So, Finn did his best to stay professional—distant. That is, until he could smell Jaime reading one of those goddamn books all the way from the kitchen and found himself drawn in like a moth to a flame, that tug on his heart pulling him into the living room without realizing he’d even stood up from the table.
Scenting Jaime’s arousal was overwhelming and unbearable—entirely too much, and never enough—and if they didn’t get out of the house for a breath of fresh air soon, he’d do something rash, like beg on his knees for Jaime to marry him. Or maybe just to let Finn suck his cock.
He’d take either one.
Of course he knew that Jaime was reading romance books. The first time he’d smelled his arousal he’d nearly tripped down the stairs in his haste to see who’d breached the security alarms; who’d dared intrude on their space to make Jaime’s scent heavy with desire and want, when Finn needed to be the one to make him feel that way.
He’d rounded the corner only to find Jaime splayed across the couch, a blanket casually draped across his lap, eyes glued to his e-reader. The light flush across the tops of his cheeks had told Finn enough—the boy was reading smut.
The realization nearly brought him to his knees.
Oh, but what if he could get Jaime to tell him about his favorite scenes whenever he finished a book? Maybe even explore them together? They could take a hot bath while he read, Finn’s chin tucked over his shoulder and teasing Jaime with light touches and gentle strokes until he was panting in his arms and begging Finn to have his way with him. He’d figure outwhich books were Jaime’s favorites, and read them himself so he’d know exactly what he liked, what he wanted to try…
“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
Finn surfaced from that hazy daydream, a warm blast of air on his face shocking him back to reality as they walked into the restaurant.
He smiled wide at the voice, and saw Andi striding through the swinging kitchen door, her tight, coiled curls braided in a protective style away from her face and whatever magical concoctions she’d cooked up in that kitchen. She’d dyed her hair again since he last saw her, now a bright teal against her medium tawny skin and dark freckles.
Silas and Finn had stumbled upon Andi’s a few years ago when she’d first opened. The eatery used to be an old auto shop that she’d outfitted into a dining room, kitchen, and turned the bay above the garage into an apartment.
Sensing that they were paranormals like her, she’d introduced herself as a hearth witch, and said she moved to Alaska from somewhere in the lower forty-eight to get a new start in life. They knew better than to ask questions; unless you happened to be born in the area, most paranormals ended up in Silver Rapids via a story they’d rather not have made its way through the rumor mill.
Finn wasn’t entirely sure what powers a hearth witch (or house witch, as some chose to be called) could wield, but he did know she made the best food he’d ever eaten—it was supernaturally good.
Since that first time they’d dined there—when her shrimp and grits changed his goddamn life—Silas and Finn ate at Andi’s at least three times a week, and he’d pestered her until she had shared some of her recipes and techniques with him. The ones that didn’t require magic, anyway. They’d become good friends.
“It’s been, what, a whole week since you were here last? I was starting to think I needed to call a welfare check on you!” she said with a laugh. “Good to see you back and in one piece.” Her smile turned softer when she looked toward Jaime.
Finn tipped his chin down toward him. “I should be embarrassed about how much I eat here, but the food is so damn good it’s just a waste of time to try anywhere else. And when I can convince her to tell me her culinary secrets, it makes the incessant ribbing she gives me worth it.”
She cackled. “I only tell you enough to get you out of my kitchen and to keep the giant one fed when I’m closed. Speaking of, I’m glad to see you brought someone else here with you, and not just that oafish brother of yours. I’m Andi.” She stuck her hand out toward Jaime and he shook it, his face briefly scrunching up before going lax.
He smiled, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m Jaime. It’s nice to meet you. And I can’t wait to try whatever smells so delicious in here.”
She ushered them toward the back and into Finn and Silas’s usual booth. The booth that he had sat in for over two hours last year, waiting for Jaime to arrive.
Seeing Jaime now, seated across from him and anxiously fussing with the silverware, Finn could only stare for a moment. It almost felt like some part of him had been stuck in this booth all year, waiting.
And now that he was here, now that they were here together, the part of him that had stood still shifted, and stretched.
It felt like waking up.
The whole front of the restaurant was artfully divided by partitions and screens for privacy, draped in twinkle lights and greenery. The lighting was soft, but not so low that you couldn’t comfortably see the food in front of you, or your dining partner. This time of year, with spring’s earliest blooms just beginning topush through the snow, she’d added pops of pink and purple in the usual ivy and garland. Dean Martin and Ella Fitzgerald were softly crooning through the speakers.
It was the coziest place Finn had ever seen aside from Jaime’s cabin, and he adored it here.
Finn sat facing the exit, because as quiet and uneventful as the past few days had been, and no matter how familiar Andi’s was, he couldn’t let his guard down when they were out and about.
Andi didn’t bother giving them menus. “I’ve got a pot of chicken lentil soup on with hot honey and jalapeño cornbread, fresh butternut squash ravioli, short ribs coming out of the oven in ten minutes that I can put over mashed potatoes, and a vegetable salad with an olive oil and dill dressing.”
Heaven.
He finally looked up from Jaime’s face. “We’ll take one of everything you just said, for the table. And a couple of waters. Oh, and your peach tea for me, please. Jaime, do you like peach tea? Also, do you have any of those cinnamon butter dinner rolls? No, don’t give me that look, I know you keep some ready to bake for when we come in. Jaime? Anything else you’d like to order?”
The younger man was staring at him like he’d never seen him before. “I’ll try the peach tea, too, please. Nothing else for me, thanks.” Still looking stunned, he brushed a stray auburn curl out of his eyes.
They sat in silence while Andi got their waters and tea, and then disappeared back into the kitchen. There were a few other couples in the restaurant, but the quiet atmosphere made their little corner seem private and cozy. Finn couldn’t help but admire the way Jaime’s eyes shone in the soft glow of the twinkle lights strung above them.
