Page 26 of Until Ireland

When he reappeared with Hunter and Landon in tow, he wore a black long-sleeve shirt over a ribbed tank top. He even changed his pants to something a bit baggy with red suspenders and his Dr. Marten wing tips. “Better?”

“Much.”

I took in my brothers’ appearances. Hunter had shaved the sides of his head then styled his hair. His scruff looked more like a beard than a hairy butthole, and he actually had on something other than leather and coveralls. He wore a red and black flannel over a cream Henley and a pair of baggy carpenter pants. He’d also swapped out his work boots for a pair of Timberlands, untied of course, because he still needed to appear cool, even though we knew he had a collection of comic books and anime in his room.

Landon, on the other hand, looked like he just surfed in from the Pacific coast. He wore linen pants, flip-flops, and a poncho. His unruly wavy hair had been tussled into a somewhat tamed style. If anyone else saw him, they’d swear he’d smell like weed and patchouli oil and probably needed a shower, desperately.

We exited the house together, and while I went to my Coupe, Landon hopped into his ‘51 Ford Pickup with Jackson, and Hunter straddled his bike. We were so in sync with each other that we turned over our vehicles at the same time, disturbing our quiet little neighborhood with the growl of our heavy engines. My Coupe purred to life, and I grinned, wrapping my fingers around the wheel and shifter. After Landon pulled out, I dropped my purple monster into reverse and backed out of the driveway.

I was convinced blood didn’t run through my veins but straight 10w30 oil. Cars were my life. The Coupe growled as we sped through town, heading for Mack’s ranch. It still blew me away he had two places he could call home, though it shouldn’t. He had more money than he knew what to do with,, and if he were anyone else, I’d call him pretentious. Even though he had a bit of an ‘aw, shucks ma’am’ in him, he also commanded attention. The thought of him made me ache, and the night we spent together only cemented the idea of needing another taste of Mack Redman.

To be honest, I should have slowed this whole thing down between us. We were on a collision course for heartbreak. For me, relationships burned bright and hot in the beginning then turned to ash just as quick, because I’d get bored or betrayed, like with Edgar, the manipulative bastard. The idea of losing someone like Mack didn’t sit well with me, but taking it down a notch wasn’t any fun either. We hit the interstate headed north, and I really allowed the big block 302 to unwind, eating up the miles between us and Mack’s place. I hummed in appreciation of my baby. She never let me down.

When we exited the freeway, we followed the state highway out away from the city then took a little county lane. I’d expected a dirt road when we turned where Mack had indicated in the instructions, but it was all asphalt, smooth and pretty. Hunter went first, then me, with Landon taking up the rear. Our vehicles would announce our arrival, and I could be the bigger person and say I got a small thrill out of it. Okay, okay, it was totally a big-dick-energy thrill. But who could blame me? We took care of our custom builds, and we were proud of them. Why not show them off?

Plus, if someone didn’t get a little bit aroused by the growl of a classic V8, something was wrong with them. Can’t say it was better than sex—well... I mean, I never had an engine fuck me and leave me.

We pulled into the designated parking area next to each other, and I took a moment to gather myself. I’d used the drive to focus on my vehicle instead of the prospect of meeting Mack’s family. Now, I was a nervous mess, and even my pits were sweating. My stomach was in knots, and my mouth was drier than the Sahara. A whistle from my right drew my attention as two men walked over to where we’d parked. Hunter greeted them first and motioned them over to us.

“Ireland, this is Wes and Jax,” Hunter said. “They’re friends of mine and Mack.”

“You mean the friends you talk about but never name?” I teased.

Hunter chuckled. “Guys, this is Ireland, Landon, and our baby bro, Jackson.”

Wes gave off brooding biker vibes with his tussled hair and light-green eyes. His clothes clung to his bulky body, reminding me of a character in those biker shows. If he thought he was being intimidating, he was barking up the wrong tree. I’d seen their type before and watched bigger men fall. Jax had a different vibe about him, however. If I had to put a finger on it, I’d believe he was a G-Man, but nah, none of the guys got down that way. I shook each of their hands and said hello, keeping a polite distance from them.

“You build this beast?” Jax hooked his thumb at my purple monster.

“I did.”

“289 Flathead?” Wes cocked a brow.

I smirked. “302.”

He whistled. It was like a dick measuring competition with some guys. Always checking on the length of cocks. Always trying to outdo one another. “And the pickup?”

“Landon’s. He did all the work.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mack heading for us, a harried look on his face. He might have been a bit out of sorts, eating up the distance between us, yet he was still able to take my breath away. Each time I’d seen him, he’d been wearing an expensive suit, meant to exude power and position, but right now, he wore a pair of relaxed jeans, a Henley with the sleeves pushed up, exposing all those lush tattoos of his, and a pair of boots. He rocked the suit, but this... I wanted to climb him like a tree and never come down. I swallowed hard, feeling the flush creep across my chest and cheeks. This man...

“I swear, sometimes your wives need to put leashes on you.” Mack pushed between Wes and Jax. “Hey, baby.” He tugged me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. “You didn’t have any trouble finding the place, did you?”

I preened under his attentiveness. I liked it when he called me baby. There was always a bit of a growl accompanying the possessive word. I cleared my throat and pretended to not see my brothers all exchanging looks while I soaked up Mack’s attention. “Uh, no. No trouble at all.” I inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne then did it again. For sure, it was something expensive, but I didn’t care. I’d find it and buy a bottle, just so I could spray my pillow—and now I was entering stalker territory.

“Then let’s get you inside so you can meet everyone.” Mack tucked me into his side in a protective manner, setting off a flutter of awareness within me as we strode away from the other guys. “You look absolutely gorgeous, by the way.”

I grinned. “Thank you. So do you.”

The ranch house was done in rock facade, steel, and wood. The windows were all floor to ceiling, and at first I thought I was walking onto a showroom, but once I was inside the house, I could tell this was a home. To the left of where we stood was a huge hearth made of river sandstone. Beside the giant fireplace were built in bookcases packed to the brim with books. The walls were fashioned to give the appearance of a log cabin and shellacked in a blond, neutral shade, giving the area an extra pop of light. The staircase to the right led to the second floor where I was sure the bedrooms were, and to our right was the living room. The sunken floor feature reminded me of those houses built in the sixties. It was supposed to be some cool, hip thing, but for Mack it came across more intimate than anything.

Ahead of us, I could hear chatter coming from what I thought was the kitchen. No one was supposed to be cooking, per Mack’s parting instructions, so I was curious who’d be working when supposedly everyone was having fun. Mack’s grip on my side tightened as we walked into the space. A man in his late-fifties or early sixties leaned against the counter. His rugged features reminded me of Mack. His gray gaze stayed on the dirty-blonde woman with blue eyes who was laughing as she drank from a wine glass. The full-bodied sound reminded me of my mother when my father would say something ridiculous. Two younger girls, both with the same hair color as their mother, were spooning cookie dough onto a sheet while they chatted away, stopping every so often to laugh as well. These had to be Mack’s parents and his sisters. Where the girls looked like their mom, Mack was a younger version of his dad.

My heart fisted in my chest. I missed stuff like this with my parents. Missed hearing their laughter fill the house. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, desperate to clear out any lingering sadness before being formally introduced to his mom and dad. What if they didn’t like me? Sure, I couldn’t give two fucks if people adored me, but here, in Mack’s house, I really wanted their approval.

“There she is,” Mack’s dad said first then whistled. “Aren’t you a sight.”

“And all that red hair,” his mom said, joining his father. “You must’ve kept your parents on their toes when you were little.”

Well...

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