Page 33 of Crave Me

“It’s all right, and I apologize. I didn’t realize anyone was here as well.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. She fumbles through the drawer and removes several sets of utensils. “Do you need help getting brunch ready?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” I turn and reach for the bagels I’m toasting. If I gave it some thought, I’ll admit she’s an attractive young woman, petite yet curvy. But I can’t give it much thought, not when all my thoughts return to Wren. Shit. I never expected to meet her family like this.

I place the bagels where Sol laid out cream cheese, butter, and a pitcher of orange juice. “Looks yummy,” she says, reaching for a bagel.

“Thank you.” I keep busy, worried I left the wrong impression. However as Finn and Sol relax, the strain of our encounter lifts as quickly as it began.

There are six stools placed across the long counter. Instead of taking one of them, Sol walks to Finn’s side. Without blinking or leaving his food, he pulls her onto his lap. Given the bulk in his muscles, I suppose it’s not much of an effort. Yet it’s the ease in which they demonstrate affection that impresses me.

In all the years Saundra and I were together, we were never this comfortable around each other, let alone in the presence of strangers. “How long have you been together?” I ask.

“Almost a year,” Sol answers, glancing a Finn.

He squeezes her hip. “That long?” he asks.

He laughs when she nudges him playfully, stealing a kiss when she tries to close the lid to the cream cheese container.

A year and still going strong. Perhaps love isn’t the impossibility I believe it to be.

“Hey, Evan? You gonna fry up some sausage to go with that bacon?” When he grins, I see the resemblance between he and Wren. “Can’t have bacon and no sausage. You hear what I’m saying, man?”

I chuckle. “Of course.”

The whole thing is bizarre. I’m standing here, shirtless, having spent the most incredible night of my life with a woman whose family I’m currently feeding. Yet there’s no tension.

The front door crashes open and voices drift in from the foyer. “Finn, Wren, where the hell are you?” a deep baritone calls out.

“Stop cursin’. It’s the Lord’s day for fuck’s sake,” a shrill woman’s voice responds.

Finn and Sol barely react. “In the kitchen,” Finn yells through a mouthful of bacon.

Rumblings fill the hallway as bodies in varying sizes pile into the kitchen, every one of them abruptly silencing when they find me standing here.

There’s that tension that was missing.

A large man with dark hair and big meaty hands scowls in my direction, but he’s not alone. Every gigantic man on either side of him with shades of blue eyes, and wavy and straight dark hair, (the blond, buzzed cut male with a gun strapped to his hip the exception) is glaring at me.

“Who da fuck are you?” the first man says, dropping an aluminum foil tray on the counter beside him.

Finn rolls his eyes. “Relax, Angus,” he tells him. “He’s a friend of Wren’s.”

“A friend?” a younger and slimmer version of Angus growls. “What kind of friend takes his shirt off in front of our little sister?”

Echoes of agreement flow around the room, and suddenly the kitchen feels much smaller.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” Angus says, storming forward.

A heavy set woman with ginger curls spilling down her back hurries forward, blocking him and the other man. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screams at Angus, her already shrill voice rising an octave. “Seamus, I swear to God you better stay put,” she adds, pointing to the second man when he lunges.

Angus deepens his scowl, as does Seamus, but neither dare move. “Finn, da hell?” Seamus yells. “You going to put up with this asshole disrespecting Wren?”

Finn eases Sol to the floor. “Hold on a second, will you, babe?”

Sol tosses her bagel on the counter, scrambling in front of him and placing her palms against his broad chest. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna kick his ass,” he says, as if it’s the only obvious alternative.

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