Page 15 of One Bride for Three Single Dads

Harmony loves her, too, but I guess that’s just natural. Every day, Harmony seems like more of a person and less of a little blob. I know babies are supposed to be fascinating, but I personally find them much more interesting when they can say a word or two. When they at least smile at you.

Jolene has Harmony tucked under one arm all the time like she is her real mom, sometimes. At least, that’s how I see it. I think Ambrose sees it like that too. I catch him looking at her sometimes and he’s got that sappy look on his face that he gets.

Jesus. That guy.

It’s understandable, because he still has some leftover feelings for Lydia or whatever. But the way he looks at Jolene, like a puppy?

Seriously. Like a little puppy in love.

Not me. I am in good old-fashioned lust. I want to see what her ass cheeks look like. I want to find out how much pubic hair she has. I want to get her tits in my mouth. I want to stretch her lips around my…

This is not helping.

The only thing that helps is work. We have enough of that to last us two lifetimes and then some. I have been trying to get Ambrose to staff up so we can expand even more. If we keep going like this, we should be able to retire in ten years. Maybe less.

Shit, we could even have more kids. Wouldn’t that be something.

“Boone!”

I startle, practically knocking my thermos off the dashboard of my truck. Harrison bangs on the door of the truck, grinning under his orange hard hat.

“Fuck, man, what is with you?” I grumble, taking in the work site.

The temporary crew has most of the framework roughed in. That’s what I was supposed to be checking today but kind of got sidetracked. Still, it looks good to me.

“We got it, man,” Harrison grins.

I shake my head.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Harrison reaches in and grabs a handful of my shirt, twisting my nipple underneath it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

But he just laughs and jogs backward a couple of steps, practically dancing.

“Ireland man!” he announces. “We fucking got it!”

“Wait, what?” I reply, exiting the truck and trying to piece it together. “Are you sure? What did you find out?”

“Just got the email this morning! We’re doing it! We’re good!”

My mind starts to race. We bid on this job ages ago thinking it was a long shot. Why wouldn’t they just hire an Irish crew? Why would they want us?

But some of our designs are pretty cool, if I do say so myself. We submitted hundreds of pages of pictures of our custom work, the really shiny stuff for sure. Ambrose wrote an essay. He is good with words.

And we were willing to relocate, for practically nothing, and live on-site in the middle of nowhere in Ireland. That’s kind of the catch. It’s in the boonies for sure. I figure Ireland boonies are not much different than American boonies. We can do it.

“Fuck, we got it,” I repeat, marveling. “When do we leave? Does Ambrose know? What are we gonna do with the kids?”

“And how quickly can we get the girl?” Harrison replies slowly, his mouth a wide, leering grin.

My stomach tightens.

I forgot about this part. We struck a bargain a few months ago. If we got the job, we would bring Jolene. But we already agreed not to fuck Jolene.

So somebody… (I mean, Harrison. It’s always Harrison. He pushes the envelope.)

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