LIAM

 

“Jaysus,” Liam grumbled to Jeremiah, “no one should be expected to wake up at the arse crack of dawn every morning.” He pushed out the back door of the kitchen and they headed in the direction of the stables. “It’s just not bloody right.”

Jeremiah nodded, clutching his head.

Mack and Nicholas had gotten out the door ahead of them but Mack turned back, apparently having heard him. “Well maybe you shouldn’t go out drinking and whoring when you know you have to get up at five a.m. the next morning.”

Liam’s eyebrows narrowed and Jeremiah winced, hand still massaging his temple. “Would everybody stop shouting?”

Liam ignored Mack and grinned at his friend. His own head was aching a bit but he didn’t feel anywhere near as bad as Jeremiah looked. Then again, Liam hadn’t spent half the night throwing up. He clapped Jeremiah on the back. “That’ll teach you to go playing drinking games with an Irishman. Even the smallest of me kinswomen could drink you lot under the table any day of the week.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick again.” Jeremiah clutched his stomach and bent over, one hand on his knee.

Liam jumped back. “Don’t come anywhere near me. I’ve barely even worn in me new boots.” They were black Lucchese cowboy boots, the best of the best. Just because Liam had given up playing billionaire didn’t mean he had to give up all his creature comforts.

“God help us if your pretty new boots get mussed,” Mack shot over his shoulder.

Liam lifted a thumb to his still aching jaw. Brawling at six in the morning would be a bad idea, yeah?

Didn’t stop his fists from clenching. Jaysus it had felt good getting that sucker punch in last night. It had been a long time coming.

Liam didn’t know what Mack’s fucking problem was. Liam was perfectly affable when he’d gotten to the ranch two years ago. But about three seconds after meeting him, Mack acted like Liam’s very existence was some great offense. Bastard thought he was better than everyone around him even though it couldn’t be further from the truth.

If Liam had met gutter trash like Mackenzie Knight in his old life, he would have gotten him thrown out of whatever club they were in and that would be that. He’d never have had to see the wanker again.

But part of this great experiment was seeing how the common people lived. Which meant living across the hall from the biggest douchebag he’d ever met. And constantly having to put up with his shite.

Nicholas hauled the stable door open, silent and good-tempered as ever. Liam liked the gentle giant. And the twins were great for a laugh. Xavier and Mel were top notch too. If not for Mack, he’d be totally happy with his new life.

All right, he could do without constantly having to muck horse shit, but apart from those two things, life on the ranch was surprisingly enjoyable. He’d only meant to spend a month or two here. But it had quickly grown on him… and well, he hadn’t been eager to face all the shite back at home.

Turned out not having your every step hounded by paparazzi was more refreshing than he’d expected. Plus getting away from the city. And his family. His last scene with his father had ended up with his fist in his da’s face.

He knew twenty-seven was too old to be running away from home. But fuck it, half the point of being a spoiled little shit was that you never had to grow up, yeah?

And his best memories had been spending time in the stables when he was a little kid. They used to spend summers in a cottage just outside Kilkenny. To hear his ma tell it, it was where his da had first courted her. She’d been on the set of a movie she was shooting and he’d been passing through on vacation. Love at first sight, that’s what Ma said. So they’d come back every summer.

Except ever since Liam could remember, his da never stayed more than a week or two. He was always traveling, running back to Dublin or flying to L.A. or London or God knew where.

So Liam and his ma would spend all summer riding horses and painting and eating lazy meals in the big cottage house on the hill. The brawny stablemaster, Craig, taught him how to saddle and ride his first pony when he was just four years old.

At least until his parents got divorced and Ma started drinking and snorting whatever shite she could find to shove up her nose. Back when Liam believed in things like goodness and love and happy endings. Before he learned better.

Jaysus, why was he thinking about all this right now? It was barely six in the feckin’ morning. If he was going to go wallowing, he might as well wait till it was late enough to justify a good stiff glass of whiskey.

“Calla. Hey. How long have you been up?”

Liam looked up at Mack’s question and paused. It was the woman from last night. Liam cringed. The one he’d first mistaken for a lad.

She was wearing overalls again but instead of a shapeless flannel shirt underneath, she had on a form-fitting long-sleeved thermal that emphasized her small but toned arms. Her hair was pulled back in a tiny ponytail, little wisps escaping all around her face.

Damn, she was pretty. It hadn’t just been his dick’s drunken response to seeing a half-naked woman last night. Here it was, arse-o’clock in the morning and she was still pretty as a peach. He felt like even more of an eejit for mistaking her for a man.

She only glanced up momentarily from the stall she was mucking out. “Oh. Hey guys.”

Jeremiah had finally joined them and several long moments of silence passed, everyone just staring at Calla. Mack finally whistled. “Damn, you’ve got five stalls done already. Trying to impress the boss on your first day?”

Liam was about to call him out for being a rude bastard but Calla only smiled and shook her head. “Just used to farm life. Been waking up at four a.m. for as long as I can remember.”

Her voice was a low, soothing alto. And the more Liam looked at her, the more he realized that, fuck, she wasn’t just pretty. She was really pretty.

Maybe not in an obvious way, with that square jaw and strong nose. More like a young Meryl Streep. As different as could be from the plastic fake-boobed betty he’d almost banged last night. This girl had a healthy tan like she was used to being outdoors regularly. And she was obviously used to hard work.

“You slackers gonna help me out or just stand there staring? I loaded up the hay nets a bit ago and have just started turning the horses out.”

Nicholas nodded. “Mack and I will take the horses in the East Barn.” He started toward the far barn door but Mack didn’t move to follow.

“Why don’t you take Jeremiah today?” Mack said. “I’m happy to stay here and help Calla.”

She’d gone back to shoveling but looked up at hearing her name. Pink entered her cheeks as she locked eyes with Mack.

“I’ll just get a pitchfork so I can join you.” Mack’s voice went almost soft as he said it. A small smile crossed her face before she went back to her work.

What the feck was going on? Mack hated everybody. And he didn’t smile. Ever.

Liam felt his jaw going hard as Mack walked to the far side of the barn to grab a pitchfork and shovel.

Was Calla actually buying into his bullshit? Last night was a little fuzzy, but if Liam remembered right, the two of them had been cozied up by the counter when he and the twins stumbled in the back door. He knew some girls got off on the thrill of the whole bad-boy tattooed thing. One glance, though, and he would have guessed this woman wouldn’t be pulled in by that shite.

Then he cringed. Well, he supposed on very first glance he’d already shoved his foot in it by mistaking her for a man. That would be hard to recover from.

But if there was one thing in life Liam O’Neill was good at, it was charming women. And the occasional man if the situation was just right, but that was neither here nor there.

What was important now was saving her from being screwed over by Mackenzie. Mack was an ex-con, for Christ’s sake. He’d done eight years hard time.

For whatever reason Xavier didn’t seem to have a problem with that but Liam sure as hell did. And if it fell to him to save the fair maiden from the bastard’s wiles, well, sometimes sacrifices had to be made.

And suddenly Liam was determined to do just that. Liam put on his most charming grin and walked over to where Calla was still shoveling. “I wanted to apologize for me behavior last night. Bad lighting and too much whiskey.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh.

She looked up at him, eyebrows furrowing like she didn’t understand why he was intruding on her space. Damn, she was going to be a tough nut to crack, wasn’t she? Liam couldn’t remember the last time a woman had posed a genuine challenge.

And the fact that he’d be stealing her out from under Mackenzie, who obviously wanted her too?

Just icing on the cake.

“So, ya like horses?” Liam leaned a shoulder against the stall she was mucking out.

Again she just looked at him like, what do you want?

Damn, had he really lost his touch that much?

“Why don’t you run along and start your own work, laddie?” Mack tossed one of the shovels his direction and Liam barely managed to catch the heavy-handled tool.

Motherfucker, if he—

“Aren’t you two supposed to be on kitchen duty this morning?” Calla asked, wiping her forehead and propping an elbow on her pitchfork. She looked back and forth between the two of them. “What time is breakfast anyway?” She glanced out the stable door like she was trying to gauge the time by the sun.

Liam cringed. Shite. He’d forgotten about that.

“I did my half,” Mack said with a shit-eating smirk in Liam’s direction. “Waffle batter’s ready and the fruit’s cut up. What about you?”

Liam wanted to smack the smug smile off his face. “Guess I should go start me prep.”

“Don’t worry, pretty boy, we’ll leave you plenty of stalls to muck out.”

No one would miss one more dead ex-con in the world, would they? He wouldn’t even have to do it himself. Just one call to his fixer back in Dublin and—

“Chop chop,” Mackenzie said, clapping his hands right in Liam’s face.

Liam stopped himself just short of lunging for the bastard, and only because Calla was right there. No, he’d show he could be the bigger man.

“Great to officially meet you, beautiful.” Liam winked at Calla and noted, with no small amount of satisfaction, that the pink came back into her cheeks again.

“You, too,” she said, then quickly averted her eyes. Was it his imagination or did she sound a little breathless? He grinned as he headed back toward the house, all his instincts telling him she was checking out his arse as he went.

Oh yeah, he still had it.