by Lucy Smoke
“The rest of it.” Aaron yanked a chair away from the conference table and collapsed in it. “Look. I’ve been on a plane for more hours than I can count. Like I said, I can’t stop the shit from being confiscated, but I may be able to get it back. Either the cops find it, and my friend lands in hot water, or you tell me where it is, and I get it found without it leading to him. Your choice.”
“You can do that?” she asked. She’d be betraying Dov’s confidence.
But maybe someday they’d understand.
“I can.” Aaron appeared utterly sure of himself.
“Queens,” she told him. “It’s all in Queens, except for the lamp. Sarah has it. Can you leave it with her? Please?”
“I’ll try.” He stood and was already leaving when he called over his shoulder. “But no promises.”
Hours later, Shira was back in her apartment. Alone.
She’d done the best she could with the time she had, but her exhaustion finally caught up to her. She’d gone cross-eyed studying the handwriting on Sarah’s provenances.
The good news was she’d authenticated four of them. If she could do that for the rest, there was every chance Dov, Ravi, Yaphet, and Pascal would get their family legacy. The artwork would be returned to them.
As she showered, washing the fatigue of days off her body, she thought about the guys. Though she’d lost them, things had turned out the way they were supposed to.
What did she think would happen? She’d date all the brothers?
This way, they got what they came to New York for and she didn’t mess up their lives anymore than she already had. Hopefully, Ravi would forgive Pascal, and things would return to normal for them.
But her heart didn’t agree with her.
Shira shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Scrubbing herself dry, she tried to quiet her heart. If she could keep her thoughts trained on the work she had ahead of her, she had a chance.
Anytime her mind strayed to one of the guys, she mercilessly buried the thought.
Her bedroom was dark, blackout curtains already drawn. Normally, Shira was neat about her space. But this week, her room was a reflection of her chaotic state of mind. Her bed was a nest of blankets, all kicked toward the end of the bed. Eyes already closing, she groped blindly for the comforter, pulled it up over her head and fell asleep.
It felt like she’d only just closed her eyes when a pounding on the door made her startle awake. She lay there, heart pounding, straining to listen when it came again: bam, bam, bam.
It was the kind of knock she expected would be accompanied by a SWAT team with a battering ram. She stumbled out of bed, but stared at the door when she got there.
Part of her wanted to peek through the hole, while the other was afraid the door would land on her when it was battered down.
“Shira?”
The voice decided it for her.
“Pascal?”
“Open the door, Shira.” But she was already sliding the chain aside.
The four brothers burst inside as soon as she’d turned the knob. She tripped over her feet trying to get out of their way, but before she could fall, Dov grasped her arms and helped her to the couch.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“The storage unit,” Yaphet told her. He threw himself onto her small armchair. Pascal perched next to him while Ravi took a seat on the other side of her.
She was surrounded.
“They raided it.” She didn’t need to ask the question; she knew what Aaron had planned.
“Someone did,” Yaphet answered. “Though I’ve been assured by an old friend of mine that we will get the pieces back.”
“Thanks to you,” Dov stated. He took her hand, but she was too shocked to do more than let it lay in his hands, limp as a dead fish.
Her shoulders sagged. “Thank goodness.”
“Director Lohse was arrested,” Yaphet went on, “though Gottleib’s in the wind. For now.”
“He’ll turn up.” The way Pascal spoke, it sounded like a threat. Wherever Gottleib was, he wouldn’t stay undiscovered for long.
“I’m glad.” She tried to meet each of their gazes and smile, but she was too heartsore. “So you’re good then. You’ll get your legacy, and Sarah will know everything is as it should be.”
“Actually.” Ravi spoke for the first time. “She’s why we’re here.”
Was he going to tell her Sarah had passed? Shira braced herself for the news.
“Grandma has always been good at reality checks,” Dov added.
“Yes,” Ravi agreed. “She told us…” He glanced up, toward his brothers who were nodding encouragingly. “First—she told us we needed to apologize. I’ve been trying to do that since the beginning, but this is different. Now you’ll know why I’m sorry. It was all my idea. I’m who made you think you were going to be shot. I’m the one who made you run and get hurt.”
Poor Ravi. His guilt had been riding him hard.
“I forgive you,” she said, quickly.
Ravi gave a half-hearted smile before he went on. “That’s not all, though.” Again, he glanced toward his brothers before continuing. “Grandma told us that love won’t always look the way we expect it to. So we need to give it a chance before we decide to deny it.”
Shira’s chest tightened, and she peered at Pascal. “What do you mean?”
“We want to see where these feelings go, Shira,” Pascal explained. “We hope you’ll let us.”
She wanted that. More than anything she wanted to see more of Ravi and Pascal. She wanted to explore the tenuous connection she felt with Dov, and hash out the mystery that was Yaphet. Each one of these men intrigued and fascinated her, exemplifying everything she thought made someone a good person.
Honor. Loyalty. Compassion.
“Yes,” she answered, hoping she was just the right amount of eager. “Yes. I’d like that.”
As one, the guys seemed to relax, bodies sagging with relief into their seats.
“We’ve got it all worked out,” Dov said, excitedly. “Yaphet claims none of the times he’s been with you could qualify as a date so—”
Shira held up a hand. This time her smile came easily. “I’d love to go on a date with you,” she said, facing Yaphet. “But I don’t know the last time I slept. If I’m going to function and not fall asleep in my soup, I need a nap.”
Dov glanced at his watch. “You haven’t slept?” He frowned. “I thought we woke you up.”
“It’s the last day of Hanukkah, isn’t it?” Shira asked.
“For five more minutes,” Pascal answered. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the last night than in bed.”
Shira lifted her eyebrow and then giggled. “I can fit one, maybe two of you.”
Ravi and Dov jumped to their feet. “Bed,” they said at the same time.
Yaphet and Pascal frowned. “Don’t worry,” she told them. “The couch pulls out. You can share it.”
She stood to go to the bathroom where she kept the clean sheets but Yaphet stopped her. “Thank you, Shira. For what you did. And for giving us a chance. For giving me a chance.”
Pausing, Shira smiled. Each one of these men were good men. “This is the easiest decision I’ve ever made,” she told them. “I just never thought I’d get to make it.”
Soon, Yaphet and Pascal were grumpily tucked into their sofa bed, and Shira was wedged between Ravi and Dov. Despite the cramped spaces, her body was boneless and her mind calm. Even if she was about to embark on a journey she never imagined, she was at peace with her decision.
“Hey,” Pascal whispered from her door.
Ravi groaned. “What?”
“Happy Hanukkah,” he answered.
“Happy Hanukkah,” Shira whispered.
“Happy Hanukkah!” Yaphet yelled from the living room.
“Happy Hanukkah, everyone,” Dov grumbled. “Now go away.”
In the quiet that followed, Shira smiled. No matter what had
happened, these men were a gift, and with a silent prayer of gratitude, she fell asleep.
Epilogue
“Mama! Mamamamamama!” An angry voice yelled at Shira from outside. Dropping her work bag on the cool tiled floor of her home, she grinned. Not one second through the door, and she was going to have to break up an argument.
Shira passed through the quiet house, past the living room with its bright, comfortable furniture and Camille Pissarro’s painting in a place of honor into the bright backyard.
“Mama!” Angry blue eyes clashed with hers as her little boy dropped out of a lemon tree and ran toward her. “Tell her! Tell her I can go in the big tractor!” Shira leaned over, lifting her boy into her arms. Five years old, with his father’s bright blue eyes and his uncle’s dimple, Samuel had a very keen, and very loud, sense of justice. “It’s not fair!”
Before she could make heads or tails of his demands, Pascal came striding out of the barn, their daughter, Sarah, in his arms.
Samuel pointed angrily at his twin. “Tell her.”
Pascal laughed and threw their daughter into the air. Behind him, Yaphet carried a huge basket of olives. It was a new crop they were trying on their family farm in Upper Galilee.
When, a month after they’d all been dating, the four brothers had proposed to her, and informed her of their wish to take her to Israel for the rest of their lives, Shira had been worried. She was a city girl. What could she possibly do on a farm?
It turned out, not much.
But she could commute to Tel Aviv Museum of Art where she was offered a job as curator in the Department of Modern and Contemporary Art.
Now she couldn’t imagine life away from the farm and orchards, surrounded by her husbands and their family.
“It’s not fair,” Samuel repeated. But his anger hid his hurt and he buried his face in Shira’s neck.
“I have a feeling Papa has a solution,” she whispered in her little boy’s ear. She breathed in his scent. He smelled like soil and sunshine, and hay. He’d probably been rolling around in the barn, looking for kittens.
“Why does Papa have all the solutions?” Ravi asked from behind her. He kissed her cheek and blew a raspberry on Samuel’s neck. “Maybe Uncle Ravi has the solution?”
Samuel laughed and leapt from Shira’s arms into the arms of the man who loved him as much as his biological father. “Well then, you tell me yours, and Papa tells me his, and I decide who has the right solution,” he answered imperiously.
Sarah’s green eyes, so much like the woman she’d been named in honor of, tracked nervously from her brother to her uncle to her father and then to her mother. “Am I in trouble?” she asked, biting her lip.
“No, baby,” Yaphet answered. He pulled one of her springy brown curls and released it. “You’re not in trouble.”
“Uncle Ravi will take you on the buggy to the orchard while Sarah rides in the tractor with Papa,” Ravi offered.
“Or,” Pascal added. “Papa takes you in the tractor while Sarah rides in the buggy with Uncle Ravi.”
Samuel pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. He opened them wide and held up a finger. “I’ve got it. I ride with Uncle Ravi in the buggy to the orchard, and then I ride back with Papa in the tractor!”
Sarah squealed at the idea, apparently as taken with it as Samuel. Squirming, the siblings wiggled their way out of her husbands’ arms and took off running.
“Where’s Dov?” Pascal asked, wrapping his arms around her.
Yaphet squeezed her hand as he walked by them on his way to the olive press. “Missed you today,” he whispered before continuing past.
“He’s right behind me,” she said, glancing over her shoulder toward the house. The man in question came outside, pulling the knot of his tie as he strode toward them.
“What’d I do?” he asked his brother.
“Nothing,” Pascal answered. A squeal from inside the barn had all of them whipping their heads toward the structure. “I better get inside before they jump from the loft again.” With one more kiss, Pascal jogged away to check on their children.
Ravi moved closer to them, and reached out a hand. He touched Shira’s belly, sliding his palm along the taut, rounded skin. “How’s our baby?” he asked quietly. He smiled as he stared at her stomach, dimple appearing in his cheek.
Shira covered his hand with hers. “Good. Kicky.”
Ravi leaned over to place a kiss there. “Soccer player,” he whispered and kissed her again before straightening. “It’s not getting to be too much?” he asked.
Shira understood his worry. She’d discovered soon after they’d all decided to date each other, that she was pregnant. The baby was Pascal’s, she knew that right away. They hadn’t been careful when they’d been together.
The brothers had proposed the night before Shira had planned to tell them she was pregnant. They’d sat with Sarah in the final days of her life. It was, Sarah said, the best gift she’d ever received.
No matter what Shira’s grandmother thought, it hadn’t been a shotgun wedding. Shira had their engagement ring on her finger before they learned they were going to be fathers.
Or father and uncles.
The truth was, no one could love her babies more than her husbands did. Pascal didn’t love them any more than Ravi did, or Dov. Or Yaphet. Each one of them thought Sarah and Samuel hung the moon.
But pregnancies with twins were tough, and she’d had high blood pressure and exhaustion to contend with.
This baby, however, was a walk in the park after the twins. She’d had the typical morning sickness, but now, in her second trimester, she was feeling fantastic.
“The kids want to pick olives,” Ravi said, brushing off his pants. “And stand on ladders.”
Shira laughed. “Okay. Let me change and I’ll meet you out there.”
“Me, too,” Dov answered. “I want to get the camera.” He kissed Shira quickly before striding into their house.
Ravi took her hand, and with a gentle tug, pulled her toward their room. His gaze never left her as she dressed, though his eyes lingered on her stomach.
“I love you so much,” he said. “From the first moment I met you, saw you lying in the street. I knew you were the one.”
“I love you, too,” Shira answered. She sat next to him on the edge of the bed.
“I just didn’t realize you were the one for my brothers, as well.”
Shira took a deep breath. “Ravi.”
“It’s not what I expected, Shira,” he told her. “But it’s everything I ever wanted. It’s more than I dreamed possible.”
Her baby kicked, hard. Ravi stared, wide-eyed at her belly. “My boy!” He put his hands on her stomach again. “Or girl. Either way. I’m happy.”
A knock on the door pulled them out of their blissful baby contemplation. “You coming?” Pascal asked. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The natives are restless.”
He came inside and held his hands out to Shira. With a gentle yank, he pulled her to her feet and slid an arm around her waist. “Sarah wants you to ride the tractor with us.”
“I think I’ll walk,” she said and laughed. “There’s barely room for you and her, let alone you, me, my belly, and her.”
“She’s worried you’ll feel left out,” Pascal explained. Like her namesake, Sarah had the biggest heart. She wanted everyone to be happy.
As Shira walked outside, her husbands chasing her children while they giggled madly, she thought about how happy she was. How deliriously, perfectly happy.
Yaphet emerged from the shed where the press was kept, flung a rag over his shoulder, and winked at her. Pascal left her to lift Samuel into a big green tractor, and Ravi jumped into the buggy next to Sarah, who was trying to reach over his lap to steer.
Jogging toward Yaphet, Dov unslung the camera from around his neck. The brothers bent their heads over the device, chatting amiably about whatever it was Dov wanted to show him.
Her family.
At the start of Hanukkah six years ago, Shira had no idea what her future held, but in her wildest dreams, she’d never pictured a life as happy as this one.
If you liked Thief of Hearts, try some of Ripley's other reverse harem romances like: Boys and Burlesque available HERE.
About Ripley Proserpina
Ripley Proserpina is a USA Today Bestselling author who spends her days huddled near a fire in the frozen northern wilds of Vermont. She lives with her family, three magnificent cats, and a dog she doesn’t deserve.
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All We Want
Anita Maxwell
When Hayden Halloway finds her roommate in tears, mumbling barely coherent words about a sex-rating system the college hockey team secretly run, she wants vengeance. Being editor and chief of the Press, the college newspaper, Hayden takes it on herself to dig deeper into what’s known as the Puck Games.
But Christian, Vinnie, and Justin, the star forwards on the hockey team, are a lot more charming than she anticipated.
Eggnog, coffee dates, and the Winter Wonderland all have Hayden losing bits and pieces of herself to the guys. Will she come between these best friends or are the guys willing to share her like they share their love of hockey.
All We Want © Anita Maxwell 2018
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ASIN: B077TKBRSP
Dedication
To the girl who was told she was too bossy as a child. Don’t listen to them, keep your independence and strength, you will be a leader one day.
