Filthy Irish: Love Without Limits

by Love, Frankie

  I roll my eyes. “Mom, that’s ridiculous.”

  “Is it? You told me staying there was a bad idea, yet here you are, a week later, still sleeping across the room from him.” There is a smile in her voice that tells me she likes the idea of her only daughter falling for a man who is from the same corner of the world as our relatives. “And you text me every few hours with pictures of those boys, telling me stories about how they are driving you batty and—”

  “It’s a job, Mom, nothing more.”

  “All right, I’ll let it go,” she says, conceding. We are close, but she still respects my boundaries. “Listen, love. My only advice is this, if you are fulfilled being there, stay a while longer. You have your whole life ahead of you, enjoy it.” Before she hangs up, she hands the phone to my dad who asks how I’m holding up, if I need any money, and if I’m working too hard.

  “Dad,” I say laughing. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Don’t worry? You’re my little girl. I want to make sure these O’Brion boys aren’t working you to death.”

  “They’re not,” I assure him. “You know, you and Mom should visit sometime. Ireland is as beautiful as Granny always said.”

  I hang up appreciating that Mom always seems to be looking out for me. It breaks my heart a little, thinking how the O’Brion boys don’t have that person anymore. A mother who always has their back, making sure they are safe. My heart flutters suddenly. I may just be a nanny, but I can nurture these boys. I can do my best to make their summer full of good memories - and maybe whip them into shape a bit in the meantime.

  I pull the cookies from the oven and set them on a rack to cool, then I look back out the window, I see Ewan now has a guitar in hand. I follow the sound of his music out the back door to the garden. Ewan is sitting on a bench, with a guitar in his hand, fingers strumming the strings.

  My heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s not right that any man should be that good looking. Trouble is, he knows it. He’s arrogant, cocky, with a filthy mouth...so why do I feel my knees grow weak every time he’s near?

  He doesn’t notice me, so I watch him a little longer, and when he starts to sing, I swear my heart is served to him on a silver platter. His brogue is even more pronounced as his rich tenor floats through the night sky, straight to my soul.

  I hold my breath, tears forming in my eyes at the melancholy words and the sorrow that radiates from him. When the song is over, his fingers still pick at the strings, but the music is softer now.

  I’m about to turn and leave him to his thoughts when he says, “Are ye just going to stand there, or are ye going to join me?” He glances over at me then, a small grin tugging at his lips.

  “I...uh...sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “Ye’re not intruding. I’d like the company.”

  I walk toward him and sit next to him on the bench. “You’re really good,” I tell him. “Where did you learn to play?”

  “My mam. She loved music. What about ye, lass? Do ye play any instruments?”

  “The piano a little bit.”

  He lifts a brow, making my knees turn to jelly. “Well, now, ye’ll have to play something for me. It’s only fair since ye heard me.”

  Chapter Five

  Ewan

  I lead her into the parlor of the bed and breakfast, toward the piano in the corner. “Show me what ye got, Wendy Darlin’.”

  “I’m not very good,” she says, but she sits at the piano bench and I slide in next to her.

  “Well, we can play together then.”

  “You play piano too?”

  I nod, lifting the lid and revealing a row of bright white keys. The room is dark, but the light of the moon filters through and I see Wendy pull in a sharp breath as our fingers touch.

  “I can play all sorts of things. Strum all sorts of things, too.”

  She smiles, looking at me from the corner of her eyes. “Is that an innuendo?”

  “Would ye like it to be?”

  Ignoring me, she begins to play “Danny Boy.” I smile, my heart lighter as the melody floats around us. I join in, playing along with her, and we float from one refrain to the next. After several minutes playing together, our fingers stop and I look at her, her hair falling into her face, her gentle ease something I have never experienced.

  “What?” she asks, her voice a whisper.

  “Ye’re a surprise, is all. Are you naturally good at everything?”

  She laughs, shaking her head. “No, I was a terrible student, much to the chagrin of my bookish parents. I’d jumble my letters and could never figure out math.”

  “So where’d ye learn that song?”

  “My granny, she was Irish. She taught me. But I’m not so great, as you can tell.”

  “You underestimate yourself.”

  She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and I want to pull her to me, but I’m so damn nervous of scaring her away.

  “The boys say ye’re a baker too, bribing them with donuts.”

  She smiles, her fingers dancing over the keys again. A small melody making the moment one I don’t want to forget. “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  “Ye are a little miracle, aren’t you?”

  She turns to me then. “What do you mean?”

  “Ye’re so ... graceful. All my life I’ve been on edge, a taut rope keeping everything together. Ye have a way with people, with us boys, that I don’t reckon I’ve ever known before.”

  I cup her cheek with my hand, this time I know she won’t pull away, won’t slap me. Instead, I draw her close. Our lips meet and she lets out the slightest whimper, as if she’s been waiting all week for this.

  God knows I have.

  Her lips are so sweet, like the sugary treats she has promised the boys, and my arms wrap around her, pulling her to my chest. The kiss deepens, her nipples poking through her blouse, my cock aching under the strain of my desire. God, I want to drag her upstairs, to my bed and have my way with her. I can tell she wants it too, her fingers run through my thick dark hair and her tongue swirls against mine.

  Damn, she’s feckin’ perfect.

  “Oh, so sorry to interrupt!” a woman who is a guest at the B&B says, coming into the parlor with her husband.

  Wendy and I pull apart, her lips swollen, her eyes bright. Both of us catching our breath - and I’m sorely glad I hadn’t stripped the nanny of her clothing only to be caught by our guests.

  “We just heard the piano music and we thought we’d come listen,” the woman continues as another couple enters the parlor.

  “I didn’t know there was live music at this bed and breakfast,” she says with happiness written on her face.

  Wendy and I both realize what they’re expecting. Wendy slides off the bench and tells the guests she will be right back with tea and that I’ll entertain them in the meantime.

  With a good-natured smile, I ask if they have any requests. “Oh, anything Irish is good with us!” the American woman says.

  Nodding, I begin to play “The Galway Piper.” As I finish, Wendy returns with a tea tray and a stack of freshly baked gingersnaps. I look at her in amazement. Just what can’t this girl do?

  * * *

  The next morning, banging on the door from below, makes me pause.

  Feck. What now?

  I’m in the mood to ignore it - I would be perfectly content to start the day with my cock in my hand, thinking about Wendy and I doing a hell of a lot more than kissing.

  But when the banging continues, this time louder and followed by a woman yelling, I run downstairs, pulling on my jeans and reaching for a flannel as I do.

  Wendy is just opening the back door to my neighbor, Mrs. O’Flynn. My brothers are sitting at the table, freshly made donuts in their mouths, and no one is looking up - terrified to meet the neighbor’s eye.

  “Mornin’ Mrs. O’Flynn. How can I help ye?” I ask as I straighten myself best I can, buttoning my flannel as I do. God only k
nows what one of the boys has done now.

  Mrs. O’Flynn’s portly face is red with anger, and she marches over to Colin, grabbing hold of him by one ear. She gives a tug and he winces, but I can see in the lad’s face that he’s guilty of whatever crime the woman has accused him of.

  “What’s the trouble this time?” I ask.

  “This here...scoundrel,” she says, releasing him and giving him a shove toward me. “He vandalized my sheep.”

  “Yer sheep?” My brows raise, and I see Colin smirk, the frosting from his donut still on his mouth.

  “He spray painted them. All of them. With a...a vulgar image.” Her voice raises an octave when she says it and she starts to fan herself. “In all my years, I’ve never.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. O’Flynn. I’ll deal with him.”

  “And what about my sheep? I can’t have them wandering the fields with...with male genitalia on them.”

  Colin snorts, and I glare at him. “Feck, what would you suppose I do with him?” I rub the back of my neck.

  “He’ll come by after breakfast,” Wendy says from behind me. “And he’ll stay until he’s scrubbed the paint off every sheep.”

  “What?” Colin’s eyes go wide. “But that’ll take forever. And ye can’t get spray paint off—”

  “You made the mess, you’re responsible for cleaning it up. We’ll look up ways to get it off, and if you can’t, you’ll have to carefully cut the damaged hair away.” Wendy looks at Mrs. O’Flynn. “If that’s alright with you.”

  The older woman purses her lips, studying Wendy. “I don’t know who ye are, lass, but it’s about time these lads had a woman taking control. I’d been about to call Garda. And I will,” she says, pointing a finger between Colin and I. “If anything else gets vandalized. I promise ye that.”

  “I appreciate ye coming to me first,” I tell her, amazed that Wendy was able to pacify her. The boys have been merciless with their pranks on the old woman. “Colin will be at yer place later this morning.”

  Colin mutters from behind me.

  I shut the door when the woman leaves, and turn on the boy. “What the bloody hell were ye thinking?”

  “I didn’t think she’d catch me—”

  “Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, are ye really that dense?” Frustration wells inside me and my voice raises, “Do ye want ye aunt Niav to take ye away? Is that what this is about? Because yer doing a fine job—”

  “Ewan.” Wendy’s hand rests on my arm, and she gives me a look that tells me to watch my temper, then turns to Colin. “Hurry up, now. Go get dressed, and then we’ll search up ways to get the paint off.”

  When the boys are gone, I sit down at the kitchen table and bury my head in my hands. “God, I’m failing miserably at this.”

  “You’re doing the best you can.”

  “Maybe my aunt is right, maybe my best isn’t good enough.”

  Her palm rests on my shoulder. “We’ll figure it out.”

  I glance up at her, hope blossoming in my chest. “So ye’re staying then?”

  “For the summer, yes.”

  It’s a good enough answer. At least for now.

  Chapter Six

  Wendy

  It took Colin three days to wash the paint off the sheep, and while he grumbled every morning when I woke him up, I can see a small change in him. Whether it’s because of the discipline, or because he’s too tired to mouth back, I’m not sure. But it’s a small victory.

  Several weeks later, everyone is finding a rhythm together, and the boys are finally listening when I correct them. Daily cakes, brownies, and cookies are certainly helping. We are flying through butter and eggs, but considering these rowdy boys spend their days running around, the extra calories are good for them. I haven’t even put on any extra weight - day to night, I’m working hard at keeping the house in order.

  Yes, it’s a job, but I feel satisfied in a way I’ve never felt before. Mom keeps saying I sound happier than I did the last time we talked, and I know it’s the truth. The fresh country air has something to do with it, but moreover, the boys have begun to lodge themselves in my heart. I am already dreading the end of summer.

  I know Ewan is too.

  “Put your plate in the sink,” I tell Colin when he gets up from the table after breakfast.

  He doesn’t grumble as he does it, which makes Ewan raise a brow at me.

  I just shrug in return, a grin stretching my lips when I turn back to clean the dishes.

  Ewan and I haven’t had a repeat of the other night, when we kissed. And in a small way, I’m glad. Of course I want him, his touch, his kiss, now more than ever, but I’m enjoying the heated glances, the flirting, the gentle caresses...the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

  The first time I laid eyes on Ewan O’Brion I fell instantly in lust. But these past days, I’m realizing that there’s more to this filthy talking Irishman than I’d originally thought.

  “What are ye thinking about?” Ewan asks, coming up behind me in the kitchen. His hands are on my waist and shiver runs up my spine. His breath hot on my neck.

  “I was thinking about taking the twins and Bradan blackberry picking. I saw a thicket down the road. You think they would like that?”

  Ewan lips lift. “That’s cute.”

  “What is?” I ask, turning to him.

  He taps my nose. “Ye, picking berries on the side of the road, a kerchief on yer head, freckles on yer cheeks.”

  I feel my face flush. “If it’s a bad idea I won’t—”

  “No, it’s great. So long as ye fix me a cobbler with those berries after you pick ‘em.”

  I lift my eyebrows. “Oh, can you get us some whipped cream, to go with it?”

  Ewan gives me a devilish grin, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Oh, darlin’ I think we can use the whipped cream for something else.”

  I lick my lips, tempted. “Like what, Ewan O’Brion?”

  “You can think about that all afternoon, Wendy Darlin’.”

  He kisses my cheek, then leaves as quickly as he came and I fan myself, my body hot from head to toe. That filthy Irishman gets me all worked up in the most delicious way.

  * * *

  The boys and I are on the side of the road, bowls of berries at our feet when a motorcycle zooms past us. I press a hand to my chest, caught off guard by the speed. Then it spins around and comes back toward us.

  “It’s Riley!” Liam shouts, pointing to his older brother.

  “Heya,” Riley calls. A black-haired girl is sitting behind him. She has on red lipstick, a tube top and high heels.

  “When did ye get that?” Niall asks, checking out the bike.

  “Just bought it,” Riley says proudly.

  I press a hand to my mouth, wondering what Ewan might think of this. He is trying to rein the boys in, not let them run more wild.

  “Wow,” Liam says impressed. “Can I ride?”

  Just as I’m about to say ‘not over my dead body,’ Riley shakes his head. “Not now little man, I’m taking Fiona for a ride.”

  “Oh, hello,” I say to the girl. “I’m Wendy.”

  She gives me a big smile, wrapping her arms around Riley’s neck. “Oh, I know who ye are. I should thank ye for gettin’ me a proper boyfriend. It’s because of ye we’re going out.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, wondering what bit of my advice did the trick.

  “Yeah, Riley asked me what kinds of things I like, and I told him guys with motorcycles, so he got one!” Fiona lets out a laugh and I drop my jaw. Riley waves goodbye before peeling away and I can’t help but shake my head. That certainly backfired.

  “Ewan is gonna be so pissed,” Bradan says and for once I don’t correct him on his language. Because pissed is right.

  * * *

  After I tell Bradan it’s lights out, I walk back down to the kitchen, finding Ewan dishing himself up another serving of the blackberry cobbler.

  “It’s good then?” I ask as he adds
a dollop of fresh whipped cream to his bowl.

  “Delicious.”

  I get a fork. “Willing to share?” I ask, sitting down beside him at the kitchen table.

  “‘Course,” he says. “Now tell me, what is this about ye giving Riley permission to get a motorcycle?”

  I groan. “Is that how he told it?” I explain the encounter on the side of the road today and Ewan just shakes his head laughing.

  “Good on him.”

  “Really? I ask. “You’re not worried about him getting in an accident? Or this girl?”

  Ewan shrugs. “Fiona’s the pastor’s daughter. I think she’s trying to stretch her wings is all.”

  Twisting my lips, I ask, “So you think it will all iron itself out?”

  “I think teenagers are gonna do what they’re gonna do. What about ye, Wendy? Did ye have a rebellious stage?”

  “My idea of rebelling was not going to a regular university after high school.”

  “You learned to bake instead, right?”

  I nod. “Yes, but not exactly wild and crazy, was it?”

  “No tattoos, no wild boys, no skinny dipping?”

  I laugh, thinking of straight-laced Jasper and how he was nervous to kiss me goodnight after the school dance. “Nope. Sorry to disappoint you, Ewan. I’m guessing you had plenty of crazy, drunken nights?”

  He shrugs. “Typical stuff, but never too wild, truth be told. I had too much to worry about to let loose. Maybe that's why I don’t hold it against my brother Carrick for leaving like he did.”

  “He’s in Australia, right?”

  Ewan nods. “I want my brothers to mess around, make mistakes, to have fun.”

  “And what about you, Ewan?” I ask, swallowing. “Do you ever get to have fun?”

  His eyes meet mine and he clears his throat. “Ye know I’m crazy for ye, don’t you Wendy Darlin’?”

  I nod, suddenly feeling tears spring into my eyes. Why am I crying at a time like this?