Page 49 of The Reaper
His laugh bounced off the high ceilings as he walked right in like he owned the place.
“Want coffee?” I asked.
“Yes. The good stuff. None of that weak-ass grocery store grind your Aunt Trish swears is organic because the bag’s brown.”
I moved to the kitchen, flipping on the kettle while he wandered around like it was his job to judge my interior design choices.
“You’re doing well,” he said, half-sincere. “Place looks expensive.”
“It is.”
“Bet it smells like duck fat half the time.”
I smiled to myself. “That’s the idea.”
He leaned against the counter as I measured the beans into the grinder. “Still working too much?”
“Always.”
“And still sleeping with men you shouldn’t?”
I glanced up just as Finn walked into the room, his timing as impeccable as ever.
He took in my uncle and the amused smirk on my face. “Good morning to you, too.”
Dean grinned. “Finn! My man. I didn’t see your Prius parked out front.”
“Because I don’t drive a Prius,” Finn said dryly.
“Ah, right. You’re the cool sous chef with the sexy forearms and the truck that doesn’t quite start on the first try.”
“Fourth try, if I’m lucky,” Finn said. “You’re early.”
“You’re cranky.”
“I’m under-caffeinated,” Finn replied, reaching past me for a mug.
Dean turned back to me. “So? Are you seeing anyone?”
I narrowed my eyes.
Finn, of course, took the liberty.
“She was last night.”
Dean let out a low whistle. “Damn. Still keeping your personal life spicy, I see.”
I rolled my eyes. “My personal life is far from spicy. That hasn’t changed.”
I shot Finn a death glare, which he met with a wink before heading to the fridge.
Dean’s eyes danced. “So, who is he? What’s the poor bastard’s name?”
I hesitated.
“Caleb,” Finn said, before I could decide whether to confirm or deny.
Dean raised an eyebrow. “Biblical. I like it.”
