HUGE HOUSE HATES: AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS REVERSE HAREM ROMANCE (HUGE Series)

I wake late, having somehow managed to snooze my alarm three times without being conscious of it. My eyelids feel like they’re lined with sandpaper, and my mouth is desert dry. Rubbing my hand over my beard, which really needs a trim, I throw my feet over the edge of the bed. As I reach for the door, my mind grinds into gear, remembering that this house isn’t just a man-zone anymore.

Randolph’s fiancée’s moody daughter has moved in to torture us with her snappy instructions and sullen attitude. I glance down at myself, finding only bed shorts hanging loosely from my hips, still tented by morning wood. This state of undress wouldn’t usually bother me. Mrs. Henderson, our housekeeper, is older than Croesus and doesn’t seem even to notice that we’re all young, attractive red-blooded men. I guess if you’re responsible for cleaning up after people, they lose any kind of allure.

But with Cora in the house, I’m less certain.

Danny told us to ignore her. Actually, it was more than that. He told us to piss her off as much as we could and walking around naked was his first attempt.

I love my brother, but he really does like to take things into a whole different stratosphere. As the oldest brother of five, I’m used to dealing with my younger siblings’ childish attitudes. I’m used to looking past a whole lifetime’s worth of annoying behavior and getting on with my own business.

Mark’s the most like me in that regard. We both had to step up and be more than just brothers to the younger three, especially when Mom died. I guess that’s why we’re less crazy and immature than the rest, and why the prospect of using my naked body to wind up a strange woman doesn’t seem like a great idea.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck and yawn deeply. Nakedness is a definite no, but after Cora’s dismissive tirade, I’m inclined not to be bothered about making her feel comfortable in a home she obviously doesn’t want to be a part of.

Sighing, I tug open the door to my bedroom and head downstairs.

Mrs. Henderson is already vacuuming, and as my feet hit the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, I gaze around, trying to decide what to eat for breakfast.

My late rising has reduced my time this morning. I have to get to my workshop early because I’m meeting Bonnie from the gallery to discuss which pieces they want to take to the exhibition in a couple of weeks. I’ve been working up to this for months. Glancing down at my hands, I wince at the calluses and cuts that mar them. Even with gloves, creating metal sculptures takes a physical toll.

Deciding on cereal as the best option, I grab the milk carton from the refrigerator.

Apart from the distant whir of the vacuum, the house is quiet. I guess my brothers are all still sleeping, or maybe showering before they head off to their own jobs and lives. Mark is the only one of us who has a nine-to-five job. Danny’s either here full-time or off across the country or world at one of his shows or shoots. River and Tobias are still at the behest of their football coach and college professors, their schedules variable for each day.

I stretch my arms above my head and roll my stiff shoulders before pouring the milk onto my cereal, shaking my head at the ridiculously childish concoction in front of me. If Mom was still alive, there’s no way this sugary junk would have made its way into our kitchen cupboards, but Mrs. Henderson is paid to take care of us, and so she buys what we ask for, not what’s good for us.

I flop onto the tall stool in front of the kitchen island, resting my arm on the white flecked granite surface, shuddering from the cold against my skin; I shovel a huge mouthful of the crunchy puffs into my mouth. I only chew once and immediately spit the whole mouthful back in the bowl, retching.

What the hell? Is the milk off? I glance at the bottle still resting on the counter. The use-by date isn’t for days, and anyway, it doesn’t taste sour. It tastes odd. I pull the bottle toward me and sniff it, my nostrils flaring and eyes staring at the ceiling. What is that?

Ranch?

The milk inside is flecked with seasoning, and the smell of ranch dressing is overpowering.

What the hell?

I mean, Mrs. Henderson is old, but she’s not senile.

And then it hits me.

Cora.

Danny and his stupid pranks haven’t been met with surrender. Cora’s hitting back with some antics of her own.

Gross.

I drop the milk back on the counter and head to the refrigerator for some water. Washing my mouth out, I spit into the sink, shaking my head.

It’s too early to be dealing with this shit. I should be mad. I don’t have time to make anything else to eat, and my mouth tastes like feet. But I find myself chuckling lowly that the girl is coming out fighting.

Good for her.

Many wouldn’t when faced with five huge men.

Maybe there’s more to her than meets the eye. And what meets the eye is pretty damn hot.

I toss the cereal in the trash, and I’m about to tip the spoiled milk down the sink when I think better of it. I’m not responsible for setting Cora into fight mode. If I leave the milk where I found it, maybe Danny will take a gross mouthful. The prospect of my younger brother scowling his magazine-cover face at the ranch milk is enough for me to place the bottle back into the refrigerator.

I spot my Oreos in a tub at the back and reach for them. I love it when the cookie and cream are cold. Oreos for breakfast is gross, but my stomach rumbles, so I guess it will do. Tugging the container, I snap it open, placing an Oreo in my mouth as I start to make my way back upstairs.

And then I start to splutter, spitting dark cookie crumbs all over the shiny hardwood floor. What the fuck?

The part of the cookie in my hand doesn’t look strange, but when I bring it to my nose, I know immediately what’s wrong. Cora’s filled my Oreos with minty toothpaste.

MY OREOS!

Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I return to the kitchen and place the box back in the refrigerator. If I could wring Danny’s neck, I would.

I take another swill of water in my mouth, and then I give up on breakfast altogether.

I’ll grab something at the coffee shop after the meeting with Bonnie.

Feeling sorry for Mrs. Henderson, I grab a paper towel and wipe up my mess.

I shower and dress, still smarting that Cora chose to deflower my favorite cookies over every other prank at her disposal. I guess she couldn’t have known that she was unfairly targeting me, but it’s still smarts. Shoving my feet into socks, I grumble over the fact that I haven’t even done anything to her, and she’s managed to hit me back the hardest. I didn’t want to get involved, but now she’s drawn me into this ridiculously childish game that will only end in tears.

Grabbing my wallet and phone, I jog downstairs, finding Mark in the hallway looking perplexed.

“Morning,” I say, nodding at his smartly dressed form.

“Shoes?” he says questioningly.

“What?” I shake my head at his monosyllabism.

“There aren’t any shoes,” he mumbles, looking around.

“Mrs. Henderson’s cleaning up. Maybe she packed them away.”

“I asked her, and she said she hadn’t moved anything.” He glances at his watch, a slick, silver timepiece our father gave him for his eighteenth birthday. “I’m running late for a meeting.”

Heading over to the closet where our coats and shoes are stored, if we can ever be bothered to move them from where they’re discarded by the door, I’m baffled to find it empty of footwear. Completely empty of any shoes. It’s cavernous and echoing in its emptiness.

My head swivels to Mark, my mouth dropping open as the lightbulb flashes over my head.

“Cora,” I whisper, still not quite believing the truth of my assumption.

“What about Cora?” Mark says, tipping his head to the side as I straighten and close the closet door.

“She’s taken our shoes. All our shoes.”

“What?” Mark’s expression is a hilarious mix of confusion and disbelief, which would usually have made me snort with laughter, but under the circumstances, it is just frustrating.

“She’s pranking us back. She hit the milk and the Oreos. Now she’s taken the shoes.”

“But…how will I go to work without shoes?” my brother moans, clutching his hands by the sides of his head.

“Don’t you have shoes in your room?” I ask, racking my brain over what might be lingering in my closet upstairs.

“Maybe,” he says, his eyes rising as he thinks. “Fuck this.” He starts to jog upstairs, and I follow, praying I tossed some of my sneakers in my closet rather than leaving them downstairs. Mark reaches his room first, diving inside as I continue down the hallway. After a few seconds, he groans, but I ignore it, needing to discover what I’m going to be wearing for the day.

There’s nothing.

Well, actually, there’s something, but it’s not a good option.

Beach sliders.

Seriously. I look down at my casual outfit. At least I don’t need to wear a suit today. My ripped jeans and AC/DC shirt aren’t business wear, but they’re also not ideally matched with open-toed shoes. What the hell is Bonnie going to say?

I glance at my own watch, finding the hand well past the time I needed to leave to arrive early enough to be prepared. Shit.

I grab the rubber shoes, shove my feet into them, and jog down the hallway. As I pass Mark’s room, he emerges with a pair of muddy sneakers on his feet. He looks ridiculous with the suit and his grim expression. I guess it’s a pot-calling-kettle situation, but hey, brothers, don’t let anything pass.

“What the fuck is your boss going to say?” I ask him.

“I’m going to have to stop at the store to buy something else,” he says.

“What about the meeting?”

The reminder makes him groan again. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he mutters. “Fucking Danny.”

“And Tobias. They literally fucked this situation into existence.”

“Fucking, Cora,” Mark says viciously, staring at her closed door.

We could freak out at her, but that’s not my scene, or Mark’s, really. I don’t want her calling the cops and reporting a domestic disturbance. She got us good, but we can get her back. There are five of us and only one of her. Maybe Danny was right. Maybe she does need to be taken down a peg or two.

“Later,” I say, already dashing down the stairs. “We’ll talk later. Come up with a plan of action.”

“Definitely,” he says, his worn sneakers squeaking on the floor as he follows me.

You’re too old for this, my internal voice whispers. Tell your brothers to make peace with her before it goes too far. But I was never good at listening to the angel on my shoulder. As I stumble in my sliders, almost face-planting into the side of my car, I swear loudly and vow to get Cora back, whatever it takes.

By the time I get home later, my phone has been blowing up with messages all day. Danny, Tobias, and River had two ruined pairs of shoes between them. Danny ended up going to the store with River to buy everyone new sneakers, and while they were out, someone installed a new lock on the master suite. Cora might have gotten herself one step ahead, but we’re taller with bigger strides. I have no doubt we can end up in first place.

My brothers are all home, and the noise emanating from the kitchen makes it evident that they’re all still eating dinner.

I make my way toward the laughter, shucking off my sliders and placing them into the bag that I’m carrying containing a new pair of sneakers, just in case my brothers haven’t found the shoe mountain that must exist somewhere in this house.

The kitchen island is a mess of pizza boxes and beer bottles, the staples of any male-dominated house. River and Tobias are having a night off their crazy protein-rich diets, which I’m relieved about. There is only so much grilled chicken and broccoli that I can watch my brothers eat without feeling physically sick.

“There he is!” Mark shouts, and all eyes drop from my face to my bare feet. There’s a moment’s pause before they all burst into fits of belly-clutching laughter, to which my only response is a shake of my head.

“I had to meet the exhibition organizer with my toes showing,” I say grimly, resting my bag on the countertop. “She was looking at me funny, but I didn’t want to draw attention to something rooted in stupid pranks, so I just ignored the fact that I looked like a douche canoe.”

“You always look like a douche canoe,” River says, tossing a piece of pizza crust at my head. In a flash, I’m across the room, grabbing him around the neck and rubbing my knuckles across the top of his head. My baby brother squirms and yells, but I have years of practice putting these assholes in their place, so he doesn’t manage to escape my grip before I decide his punishment is over.

“Did you find the shoes yet?” I ask.

“Mrs. Henderson found them in the pool house after lunch,” Danny says. “I bagged them up and put them in my room. You need to come and reclaim what’s yours.”

“I guess I didn’t need to go shopping after all.”

“I think that’s the least of our worries,” Mark says, rubbing his chin. “Danny’s set off a chain reaction.”

“The fucking Oreos,” Tobias groans.

“The milk!” River makes a retching sound that causes us all to snort with laughter.

“Who knows what else she has planned for us?” Mark places his hands flat against the cool marble in front of him. “We need to put our heads together and come up with a way of getting out of this childish situation without losing too much face. I can’t be dealing with this shit before work every day. I’ll get fired.”

“No way,” Danny says. “Cora’s shown that she’s a worthy competitor. We can’t back out now.”

“You might have time for this shit,” I grumble, “But I’ve got more important things to do.”

I slump onto the free stool and grab a cold slice of pepperoni pizza. At least I can be sure that it won’t be tainted with something gross. Just as I’m taking a bite, Tobias starts choking, a piece of pizza flying out of his mouth and over my shoulder onto the tiled floor. His eyes are bugging out at something behind me, and when I turn to see what’s got him unable to eat like a normal human being, I find a half-naked woman strolling into the kitchen.

And not just any half-naked woman.

Cora Horton, wearing nothing but a black lace bralette and tiny matching Brazilian panties. Her eyes don’t even drift in our direction. Instead, her focus is on the refrigerator.

I watch, mouth agape, as she opens the door, grabbing a few items, which she places on the counter. Retrieving a plate and a knife, she begins to make a sandwich as though none of us exist.

My eyes travel down the full expanse of her smoking-hot body. Her toned back and arms, the narrowness of her waist, the wide flare of her hips, and the roundness of her ass. Thick thighs taper into muscular calves and the prettiest feet I’ve ever seen decorated with a gold anklet and matching toe ring, and my mouth is dry in a second.

Glancing at my brothers, I see that they seem to be having the same shocked reaction. No one says a word as Cora starts to hum a song that sounds familiar, but I can’t immediately place. Tobias’s eyes are watering, but I’m not sure whether it’s from the pizza regurgitation or Cora’s banging body. Danny’s tongue darts out to lick his lips as she rests her weight on one side, cocking her hip. It’s a sexy move and one she has to be conscious of, but I find that I don’t give a fuck that she’s doing this on purpose because I could look at Cora’s smooth skin and curves all day, every day, and never get tired of the view.

Without any evidence of hurry, Cora replaces the items in the refrigerator, revealing what appears to be a delicious sandwich packed with cooked meats, tomatoes, and lettuce. She pivots and reaches out for the plate before swaying back out of the kitchen,. My eyes drop to the curve of her breast and the tightest little nipple pushing at the lace.

Fuck.

The things I could do to the nipple…I wouldn’t even need to touch her anywhere else, and she’d be arching off the bed, begging and pleading. My hand holding the pizza lowers in increments as she gets closer to the door, until she eventually disappears into the long hallway that takes her out of view.

A rush of breath leaves my lips, and River laughs in a shocked burst.

No one says anything for a few seconds. It’s like the sight of Cora Horton blew enough brain cells to render us all mute.

“Fuck,” Danny mutters, echoing my thoughts exactly.

“Did you see her tattoo?” Tobias whispers.

I had seen it. A hummingbird made bright by abstract slashes of color. It was so well done, and so beautiful I’d imagined it flying away from the warmth of her skin into the coolness of the night.

“What’s her deal?” River asks quietly with narrowed eyes.

Mark lets out a long, sharp exhale, his fingers curling like talons. “She’s mimicking Danny.”

“I come up with all the best ideas,” Danny chuckles, his clear blue eyes flashing with amusement and something that looks a whole lot like a challenge.

“She’s seriously on the offensive,” I say. “I mean, I can’t imagine she was that comfortable trying to pull off that stunt.” Beneath my palm, my beard is scratchy and dense.

“She looked perfectly comfortable to me,” River says. “She’s got the body of a cheerleader. They’re used to prancing around with their tits and ass out.”

“Not like that,” Tobias says with an awed shake of his head. “She’s fucking perfect.”

“She not perfect,” Danny scoffs, but there’s no bite to his words, and for a second, I catch a flicker of something in his expression that doesn’t match what he’s saying.

“She’s playing dirty,” I say, lifting the pizza back to my mouth and taking a bite. The cheese has congealed, but it still tastes better than anything I could rustle up myself. Cora’s sandwich looked good. I wish she’d made me one too.

“We can play dirtier,” River says with gleaming eyes. “A whole lot dirtier.”

“I have better things to do,” I say, standing and reaching out to grab another slice. “My exhibition is next weekend. I can’t be pissing around with shoes and rank milk. This isn’t a frat house, for fuck’s sake.”

“Then you leave it to us,” Danny says. “We’ll play the game. You can watch from the sidelines like the old man you are.”

Snorting, I take my bag of shoes from the counter and head the same way Cora disappeared.

This whole situation is a joke, but I have to admit, I’m kind of excited to find out what Cora will do next.