Connell (Carolina Reapers 3)

“Aye. It was nice to see my mum and introduce her to Annabelle. She left about a week ago to come home for work.” I put my hand on the door handle. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” he assured me with a shrug.

My mind raced. Who else could be in on it? Only Annabelle had a key to my house, so that was safe. Had they broken into the garage? Covered my car with saran wrap? Faked a fake trade contract like I’d done to Sterling earlier this year?

“Okay, well, I’m going to go inside now,” I said calmly before opening the door.

“Have a good night. Let me know if you need anything.” His gaze flew to the left.

Cannon’s house?

Cannon was the least likely of all of them to prank me.

Logan popped the trunk, and I grabbed my bag before shutting his hatch.

“See you!” He said with a giant grin. Then he pulled out of my driveway and headed toward his house, leaving me standing in my driveway with my bag and too many questions.

I popped out my cell and dialed, then punched in the garage code.

“Hey love, just wanted to tell ye that I’m home,” I said as the door rose.

“Yay! I’m at work, but I’ll see if I can duck out early. I’ve missed you.”

Her voice slid over my heart like velvet. “I’ve missed ye, too. You know, Logan was acting weird. I’m thinking he’s trying to pull a prank on me.” I examined my car, but there was...nothing. Everything looked just like it had when we left for Scotland weeks ago.

“Really?”

“He’s always wanted to get me back from the time I replaced the deodorant in his stick with cream cheese.”

“You did what?” she laughed.

“It was good. Trust me.” I opened the kitchen door and sighed in relief. “It must have been a false alarm.” I set my keys down on the counter and walked into the living room. All clear. Then I headed toward the entry.

“Oh, good. Look, I need to go over these new contract—”

“Holy fucking shite!” I exclaimed as I walked into the formal living room. Every piece of furniture was bolted to the ceiling. “The entire bloody room is upside down!”

“What?” she exclaimed.

“Those dobbers put our living room on the ceiling!” I turned under the furniture, both horrified and oddly impressed.

“Dobbers?”

“Never you mind,” I blurted. That wasn’t exactly something you told a lady.

“Okay, I’m just going to come home now.”

“When is the last time you were here?” I asked as I walked up the stairs, petrified of what else I might find.

“A couple of days ago? I’m so sorry, love, but you know my house is closer to work.”

“Don’t worry. Just get here when you can.”

We hung up, and I cringed as I opened the master bedroom. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered as ball pit balls raced into the hallway from where they had to be two feet deep in my bedroom. “I swear, if that keeps me from Annabelle, I’m going to kill you all.”

The first guest room had bubble wrap around every piece of furniture, and packing peanuts all over the floor. “You guys are so dead,” I promised quietly.

The next guest room had lollies taped to every square inch of the wall. Taped.

By the time I reached the final guest room, my blood pressure was up at least ten points. There was a slight humming sound, and I cringed as I opened the door.

There was a bloody bouncy castle from wall to wall. No furniture. Nothing. Just a netted castle with a giant clown on the top.

“Connell?” Annabelle’s voice came from down the hall.

“I’m at the end of the hall,” I answered, still staring at the castle, wondering where the hell the motor was to shut this thing off.

“Oh. My. God.” Annabelle laughed.

I turned around and my shock faded as I saw her. Those glorious curls were up off her neck, and her dress reminded me of a fifties pin-up. “God, I’ve missed you.”

Gathering her in my arms, I kissed her senseless. She tasted like apricots and Annabelle. Our mouths moved in a ravenous harmony, each pushing and retreating in time until we both panted for breath.

“Wait,” she breathed, stepping out of my arms. “Aren’t you mad? I mean, there’s a bounce house in the guest room!” She looked at the monstrosity with narrowed eyes.

“Aye, a little, but mostly I’m just impressed. The lads have never been able to prank me.”

“Never?” She smirked.

“Not once.” I shook my head. “My record at the rink was untarnished until now.”

Her smile widened, and then she started laughing.

Those prank-seeking hackles raised. “Annabelle Clarke.”

“At least your record remains perfect...at the rink!” She busted out laughing, and I stood there staring at her open-mouthed.

“Ye did this?”

She nodded, still laughing.

“Och. From that time I gave ye the tour.”