Chapter One
Louisa
From up here, the towns and cities appeared like nothing more than specks of dust on the vast canvas of the earth, making them seem inconsequential. As I stared out the plane window at the landscape thirty-five thousand feet below us, I was impressed with the Rawlins’ private jet. It wasn’t a huge thing, but it was comfortable.
Comfortable?
I scoffed at myself.
Comfortable was the fucking understatement of the year.
Byron and Royce were sprawled out on a small couch watching a movie on the fifty-six-inch television like it was the most regular thing in the world to have such a set up on a plane. They were right at home devouring that bowl of popcorn together, and not for the first time was I reminded of exactly how much money five of my men had.
You wouldn’t have known it to look at some of them.
Except for Tate, the CEO of his family’s company, Rawlins Industries, and Harris, one of America’s top chefs, most of the brothers lived their lives in ways you wouldn’t think boys who’d grown up filthy rich would.
Byron loved working with his hands, building and maintaining things. Royce was always happiest at the beach, surfing with our Hawaiian boyfriend, Jack. Eric worked in the service industry as a firefighter and was the owner of a community center and soup kitchen in Wayborough Shores, the town we all lived in.
Jack and I were the odd ones out, having come from virtually nothing, so we were adjusting to the more opulent parts of the Rawlins’ lifestyle together. We were still getting the hang of not having to scrimp for every dime or save up to buy a treat or a more expensive necessity like a car or a computer. Even now, we were budgeting for this trip.
I suppressed a giggle as I watched Jack setting different amounts of cash into separate Ziplock bags. “Would you like some help?”
He lifted his dark brown eyes to me. “Sure.”
I moved across the aisle and settled next to him on the long couch lining the opposite wall. Folding my arms on the tabletop in front of us, I gazed over each bag.
Sightseeing money, food and drink money, and emergency money.
I noticed a fine black marker and a box of extra bags beside him. “So, what’s your process here?”
“I’m splitting the money into these bags for the first couple weeks of our trip. This is my budget for London alone, and I’m not allowed to touch anything in my account until we leave the UK. That will be my Kenya money.” Jack counted out some of the money, sealed it in a bag, then tucked it into a larger bag labeled Week One.
I caught onto his pattern after a few moments and followed suit. “You’ve got this down to a fine art.”
Jack nodded. “That’s how I travel on a shoestring budget. I don’t spend too much on keepsakes. I prefer to collect memories and experiences instead of things. I buy groceries and cook for myself instead of dining out all the time, and I usually travel around in a van and camp out, which saves a lot on hotel costs.”
Jack’s love of camping in his van was how we’d first met in the woods not far from Wayborough Shores. I smiled wistfully. “I love your van.”
“You do, huh?” Jack nudged me, his smile somewhat suggestive.
I leaned closer to him and breathed in his earthy scent. “I’ve yet to properly utilize it with you, but yes, I do.”
Jack moved his mouth close to my ear, and his voice was a low growl as he said, “We might have to fix that oversight when we get back.” The deep huskiness of it shot straight to my lady parts.
The tips of our noses brushed against one another as I turned my face toward his. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Picking up another bag, I slipped some money into it.
With a lopsided smile, he asked, “Will this be your first visit to London?”
“Yep.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “It’s my first trip anywhere outside the States, aside from the odd trip home every couple of years since I married Alex. We would save up to go see my mom every second Christmas. What about you?”
“I passed through Heathrow on the way to Mombasa, but that’s all.”
My eyes traveled across to Byron and Royce once again. “Looks like we’ll be in the others’ capable hands, then.”
A cheeky smile flashed across Jack’s face. “Just how we like it, huh?”
“Yup.”
We laughed.
“What are you most looking forward to seeing, pretty girl?”
“Not what. Who. Sienna. I’m sure London is fantastic, but I miss my friend, Jack.”
“I’ll bet she feels the same way.”
“What are you looking forward to?” I asked as I brushed my hand over his wrist.
“My first Christmas with you.” Jack captured my smile with his lips and kissed me slowly, his wiry beard tickling my chin. “And another one with Royce.”
“It’s my first Christmas with all of you. The first one I’ve been enthusiastic about since Alex died.”
Jack took notice of my slight sadness. “He’d be happy for you, right?”
“He would.”
It was the truth. Though he’d understand my grieving period, Alex would’ve hated to see the shell of a person I’d become in the past few years, and would have been overjoyed that I’d finally embraced life again. Even if it was a crazy, high-flying one with six men.
“I remember him from the beach, but I didn’t know him like Royce did. From what little I saw and from what you’ve told me about him, he sounded like a good guy.”
“I seem to be attracted to good men.”
We gathered the rest of the money as Eric set his dumbbells down and sniffed the air. “Whatever the hell Harris is cooking, the smell is making my stomach rumble.”
“Mine, too,” I admitted. “I wonder how many inflight meals we get on this trip?”
Eric chuckled. “However many you want, sweetheart. You’re not flying coach. Think of this thing as your home in the sky.”
“You’re not allowed to eat a thing,” Harris’ voice bellowed. “Not until after you eat what I’m making.”
I went to hang in the doorway of his small, sleek, black and white galley kitchen. It was dubbed as ‘his’ because Harris always claimed any kitchen as soon as he walked into a place.
“What is it you’re making?” I peered across where seven plates were sitting and noticed some sort of crepe on each one.
“Mushroom crepes. Now, get out of here and let me do my work, princess.”
I blatantly ignored his request. “What are your plans for London?”
“You’re my plans for London.” He sent me a heated look but then shrugged. “Well, you and I want to inspect a few spaces to set up an Oblivion under my British pal there.”
“You’re totally keen on these international plans of yours. First Tokyo, now London. I’m proud of you, chef.”
“Thank you.”
“Any plans to expand to the East Coast?”
Harris narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you angling for a trip to New York City?”
I tried to act as nonchalantly as possible. “What about Australia and the rest of Europe? Another one in Asia?”
Harris abandoned his cooking for a moment and slipped his arms around my waist, pulling me into the space. “I can fuck you in every city on the planet if you want me to. Because you will be coming with me to every grand opening. I’ll always need a dishwasher.”
I slapped his chest at his mention of the way we met.
He laughed and kissed me playfully. “Do me a favor?”
Kiss.
“What?” I asked, his playful tone making me smile.
“Come with me to every restaurant I open?”
Kiss.
Kiss.
With widened eyes, I asked him, “How many are you opening?”
“The sky’s the limit.” He paused his assault on my lips and brought his hands up to cup the sides of my face, holding me in his stare. “I want to have restaurants worldwide. Maybe it’s ambitious and maybe it won’t work out the way I want it to, but I’m a risk-taker, always have been. That’s how I got to where I am right now. But I want you there because you keep me grounded.”
My heart fluttered, and I clung to his heavily tattooed arms. “I’ll always want to celebrate your ventures, Harris.”
This time, when he kissed me, the playfulness was gone, and in its place were the deep emotions this man carried within. Harris wasn’t the best at verbalizing how he felt, but you could always tell his mood or what he wanted to convey if you took notice of his actions.
I’d learned this lesson the hard way in the past few months of getting to know him. After some initial misunderstandings and huge arguments, I’d begun to accept him as he was and for what he let me see. There would still be arguments, I was sure of that because we were both headstrong, independent, and passionate, but that didn’t matter since I knew we belonged with one another.
It was great belonging with all of the men on this plane. It was unconventional, sure. Falling for six men had taken me by surprise, especially after hiding myself away from the possibility of loving anyone again after Alex’s death. They’d shown me it was okay to love, to have them all in my life. There were teething problems at first, especially when Jack came on the scene, but we were finding a way for it to work. It was incredibly selfless on their part. They were so trusting, and I would always be grateful to them.
Harris broke the kiss off. “You’re a damn distraction, baby.”
The wolf tattoo on his left bicep became of sudden interest to me, and I traced my finger over it. “I’m not sorry.”
Just when I thought he was going to cave again, he paused when he lowered his mouth toward mine once more.
“Set out the cutlery for me.” His lips whispered across mine as he commanded me.
We pulled apart and went about our chores.
Eric took some cutlery from my hand and helped me set it out.
“All right, I’ve figured out a plan.”
We looked at Tate as he rose from his seat by the window.
Byron looked away from his movie. “What kind of plan?”
“An itinerary for London.” Tate waved a piece of paper in his hand.
Royce frowned. “Ahh, what?”
Tate threw his hands out. “What?”
“I tend to wing it when I travel,” Jack countered.
“What, and leave everything to chance? I like to have a schedule.”
Jack folded his arms. “Some of the best times happen when you’re not on a schedule.”
“There needs to be some kind of schedule.”
Tate curled and uncurled his fingers. I went over to him and rested my hand on his chest. “Perhaps a compromise? Some scheduled activities and some spontaneous ones?”
“You’re both right,” Eric said. “If Harris wants Lou with him when he’s looking at spaces for his restaurant and Tate wants you to go with him to the annual Christmas party for the London branch of R.I., then we need to work around those things.”
My mouth dropped open. “We’re going to a Christmas party?”
“I was going to bring that up after dinner.” Tate pinned his younger brother with a brief glare before he looked at me. “Would you mind?”
“Is it going to be fancy?” I asked, fluttering my eyelashes at him.
Tate smiled. “Certainly.”
“So I should wear a nice dress, right?”
Tate curled his hand onto my buttocks, clad as it was in jeans. “Nice? No, baby. You’ll need to wear something so sexy I’ll want to rip it off you as soon as I lay eyes on you.”
The thought of the kind of sex Tate would have with me after a night of decadence in one of the world’s biggest cities sent a shiver of anticipation down my body.
Eric snatched the paper out of Tate’s hand and traced his finger down the list as he read over it. “We’ll figure something out that will work for all of us.”
I patted Tate’s chest. “Don’t worry. We’ll all have plenty of time together and you’ll be able to have some organisation.”
