Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

by Lydia Michaels

  Several people left to attend a party. School was officially over, the classes and final exams now concluded. It seemed only one ceremony separated her from the rest of the world and that thought was terrifying.

  As drivers peeled out of the field parking lot shouting and honking with long awaited joy, Maureen’s heart sank. She didn’t see Frank’s black truck. Glancing back, she spotted Rhoda and several of the girl’s strolling off the field. Embarrassment had her stepping into the shadows.

  “Hiding from someone?” His voice was deep and unmistakable, rattling her heart like thunder in her chest.

  Her breath caught as a smile crept over her lips. He came back. “I didn’t see your truck.”

  He sucked in his lower lip as if tasting something there and her attention was drawn to his strong shadowed jaw. “That’s because I drove your car here. Couldn’t have you riding off on a new tire without testing it out first.”

  His courtesy, thoughtfulness, and masculine charm were too much to digest. Most women didn’t care for that sort of coddling, finding it patronizing and chauvinistic. Maureen, on the other hand, found it seductive and sexy as hell. “T—thank you.”

  They slowly strolled toward the Ford. “Did you want to grab something to eat? I know a small diner outside of town we could hit.”

  Was he suggesting they leave town because their age difference or was she reading too much into things and he simply liked the food? “Sure, but I’ll treat, since you fixed my tire.”

  “Not on your life,” he said, opening the passenger door.

  It struck her as odd that he’d drive her car. She was prepared to object, but as Rhoda spotted them and gaped she simply smiled and slid into the passenger seat.

  “This is a nice car.”

  “Thanks. It was my dad’s, then Colleen’s, then Rosemarie’s.”

  “And now it’s yours,” he said, smiling softly at her.

  She worried what his intentions were. Perhaps he was just a nice guy and this was all part of who he was. She decided dinner would be the perfect time to get to know him better.

  When they reached the diner he again held the door and she bet he would have pulled out her chair if they hadn’t sat on stools at the counter. “Are you going to be Paulie’s best man?” she asked, suddenly curious.

  He placed the menu on the counter and turned to her. “Aye. And you…”

  “I’m Colleen’s maid of honor, though it should really be Rosemarie. She’s paying for everything.”

  “It works out well that your family has the pub now, since you seem to be hosting weddings every five weeks.”

  Rosemarie’s wedding was small, with only family. Colleen’s on the other hand was going to be large. Of course hers would be at the same Catholic Church her sister and parents got married in, but this time the guests would fill every pew. Colleen always wanted a big party and now she was getting one.

  “I don’t know if the pub can hold all of Colleen and Paulie’s guests.”

  “There’s always a way. Don’t forget there’s a large back room too, and the lot’s big enough for tents and tables.”

  True.

  The waitress took their order and Frank sipped his soda. “So, apart from wanting love, what else is it you’re after, Maureen?”

  Every time he spoke her name her thoughts scattered like the dust of a dandelion. “I want a home to take care of, a family to care for.”

  “So you want children then?”

  “I imagine having a family would be nice,” she agreed, not wanting to sound too eager or mistakenly presumptuous.

  “Aye. I think you’d make a fine mother, Maureen O’Leahey.”

  She laughed. “How is that when you hardly know me?”

  He studied her for a long beat. “You’re gentle. Kind. You got a spirit inside of you lookin’ to get out and that red hair of yours tells me it’s burnin’ hot. Your green eyes tell me there’s a touch of wild to your soul and a temper no wise man should challenge. But you’re loving. I see it in the way you always consider others before yourself, wonderin’ if your sisters are okay and doing whatever you can to lend a hand. I think you help others so much it’s a good reason why your nails never grow.”

  She glanced at her unkempt fingers and curled her hands into fists, hiding the short nails. His words shocked her. He’d seen so much in such a short time, which told her she wasn’t mistaken and he had been watching her indeed. “That’s a lot of assumption, Frank McCullough.”

  “Am I wrong? Tell me I’ve misread you and I’ll gladly apologize, but I don’t think I have, love.”

  She swallowed, something heavy weighing on her shoulders, countering the abundant lust she was already shouldering for this man. “No, you’re pretty spot on.”

  The waitress delivered their food, but he made no move to eat. She was starving and his steady, accurate appraisal was making her edgy. “Stop starin’ and start eatin’ before your food goes cold, ya jackass.”

  He chuckled, seemingly pleased at her insult and turned to eat.

  After finishing the first half of his burger he asked, “How many kids do you want, love?”

  His question caught her off guard, as they’d settled into a comfortable silence. She wiped her mouth and considered the question. It was hard to say, being that she didn’t have a man willing to wed her. “I suppose as many as the Lord grants me.”

  “Are you Catholic?”

  “Oh, yes, born and raised. I’ve never missed a mass on Sunday.”

  “Is it the big church on Main Street your family belongs to?”

  “Yes. My father’s very active there.”

  He nodded and continued eating. The meal was nearly finished when she recalled she was supposed to be finding out about him. He was a tricky bugger, turning the tables on her the way he had.

  “Why do you not have a girlfriend, Frank?”

  He shrugged. “I’m busy with work. Paulie’s going to take on a job at the yard, which will help a great deal, but until then I have no time to date.”

  She frowned. “But Paulie’s splitting the mortgage on O’Malley’s with Rosemarie and Liam.” And Paulie had time to date.

  “Aye, and he’ll pay that mortgage with his earnings at the yard. Liam will tend bar while your sisters waitress and if ever Paulie needs to do more, the opportunities there.”

  Again, she felt forgotten. “I wonder where I fit in.”

  His head tipped to the left. “Do you want to work, Maureen? I figured you were the kind of woman that would prefer to stay at home, keeping house and family.”

  He hadn’t made the job sound condescending. On the contrary, his tone held a great deal of respect for homemakers. “Was your mother a homemaker?”

  “For the majority of her life. When times got tough she’d do side work here and there, sometimes she filled in at the office if they were between secretaries at the lumberyard.”

  She decided on honesty. “I think it would be lovely to be a wife and mother, devoting all my time to a family and taking care of a deserving husband.”

  “I suppose finding a man deserving enough is what’s slowing you down.”

  It was finding a man at all, but she didn’t possess the courage to admit that. “Aye.” He smiled, noting the way she mimicked his common accent.

  “O’Leahey. That’s quite Irish.”

  “My mum’s right off the boat. My dad traveled here from Dublin. He doesn’t have quite the accent, but my mum has a thick one.”

  “Aye. My grandparents spoke mostly Gaelic, but my grandfather on my mother’s side was rumored to be a Scott. I never met him, so we aren’t sure, but it seems my McCullough blood prefers Celtic dialect. The words are pretty, like you, lassie.”

  Her chest lifted as she glanced at the counter, her face heating as her mouth hid a smirk. “And your parents?”

  “My mother’s English was clear unless she was angry. My father…” He shook his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard his voice without a whis
key accent. It’s hard to recall how he spoke before the war.”

  Imagining Frank so estranged from his father yet living under the same roof seemed unfathomable. Though she was not overly friendly with her parents, they spoke to each other every day, her mother more than her father. The longer she thought about her parents, the more she realized how her mother had been approaching her more.

  Perhaps, now that Rosemarie was gone and Colleen was hardly ever home, the house seemed lonely to her too. Or maybe it was more an attempt to finally build a friendship with her youngest daughter.

  “What has you thinkin’ so hard, love?”

  “My mum. I suppose we are friends.”

  He nodded. “I considered my mother one of my dearest friends in the end. It gets easier as we get older. Don’t be afraid to let her in.”

  Perhaps he was right. “Do you want children, Frank?”

  “Aye. A great deal of them.”

  She laughed. “Well, yes, from my understanding it’s the man that has the difficult job in making that happen,” she joked.

  “From your understanding? Are you not sure, wee lass?”

  Her cheeks burned as her lips pursed. She glanced at her plate, her belly now full. “I’ve never…”

  “Ah,” he answered quietly. “I forget you’re still young.”

  “Young, but not stupid.”

  He frowned and his easy posture shifted. “Never said you were. What is it you mean by that?”

  She needed to draw a line before her heart got any more wrapped up in this man. “It means that while I’m smart enough to know a tomato is a fruit, I’m wise enough to know it doesn’t belong in fruit salad.”

  “Are you calling me a tomato, Maureen O’Leahey?”

  “No, I’m the bloody tomato.”

  “So I’m the fruit salad?”

  “Yes. No. Oh, for Christ’s sake it was a metaphor!” Frustrated, she stood and looked for her purse.

  He stood as well, his height intimidating and appealing all at once. “Well then perhaps you best start talkin’ in plain English so I know what it is you’re tryin’ to say, love.”

  “Where the bloody hell is my purse?”

  He caught her arm and tossed a few dollars on the counter. “It’s in the truck and I told you you’re not paying for dinner. Now, tell me what it is you meant.”

  Breathing roughly, her face pinched as she met his hard gaze. “All I meant was that you’re seven years older than me and I’m still in high school. I’ve never seen two people more unsuited, so I don’t see a point to wastin’ our breath about family and such. It’s a bunch of bullshit, is what it is, and I don’t need you danglin’ some carrot that ain’t real in front of my face so you can get your jollies off by getting some sad teenager to drool over unlikely possibilities.”

  She’d lost track of her words and he stared at her, his expression unreadable. “Do you often reference vegetables when making a point?”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “Carrots, tomatoes…”

  “I told you, tomatoes are fruit. Were you even listening to me?”

  “Aye. I was listening. But now I’m wondering what tomatoes and strawberries would taste like.”

  Men—of all ages—were idiots. Rolling her eyes, she huffed and left.

  “Maureen, wait a minute,” he laughed, telling the waitress to keep the change.

  Every word made her sound more like a child and she wanted to stop talking.

  “Hey,” he called as he met her by the car.

  She reached for the handle of the driver side door, but it was locked. As it snapped back she broke another nail and grimaced, letting out a profane curse. “Give me the damn keys.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and squeezed, his arm banding across her upper chest as the heat of his front pressed into her back. Sucking in a hard breath she trembled, not used to having a man so close.

  “You curse too much,” he whispered, his hands following her arms down to her wrists. He gently turned her so her back was against the car door. Lifting her hand, he unfolded her fist and kissed her fingers. “I had high hopes for that nail.”

  She’d never met anyone like him, so able to see into her mediocre life and make sense of all the trivial nonsense. He continued to hold her fingers against his lips, his warm breath sending chills up her arm. Her heart thundered and she wondered if he could feel her pulse through the steady beating in her fingertips pressing into his soft lips.

  “I told you before and I’ll tell you again, you’re a bonny lass, Maureen O’Leahey.”

  Her chest rose as her dress suddenly felt tight. “What do you want?” she whispered, far beyond her comfort zone.

  A beat of laughter escaped his throat as his eyes drilled into hers, the moonlight turning the deep sapphire into silver. “You.”

  She stepped back, but made it only an inch as the car blocked her way. He released her fingers and the soft jangle of metal filled the air as he produced her keys. Ushering her aside, he led her to the passenger door once more and strangely, she allowed him.

  He wanted her.

  What did that mean? Sex? He wanted sex? Or was it more than that? They were little more than strangers connected only by family and friends. Could it be possible that the emotions he provoked in her she also stirred in him? Perhaps her lust wasn’t one-sided at all. Maybe it was chemistry.

  Not a word was spoken as they drove from the diner to where he’d left his truck. When he pulled to the shoulder of the road, there were no other cars and she wondered how late it was. He put the car in park and faced her. She stared out the windshield at the dark taillights of his truck.

  “When’s that birthday of yours, love?”

  She frowned. “July twenty-fifth. Why?” Was he planning on getting her a present?

  He nodded, making a masculine sound in his throat. “I’d like to get my lips on you before then, lassie.”

  Appalled, she turned and scowled at him. “And that is how you ask? I’d like a lot of things, Frank, mostly, to meet a man who knows how to ask a woman for favors. And if that is why you’re waitin’ for my birthday you can just forget it. I’m saving myself for marriage.”

  Every trace of cockiness fled his face as her words sank in. Oh Christ. She wasn’t necessarily saving shit, but it pissed her off that he’d assume the calendar was all that was holding him up from gettin’ into her knickers.

  “I wasn’t… I hadn’t meant to insinuate—”

  “Don’t try backtracking now. I know what you meant.” It was like her mouth had disconnected from her brain and there was no stopping her words.

  Like a runaway train, she’d unleashed on him. “You think I have nothin’ better to do than wait around so you can legally take my virginity? You can think again, Mr. McCullough. I have standards and they aren’t the sort that crumble for some blue eyed, silver-tongued Irishman wantin’ to put his lips on me. I’ll be expectin’ a gentleman, next time I see you, if your lips will be getting’ anywhere near me—”

  His mouth was suddenly crushing hers as he pulled her halfway across the seat and cut off her words. She’d never been kissed before, at least not like that. His hand cupped the back of her head as his mouth slanted and his tongue pressed deep, teasing and awakening parts of her she’d rather ignore. Her eyes held wide as his other hand fit around her thigh and massaged through the fabric of her skirt.

  “You talk entirely too much, Maureen O’Leahey,” he whispered against her lips. “I’m thinkin’ it’s high time a man shut you up in a way you found acceptable.”

  He kissed her again and her chest lifted, her nipples tightening as heat pulled in her stomach and a strange pressure set her insides on fire.

  “No,” she mumbled as his hand slowly rubbed higher on her thigh. Pulling back as that hand steadily crept to a place she strongly considered off limits to others, she did the first thing she could manage and smacked him across the jaw.

  The sharp slap left the car in dark silence.
Quietly, he chuckled. “You really are something.”

  “I told you,” she said, out of breath. “You’ll need to be a gentleman to get your lips on me. Buyin’ me dinner doesn’t prove shit.”

  The side of his mouth kicked up in a half-smirk. “You sure got a mouth on you, woman.”

  She liked being called woman, considering she was only seventeen. “And wouldn’t you like to see all the things it can do.”

  His half-smirk turned into a full smile as he laughed. “Well, look at you. You’re tongues as sharp as mine is silver. You better be gettin’ home before real trouble finds you. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  That was right. Tomorrow she was graduating. Funny how such a monumental achievement paled in comparison to being kissed by Frank McCullough.

  “Good night, love,” he said, cracking open the door.

  “Frank?” He stilled and she took a second to process her sudden insecurities.

  He paused, still facing the door. “Yes, Maureen?”

  “The kiss… did I do it okay?”

  His head tilted as he again faced her. “Have you not been kissed before?”

  “Never like that,” she whispered, her fingers tracing where his mouth had been.

  He slid back inside the car and turned to the windshield, pulling his lower lip in for a taste. A quiet chuckle escaped, but he didn’t seem amused. “You’re that innocent then?”

  “Never mind,” she immediately said, wishing she’d never opened her mouth—for anything.

  “No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have assumed…” he shook his head. “A gentleman indeed.” He laughed. “I’m sorry I came on so strong, love, but when I’m around you, I lose sight of right and wrong and all I can tell is that I want you.”

  Her eyes widened as she choked on her words. “Me?” That couldn’t be right.

  His gaze turned on her, his eyes appearing almost pained. “Aye, you. I think you’re bonny, smart, funny, and I think about you naked every day.”

  “Frank!”

  “Sorry, but it’s true. Your curves enchant me.”

  Was that how men and women spoke to one another? “I’ve never been naked in front of anyone but my mum and my sisters.”

  A smirk pulled the corner of his mouth tight. “We could remedy that.”