Hangovers and Holidays (Untouchable Book 5)

  Hangovers and Holidays

  Untouchable Book Five

  Heather Long

  Copyright © 2020 by Heather Long

  Cover by Crimson Phoenix Creations

  Editing: Bookish Dreams Editing

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For all my prickly bitches.

  You’re stuck with me.

  Series so Far

  Rules and Roses

  Changes and Chocolate

  Keys and Kisses

  Whispers and Wishes

  Hangovers and Holidays

  Contents

  Hangovers and Holidays

  Foreword

  1. Chapter One

  2. Chapter Two

  3. Chapter Three

  4. Chapter Four

  How Does That Make You Feel?

  5. Chapter Five

  6. Chapter Six

  7. Chapter Seven

  8. Chapter Eight

  For Your Consideration

  9. Chapter Nine

  10. Chapter Ten

  11. Chapter Eleven

  12. Chapter Twelve

  13. Chapter Thirteen

  14. Chapter Fourteen

  Five Sleeps

  15. Chapter Fifteen

  16. Chapter Sixteen

  17. Chapter Seventeen

  18. Chapter Eighteen

  19. Chapter Nineteen

  20. Chapter Twenty

  21. Chapter Twenty-One

  22. Chapter Twenty-Two

  23. Chapter Twenty-Three

  24. Chapter Twenty-Four

  25. Chapter Twenty-Five

  You Get Me

  26. Chapter Twenty-Six

  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brazen and Breathless

  Afterword

  About Heather Long

  Also by Heather Long

  Hangovers and Holidays

  You know, I never imagined having one boyfriend, much less four. Jake, Archie, Coop, and Ian are still my best friends. They’re also even more entrenched in my life than I ever imagined. They’ve been my rocks, but I’m not the only one with issues.

  We’re fighting our way to a new normal. I’m in therapy. Ian and I are dating. Archie introduced me to his grandfather. Both Coop and Jake’s moms refer to me as their son’s girlfriend. I don’t know how much our parents know about our relationship, but I also don’t care.

  Not anymore.

  The holidays are here, and we’re halfway through the year. Everyone wants a piece of us. We’ve survived so much. We’ve been trying to figure out who we can be amidst all the drama and sabotage surrounding us. Now we have to figure out who we can be, period.

  That starts with us.

  It starts now.

  *Please note, this is a reverse harem and the author suggests you always read the forward in her books. Contains some bullying elements, mature situations, and is recommended for 17+. This is the fifth in a series, and the story will continue through future books.

  Foreword

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for picking up Hangovers and Holidays. If you haven’t read the first four in the Untouchable series, I caution you to go and grab those right now and read them first.

  There doesn’t seem a lot I can say after reaching book five before you read it, so I’ve left you a note at the end. Still, this series remains a labor of love for me. I adore Frankie, the boys, and Rachel. Oh, Rachel. She’s a girl after my own heart with all the tripwires and barbs to her personality.

  The best part of found family and friends is they accept you for who you are and encourage all your eccentricities. They push you to be you and support you to make your life all you could want it to be. And yes, they will give you no small amount of shit along the way because really, who would we be without a little hassle and a whole lot of laughter?

  This series wouldn’t be complete without the enormous support of Blake Blessing, Rebecca Royce and Sara Vermillion. They’ve been tremendous as cheerleaders (and in Sara’s case, cracking the whip), as sounding boards, and sometimes even telling me to take a break because I was pushing too hard. I flove them to pieces.

  I’ll be honest, I’m always pushing too hard so these folks keep me in check :D You should thank them, too.

  Thank you to every single reader who has given this series a shot and to those who left reviews. Thank you to the readers who recommend the series to their friends and to every single person who has reached out to me about it. I see and hear all of you. Thank you to the readers who make the beautiful collages and cast who they see as the characters in this series.

  I get such a thrill for every single one I see.

  Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

  One last thing, for those who are not on my newsletter or in my group, this series is slated to be ten books long. We’re at the halfway point here. So buckle up, it’s going to be a fun ride.

  And as always, the housekeeping notes:

  For those of you who have never read a reverse harem before, first let me thank you for picking this up and giving it a shot. Second, a reverse harem means the heroine will not make a choice in this book or any other between the guys in her life. It may take her a while to reach that conclusion, but it’s the journey that drives it. There are many ways to frame this kind of relationship, currently reverse harem fits it very well.

  Also, this is the fifth book in a series. If you haven’t read the first four, I encourage you to pause here and go grab them. While there may be no specific happy endings at the end of each of these books, there will be one to the whole series, that I promise you. Some of these books will have cliffhangers, largely due to the size of the story, but the happy ending has to be earned as part of the journey.

  Thank you again for reading Frankie’s story and I truly hope you enjoy it!

  xoxo

  Heather

  Chapter One

  White Knuckles

  Coop

  “Water or beer?” I asked Jake as we moved closer to the makeshift bar Kaplan and his buds had set up for the party. The whole point of coming tonight had been to get out and just enjoy being together. It had also been about having fun without the constant demands on our time or hers. Normally, Archie threw the best ravers and we would be the ones hosting. None of us wanted to do that. At least here, we could party and ditch when we felt like it.

  “Water,” Jake said firmly, his gaze fixed on the ice chest where the water bottles were. “You can have a beer though.” He was driving. Made sense. Frankie hated beer anyway.

  “I’m good with water.” If we wanted something, we could head over to Archie’s place. Though, to be honest, we hadn’t missed having access to it at all at Frankie’s for the last three weeks. I’d rather be with her than drink anyway.

  The line was taking for-fucking-ever. Why didn’t they just set it up to grab and go? Then again, there were two guys handling the service and they looked like catering, so maybe that was better. Either way, we were verifying her bottle hadn’t been tampered with before we gave it to her. There was water in a cooler in Jake’s SUV, we could just go grab it and fuck this line.

  Archie pushed through the crowd and ignored the scowls as he cut right to where we were. “You guys setting up camp over here?” He had to pitch his voice louder to be heard over the throbbing beat. Kaplan’s stereo system was killer. He scratched at his jaw and rolled his shoulders with a rasp of the dry straw p
rotruding from the wrist of his costume.

  “Service with a smile,” Jake retorted drily with a nod to where the pair of caterers took their time passing out drinks. It wasn’t a fully open bar. Cash was exchanging hands. Archie wrinkled his nose.

  “Fucking cheap bastard,” he muttered, and I snorted. There was something vaguely amusing about a guy dressed up as a scarecrow bitching about money. Then again, Archie had never had a cash bar at his place for any party he hosted.

  I twisted to glance back toward the dancers where I’d last seen Frankie and Bubba. But I couldn’t spot the blue gingham dress or the oversized terrier—the fact that Bubba had put on the furry ears and whiskers had been hilarious. Course, he hadn’t had to take a bath in silver body paint. At least it wasn’t itching so far. I wasn’t holding out hope that would last.

  Maybe I could talk Frankie into helping me wash it off later. Granted, she only had one hand, but we could take our time…

  “They went outside,” Archie was saying, and I snapped my focus back to him and Jake as the line finally fucking moved and we got four people closer to scoring our drinks. “Cooling off and taking a break from the crowd.”

  That made sense. And Arch was giving Bubba some time with Frankie. I’d give him credit, he’d been firm and steady in proving he was in. The attention he showered on her without smothering required walking a fine line, but it was there in his eyes every time he looked at her. I was pretty sure Frankie was the only one who hadn’t noticed, at least not at first. She also had a damn good reason to be distracted, so we didn’t give her shit. Let her forgive Bubba on her own schedule.

  “Ten minutes is plenty of time, right?” I snarked, and Jake snorted.

  It was more like fifteen by the time we finally made it to the bar and got waters all the way around. Archie dropped a twenty in their jar so they’d give us bottles from the bottom. I wasn’t the only one who double-checked the seals.

  Paranoid. That was going to be us from now on.

  Drinks in hand, we pushed our way through the crowd toward the door. How many fucking people had Kaplan invited? It was like the entire senior class, a good chunk of the juniors, and plenty of the sophomores were here. It was wall to wall people.

  Greg Sanders stopped us on the way to the door. His Dallas Cowboys football jersey serving as his costume made me snort. He was a wide receiver for the team. “Jake, man, I was looking for you.”

  “Yeah?” Jake raised his brows, made almost more amusing by the addition of the faux furry ones he wore.

  “You should watch your back. I heard that Shawn and Jackson are looking for you and Bubba.”

  Jake smirked. “Let them find me.”

  I frowned, but it was Archie who asked, “Why the fuck are they looking for you?”

  With a shrug, Jake said, “‘Cause we called the fucks out for their behavior. They’re friends of Mitch’s.”

  At the mention of that asshole’s name, I scowled. Really not who I wanted to discuss at a party, unless it was funeral plans so I could go piss on his grave.

  Greg made a face and shook his head. “Yeah, just watch your back.” Greg gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Not all of us are dicks.”

  “Just a little dickish,” Jake retaliated, and they both laughed. Archie rolled his eyes, but I pushed back against the surge of people to head for the door.

  I caught sight of Rachel on the far side, and she raised her eyebrows, but I just shook my head. We were good. We finally made it to the damn door, and the first wash of chilly, October air was a relief against the rising humidity inside from the press of too many bodies and the dancing. At least the paint wasn’t melting off of me.

  Some of the party had spilled outside onto the drive. And likely other places. The distinct sound of grunting was hard to miss, as were the moans. I rolled my eyes. They were definitely not in that direction. A quick sweep of those visible didn’t reveal Frankie or Bubba.

  I glanced at Archie. He jerked his thumb to the side. “Covered porch this way.” At least he knew the place. I hadn’t been to Corey’s since sophomore year. I think we all did a party here then, too. Maybe.

  Jake’s strides picked up speed, and we cut around the corner of the house in time to see someone yanking Frankie back off the porch and Bubba lunging at…

  “Fucking Mitch?” The words fell from Jake’s lips, even as he raced forward. He flung one of the water bottles he was carrying, and it struck the guy holding Frankie. She stumbled sideways as her assailant tossed her to the ground, but Jake was already on the guy.

  “Get Frankie,” I told Archie, even as I leapt the railing to plow into the asshole Bubba was pounding on. There were easily a half-dozen others on Bubba, and I grabbed the first one of those and darted around the fist he threw at me before I slammed my fist into his jaw.

  It fucking hurt. But I jammed my knee right into his crotch and then shoved him into the guy behind him. Then I peeled into the next guy. Someone nailed me right in my kidneys.

  How many of these fuckers were there?

  A feminine shriek cut through the air, and I twisted, even as I tried to get the asshole on me into a headlock.

  Where the fuck was Frankie, and why hadn’t Archie gotten her out of here?

  Jake

  The air outside was a balm after the cloying humidity of all the bodies dancing and pressed together indoors. Fucking costume itched. But it was worth it to see Frankie laugh each time her eyes focused on me. Granted, the ‘cowardly’ part of the title wasn’t my favorite, but maybe I could talk her into letting me make her purr later.

  I was still half-grinning about that idea when we hit the corner of the house. I had just enough time to see the bag get yanked over Frankie’s head as she was hauled backwards over the railing and off the porch. Ten guys—maybe more, maybe less—faced off with Bubba and surrounded him.

  Rage poured through my system. A distant part of my mind recognized what happened in these situations. They were the kinds of things that Diane wanted to dissect during anger management. At the moment, I didn’t give a flying fuck.

  Three things were abundantly clear.

  Some asshole had his hands on Frankie.

  A series of assholes were pounding on Bubba.

  And I was going to beat the living hell out of all of them.

  The water bottle in my hand became a projectile as I flung it. It struck the side of the jerk holding Frankie’s head, and he tossed her away. I narrowed my target to tackle him and wrenched him to the ground away from her.

  Coop shouted something, but I wasn’t listening. I slammed my fist into the asshole I tackled, then grabbed a fistful of his hair to slam his head against the ground. He tried to stick his thumbs in my eyes, and I choked the motherfucker until he didn’t move

  On my feet, I shot a look to where Frankie had been as Archie lurched past me, striking another asshole with two fast jabs. A fist slammed into my face, and I tasted blood as the inside of my lip split. Turning my head, I met Jackson Taylor’s gaze and bared my teeth. He wanted to fight me?

  Yes. Fucking. Please.

  I caught the next fist he threw at me and wrenched his arm down. After that, it was all flying fists as a second guy launched into me. I took a pair of jabs to the kidneys before I slammed my elbow back and caught his face. The crunch of buckling bone was like music to my ears.

  I didn’t know what these assholes had planned, and I didn’t care. They weren’t laying a finger on Frankie. As soon as I knocked one down, I collided with another. Some dim part of my brain trying to take notes on all of this registered Mitch’s face amidst the crowd. Mitch, who Bubba had knocked right through the railing and currently scrabbled with, even as others whaled on him.

  Coop waded in without regard, his fists flying. While he didn’t fight often, we used to box back in middle school and in the early part of high school. We’d only stopped because he decided he liked his nose unbroken and I was an asshole.

  Both were fair assessments.


  A fist caught me in the solar plexus and knocked all the air out of me. I didn’t even try to figure out who or what or why. I just grabbed his hair and slammed his head down against my knee, then worked my way toward Bubba. Mitch was in that mess.

  I wanted my pound of flesh from that asshole.

  I wanted Frankie’s pound of flesh.

  Bubba broke his jaw, but I wanted to break his legs.

  And cut off his dick.

  Fuck reasonable.

  Then a feminine shriek cut through noise and jerked me out of the red haze.

  Where the fuck was Frankie?

  Ian

  Mitch popping up like a damn devilish jack in the box was not on any bucket list or bingo card for my plans tonight. Tonight had been about Frankie, and for about thirty seconds there, I thought we’d done it. She’d re-opened the door she’d closed.

  “You know I want to trust you?”

  I wanted her to trust me.

  She wanted a promise to talk to her if stuff started bothering me again? Yes.

  She wanted to establish rules and be one of the people making them? Agreed.

  She wanted a night of dancing? Sign me up.