Shane

As I roll out of bed and grab my phone, turning it on, it pings with one unheard voicemail. It’s weird being back in the home I grew up in, sleeping in the same bed. The house hasn’t changed since I moved out years ago. The same floral, yellowed wallpaper lines the halls. The rackety old furnace bangs every few minutes as it pumps uneven bursts of heat through the vents.

I’ve offered to tear the old place down, build something new, something modern, but my mom scoffs every time I mention it. This is her home. Where her memories of my father are etched into every old piece of furniture, every half-finished project that she’ll never let me touch.

With a sigh, I pull a freshly washed shirt and pair of jeans out of my old dresser, compliments of my mother who still believes I’m twelve years old and can’t do a load of laundry myself.

After I get dressed, I listen to the message on my phone, a grin tugging at my lips when I hear Makena’s voice on the other end. Her words are slightly slurred, like she’d had a few drinks before she’d gotten the nerve to call.

There’s a huskiness to her voice, and when she lets out a little groan, my cock stirs, knowing exactly what she called about, what she wanted from me. And hell if I don’t want to give it to her.

But coming home turned into a shit storm of complications and obligations, and as much as I’d love to drive back to Dublin and show the woman some Irish hospitality, I made a promise to my sister that I’d stay for at least a week to make sure the insanely stubborn woman who birthed us follows the doctor’s orders and rests. Which is bloody well impossible.

Even now, I can hear her puttering around in the kitchen.

It’s barely eight in the morning, and I have no doubt she’s been up since before the sun rose. Part of me wonders if I’m not putting more stress on her by being here, since she seems to think it’s her job to wait on me hand and foot.

“Ye’re supposed to be resting,” I say, joining her in the kitchen, lifting the lid off the giant pot on the stove and inhaling the scent of onions, garlic, and beef roasting in a thick broth. I moan in appreciation when I use the wooden spoon to scoop out a savory piece of meat and pop it in my mouth.

Next to sex and music, there’s nothing better than a homecooked Irish stew. I start for another bite.

“Don’t ye dare put that spoon back in the pot.” She slaps my arm and takes the spoon from me. “And I am resting.”

I grunt, taking in the two meat pies that are cooling on the wooden island in the center of the room. “Are ye expecting company?”

“Emer is having me over for dinner tonight.”

“Which means she’s cooking.”

My mom raises an eyebrow at me. “Exactly.”

I chuckle. My sister’s cooking skills are on about the same par as her musical abilities, meaning they’re non-existent.

“Ye know she won’t be happy about ye bringing all this.” I take her hand when she doesn’t look at me. “And Emer told me, the doctor said ye need to be taking it easy.”

“Emer worries too much.” Wrinkles line her furrowed brow.

“Only because she loves ye.”

“I know that. I also know that’s the reason ye’re sticking around.”

“Are ye kicking me out?” I grin down at her.

“Ye must have something better to do other than hovering over me.”

“I’ll leave ye be once we get the test results back and we know everything is fine.”

“Everything is fine. I told ye, I’d forgotten to eat that day, that’s all.”

I place both palms on her cheeks and kiss her forehead. “Maybe I just want to spend some time with ye.”

She lets out a little grunt. “A few days back and I can already tell ye’re going stir crazy. Ye never could sit still. Not even as a boy. Always getting into trouble.”

“And yet I’m still yer favorite.” I wink at her as I grab an apple from the fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen table, then take a bite.

She purses her lips, but I see the smile she’s holding back.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket when it rings, frowning at the unknown number.

“Go ahead,” my mom says, when I glance up at her with a look of apology.

“Yeah?” I say, walking out of the kitchen and into the small living room with its retro, faux wood television.

“Hi, Shane? This is Colleen Kelly.”

“Hey Colleen,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck and wondering what kind of favor the woman is about to ask. We’d gone on a few dates back in high school. She was a pretty thing, with bright red hair and gorgeous green eyes, but one make-out session and it was obvious on both our parts that the chemistry wasn’t there.

“I heard ye were home.”

“News spreads fast.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice and wait for whatever indulgence she’s about to ask me for. I know it’s not a booty call, that’s not the chick’s style. So, I’m thinking it’s either an appearance at one of her mom’s little fundraisers, or she’s wanting to set me up with one of her friends.

“I have a favor to ask.”

And there it is.

“Everything all right?”

“Yeah. Great, actually. I’m in New York right now.”

“New York? Great city. I just came back a few days ago. What are ye doing there?”

“Writing. I’ve been working with a publicist here.”

“Not sure I can help ye with that. I don’t have many contacts in the book world.”

“That’s not what I was calling about.” There’s a small pause on the other end. “I wanted to know if ye were up for a date?”

I chuckle. “I thought we tried that already.”

Her laughter flitters through the phone. “Not with me. I did a house swap. That’s how I’m here. But the woman that’s staying at my place seems to be having a hard time adjusting. Nora suggested it. Ye can say no if ye want.”

I rub the back of my neck and wince.

Colleen adds quickly, “If ye’re wondering, the woman is gorgeous. Even by Shane Hayes standards.”

“And ye know my standards?” I chuckle.

“I know I didn’t live up to them,” she says lightly, with no hint of hurt in her voice.

“Not true. We just…”

She laughs. “How about we leave it at a mutual disinterest? So, what do ye say? Show her a little Wild Irish hospitality.”

I grunt, knowing exactly what she’s implying.

“Nora said she hasn’t really left the house since she’s been there. So, ye shouldn’t have a problem getting a hold of her. I’ll text ye my address. Oh, and Shane...”

“Yeah?”

“Try not to break the girl’s heart.”

“Ye know that’s one thing I can’t promise.”

Another small laugh. “Well, at least show her a good time before ye do.”

I end the call chuckling, and in a way, I’m grateful for a little distraction. I haven’t been able to get Makena out of my head. Maybe this is exactly what I need. Especially if the woman is as pretty as Colleen said.

Back in the kitchen, my mom is still scurrying around.

I shake my head. “What are ye doing now?”

“Making bread pudding. Yer favorite.” She glances at me and I swear I can see the scheme she’s cooking up in her mind before she says the words. “I invited Rose to join us at Emer’s tonight.”

“Rose Sullivan?” I ask cautiously. One of my mom’s friend’s daughters, the woman has been pining for me since before we were out of nappies. Not that I’d turned her down every time she knocked on my door, but she’d become a little too desperate, showing up at my Dublin apartment wearing nothing but skimpy lingerie under her raincoat.

“She’s a nice girl. I thought-”

“I don’t need ye setting me up.”

Especially not with Rose. There was nothing nice about her. But I wasn’t about to tell my mom that.

A small huff is her only response as she turns back to her baking, mumbling one of her sayings. “Brick and mortar make a house, but the laughter of children make it a home.”

I roll my eyes, and my right ear starts to burn, warning me that I’m about to get one of her lectures if I stick around.

“Ye’ve got Emer to give ye all the grandbabies ye could want.” I kiss the top of her head, then turn to leave. “And do us both a favor and get some rest.”

“I don’t need ye to-”

“I’ll stop pestering ye, when ye stop nagging me about getting a wife.” I wink at her, knowing neither of us have any intention of doing so.

She gives a small grunt, holding my gaze for a moment, then shakes her head. “Ye’re a brat.”

“And still yer favorite,” I say over my shoulder as I leave the house, plugging Colleen’s address into my phone. It’s still early. Probably too early to show up at a stranger’s door and spring an impromptu date on them.

But my mom wasn’t wrong when she said I was already going a little stir crazy.

Twenty minutes later, I pull to a stop in front of Colleen’s little house, ready to give her American houseguest the surprise of her life.

I give one rap on the door and step back, ready for the fangirl squeal I have no doubt I’ll get.

But when the door opens, I’m not prepared for the familiar face under the mess of tangled, damp hair she’s rubbing with a towel.

Makena. What are the fucking odds?

“I thought you weren’t coming until-” She stops mid-sentence when her gaze catches my shoes, then skims up my body, her brown eyes widening when they reach my face, full lips parting in a small O of surprise.

“Hello, love.” I grin down at her, agreeing with Colleen’s assessment of the woman. With her brown waves falling in a tousled mess against freshly washed skin, the woman is drop-dead gorgeous. Not to mention that she’s wearing nothing more than a towel, exposing a generous amount of cleavage that I knew was hiding under all her baggy clothes the last time I saw her. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

I owe Colleen a big favor for this one.

Because my day just got a whole hell of a lot better.