My trust in the opposite gender’s ability to be a faithful, supportive partner is well and truly gone.
So I like Finn, sure. But so does every woman who meets him. And for me, that’s a problem.
Finnegan Cauley is on his own level of hot. And he’s also achieved an expert level of flirt. He’s every woman’s dream man—he’s got the million-dollar smile, the laughing eyes, and hair styled either intentionally or by activity (it always looks like some woman has just used it to hang the hell on; it’s a good look on him and it seems designed to signal sex to females on a primal level).
As if his looks weren’t enough of a gift to any one person, he seems like a genuinely great guy. He always says the nicest things and he has a great sense of humor. He’s… pretty perfect.
But there’s no way in hell I’d be able to trust that in two months, or three, or whenever the shine starts to wear off of a relationship (that’s if he even wants to commit to one; I don’t actually know because I’ve never asked), that he wouldn’t be too tempted to sample one of the women who come on to him every day at work.
And that’s just when he’s working, where I’ve seen women make plays for him. I have no doubt that he gets offers and endless attention everywhere he goes, where I’m not there to see.
Do you hear (or read, whatever) how crazy that statement sounds? I do. Ahhh, betrayal and its ugly scar tissue. I wish I could curb my crazy thoughts, but… I spent too many years in a marriage that chewed me up and spit me out.
That’s what taking a chance on love does to you.
And on the off chance that Finn is absolutely as wonderful of a guy in a relationship as he is a boss and work-friend-who-I-keep-at-a-distance, then he deserves so much better than me. He deserves to be with a woman who treats him like a beloved partner—not one who is constantly wondering if he's the werewolf equivalent of a whoring tomcat.
Something of my internal battle must be showing on my face, because Finn groans, drops the duffel bag to land with a heavy smack beside us on the sidewalk, and wraps his arms around me. “Sue,” he says against my hair. “If I ever see that melter you were married to, I will bust his teeth so crooked he’ll be able to eat an apple through a tennis racket.”
Despite myself, I snurf a laugh. I drop my head forward a fraction, only jumping a little when he leans in that much closer so that I’m resting against his chest.
Clearing my throat as I draw back, I share, “I think we’re about to learn some really unique phrases if Deek is anything like you.”
Finn rocks me side to side and scoffs. “No one is like me—and Deek was born here. He’s American. Not Irish.”
I stare up at him. I can’t help the silly disappointment that leaks out of the one word I manage in answer. “Oh.”
Finn’s snicker is a little evil, and he gives me a final squeeze before pulling back and holding me at arm’s length from him. “I knew you had a thing for this accent! You think I’d plant a pup in the gaff who could supplant me? Never.”
Smiling, I shake my head at him. “You don’t give up, do you?”
Finn’s face grows too serious. I feel my spine straighten—and I watch his eyes take note of my stiffened posture. He gives me a smile, but it isn’t one of his big genuine ones. It’s tight, and a little sad. “When I want something, I throw everything I’ve got at it. And Sue?”
Staring into his eyes, I breathe, “Yeah?”
He leans in until our noses almost brush. “I want you.”
CHAPTER 3
SUSAN
Finn brings Deek’s duffel and leather case into the house and sets them at the basement door. Deek’s room will be downstairs, a former man-cave turned into an apartment, complete with a full-size bed, a mini-fridge, a hot plate and counter, a walk-in shower, and a toilet.
“He’ll have a nice space down there. The giant plasma screen went with my ex, but we’ll get Deek something else on my next paycheck,” I’m saying to Finn as I eye Deek still lying prone on the kitchen floor.
The wolf cracks open his eyes only to dart wild looks from me to each of the girls, with several pleading looks aimed at Finn.
Finn’s lips quirk up, and he tilts his head at the creature—erm, the man—sympathetically. To me, he says, “Don’t waste your money. He’s not into piped telly. But—shite, I almost forgot this. Sorry, Deek.” He inhales, and I look to Finn to find he’s waiting for my attention before he says, “Deek needs one day off a week to go to church.”
I stare at him, waiting for him to laugh… but he doesn’t. I blink rapidly. “Werewolves go to church?”
“Sure,” Finn says, and he sips the cranberry juice Maggie politely offered him which he very politely accepted. He bounces his eyebrows at me. “You’d be surprised at all the things we do like you.”
“Finn,” I chide. Because last year, when he started asking me out on dates, I very carefully declined. Being that he’s Pack, I was afraid for my job if things didn’t… well, if we didn’t work out. He understood the reason for my concern, and he was quick to promise me that dating or not dating him wouldn’t affect my employment in the slightest.
Thankfully, this has proven true. And lately, he’s upped his ask-out game and I’ve flat out told him I’m having a hard enough time finding sitters to cover day shifts—forget about date nights.
Now the Pack has loaned me a live-in babysitting wolf.
I wanted to say no… but like I’ve already said, it’s no easy feat to secure reliable child care. And again: the Internet says submissive wolves are wonderful with children. All children. Any children. Even human children. Werewolf nannies are all the rage with people who can actually afford a nanny.
Not in my wildest dreams did I think that would ever be us.
And although we’re providing room and board, the Pack is helping out where the boarding is concerned too. A delivery—meat, boxes and boxes of meat—arrived a few days before the werenanny himself, which stocked the mini-fridge in the basement as well as filling our freezer upstairs.
This was, so the delivery werewolf told me, being done so that our soon-to-arrive werenanny would stay ‘well fed.’”
I almost chickened out right then. But Finn gave me his word that the live-in wolf would be 100% safe, and he does not make promises lightly.
And when I sat down and figured the money I’d save if I didn’t have to pay out to a sitter…
I nearly cried.
My gaze refocuses to the present as Finn catches me by the elbows and draws me closer to him. Behind us, there’s a hush as both of my girls stare at my back, no doubt curious and maybe feeling lots of things as they watch me with the first man who is not their father touching me like he’s interested in me.
I stare up into Finn’s eyes. Green, I realize. I’ve looked at them, but never really noticed them before.
My sharpened attention is not missed. Finn’s lips curl up in a victorious, sexy smirk. “You said my name. I feel like we’re finally getting somewhere, a stór.”
And with that, he pulls me in for a chaste kiss that has the girls sucking in their breath—with shock, or maybe disapproval.