The Virgin Next Door Read online

  “Fuck yes I am,” he all but growled. Her eyes flicked between his and then again to his mouth, like she couldn’t stop looking at it.

  He was close enough he could smell the clean scent of soap on her skin. He would have known she’d just come from the shower even if her light brown hair hadn’t still been slightly damp. But it wasn’t any flowery shit. Just a crisp, clean smell. Her skin was tan and there was a scattering of freckles across her nose.

  Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Mack couldn’t help his eyes tracing down her swanlike neck. Even in the shapeless T-shirt, he could see the outline of her pert little breasts, especially where the hard peaks of her nipples poked out. Was she just chilled? Or aroused?

  Mack couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such an instant, animal attraction. And it wasn’t just his cock responding to her. Even exchanging as few words as they had, he could tell she wouldn’t be just another easy lay. There was more to her. She seemed real.

  Had it been long enough, finally? Could he go to bed with a woman without all that other bullshit interfering?

  One of her hands shot up to lay flat on his chest, over his heart. Like she meant to push him away. But she didn’t put any pressure behind it. She just kept it there and the longer she did, the more it felt like a scorching iron of connection between them.

  Mack couldn’t help shifting his pelvis forward and her eyes widened when she felt his hardness through his jeans against her stomach. But they didn’t widen in alarm. Instead, a flare of heat blazed.

  That was the last straw. He was only a man for Christ’s sake. Mack lifted his right hand from the counter and he cupped her cheek. He wasn’t delicate about it either. He gripped her graceful jaw and traced his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. If he thought her little breathy noises from earlier were sexy, it was nothing to the way she gasped and leaned in to his touch at this. Jesus, she was responsive.

  He’d just decided he needed to spend the next few hours exploring exactly how responsive when suddenly there was a racket outside the back door. Calla’s face swung that direction moments before the door was shoved open and that bloody fucking Irishman’s voice filled the kitchen.

  “Not my fault I forgot me fecking keys at the bar. You’re the one who thought a drinking game was a good idea. If you thought I was going to lose to some pansy-arsed American, well I fecking showed ya!”

  Liam staggered into the kitchen, followed up by the twins, Tweddle dee and Tweddle fucking dumb.

  Before Mack knew it, Calla had jerked away from him and tugged at the bottom of her shirt as the voices quieted. His housemates might be drunk as skunks but they were all brought up short at the sight of the beautiful woman all but in Mack’s arms. A woman he’d been a hairsbreadth away from claiming for the night before these fucknuts stumbled in.

  “Who’s that?” one of the twins asked at the same time Liam took a lunging step toward where he and Calla stood.

  “Hey, it’s you.” Liam pointed a finger toward her face. “You really aren’t a dude. Huh. When’d you get so pretty?”

  Calla had pulled away from Mack, but he still felt it the instant her back went ramrod straight. Her mouth dropped open and she looked horrified.

  Mack’s fist was flying toward Liam’s face before he could even think it all the way through. He didn’t know exactly what the fuck the bastard was on about, but it was clear he’d upset Calla.

  And Jesus but it was satisfying when his fist connected with Liam’s jaw. He barely registered Calla’s small shriek or the other guys shouting. All he knew was he’d wanted to punch the fucker from almost the moment he’d met him.

  Rich bastard parading around, playing at being a cowboy when the rest of them were here to earn a living. It made Mack fucking sick. So when Liam’s head was knocked sideways and he stumbled backward a few steps before falling on his ass, Mack felt only the glow of gratification.

  At least until he saw Calla shrink away from him, her hand to her mouth.

  He didn’t have more than a moment to register it, though, because the next second Liam was back on his feet and lunging for him.

  “Ya cocksucker!” he yelled, fist swinging.

  Mack blocked the first blow but when Liam followed up with a mean jab to his ribs, Mack wasn’t fast enough.

  And fuck but the bastard could fight, even when he was drunk off his ass. Mack barely had time to recover from the fist to his stomach before Liam swung again. He jerked back but Liam still clipped his jaw.

  Which just fucking enraged him. You didn’t survive super max for almost a decade without knowing how to fight, and he couldn’t believe this pansy-assed motherfucker had actually gotten in two hits on him. He could count how many times that had ever happened on one hand. With a roar, he charged Liam and took the bastard to the ground.

  Mack was just about to get a choke hold on him when a pissed off voice demanded, “What the fuck is going on here?”

  Shit. The boss was here. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to get the upper hand on the little Irish shit. He almost had him pinned—

  Suddenly a huge hand jerked Mack off Liam and tossed him onto his back. Mack scrambled to try to get at Liam until he finally registered a very pissed off Xavier Kent standing over him.

  “You want to fucking explain what the fuck you’re doing fighting in my kitchen. I could hear you all the way from the stairwell.”

  Mack blinked, the haze of rage starting to clear from his vision. He looked around. The twins had grabbed Liam’s arms and were holding him back. Calla stood behind the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest, her features showing clear mortification.

  “Well?” Xavier demanded, the mottled skin on the burned upper left of his face going all but white in his anger even while the other side reddened.

  “Sorry boss,” Mack said, getting to his feet and looking at Xavier. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Sure as fuck better not,” Xavier growled. “You two—” He pointed a finger at Liam, who was still on the floor although no longer being held back by Jeremiah and Reece. Next, he pointed at Mack. “—are on KP duty for the next four weeks. And I better not ever have to deal with this shit again.”

  With that, the big man turned on his heel and was about to stalk from the room when he seemed to notice Calla.

  “Cal.” When Xavier acknowledged her, his voice was still gruff but not angry. “Glad to see you made it here okay.”

  She cringed, glancing between Mack and Liam. “Sorry for all this.”

  She hadn’t been afraid of him when she’d first seen him but there was a wariness in her eyes now. Dammit. He was usually so good at hiding his monster. Out of all the times to lose it on Liam, it had to be tonight? In front of her? He’d just gotten so pissed when Liam had openly disrespected her. He clenched his jaw all over again just thinking about it.

  Xavier shook his head, taking a second to glare over his shoulder at Mack and then Liam. “Not your fault these two are assholes who don’t know how to behave in front of a lady.”

  Calla smirked. “No one’s ever accused me of being a lady before.”

  Xavier shook his head, his hard face softening. “Well that just goes to show you,” he paused, glaring back at Mack and Liam, “if this little display didn’t already—what absolute fucking idiots the male population is. Get some sleep. Day starts early tomorrow.” He patted Calla on the shoulder and then pushed out through the door. She followed on his heels. A moment later, two pairs of footsteps, one heavy and one light, could be heard as they went up the stairs.

  “Hey, who’s food is this?” Reece asked as he pulled his blond dreadlocks into a ponytail and stepped toward the counter. “I’m starving.”

  Mack moved and snatched the plate off the counter before Reece could touch it. “Not yours,” Mack growled, turning and leaving the kitchen without another word.

  He knocked lightly on Calla’s door once he got upstairs. It had to be hers. Isobel use
d to stay there but it had been empty since she’d gone to live with Hunter.

  “You forgot your food,” he said through the door.

  No response.

  Shit. Like she was gonna open the door to an animal like him.

  He took a step back. Why the fuck did he even care? He’d come to terms with what he was a long fucking time ago. He’d done what he had to in order to survive. Become what he was. He knew there was no going back.

  The image of her sweet, open face and how innocently she’d extended her hand to shake his flashed through his head.

  “I’ll just leave it outside your door.” He set the plate down and then stepped back

  He ran his hands roughly through his hair, then whispered a sharp, “Fuck,” before striding down the hall to his own room and shutting the door firmly behind him.

  5

  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. He thought it was all magical.

  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 w
as 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.