Trouble Comes in Threes: Triple Trouble, #1

Chapter

One

CAIL

Brodey lifted his nose to the breeze. " Ah , smell that?"

His brother, Cailean, wrinkled his nose. Smell what?

Brodey flapped the front of his kilt and grinned. Frrrreedom! He playfully rolled the R in a Scottish brogue he hadn’t spoken in many, many decades.

Cailean groaned and rolled his brown eyes. I’ve never seen a guy who enjoys going kilt-commando as much as you do. Unlike Brodey, he wore tighty-whities under his kilt, as did their brother, Aindreas.

The First Annual Arcadia Highland Games were in full swing.

Apparently, so were Brodey’s nether regions.

Why the hell don’t you wear a kilt every day if you love it so much? Cailean teased.

Because I don’t like getting into fights with redneck assholes at the stockyards and auctions who call it a skirt. Brodey took another swig from his beer. Where the hell did Ain get to?

I dunno. Last time I saw him, he was helping Mark set up the heavy games.

The two youngest of the Lyall triplets studied the busy Saturday crowd. Doesn’t feel the same, does it? Brodey asked.

What?

Brodey shrugged. Not like the real thing. Like when we were growing up.

It’s Florida in July. What the fuck you think it’s supposed to be like, Edinburgh? Cailean quipped. I wanted to settle in Oregon when we decided to leave Maine. Noooo, you two assholes decided to move down here and overruled me.

Oh, come on, Cail, Brodey griped. You’re the one who talked Ain into moving to the States in the first place when we left Scotland. I would have been happy going to Australia.

"Not this again. Ninety fucking years of you whining about the same shit. I’m tired of it. You know what they had in Australia back then? Kangaroos, koalas, crocodiles, and convicts. You try mating with one of those options; be my guest, asshole."

Brodey always turned slightly sullen after he had a couple of drinks in him and hadn’t been laid in a few weeks. He finished his beer and tossed the plastic cup into a nearby trash barrel. Asshole, he grumbled.

Cailean tried to reign in his irritation. Do us all a favor, Brod. Go find some chick, get laid, and don’t come home until you do. Brodey was the middle brother, middle being relative. Only fifteen minutes separated Cailean’s and Aindreas’ births, Aindreas being the oldest of the three brothers.

But those fifteen minutes were the difference between Ain being Prime Alpha, and Cailean being the Gamma Alpha. Beta Alpha Brodey’s mercurial mood swung between the two extremes, from Cail’s laid back, contemplative style, to Ain’s sometimes intense kick-ass ’tude.

Usually, Brodey was more brawn than brain, their resident bonehead. Which was why Cail ended up stuck handling the accounting and business end of things for the ranch.

The Lyall boys were physically identical Alpha triplets except for one feature: Aindreas had piercing grey eyes, while Brodey’s green gaze charmed quite a few ladies, and Cail’s brown eyes rarely failed to get him a girl—when he could get away from the ranch. They all had jet black hair as of yet untouched by grey.

Not bad, considering they’d celebrated their 238th birthday that past May and didn’t look a day over thirty.

Brodey scanned the crowd. Most of these chicks are either married or jailbait. He snorted. Or they fell out of an ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.

Cailean was sick of Brodey’s persistent, whiny bitching. I’m going to find Ain, he grumbled. He pushed off from the light pole he was leaning against and headed toward the competition area. He heard Brodey call out behind him.

Wait for me, jerk.

Cailean didn’t slow his pace. It was freaking hot and he was sick of his brother. Sick of both brothers, actually.

But you don’t hear me grousing. I suck it up.

He didn’t look around as he made his way through the crowd, his mind running in a way he wished his body could. He’d spent a lot of time in the woods around their ranch lately, stretching his legs and pounding through the brush until he exhausted himself.

That’s why he almost missed the faint scent at first. A sweet, fragrant, clean, delicious aroma that made his mouth water and his dick stand up and scream.

He stopped in his tracks and Brodey plowed into him from behind. What the fuck? Brodey griped.

Cail held up his hand and closed his eyes, turning in a slow circle and oblivious to the people around them. Smell that?

Aw, fuck me, don’t bust my balls—

Shut up. Close your eyes.

After a long moment he heard Brodey’s hushed moan. Hooooooly shiiiit!

Cail opened his eyes. You smell that, right?

Brodey’s eyes were still closed. And his kilt looked more than a little tented due to lack of underpinning restraint for his willful cock. Yeah! His green eyes popped open. We’ve got to find her!

We need Ain.

"Fuck that, we need to find her! Brodey frantically looked around. Where is she? Who is she? Shit! Lina was right!"

Their friend Lina was married to dragon shifter mates and she was…something.

They weren’t sure what she was, but considering how powerful she was, they weren’t sure they wanted to know exactly what she was.

Lina had made a prediction to Brodey, and…

Well, maybe it was about to come true after all.

Cail shook his head. I don’t know who or where she is. He set off, finally locating a stronger whiff of the scent. If it was night, or there was no one was around, they could shift and track her. They couldn’t very well change into wolves in the middle of thousands of people at a crowded fairground, though. Might draw decidedly unwanted attention to themselves.

They headed off, desperate not to lose her scent, the One they’d hoped to find since they came of age.

Their perfect mate.

They ran, sniffing, now totally ignoring everyone else, trying to find her.

Her.

Their One.

That both of them instinctively recognized her scent—her scent—was proof enough for Cail. Plenty of times one of them had met someone but the other two didn’t react to the woman in the same way, meaning she wasn’t meant to be their mate. Most recently Brodey, a couple of years ago, but Cail and Ain had hated the woman nearly on sight.

But this… This was different.

They had to find Her.

The men ran.

ELAIN

Laney, wait! Bill shifted the heavy video camera on his shoulder and tried to keep up with her.

Elain Pardie was in no mood for further bullshit, especially from her cameraman. What? she shot over her shoulder.

I’m sorry, okay? I thought it was funny.

"It wasn’t funny. And how many freaking times do I have to tell you, do not call me Laney!"

He finally caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "You were Laney in school and when we were both still carrying cameras. Sorry, Elain, but old habits die hard."

She shook free. I’m trying to make a serious name for myself. Bullshit like that doesn’t help. The bullshit in question being Bill set her up, asking the guys participating in the caber toss what they wore under their kilts and mortifying her.

It was supposed to be funny! he said.

I’m sweating my ass off in the middle of Arcadia in freaking July, she growled as she stomped back to the truck. Her shoes were a goddamn mess, the sugar sand from the parking field coating them with grey dust. That was far from funny. And it was sexual harassment.

Come on, they’re guys and I’m a guy! How is that harassment?

She wheeled on him, making him scramble to stop and not run into her. "I’m not a guy. And it doesn’t matter what gender they were, it was a completely inappropriate question! We are not using that footage! Congratulations on wasting my time and ruining my shot." She turned again, aiming for the van.

Bill had the keys in his hand as they approached the van. She needed to return to the station and cut the story before the five o’clock news. They didn’t have time to cover all the events or even see half the demonstrations, but hopefully she had enough footage to work with.

If Bill hadn’t totally embarrassed her she wouldn’t have minded talking to one guy, the one with the grey eyes, black hair and firm legs, who stood off to the side and watched her interviewing the event organizer.

Truth be told, she’d love to find out what he wore—or didn’t wear—under his kilt. He was definitely the kind of guy with the kind of body who should be wearing a kilt.

Too bad he’d acted so stand-offish, which was no doubt due to Bill’s stupidity.

Cockblocking asshole.

CAIL

We’ll never find her like this! Brodey whined. I’ve gotta shift.

How the hell you gonna do that here? Get real. No wonder Ain always made him babysit Brodey. Cail was the cool-headed one. Brodey the bonehead could be counted on to find or make trouble.

"Lina said we’d meet our One here! Remember? I told you, back in Yellowstone. She predicted we’d meet Her!"

Cail hadn’t spent nearly as much time with Lina as Brodey had during their hair-raising adventures out there, but what he did know was Brodey was convinced she