Filthy Irish: Love Without Limits Read online

  Filthy Irish

  Love Without Limits

  Frankie Love

  C.M. Seabrook

  Contents

  Copyright

  Filthy Irish

  1. Ewan

  2. Wendy

  3. Ewan

  4. Wendy

  5. Ewan

  6. Wendy

  7. Ewan

  8. Wendy

  9. Ewan

  10. Wendy

  Epilogue I

  Epilogue II

  Preview

  Also by Frankie and C.M!

  About C.M.

  About Frankie

  Copyright

  Edited by My Brother’s Editor

  Cover by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Copyright © and 2019 by Frankie Love and C.M. Seabrook

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Filthy Irish

  When the summer nanny arrives, I know the job is more than she expected.

  After my mam passed, it’s been me looking after my five feral brothers.

  I’m running the family bed & breakfast to boot.

  I need her help - I’m over my head as it is.

  And the moment I meet Wendy, I’m also head over heels.

  She has a way with the boys that is gentle yet firm.

  But considering she slaps me across the face the day we meet - I’m gonna need to win her over one charming line at a time.

  Trouble is, I’m a filthy Irishman.

  And she’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

  Dear Reader,

  Ewan O’Brion may be Irish, but he’s never gotten lucky.

  Double virgins mean double the fun.

  And this time we promise there will be more than one happy ending.

  Wink. Wink.

  Xo, Frankie & Chantel

  Chapter One

  Ewan

  “Ye’re a good man, Ewan,” my aunt Niav says. “But those boys need more than ye can give them. Ye’ve got enough on yer plate running this business.”

  In a way, I know she’s right. The bed and breakfast that’s been in my family for three generations takes up most of my waking hours. I’m struggling just to keep it running. But I promised my mam that I would take care of my brothers.

  “I’ve been taking care of them since before my mam passed,” I tell my aunt. “Nothing has changed.”

  Except it has. I may be the oldest of seven boys, the head of the household since my dad left when I was sixteen, but it was my mam who kept the boys in check.

  I glance out the window, seeing the twins Liam and Niall, playing football with the youngest, Bradan. The twins were only toddlers when my dad left us, and Bradan was still in my mam’s belly. I’m the only father figure the three of them have known.

  Colin and Riley are teenagers, but they’re about as much help around here as the goats we keep in the back pen for milk.

  And Carrick, the second oldest, well, he up and left to Australia a month after mam passed away. Not that I blame him, the responsibilities here are overwhelming, and there are days when I’ve thought about tossing in the towel myself.

  I sigh and drag a hand through my hair, then turn back to my aunt. “I’ve hired a nanny. She’ll be here later today.”

  “A nanny?” She grunts. “And where’d ye get the money for that?”

  “It’s not yer concern.”

  “It ‘tis, lad. Yer mam was my sister, and I promised her I’d watch over ye boys if anything ever happened to her.”

  “I’m not a boy, Aunt Niav. I’m twenty-three.”

  “Aye. But Bradan is only seven, and the twins just ten. I’ve called the school and they told me the trouble they’ve been getting into.”

  “No more trouble than most boys their age.”

  She clicks her tongue. “I don’t know why ye insist on making more work for yerself. If ye need hands around here, then Riley can stay. He’s sixteen now—”

  “I’m not going to let ye separate them.”

  “Ye might not have a choice, Ewan.”

  Frustration and anger burn through me. I love my aunt, but even when my mam was alive, she was always sticking her nose in places it didn’t belong. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t want it to come to this, but since yer being as stubborn as yer father was, I’ve taken matters into my own hands. I’ve contacted the Child and Family Agency.”

  “What is the matter with ye?”

  She stands and pushes her chair back. “I could ask the same as ye, son—”

  “I’m not yer son, and neither are those boys.”

  “I’ll be in touch, Ewan.” She walks out the door, and it takes all my self-control not to put my fist through the kitchen wall. But I just put a new coat of paint on it and the last thing I need is to have to re-mud and paint it.

  “Bloody, wicked, miserable bit—”

  “Ewan?” Bradan is standing in the doorway, his dirty blond hair matted against his forehead, freckles indistinguishable from the dirt that’s smeared across his nose and cheeks. “Is it true?”

  I sigh and glance over his head to where my aunt is talking to the twins on the front lawn. “Is what true?”

  “We’re going to live with Aunt Niav?”

  I could curse the woman for her interference. “Tell your brothers to come inside.”

  He makes a face but turns and yells for them.

  “Riley, Colin,” I call for the older two who are in the living room on their phones, playing games or talking to girls. Anything but helping out. “Come here, now.”

  The kitchen isn’t large, and when all five boys pile in, the space feels crowded...and like home.

  I can’t imagine not having them here. Sure, it would be a hell of a lot easier to not be worrying about homework and whether they bathed and brushed their teeth. But they’re my family, and there’s nothing in the world more important. My mam taught me that, even if my dad was a fool not to know it.

  The twins start shoving each other before I have a chance to talk, and I pull them apart. “Both of ye, stop.”

  “He pushed me first,” Liam says, glaring at his mirror image. Most people can’t tell them apart. They have the same red hair and green eyes, like my mam had. But Liam is a quarter of an inch taller, and he’s got more mischief in his crooked grin than Niall. But the two of them together are trouble with a capital T.

  “What are ye hollering about?” Colin, the thirteen-year-old asks, pulling himself up on the counter, legs hanging over the edge.

  “Naiv was just here,” I tell him. He’d been too busy playing on his phone to notice.

  “Is she threatening to take us away again?” he asks, looking ready for a fight.

  “Aye,” I answer honestly. “And this time she’s called the Child and Family Agency.”

  “What does that mean?” Riley asks, leaning his long, lanky body against the doorframe. He’s shot up this past year, and at sixteen he almost matches my six foot two frame. Although I still have a good thirty pounds of muscle on him, and I’m still able to whoop his ass when needed.

  Which after the stunt he pulled last night, sneaking out and stumbling in drunk at four in the morning, I should probably box his ears. But I figured the hangover he’s sporting today is good enough punishment.

  “It means that ye all need to be on yer best behavior, especially when the nanny arrives.”

  “But I don’t want a nanny,”
Bradan says, sticking his bottom lip out.

  “Would ye rather go live with your aunt Naiv?” I ask. “Because that’s where ye’ll all go if she can prove I’m not fit to take care of ye.”

  “I’m sixteen,” Riley says. “She can’t make me go anywhere.”

  “Ye’re right.” I nod. “But she can take the younger ones away.”

  Bradan sniffs and I see the tears start to form in his eyes. I’ve never been good at sentimental bullshit. I was happy playing the man of the house, but I’m no good at this mothering shit.

  I place a hand on Bradan’s shoulder. “No tears now. Everything’s going to be alright. But I need ye all to go clean yerselves up while I go to the airport.” I point at Riley. “And I’m going to need ye to check on the guests and start to prepare supper while I’m gone.”

  There’s only one couple staying with us right now, so it’s not a lot to ask of the boy. I was doing twice the work when I was his age.

  And look at all the things you missed out on. I shake away the thought. Sure, I had to grow up faster than most. Take on responsibilities that most grown men would scoff at. But looking around the kitchen at the five sets of eyes that look to me for answers, I wouldn’t have it any different.

  Although truth be told, I wouldn’t mind a little help.

  Which is why hiring this nanny is so important. It’s a three-month contract over the summer, with an American agency that I found online. Because the agency focuses on the experience of living abroad, the cost of hiring the woman is half of what I’d have to normally pay. And with trying to keep five growing boys fed, I need that extra money for the grocery bills.

  * * *

  Dublin airport is busy as always when I park outside arrivals. I glance at my phone, pulling up the email the agency sent me. I know that the woman’s name is Wendy Ferguson. She’s twenty-one, and from the small, blurry photo they sent me, she looks timid and more likely to have her nose stuck in a book than capable of dealing with five rowdy boys.

  I glance at the photo again to help me pick the girl out in the crowd. Oversized glasses hide most of her face, and her hair is a mousy brown, with chunky bangs that make her look closer to Riley’s age than my own. The picture is too blurry to make out any other details, so I make a quick sign with her name on it on the back of a sheet of paper, and get out to wait.

  I lean against my car and watch the people that come out of the airport, but none of them look like the photo of Wendy Ferguson. Especially not the pretty little brunette, with the curves of a goddess and the smile of an angel who walks toward me now.

  Shit, the woman is gorgeous, with hazel eyes that look almost golden when the sun catches them. She lugs an enormous suitcase behind her, and from the tags, I can tell she’s American.

  Now this is a lass I wouldn’t mind taking home.

  My cock twitches, reminding me that it’s been a long time since I’ve even kissed a woman. Too damn long. But with the business and the boys, I hardly have a moment to myself.

  “Hello, lass,” I say when the beauty is standing in front of me, squinting at my homemade sign. “I wish that I was the one picking ye up, but I’m afraid I’m waiting on someone else.”

  She gives a small frown. “You’re here to pick up Wendy Ferguson?”

  “Aye.” I grin down at her. “But I’m afraid she’s not as fair as you.”

  Her brows raise. “Really?”

  I may not have much time for lasses these days, but the way she’s looking at me now, I know she’s interested. And what’s a little flirting going to hurt?

  “Has anyone ever told ye that ye can see the sun in yer eyes?”

  She laughs and the sound goes straight to my balls. “No. I don’t think I’ve ever received that compliment before.”

  “Ye need a man who’ll tell ye everyday how beautiful ye are.”

  She crosses her arms and stares up at me, a grin tugging at her lips. “And you think you could be that man?”

  “I wish I were. But—”

  “You’re waiting on Wendy Ferguson.”

  “Aye.” I sigh, wishing I could spend more time with this woman, but knowing I should be scanning the crowd instead. I glance over the woman’s head and look around, but no one matches the girl’s picture.

  When I look back, she’s getting into the passenger seat.

  Confused, I run my fingers through my hair. “As much as it pains me to deny ye a ride, lass, I’m not a taxi service.”

  She grins up at me. “But you are Ewan O’Brion, right?”

  I frown, a sinking feeling in my gut. “Aye, and ye are?”

  “Wendy Ferguson.” She chuckles. “Your new nanny.”

  Chapter Two

  Wendy

  I expected Ewan O’Brion to be a lot of things, but I hadn’t prepared myself for the chance that the man would look like all of my adolescent fantasies come to life. Dark hair, with wicked blue eyes, framed by lashes that any girl would be envious of, my entire body had melted when he’d looked at me.

  And then he’d spoken, and I’m not sure how I managed to not turn to a puddle at his feet. God knows the sound of his Irish brogue rolling off those full lips had my panties wet.

  He’d flirted with me. True it was before he knew who I was, but still, the man had thought I was pretty.

  I’m still getting used to the attention from men. I’d always been awkward, especially compared to my friends. Hell, when one of your best friends is literally a supermodel, you spend a lot of time in the shadows. Not that Sofie put me there, she isn’t just beautiful, she’s also the kindest soul I know. And Dina, she’s flirty and fun. And then there’s Elsie, the girl everyone wants to be - smart and confident with no hang-ups about flirting with men.

  Unlike me.

  Sure, I guess you could say I have a bit of an ugly duckling syndrome. That’s one of the reasons I’m here, in Ireland, taking a chance that I would never have dreamed about before.

  Because I’m no longer that awkward teenager. My braces are off, I threw away my old glasses and got contacts, and I finally found a hairstyle that suits my face shape. Plus, it sort of helped that when I gained ten pounds last year, the weight went straight to my boobs and ass.

  “Did ye have a good flight?” Ewan asks as he pulls out of the airport. I can feel his tension, his unease, now that he knows who I am.

  Maybe I should have told him sooner, but I was enjoying the attention more than I probably should have.

  “Yeah.” I stretch my legs, my muscles aching from sitting for over ten hours. “But it was long.”

  “We don’t have much of a drive to my place. Ye can rest when ye get there.” He drags a palm over his jaw and I see him wince. “Look, lass, I’m sorry about the way I acted earlier, I don’t want ye to think—”

  “It’s alright.” I grin at him and see his cheeks redden slightly. I hold back a sigh, because the man is...everything. Handsome and sexy and cocky... and he’s my boss. “Why don’t you tell me about the boys. You’re their brother, right?”

  “Aye. My mam passed away seven months ago, so it’s up to me to take care of them now.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “There are some things ye can’t control. It’s why I do my best to control the things I can.” He sighs and shakes his head. “But the boys...”

  “One of the things you can’t control?”

  He chuckles. “They’re O’Brions, each one more stubborn than the next.”

  “Anything I should be worried about?”

  “The twins are the troublemakers. Ye’ll want to check yer bed each night before ye go to sleep. Bradan, the youngest, he’s a good lad, but he likes to wander off. Colin, he’s thirteen, and ye’ll find him playing games on his phone most of the day. And Riley—”

  “He’s the sixteen-year-old,” I say, remembering from the file the agency gave me.

  “Aye. And his only thoughts are of lasses. But then I can’t fault the lad for that.”

  I smile
at him, hearing the obvious affection in his voice.

  “And the file said that you own a bed and breakfast?”

  “Aye.” He pulls down a driveway. “And we’re here now.”

  I’d been so caught up talking to him that I barely noticed that we left the city. To my right, the ocean looms wide and blue, and to my left are hills of green, dotted with sheep and stone walls. He comes to a stop in front of a large, three story stone house, covered in green ivy.

  “Welcome to The O’Brion Bed and Breakfast.”

  “You live here?” I ask. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Aye, it ‘tis. Come,” he says, getting out of the car. “I’ll introduce ye to the lads.”

  Two red-headed boys race toward the car, bickering as they do, and they don’t give me a second glance before they’re complaining about something to Ewan.

  Ewan says something sternly to them in Gaelic, and they both snap their mouths shut and look over at me.

  “You must be Liam and Niall,” I say. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Wendy.”

  They both gawk at me until Ewan nudges one of them.

  “Nice to meet ye,” the shorter of the two says.

  “Alright,” Ewan says, taking my luggage out of the trunk. “The two of ye, take her bags to her room.” He sighs when they start arguing again as they decide who will carry the bigger one. He calls after them, “And where’s Bradan?”

  One of the twin shrugs and the other one says, “He’s probably hiding again. He ran off when Riley told him to have a bath.”

  “Christ,” Ewan shakes his head, then says to me, “They’ll show ye to your room. I need to find the lad.”