Filthy Irish: Love Without Limits Read online

  “Can I help?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure I know where he went.”

  I watch Ewan walk away, and my stomach flutters again when I take in his full size. He’s tall, but he’s also broad and muscular, and it’s obvious he works with his hands. And after the words that he said to me at the airport, I can’t help but think about what those hands would feel like on my body.

  A shiver races through me, and I push the thought away. I didn’t come to Ireland to give my virginity away. Even if Ewan O’Brion is a temptation I wouldn’t mind giving myself to. And honestly, I’m twenty-two years old, maybe the fairytale romance I’ve dreamed about doesn’t really exist.

  “Are ye coming?” one of the twins asks me, looking at me like he’s not quite sure my head is screwed on properly.

  I nod and follow them into the house. There’s a special entrance for the family on the side, and I realize a whole portion of the place is sectioned off for the guests.

  “Ewan says ye’ll sleep here,” one of the boys says when he opens a door on the second floor.

  “And where do you sleep?” I ask.

  “Our rooms are on the third floor. And Ewan’s is there across the hall.”

  His bedroom is across from mine? More heat prickles my skin. Damn, I need to find something else to think about other than my hot new boss.

  I lay down on the bed when the boys leave, exhaustion and jet lag catching up to me. And I’m just dozing off when I hear a small noise that sounds like a child’s whimper. When it comes again, I sit up. I swear it’s coming from my closet.

  I open the door, and a pair of big, blue eyes peer out at me. He sniffs and wipes his dirty face when he sees me.

  “You must be Bradan,” I say, crouching down.

  “Who are ye?”

  “I’m Wendy. What are you doing in here?”

  He sniffs again. “It smells like my mam.”

  I glance around the room, at the floral curtains and the small feminine touches. “This was her room?”

  He nods. “Are you my nanny?” he asks, taking my hand when I hold it out to him.

  “I am. I’m going to be staying with you for the summer.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I don’t want to go live with Aunt Niav. She smells like onions and piss.”

  I cough and try not to laugh. “That’s not very nice.”

  “Colin said it first.”

  Above me, I hear footsteps clamoring, and then a large thump, followed by shouting. But before I can even think to check on whoever is creating the ruckus, a fire alarm begins to wail.

  I follow the sound and the smell of smoke to the kitchen.

  “Bloody fecking piece of shite.” The cursing comes from a man, standing over the smoking oven as he pulls out a charred piece of meat.

  I open the windows and door, then start fanning the alarm.

  “What’re ye burning now?” A boy, around thirteen asks, coming into the kitchen. His brows raise when he sees me. The twins are running in from outside and Bradan is at my heels.

  “I told Ewan, I’m no woman. I can’t do this shite—” The man, who’s actually a teenage boy, with the same dark hair and blue eyes as Ewan, pauses when his gaze lands on me. “And just who might you be?”

  I step back, taking in the whirlwind around me. I’m an only child and my parents own a bookstore. My life could be adequately described with a single word: quiet. This though? This is chaos and from the story Ewan told me, there is no one reining this all in.

  Swallowing, I realize all eyes are on me.

  Me. Am I the person who is supposed to calm this storm? Because if so, I think the agency made a massive error. Find me a little girl who likes to get lost in fairy tales and I’m good to go. But a houseful of rambunctious boys? I gulp. Audibly.

  “So who are ye then?” the teenager asks again.

  “The nanny,” I finally manage to muster. “I’m Wendy and you are—”

  He cuts me off with a grin. “We’re yer lost boys, Wendy Darlin’.”

  Just then Ewan pushes through the back door hollering about smoke and burning the house down. Then he sees me and smiles. It’s a cocksure smile that makes me think he is even more charming then he puts on.

  “Eh, there ye are, Wendy.” He runs a hand through his thick dark hair and my belly does a flip-flop. “Did ye get a rest then?”

  “Rest?” When does he think I’d have slept? I’ve been here less than thirty minutes.

  “It’s just, it’s supper time. Cathy comes in the morning to make breakfast for the guests, but we fend for ourselves the rest of the day. I’m starvin’, truth be told.”

  I nod, trying to surmise what he expects of me exactly. “It looks like your brother burnt dinner, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “I just thought maybe,” he gives me a dimpled smile. “Since ye’re here and all, you could whip something up.”

  I take in the situation. A motley crew of boys who are hungry. All eyes on me. If I don’t lay down the law now they’ll be walking all over me by the weekend.

  “I’m the nanny, not the cook,” I say, crossing my arms as Riley knocks over a glass of water and doesn’t bother to mop it up. “And I’m not the maid, either. I’m here to look after the twins and Bradan. I’m guessing Colin and Riley can take care of themselves.”

  Ewan steps closer to me, his hand resting on my shoulder. His eyes on mine. I’m melting at the most inappropriate time. This is when I hold my ground. Put up a fight. Stay strong. Instead my knees are wobbly and I have to look away.

  “Why don’t we take a walk outside, shall we?” Ewan says with a wink.

  The other boys whistle, and I realize just what they are thinking. That their older brother is hitting on me. I look up at Ewan. Is he?

  “Oh shut up,” he bellows to his brothers. “Colin, make some cheese sandwiches. Riley, clean up the water, and for Christ’s sake, Liam, go wash yer face. Looks like you got in a brawl.”

  The ten-year-old smiles broadly. “I did. I punched George O'Malley right in the jaw.”

  The boys crack up at this, but my eyes widen. These are feral boys, undoubtedly.

  And I need to leave before they eat me alive.

  Chapter Three

  Ewan

  I lead Wendy outside, her eyes are the size of saucers and I know she’s ready to run for the hills. Asking her to make supper was probably a bonehead move, but dammit, I like the idea of her in the kitchen, swinging her hips as she fries up some fish.

  She isn’t interested in playing house though, I could tell by the way she crossed her arms and put her foot down with the boys and me. To be honest, I find that even sexier than I found the idea of her putting on an apron. Still, my cock twitches at the thought of her taking a big bite of my meat pie.

  I laugh, and she turns, asking what is so funny. “I reckon you wouldn’t want to know what I was thinking right then,” I tell her honestly. No woman I’ve ever known readies to the idea of sucking dick an hour into the relationship.

  “Try me,” she says, spinning on her heels and looking me dead on. Damn, she is gorgeous. Her brown hair tousled by the storming out of the house, her eyes ablaze, fiery in a way I didn’t expect from such a sweet girl. But I like it. Her surprises. Her complexity. Pretty, but not mild or meek. Thoughtful, but not a pushover.

  She’s exactly what this household needs. A woman who knows who she is. And damn, I’d like to know her in an even deeper sense of the word.

  “I’m waiting,” she says, daring me to tell her exactly what is on my mind.

  “I don’t think you could handle the truth, Wendy Darlin’.”

  “I’m tougher than I look.”

  I grin, stepping closer now. So damn close I can smell her shampoo. Lavender and honey and what I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through those locks. I press my hand to the side of her face, despite my better judgment. Her skin is soft and smooth and shockingly she doesn’t pull away. In fact, she doesn’t move a muscle.


  “I was thinking how since you were hired to be the nanny, you might want to start by putting me to bed.”

  She laughs. The first laugh I’ve heard escape her full-lipped mouth. It’s light and cheery and surprisingly she isn’t slapping me square across the cheek.

  But when she stops, the smile is gone and she’s twisting her lips like she can’t decide whether or not she wants to punch me or kiss me. “You are a fool Ewan O’Brion.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Right you are, but maybe, by the summer’s end, I could be your fool.”

  She shakes her head, but she licks her lips - and that little pink tongue betrays everything she might plan on saying.

  “That’s not going to happen, Ewan,” she says.

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because I’m leaving. Now. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

  “You knew there would be a houseful of boys. That we needed help.”

  “I just don’t think I’m the person you need. I don’t have experience with rowdy boys, or with...cocky men.” She lets out a frustrated breath. “With any of it.”

  I run a hand over my jaw, not wanting to lose her - not just because she can help me this summer, but because she’s so fecking perfect. She’s cute as can be but sweet too, and strong. And I need that around here. Little Bradan needs it. And even the older boys, they may think they don’t need a woman’s influence - but truth is, we all do.

  “It was stupid of me to make a joke about cooking back in the kitchen. You don’t have to cook. Or clean. But—”

  She cuts me off. “Yes I do, Ewan. The house is a mess, the boys are filthy. You all need a good scrubbing if I’m being honest.”

  I lift my eyebrows and smirk. “I bet you could wash me up, real good, couldn’t ye?”

  She slaps me then, the slap I should have got earlier. “You’re terrible, you know that?” But her eyes tell me a different story. They are hot and bothered, same as mine.

  “Sorry, lass. I was just teasing. You know that. Us boys, we all got mouths on us, we’re a bit wild, a bit—”

  “Feral. That’s the word I’d use.”

  I laugh, rubbing my cheek. “Sure, feral then. Call us what you like, but I’ll try to be a gentleman if ye stay. Just give us a week or two before ye pack yer bags and go. I can’t do this on me own. I need ye.”

  She sighs, looking out to the distance. The rolling green hills the same color as her eyes, sprinkled with rays of sunlight. And I may have just met her, but there’s a part of me that feels like I’ve known her my entire life.

  “You belong here,” I say, taking a step closer. “Don’t ye feel it?”

  “Is that the line you use on all the nannies?” she asks, looking back at me. I feel a heat between us, and when I step closer this time, she does the same.

  “There have been no other nannies.”

  She teases her bottom lip between her teeth, a smile trying to peek through. “So I’m your first?”

  I grin, knowing she isn’t going anywhere. “Aye, the first. How’d you like to be the last?”

  If I weren’t so scared of her leaving, I’d pull her in for a kiss right then and there, knowing we both want it. Badly.

  But instead she sticks out her hand. “We need to shake on it.”

  “On what exactly?” I take her hand before she answers. Damn, I want to run my fingers all over her.

  “I’ll give you two weeks, Ewan O’Brion. Two weeks to wear me down.”

  Chapter Four

  Wendy

  Three days into being here, I wonder if I should have only given Ewan one week to wear me down, because I’m exhausted. And yet, I can’t deny that the self-proclaimed lost boys have already stolen a piece of my heart.

  “Did you brush your teeth?” I ask Bradan as he jumps into his bed and under the covers.

  “I did yesterday.”

  I sigh and shake my head. “You have to brush them every morning and every night or you’ll get cavities.”

  “What’s a cavity?” he asks as I take his hand and lead him to the bathroom.

  “It’s a hole in your tooth.” I hand him his toothbrush and he takes it, putting way too much toothpaste on it. “And if you get one, they have to put a filling in it. Have you ever been to the dentist?”

  “Sure,” Colin says, joining us. “When we have a toothache.” He opens his mouth and shows Bradan a metal filling on one of his molars. “Hurt like a—”

  I clear my throat, stopping the curse word that was about to fly out of his mouth. At thirteen, Colin may be the most difficult of the boys. Sure, Bradan needs the most attention, being the youngest, and the twins are constantly fighting with each other, but at thirteen, Colin just seems lost.

  “Brush your teeth so you don’t get another one,” I tell him.

  He grunts. “Yer not my mam, and I don’t need ye telling me what to do.”

  “You’re right, I’m not. But while I’m here, it’s my job to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  He mutters something in what I assume is Gaelic and leaves the bathroom.

  “Do I want to know what he said?” I ask Bradan.

  He just shakes his head at me.

  “Didn’t think so.”

  I get him settled into bed, and after I read him a story, I check on the twins. I have to hold my breath when I walk into their room. From the smell, I’m pretty sure they refused to have the showers I told them to take. And there are dirty clothes scattered around the room.

  “I asked you both to have a shower.” I cross my arms. “And to bring your laundry down.”

  “Showers are for girls,” Niall says, or at least I think it’s Niall, I’m still trying to figure out how to tell them apart.

  “Yeah.” Liam grins at me. “We like being dirty.”

  “Well, I don’t like it. And I want this room and your bodies washed before you come down to breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Or what?” Niall asks.

  “Or no donuts for you.”

  “Donuts?” the twins perk up. I suppress a smile, finally finding some leverage with them. Sweets. Luckily for me, I am a first-rate baker.

  “Yes, I make very good donuts. I went to a baking institute for college and I can make all kinds of delicious treats.” They are grinning now, imagining the glazed and sugar dusted donuts. “But,” I add, holding up a finger. “Only for boys who do what they’re told.”

  I close the door, leaving them to decide what they want to do on their own. As I walk downstairs, I find Riley in the kitchen groaning over the near-empty fridge.

  “Perfect timing,” I say. “I need to go to the grocery store. And you need to drive me.” There is no way in hell I am getting in their old van and driving on the other side of the road.

  “At this hour?” He groans.

  “What, did you have a date this evening?” I remember him on the phone the other day, awkwardly fumbling through a conversation with a girl.

  His cheeks turn red. “No. But I wish. Fiona won’t exactly agree to date me. She says she likes bad boys. Not trouble makers.”

  I laugh to myself trying to decipher what the difference might be to a teenage girl. I grab the keys from the hook by the back door and place them in his palms. “Drive me to the store and tell me all about her.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I am a woman, and I might be able to help.”

  * * *

  Riley and I have stocked the house with the much-needed groceries. Along with plenty of butter, flour, and sugar for my new plan to woo the boys over one slice of cake at a time.

  “Thank you, Riley,” I say before he heads back outside. He’s made plans to meet up with some friends at a bowling alley. “And if you see Fiona there, remember—”

  “I know...” He grins sheepishly. “Ask her about her day, and ask her if she would like a ride home, don’t make any jokes that might make her blush.”

  I laugh. “You listen a lot better than you let on.”
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br />   “I’ll take yer advice, but I’m not sure it will work on Fiona.”

  “Just try,” I say with a laugh as he leaves. Alone in the kitchen, I think about calling my mom. The time change means she’s probably on her lunch break. I dial her quickly, and when she answers, her voice lights up the call.

  “Oh, Wendy, I was just thinking about you.”

  “Really?” I open the cupboards, pulling out ingredients that I just put away, and setting them on the countertop. As I begin to measure flour and salt, I settle into her familiar voice. We talk every few days and she is caught up on all the happenings in the O’Brion household.

  “Yes. Jasper Wilson was just in, asking about you.”

  “Mom,” I groan, turning on the oven and then reaching for a cookie sheet. “Jasper was my prom date, nothing more. He is so ... basic.” I turn and look out the kitchen window. Ewan is sitting in the garden, all alone, and it would be a lie to say my stomach doesn’t flip-flop at the sight of him. He is everything straight-laced Jasper isn’t.

  Funny. Charming. Sexy. Filthy with his words.

  I exhale, grating fresh ginger into the batter as Mom continues to praise Jasper’s degree in finance and his plans to go to grad school.

  “Mom, that’s awesome for him, but I’m not interested in a guy like that.”

  She sighs. “I just want you to be happy. And I know you love to bake, but it isn’t exactly a career, is it?”

  “Why not? You own a bookstore. Maybe I’ll follow in your footsteps and open a bakery,” I say, dropping balls of cookie dough into a bowl of granulated sugar, coating the gingersnaps.

  “Being a small business owner isn’t an easy life, Wendy.”

  Looking around the O’Brion’s Bed and Breakfast, I am reminded of that fact. “It’s not about Jasper’s plans to be a banker that I’m opposed to, Mom.”

  Her voice lifts as I slide the cookies into the oven. “Then what is it?”

  “I’m just not attracted to him. He’s not ... not ...”

  “It’s this Irish man that has you flustered, isn’t it?”