Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance

by Sabrina Paige

  When I imagined having children with Silas, I pictured a cute little boy and girl who were sweet and darling and brilliant and – well, we did wiund up with sweet, darling, brilliant children (if I do say so myself).

  "Mom, Liam just farted!"

  They're also mischievous, loud, and totally obnoxious.

  Jacob yells "gross!" and Ethan collapses into hysterical laughter, repeating: "He farted! He farted!" over and over.

  "No one farted," Silas says, his voice stern. "That was the sound of the ultrasound jelly being squirted onto your mom's belly."

  "Jelly and belly! Jelly and belly! Those rhyme!" Ethan sings.

  Silas looks at me and shakes his head. "Remind me why we though that bringing them here would make this a special moment?"

  "Remind me why we thought it would be a good idea to have another one," I whisper.

  "Is it too late to return them?" Silas whispers back.

  Jacob elbows Ethan in the arm and Ethan yells, "Stop hitting me! Mom, he's touching me again!"

  "I think if we sneak out of here quietly, they might not notice," I suggest.

  The sound of the heartbeat is amplified on speakers in the room, and suddenly the kids are standing still, quietly watching on a screen as a view of the baby comes onto the display.

  "What's that sound?" Liam asks.

  "It's the heartbeat," Silas explains.

  "Two heartbeats, actually," the ultrasound technician notes.

  I think my heart stops beating. "What do you mean, two?"

  "There are two babies," she says. "Didn't your doctor tell you?"

  "Uh… no," I note, my eyes going wide as I look at Silas. His face is pale. "I'm a thousand percent positive there was one baby in there when we saw my OB doctor four weeks ago."

  "Sometimes one of the twins will hide behind another one," she says nonchalantly, as if she's not standing there telling us we're going to have two children instead of the one we were expecting.

  "There are two?" Liam asks.

  "Two." Silas stands there slack-jawed. Hell, I think my mouth is hanging open.

  "Two," I repeat stupidly.

  "Twins," Silas says.

  "Twins," I repeat. "And triplets. That's five."

  "Are the babies going to take my toys?" Ethan asks.

  "They're babies. They don't want your toys," Liam says.

  "They look like aliens!" Ethan laughs, running around the room in circles. "Mom has aliens in her belly!"

  "No, zombies!" Jacob cries out. "Zombie-babies!" He stars walking around the room growling, his arms extended in front of him.

  "Get away from me, you butt!" Ethan yells.

  "What have I told you about butts and zombies?" Silas asks.

  "Butts and zombies! Butts and zombies," Ethan repeats.

  "No butts. No zombies. If either of you say either of those words one more time, you're in ‘time out’ right here and no one – I mean, no one – is going to the splash pad at the park later today."

  "What?!" Ethan groans.

  "Stop saying it, Ethan!" Jacob yells.

  "You said it first."

  "No one says anything else. It's quiet time," I interject.

  "Please tell me we're not having two more boys," Silas says quietly to me.

  The ultrasound technician hears him and laughs. "Do you want to know the sex of the babies?"

  I glance at Silas, who nods. "Yes."

  "It looks like they're both girls."

  My heart skips a beat. "Girls!"

  Silas grins. "Girls," he repeats. His hand goes to my head, smoothing my hair, and he leans over and kisses me on the lips. The trepidation and panic that I felt when the technician announced it was twins begins to dissipate the moment his lips touch mine.

  "We can do this, right?" I ask.

  "Are you kidding? We're freaking pros, Tempest."

  "What are the odds?"

  "We should go play the lottery."

  "We're going to need to, with five kids!" I exclaim.

  Silas laughs. Then of the boys makes a farting noise with his hand and his armpit and the moment of calm devolves into total chaos again.

  But I wouldn't have it any other way.

  Continue on for Killian, Book Three in the West Bend Saints Series.

  Luke (West Bend Saints, Book #3)

  To my husband, who endures having to plot with me and read my drafts and edit endlessly.

  To my darling daughter, who is the light of my life.

  To the authors and readers who’ve supported me along the way. This journey keeps getting better and better.

  Synopsis

  Luke

  F**k being good. I won’t be tamed.

  There are three things in life I’m damn good at: f**king, jumping out of planes, and chasing forest fires.

  Settle down? With someone like Autumn Mayburn? Forget it.

  She's uptight, smart-mouthed, and hell, she has a kid. She's ten years older than me.

  There are a million reasons I shouldn't touch her.

  F**k all of those reasons.

  The single mama with the smokin’ hot body and the sass to match is going to be mine.

  Autumn

  I hate bad boys. Especially infuriatingly cocky, womanizing, ooze-sex-from-every-pore bad boys.

  I’m a mom. A businesswoman. I have responsibilities.

  The last thing I need is to get played by Luke Saint.

  He thinks that just because he saved my orchard from a fire, he can tell me how to run it.

  He thinks he knows what I need, what I crave.

  The problem is, I think he might be right.

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 by Sabrina Paige

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review.

  All quotations used in this book are part of public domain works and/or translated copies existing in public domain. The author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in this book. Trademarks have been used without permission.

  This book contains mature content, including graphic sex, language, and violence. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.

  The characters' hometown of West Bend doesn’t really exist. It’s a fictional location inspired by a place that is meaningful to me.

  1

  Autumn

  Two Years Ago

  Today should have been the happiest day of my life. Today was the day that Edward and I had been hoping for these past four years.

  The test was positive.

  I took it three times this morning, just to make sure. Then I drove straight to my doctor's office and got the blood test. Still positive.

  I did a happy dance in the office. My doctor wasn’t just my OB; he was my family doctor. He’d known me for all of my thirty-four years, and I think he was as tickled as I was. He knew how hard this journey has been.

  And then, two hours later, the phone call that changed everything.

  "Now, Doc Statham, don't tell me that I have to come back for an appointment already," I said, my voice teasing. Nothing could knock me off the cloud I was floating on.

  Nothing, that is, except the next words that came out of his mouth. "Your father," he said. "I'm sorry, Autumn."

  I shook my head, trying to get my brain to process what he was saying. His voice sounded like it was far away, like he was speaking to me through some kind of tunnel. "No… It's not possible."

  "It was sudden, Autumn," he explained to me. "Heart attack on the golf course."

  "Where? I-is everyone at the hospital?" I asked. "They'll fix him. He's in surgery, right?"

  "I'm sorry," he repeated. It was the phrase I continued to hear later, echoing in my head, rattling around in my skull. I'm sorry, o
ver and over and over.

  I didn’t go straight to the hospital, though. I drove to Edward's office in a daze dialing his cell phone twice, but he didn't answer. On the passenger seat in the front of the car was a little gift-wrapped box in shiny pink-and-blue paper, my "Surprise, we're going to have a baby!" box. It seemed tainted somehow. I contemplated not bringing it with me, but decided I couldn't keep it a secret, even if I were intermingling the good news with the news of my father's death.

  When the elevator reached the thirteenth floor, I stood there staring at the number like it was some kind of omen. The floor was empty, lights glowing under the doors of a couple of the offices down the hall. Edward's secretary had gone home, and I wondered if he was at the golf course. Maybe Edward was with my father when it happened, I thought. Except that wasn't true. My sister said Edward was missing at the hospital.

  Not like that's any big surprise.

  My family had never liked Edward. But that was all going to change after this news. More than anything in the world, my father wanted a grandchild. Even if the child would be Edward’s.

  Past tense, I realized. My father would never see his grandchild. The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, and I didn't care that they were streaming down my face when I reached the door.

  I didn't bother to knock before turning the handle.

  I should have.

  I stood there, holding the pink-and-blue box with the ribbon on the top, the one that contained all of my hopes and dreams. Our hopes and dreams – or what I thought were ours. The words lingered on the tip of my tongue: I have news. Good news and bad news.

  I'll take the good news first, Edward would always say. Because I'm an optimist.

  My mouth formed the words before my brain was able to even process the scene before me: I'm pregnant.

  But I didn't speak those words. They stuck in my throat, and I thought I might choke on them.

  I stood there, my mouth open, unblinking and unmoving. Edward's pants were around his knees, his pale ass thrusting against the woman on the desk.

  His secretary. Brittany.

  Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her bright red heels digging into the small of his back.

  "Oh shit!" she blurted out. I wasn't sure at first if the words were meant for me or for him. Her arm flailing, she slapped Edward's forearm repeatedly.

  "Oh yeah, your fucking pussy is so tight," he groaned. “Squeeze it for me, baby. I love being bare inside you. I’m going to come so hard.”

  "Your wife," she squealed, slapping him again.

  His head finally turned. "Oh, shit."

  I stood there holding the box that contained everything I’d wanted my entire life, and watched my husband fuck his bimbo secretary.

  When I finally opened my mouth to speak, the words fell out. Good news and bad news. "I'm pregnant," I said. "And my father is dead."

  2

  Autumn

  West Bend, Colorado

  "Do you see the colors on the trees? There are red, and brown, and gold. We're almost home, Liv-bug." I'm babbling, giving Olivia the play-by-play and trying to distract her on the car ride home from town with my not-very-creative scenery descriptions. Olivia has never done well with car rides, not since she turned a year old. She hasn't wanted to stop moving, ever since she learned to crawl; sitting in a car seat, even for fifteen minutes, is too unbearable for her little toddler self.

  Olivia gives me a little warning howl of disapproval, the precursor to the full-fledged meltdown I know is on the horizon, and I sing softly to her while my phone buzzes again – for the fourth time on the drive home.

  I should answer, but I ignore the phone, feeling slightly irritated. I’m running an orchard. I’m not a surgeon on call. Sure, it’s the middle of harvest, but really, nothing can be that important that it can’t wait five minutes until Olivia and I get home. Besides, I know it's just going to be my foreman and I can't deal with him right now.

  Today is already stressful enough just because of what day it is to begin with – the anniversary of my father’s death.

  And the death of my marriage.

  Of course, to be accurate, my marriage died well before the day I walked in on Edward and his bimbo secretary going at it on the desk in his office. I just didn't want to admit it to myself. And really, I should be sending that bitch regular thank-you cards and flowers for saving me from my train-wreck of a husband.

  Especially after Edward was arrested four months later. He's now serving an eight-year sentence in a minimum-security federal prison for embezzlement. As it turned out, schtupping his secretary wasn't enough for him; he was stealing from my father, too.

  Hell, I can pick a real winner, can't I?

  I exhale heavily, suppressing the curse on the tip of my tongue for Olivia’s benefit as I round the corner toward the orchard. I see the grey haze in the air, smell smoke before I even pull down the long gravel drive that leads to my house. But even if I couldn't, the fire truck blocks the driveway, crowded with firefighters. My eyes immediately go to the house, and I breathe a sigh of relief at the fact that it's intact before I even begin to process what the hell is going on. Thank goodness.

  Olivia howls, clearly sensing that something is wrong, and I "shush" her, humming a lullaby under my breath as I pull up in the driveway in front of the house and try to calm my own racing heart.

  As soon as I open the driver’s side door, one of the volunteer firefighters – West Bend, Colorado is not big enough for its own fire department – flags me down. "Autumn Mayburn?"

  "That's me," I say. "This is my place. What's happening?"

  "You've got a fire down in the orchard. It’s contained now.”

  Olivia squeals from the back seat of the car. I'm half-listening to the firefighter as I walk around the front of the SUV toward the passenger side to pull Olivia from her car seat when he comes walking toward me.

  I don't know who the hell he is. I've never seen him before, but he takes my breath away, and I’m not just saying that because I’m inhaling a crapload of smoke in the air. I mean that literally. I swear that I stop breathing for a second, pausing for a moment to gape because he looks like he just stepped off the set of a romance movie.

  He's walking toward me in jeans and boots, a t-shirt spotted with grime and sweat. The fabric sticks to his skin, outlining his chest muscles so clearly he might as well not even be wearing his shirt. I swear I can see the striations in his abdomen. His face is streaked with gray soot, his chiseled jaw clenched.

  Olivia squeals again, and it shakes me out of my momentary trance. I turn to open the door to the back seat, but he reaches me first.

  "Hey." He speaks the word angrily, and I turn to face him as I pull open the car door to grab Olivia. The man is close to me, only a few inches away, and when I look in his eyes, electricity rushes through my body even though he hasn't so much as laid a finger on me.

  There's something both threatening and sexy in the way he stands near me. I'm not sure if he's trying to intimidate me, or if he wants to cover my mouth with his, and the fact that I can’t tell which sends a shiver up my spine. "Is this your place?"

  "Yeah. I'm the owner,” I say, looking into his icy blue eyes framed with thick dark lashes. Shit, he's got to be in his twenties. He's young. Too young.

  He points back toward the orchard. "I don't know what the hell kind of operation you're running here," he starts.

  I bristle immediately at his tone. "Excuse me?"

  He points his finger at me, and I nearly reach out and smack it away. This guy might be the hottest thing I've ever seen, but he's clearly the kind of guy who thinks he can get away with anything just because he's gorgeous. "Are you trying to singlehandedly burn down the fucking county, or just get people killed?"

  "Who the hell are you?" I ask.

  He ignores me, instead continuing with his lecture. "You've got a piece of shit foreman who's fucking drunk on the job, you know that?"

  "I don't know
anything right now. All I know is that I don't know you. And that you need to quit cussing and back the hell away from me before I slap you."

  Olivia howls, “Mama!” and I pull open the car door all the way, half-hoping I smack him with it. Okay, totally hoping I smack him with the door. I've never seen this guy before in my life and he's yelling at me in front of my toddler? Anyone who does that is a total dirtbag.

  I slide Olivia out of the seat and turn around with her on my hip, only to find him standing there gaping at me.

  "I didn't know you had a… kid."

  All I know is that I don't want Olivia around this guy who's clearly an asshole, so I slam the car door and shield her from him as I move toward the other firefighter who’s far more reasonable. “And it’d be fine for you to yell at me if I didn’t have a kid?” I ask. “It’s totally normal to just go around screaming at women?”

  I don’t bother to wait for an answer. I don’t need some twenty-year-old kid lecturing me about how to run my own damn property. Hearing about my foreman already hits a nerve with me. He's the third foreman I've had, and I thought I smelled alcohol on his breath the other day, but I wrote it off as just my own paranoia. I don't even know how much of the orchard was destroyed or—holy shit—if anyone got hurt.

  "Ma'am," the firefighter I spoke with before greets me.