The stranger was about as tall as me with a big chest and muscular arms. He wasn’t wearing a jacket and didn’t seem to be affected by the cold wind outside as he closed the door. Dressed all in black, he was a chiseled man with short, dark blond hair. Brown gun holsters that stretched across his shoulders and tucked beside his pecs made me tense, especially since there were two handguns inside.
“No guns allowed in here, mate,” I growled and stood, spreading my legs to posture. I didn’t have my weapon, but I’d never expected to need it in the church.
As the man got closer, I noted his sharp blue eyes and a scar that ran from his upper lip to his nose—a cleft lip. He smiled.
Father Shay placed a hand on my shoulder. “Rowen, it’s fine. Mick....” He paused and took a breath as I glanced at him over my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
“Ye know this Mick, Father?” I asked suspiciously.
“Shay shouldn’t be working this late.” Mick’s voice was strange. He had an American accent, but there was something fake about it, as though he was trying to combine too many different dialects into a couple of words. He clearly wasn’t from around here. “And he does know me.”
“How did ye get keys to this church? Only priests and clergy are allowed to have them.” The hair on the back of my neck stood up as he came closer. There was something about him I didn’t like, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. “Who are ye?”
Father Shay shoved past me and nearly tripped as he got out of the pew. He cleared his throat and offered me a weird smile. “Mick is here with me. It’s fine, Rowen. He’s helping the church.”
I didn’t believe him, especially whenMicksmirked.
“Either way, why’s he got guns in here? They’re not allowed.” I gave Mick a slow once-over, studying the threat in front of me. I didn’t know if I could take him, but I would try. His V-neck shirt shifted a little around his neck, and I thought I saw some Cyrillic ink at the beginning curve of his shoulder. Every bit of me was on high alert.
“Shay shouldn’t be working this late foranyone.” Again, his accent was odd, but now that he’d added a growl to his tone, there was a slight Eastern European sound that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Was he Ukrainian or something else? He stepped in closer to me and shook off Father Shay’s hand as he laid it on this stranger’s arm. “You trying to fuck my priest?”
“What?” I frowned. “He’s my priest, too. He’s been my priest for years.”
Father Shay winced and tugged the stranger back by his shirt. Glaring, he heaved a large sigh. “Rowen, now isn’t the right time. I’m sorry. I should have told you I was busy. Mick is visiting me. He’s an old family friend. Could we do this tomorrow?”
I shook my head. “It’s fine, Father. I have the answer I needed.”
And that was Fallon.
Regardless of my inner turmoil, I cared for him, and in the end, I didn’t give two shites if it was wrong. If God loved us, he would understand. But my desire to be at Fallon’s side right now was enough for me. I wanted what we were doing to keep going. I wanted Vailandhim. “Will ye be all right with this wee man?”
“Who are you calling wee?” Mick’s smirk widened and there was a glint in his eyes.
“I’m fine.” Father Shay smiled and this time, it lit up his face. “Like I said, he’s a friend.”
Father Shay was lying, but I didn’t know why. He wasn’t afraid, though, and that was enough for me. I wanted to get home and cuddle my boys.
With a nod, I left them and the church, then headed to my car. All I could think about was Vail’s and Fallon’s warm bodies. But, since I was already in the city, I felt obligated to get involved when a text went out to everyone from the boss about a small situation that needed an extra hand.
When I finally did get home, it was nearing midnight.
Our simple house looked serene. A stone foundation made up the outer walls of the first floor and the pillars on the front porch. The light beside the door gave off a merry glow. Blue-stained shingles covered the rest of the house, though in the dark it wasn’t easy to see the color, and the peaked roof was done up in black ones. It all came together to be the place I loved most in the world—thanks to the men waiting for me in our cozy bed. I wasted no time parking in the garage, then rushed up the stairs to my bedroom. Vail and Fallon were hugging while asleep, faces toward each other.
Smiling at the cute sight, I rid myself of my clothes until only my underwear was left, then snuck into the bed behind Fallon, careful not to jostle them too much. I snuggled against Fallon’s back, kissing his shoulder gently. We could still take this slow, but I wasn’t going to ruin this. I could love two men at once. Vail loved four at the same time and never made any of us feel left out.
“Hmm?” Fallon glanced sleepily over his shoulder and his mouth curved. “Where have you been? Missed you.”
I buried my nose into his soft hair and inhaled his masculine scent. Laying another kiss on his warm skin, I whispered, “Missed ye, too.”
Fallon fell back asleep, but I stayed awake a little longer, thinking about all the ways I was going to woo him. I enjoyed romance, the art of making someone you care for smile and blush. I liked dates and roses and all that gooey stuff. Fallon deserved the best and I was going to give it to him.
12
VAIL
“Come on!Playing soccer will be fun!” Fallon held open the black door of the suite we often shared at the Killough mansion, and I trailed my fingertips over the blond stubble on his jaw as I passed him. I loved the prickle. His blue eyes were bright and his muscles filled out his gray suit nicely. With his hair up in a neat bun, he looked very professional, and I had the urge to make him messy.
“Yes, I can’t wait to run around outside. I love public speaking, and speaking via Zoom is more or less the same thing, but I admit I was nervous for the slot on the news. Frequently they ask the types of questions that are unanswerable, so I was surprised when they didn’t ask me what I thought about Jimmy Hoffa. I was waiting for them to give me a Monday of a question, since itisMonday. You know, just something terrible. But I’ve always hated that people hate Mondays. They can be bad, but it’s more in how you look at them. Any day can be bad. Or great! It will be good to move around and shake some of the TV jitters away.” I hurried past the couches toward the bedroom, stumbling over my own feet in the process, and Fallon was right beside me, grasping my shoulders to keep me upright. We were here so often that we had a few changes of clothes stashed inside.
