An hour later, I rolled to a stop in front of the house. The rain hadn’t lessened, so I parked as close as I could, backing up so the hatch opened onto the porch. Across the way, a big black truck with the Lawless Ranch logo on it pulled up in front of Finn’s. He got out of the passenger seat, saying his goodbyes to whoever drove—the tint on the windows was too dark for me to see inside—before slamming the door. The truck pulled away immediately after.
As if sensing my presence, I could practically feel Finn’s eyes find me from a hundred yards away and through the deluge, so I raised my arm in greeting before heading to the back hatch to get my groceries.
Naturally, he made his way over.
“I thought you had to work today,” I asked when he reached me, noting his navy cargo pants and matching tee. He looked like he’d been out on some sort of military mission, not working at the ranch.
The shirt clung to him indecently, outlining each ridge and hollow of his abdomen, suctioning to his biceps in a way that had me wanting to sink my teeth into them. Damn, the man looked good wet. There was something so delicious about theway drops of water clung to his veiny forearms and plastered his hair to his forehead.
“Had something more important to take care of.”
I nodded, the comment not warranting a verbal response.
“Well,” I said awkwardly after several long moments passed. “I better get this stuff inside.”
“Here, let me help.”
“Oh, you don’t have?—”
My words died as he ignored me, lifting a heavy, reusable grocery bag in each arm and moving toward the house.
Men.
I grabbed the remaining one and followed after him.
When I stepped inside, sliding the bag onto the peninsula, he said, “You know, if you don’t want to cook…tonight is family dinner, and my mom and sister have been begging me to invite you.”
His hand cupped the back of his neck, those damp biceps flexing and bulging, and I was momentarily lost in the show.
Remembering what they looked like when he was over me, holding himself up as he pumped his hips into me, his cock hitting that spot so deep…
“Reagan?”
“Sorry,” I said, dragging my eyes away from his muscles to his face, which was split wide open in a knowing grin. “What did you say?”
“Will you come to family dinner tonight?”
“Family dinner, as in…”
“Thewholefamily,” he confirmed. “Well, minus Owen because he doesn’t live here. Like I said, Mama and Aria have been dying to meet you.”
“You told them about me?”
“You’ve come up in conversation.”
Something about that deeply pleased me, that he talked to hisfamily about me. Likely only in the course of discussing my sister’s case, but still.
“I didn’t tell them anything specific about…us, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I hadn’t been, but appreciated the discretion nonetheless. “I mean, of course my brothers know we, uh, hooked up all those years ago, but that’s it. They’ve still given me endless shit about you since you came to town, but they don’t know what we’ve done or anything…”
I grinned. “You’re cute when you ramble.”
“I’m not cute,” he argued. Once again, that hand found the back of his neck. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve seen you naked, for fuck’s sake.”
A laugh burst free from me, which seemed to ease the tension in Finn, because his arm fell and he smiled wide enough for the corners of his eyes to crease.
“So I can expect more of the endless ribbing like the night we met, then?”
He nodded. “You don’t have to come.”
