealed itself as a scam or spam. But instead of the words You’re a winner, please take this million euro check and cash it, then money order it back to me while keeping ten thousand out for yourself, it all looked legit.

  I’d won my fantasy to be fulfilled by four hot Irishmen.

  Fuck me.

  Literally.

  There was a button I had to click to confirm and accept the prize.

  The prize…four hot, willing men that only wanted to make my fantasy—my pitiful fantasy—of having an orgasm come true.