Table of Contents
Taking Charge
Picturing Perfect
Fighting Back
Breaking Free
Finding Forever
McIntyre Boxset
Copyright © 2019 by Rebecca Barber. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
This one is for Mum and Dad.
Thank you for the life you’ve given me and your unconditional love and support.
Without you, I wouldn’t have any stories to tell.
I love you both.
The Meet the McIntyre books is a series surrounding a family of the five children. Each has their own story to tell.
The intended reading order is:
Beau
Gage
Holly
Ryan
Connor
Chapter One
Beau
I stretched my long legs out in front of me, my knee collecting the corner of the arm of the seat in front of me. This was the absolute worst part of travelling. Trying to squish my six-foot four frame into some tiny, bullshit economy seat in the back of the crowded sardine tin. Every person surrounding me was sniffing or snorting, and I could feel the germs invading my system with every breath. As the plane rose then fell again, my already queasy gut went with it. It may have only been a few inches’ difference, but it was enough to have my stomach in my throat. Groaning into my hands, I rubbed my tired, sore eyes before squeezing them shut, willing everything to settle. This was life, though. Nothing ever went fucking right when it came to my life. Every time I began to feel like I was breaking free and outrunning karma, something would happen and I’d be dragged back to reality, only to be bitch-slapped. Today was proving to be no exception.
I didn’t remember most of last night. Whether or not that was a good thing I still wasn’t convinced, although when I awoke in my hotel room with a smooth leg draped across mine, I knew it couldn’t have been all bad. Glancing down at the dark-haired beauty snoring beside me, I had the vague recollection that her name was Linda. Lauren. Lori. Something like that. It wasn’t like it really mattered. Once I shooed her from my room, I’d never see her again. A fact that was more than okay with me. There were plenty more where she came from. After all, Bali was nothing more than Australia’s playground.
Two weeks ago, I’d finished up working for an overly large, completely impersonal, and slightly disgusting company in the centre of Sydney. My time was up. I knew I couldn’t stay away from home forever, but fuck me—it’d been nice while it lasted. A few years ago, I’d finished my degree at University, the only reason Dad had agreed to let me move away in the first place before taking the job. I’d started hidden away in a cubicle at the back of the building alongside the other underpaid embarrassments. Some of those embarrassments went on to become my best friends and flatmates. Maybe it was the long days filled with nothing but sorting mail, filing, and coffee runs, all while being treated like we were completely disposable. Looking back at it now, I guess that’s what we were. Disposable. Each and every year the universities across the country pumped out classes full of graduates with stars in their eyes and student loans hanging over their heads. Somehow though, I’d survived. For four years, I’d survived. Even then, it was my call to cut the cord. Not theirs. Something I was seriously proud of. My flatmate, and frankly one of the laziest pieces of shit I knew, Callam, had been fired within the first three months.
I felt sorry for the poor bastard. He bounced around from one meaningless job to another. Sydney was an expensive place to live. It didn’t matter if you lived in the City in some shoebox, or an hour’s train commute away. It was just expensive. And Callam was just like the rest of us. He needed to work just to pay the rent. For a while I carried him while he searched for work, but he was a stubborn ass and hated it. Every time it looked like he was about to fall into an abyss so deep he may never crawl his way out, something popped up.
Lucky bastard.
He’d always been a lucky prick. And right this moment was no exception. While I was stuck on this plane nursing the hangover from hell, last I saw him he was stretched out butt naked on his bed with not one, but two foreign beauties wrapped around him. Asshole.
“Sir, can I get you anything?” a petite little blonde with an incredible rack asked. I might be hungover as fuck, but I never missed a chance to ogle boobs. Especially when they looked like hers. They were the perfect handful and perky. My mouth watered at the thought.
“Water, thanks.” When she leant down to grab a bottle from her cart, my hungry eyes roamed over her. I’d be damned but her ass was just as delectable as those incredible tits. Suddenly my loose fitting grey pants were feeling a little snug.
“Great! Just what I need.”
“Sorry, did you say something?” She smiled so sweetly it gave me a tooth ache.
Accepting the bottle, I quickly unscrewed the cap and took a long swig. I needed the cold liquid flowing through my system as soon as possible. Something to cool my boiling blood. “Sorry, no. I was talking to myself. Bad habit.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Shit! She looked disappointed. Her eyes fell, and when she bit her lip, I heard the growl escape my lips. Every fibre of my body was screaming for me to bend her over her cart and bang her into the middle of next week.
There were only two things stopping me.
The other passengers hunkered over in their seats surrounding me.
And the throbbing migraine behind my eyes that didn’t want to budge. No matter how much water, greasy food, Coke, or aspirin I forced down my throat, it wasn’t easing.
We locked eyes for a moment, and from somewhere, fucked if I know where, I found the strength to be first to look away, dismissing her. As much as I wanted to, and God knows I did, I had barely five more hours before I landed in Sydney to get my shit together. That meant I had five hours to get some much needed sleep and shake this nasty ass hangover. Reality and responsibility were closing in with every mile.
Home. Huh, that was funny. It hadn’t felt like home in as long as I could remember. It didn’t matter, though. That’s where I was headed. A one-way trip. After that rude phone call from my baby brother Connor, someone whose ass I desperately wanted to kick right now, there was no question. I was on a one-way trip.
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier
“Get your shit together!”
“Calm your tits, Beau. Give a guy a second. Some of us actually give a shit what we look like, you know?”
Nah, I didn’t care. We hadn’t come all this way to spend it cooped up in hotel rooms staring at the white walls talking to each other. If we’d wanted to do that we could have just stayed at home in the tiny apartment we shared. Right now, I wanted to be anywhere but here. Preferably at the beach nursing a beer in one hand and a blonde in the other. I didn’t particularly care in which order they came, as long as at the end of the night, I did.
Although we hadn’t mentioned it, in fact we’d done everything we could think of to avoid it, but we both knew, this was my last hurrah. My last days of freedom before being imprisoned. At least that’s what it felt like.
“I’m heading out. Whe
n you’re ready, Princess, I’ll be at the bar.” Fuck staying in this room another minute. I didn’t have many minutes left. I wanted to make the most of every single one of them before I surrendered my freedom and once again reported to my father.
“Geez man, what crawled up your ass?” Callam asked, stepping from the bathroom in a potent cloud of cologne. I coughed so violently it shook my entire body. “Or should I ask who?”
“Let’s just get out of here and have some fun. That is, if you’re ready. Finally.”
He looked like a dick. The whole time I’d been waiting, pacing the room, trying to hurry him up I could have sworn he’d been staring at himself in the mirror combing his hair and applying more product than a girl. God knows that shit was all over the bathroom. But his hair wasn’t even the worst part. It was the pansy ass light blue t-shirt he wore with huge white flowers covering it. What the fuck was he thinking? Seriously? We were out to pick up chicks tonight, not dudes. At least I was. Right now, looking at Callam, I couldn’t be so sure.
Eventually we stepped out onto the street and I yanked my sunglasses from my pocket and slipped them over my eyes, trying to shield them from the afternoon glare. We may have already been in Bali for over a week, but one thing I hadn’t gotten used to was the stifling humidity. Instantly my dark grey button down shirt stuck to my back, which was slick with sweat. This was exactly the reason I had no intention of living here. Summer in Australia was exactly that. Summer. Hot, dry, and filled with long, scorching days. But when winter arrived, so did the icy winds and morning frosts. Real seasons. Each clearly defined. Not some endless string of days where each one was just like the last. Sure, it was fantastic for a holiday, but I wasn’t staying. Thank fuck.
“I need a drink,” I stated matter-of-factly as I walked down the street.
One advantage of being a giant was I could see over all the short asses that filled the busy street. Up ahead I spotted a bar on the corner where the sidewalk was filled with huge green market umbrellas and people sitting around. That’s where I needed to be. Barely a block from the hotel, a cold beer in hand. Now if they had some decent food, I wouldn’t have to move again for the night.
I wasn’t my usual self. I knew that. And I felt kind of like a dick for ruining this trip, a trip Callam and I’d been looking forward to for months. Ever since I’d seen Connor’s name pop up in my email—an email I ignored—there’d been a nagging in the pit of my stomach like something was coming. Something unavoidable. Something that would upend my life as I know it.
Stepping up to the bar, I quickly ordered a round of tequila shots with beer chasers. I watched as the guy behind the bar poured. After dropping some cash, I swallowed down the first shot before gathering up the rest and winding my way through the maze of tables to where Callam sat, slumped in the dark corner.
“Tequila?” he queried as I set the tray down.
“Yeah?”
“You trying to get smashed?”
“Nah,” I lied. It wasn’t as if I was desperately trying to get smashed, not as much as I was trying to forget. “Cheers!” I forced out as I raised my glass, clinked it with Callam’s before tossing my head back and swallowing the tequila, embracing the all too familiar burn.
I didn’t miss the concerned look that crossed Callam’s very confused face, but I didn’t care. Tonight, I didn’t care about anything. At least I could pretend I didn’t. Even if it was only for a couple of hours.
We lost track of time sitting in the corner drinking and talking shit. I was pretty wasted when a tiny, very flexible dark-haired Asian beauty slipped into my lap and started grinding against me. After that everything became hazy. I remember some kind of flaming shots, and a shower. There was a vague recollection of a blowjob in a darkened alley. Or maybe I just dreamt that.
When my eyes opened, I wriggled my arm out from under her hair, and checked my phone. Another missed call from Connor. Man, that guy was a persistent pain in my ass. It was just after three and the need to pee outweighed the obligation to call him back.
After doing my business, I stumbled back into my room and found a half empty bottle of bourbon and fell into the chair in the corner. I don’t know what made me think it was a good idea to chug it directly from the bottle, yet I did. When the room started to spin and everything was blurry, I staggered back to bed and collapsed.
“Excuse me, sir.”
I sat bolt upright, bashing my knee in my haste. What the fuck? Where was I? Oh my God, I wanted to throw up. It took a minute for me to gain my bearings. That’s right. Sardine can. Packed flight. Home. Shit!
“Yeah,” I grumbled, rubbing my tired eyes.
“Sir, we’re getting ready to land. I need you to put your seat in the upright position.”
I don’t know which part of that statement brought the bile to my throat. The lingering hangover or the fact that we were about to land. Without complaining, a feat which required biting the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, I reset my chair and stretched my legs. As much as I could, anyway.
Two hours later and I was beyond pissed. Gone was my hangover, replaced by complete and utter fury. Due to traffic, we’d circled Sydney airport for forty minutes. I mean seriously, what fucking traffic? We were in the freaking sky. It’s not like it was Monday morning peak hour on the freeway. Thankfully, we eventually touched down on the tarmac and I let out the breath I was holding. I was dying for a piss but the annoyingly perky flight attendant wouldn’t let me up because of the damn seatbelt sign. We’d shuffled from the plane at a snail’s pace, which wasn’t helping my shitty attitude, but as soon as I stepped foot in the airport, I broke out of formation and darted towards a bathroom.
I should’ve been embarrassed to be on my hands and knees hugging the porcelain toilet in the airport bathroom. I wasn’t. I couldn’t care. By the time I found my shaky feet, my eyes were bloodshot and watering, my face was covered by a thin sheen of sweat, and had turned a weird grey colour. My lips were dry and chapped. Splashing cold water on my face, I soaked my hair and shivered as the cool water trickled down the back of my neck.
“You right, mate?”
“Yeah,” I lied, rinsing my mouth out. Grabbing my backpack from the floor, I dug out a clean t-shirt and switched it with my sweat-soaked one.
Leaving the bathroom, I strode through the airport, pausing briefly in the duty-free store to buy as much booze as customs would allow. If I was heading home, back to Dad’s place, I was going to need it. Then I joined the queue to clear customs. I wasn’t an amateur; this wasn’t my first time out of the country. I made sure I never carried anything that could possibly be questioned, and today was no different. I should be able to get through quickly and easily. And I would have except for the sea of people in front of me. It was bullshit. I was never getting out of here.
Three hours.
Three fucking hours.
I’d been nudged and jostled and had some runaway toddler smack into my legs more times than I could bear. And just when I was about to lose my shit completely, I was summoned forward. Less than a minute. Less than one minute was how long I spent at the counter answering questions any moron with a brain could answer.
Once I was set free, I made my way to the carousel, grabbed my bag, and was out the door, digging through my backpack, looking for the keys to my car. After paying the astronomical parking fees, I fired up the car and took off. With the music blaring, I pulled into the driveway of my apartment and climbed the stairs. Unlocking the door, I was met with a stench so putrid my already nervous stomach heaved again. Something was rotten in here. Holding my breath, I made my way into the kitchen and saw the offending item. The overflowing garbage bin, with a pizza box sticking out of the top. Grabbing the stainless bin, I hoisted it up and marched it down to the hopper. I didn’t even bother trying to save the bin itself. Everything went in.
Returning upstairs, I grabbed the couple of boxes I’d left already packed on my bedroom floor and loaded them into the back of the ute. T
wo trips later and I was ready to go. Unhooking the key from the bunch in my hand, I laid it down next to the pile of unopened mail. This was it. The end. It was the end of an era. The end of my freedom. The end of my stupid childish endeavours. It was time for me to grow up and step up. Something I wasn’t sure I was really ready for. Something I wasn’t sure I wanted.
I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Slipping behind the wheel, I backed out of the driveway and dialled Connor. I was going home.
Chapter Two
Payton
I loved my bed. It may have been my favourite place in the whole world. A cup of tea, my very worn, very comfortable oversized flannel pyjamas, pink fluffy socks, and my fully charged Kindle. Heaven. I didn’t even mind that the time illuminated on my alarm clock across the room was barely eight in the evening and I was in bed like an old lady. Judge away. I don’t give two hoots.
Tomorrow I had a huge day. Although I hadn’t told anyone, tomorrow was the day I was going to test run Mia’s wedding cake. Since she’d asked me to make her cake, I’d been having nightmares. What if I let her down? What if it didn’t turn out the way she wanted? What if I fucked it up? How would I be able to live with myself if the cake was dry beneath the thick, creamy frosting? Frosting was my speciality, I wasn’t worried about hiding any of my mess, but what if I overcooked the cake? Or it wasn’t chocolatey enough? What if it was too chocolatey? Is there even such a thing as too chocolatey? There definitely shouldn’t be.
Ignoring my book, I dropped my Kindle on my purple comforter and untangled my legs from the blankets and padded across the cold floor. Sometimes I hated this apartment. The tiny space known as my home was above the bakery. My bakery. It was small, and old, and I would have sworn haunted, but it was all mine. Or mine and the bank’s, if you wanted to be really specific. I’d done my best with making it homey, though. I’d used lamps, rugs, and cushions to fill every nook and cranny. All I needed now, well, once I got some spare cash, was to install heating and air conditioning. Oh, and a new fridge. The one in the kitchenette was one of those red, curved ones with a long stainless handle. It was dented and it squeaked, but I kinda loved it. It was full of character.
Meet The McIntyres - The Complete Series Page 1
