"Fuck, that's good," he says with a little groan that I find way too appealing, given that it's over food.
"You're stinking up my galley, Finnegan," Sean says mildly. "You know the drill. Shower before meal service."
///
"Aye-aye, Cap!" With a waggle of his brows to me, Finn grabs his glass and hustles off.
I'm left alone with Sean who looks at me as if he knows something I don't. He's astute enough to keep silent. But inside, I am a storm of guilt and uncertainty.
Finn's family adores him. Their joy over him being in a relationship is so lovely it threatens to break my heart. I don't want to lie to them.
But I don't get to discuss it with Finn. We are effectively swept up in family activities. Starting with putting up the Christmas tree.
Gathered around in the big living room, Meg, Emily, and I watch as the men pull sections of a white, artificial tree out of boxes. Sean's quiet commands keep Finn and Glenn from arguing while they try to figure out what goes where, and soon, the ten foot tree is assembled before the picture window and plugged in to glow in softly lit splendor.
"I know fresh trees have that lovely scent," Meg says to me. "And some traditionalists would sneer at artificial, but I just love my white tree."
I take a picture of Finn and Sean adjusting a few branches. "I have a silver tree. Or had one. I suppose it's melted now."
My laugh sounds brittle, even to my ears. Meg gives me a gentle squeeze around the shoulders, a move so much like her son's that it's eerie. "Well, I'm glad you're here to enjoy this tree."
I almost don't know what to do with the Mannus brand of tactile affection. My mother would have recited a poem about loss and patted my hand before drifting off. As new as it is for me to be cuddled and hugged, I find it comforting. Especially since they never cling or make me feel pathetic.
Meg announces that she's going to make her "special nog", which has Finn and Glenn snickering, and I really don't want to know why.
"You shouldn't be working," Emily tells me as she starts opening up ornament boxes. "Come relax and trim the tree."
Glenn's wife is petite, her curly hair so dark brown it's almost black, her skin a deep, even tan that speaks of Hispanic descent. Silver bangles around her wrist tinkle as she works.
"I actually prefer this," I tell her. "Putting up ornaments makes me tense. I'm never satisfied with where I place them."
"Glenn is the same."
My expression must convey my surprise because she gives me a wry smile. "He's a landscaper. Everything has to be just so, the visual balance just right, or he's twitchy. Whereas, I teach fifth grade students, so I've learned to go with the flow."
I glance at Finn's older brother, who is currently trying to get Finn in a headlock. I take a picture of that. "You been with Glenn for a while."
"How can you tell?"
"The way you two interact with each other. It's fluid. Like you've been together so long that you know which way the other will go before one of you even moves."
Emily beams. "That's lovely."
"Just an observation."
Thankfully, Finn walks up with a glass of nog for me, and a glass of what smells like hot cider for Emily. "Sorry, Em. Meg's special sauce is not good for the baby."
Emily laughs. "It isn't good for any of us." She glances at me. "Watch yourself. That stuff is lethal."
When she heads toward the tree, I lean closer to Finn. "I like your family."
"Good. They like you too."
We're alone now, off to the side of the action. But I keep my voice low. "I like them too much to lie to them."
Finn does a double take at that. "You aren't."
"I am."
He doesn't roll his eyes, but his tone implies he wants to. "Have you said to them, I'm in love with your son and we are having wild sex?"
"Who says crazy crap like that to someone's family?"
The corners of his lips twitch. "Well, it would be kind of awkward, I'll give you that."
"You are annoying me. Stop being purposely obtuse. I came here playing the role of your girlfriend."
This time he actually does roll his eyes. "I'm trying to make it simple. Stop thinking of it as playing a role."
"But it is a role." I take a drink of nog to keep from yelling at him. And immediately regret it. "Holy lighter fluid, what the hell is in this drink?"
"Fireball cinnamon whisky." Finn calmly pats my back. "You're here because you're my girl. Sex doesn't change that fact."
Throat burning, heart threatening to turn to mush, I can only look at him and sigh. "Finn, what am I going to do with you?"
///
His smile is an easy glide, but his eyes hold mine a beat too long. "Keep me. I'm pretty sure I'm good for no one else."
Before I can answer, he's off again, helping with the tree, joking with Emily and Glenn. I take pictures, eat the stuffed mushroom caps that Meg sets out on the sideboard, and gingerly sip my nog from hell.
My tongue turns pleasantly numb, and my limbs nice and warm. I'm taking a close up of the little elf man who lives on the shelf-why kids actually want an elf who's supposed to come alive at night, hanging out in their house is beyond me- when Finn peaks over my shoulder to look at the camera screen.
I nearly yelp but settle down, trying my best not to lean into him. He smells like cinnamon and spiked eggnog, which I find exceedingly delicious at present.
His breath tickles the sensitive skin on my neck. "Can you do selfies with that thing?"
"With a bit of awkward juggling," I concede.
"That's what I thought." The warm wall of his chest presses against my back, as he swings his arm in front of us, holding his phone. "Say, hey!"
He snaps a picture. "And the humble iPhone triumphs over the fancy Nikon."
I'm still blinking as he brings the phone up to look at the picture and utters a quickly stifled laugh.
I catch a glimpse. "Ack! No!" One of my eyes is closed, and my mouth is open.
Finn hums under his breath. "You look like a confused fish."
I make a grab for the phone, but he holds it away, chuckling.
"How on earth did you manage that, Chester?"
"Delete it or die, Mannus."
"All right, but I need another one to replace it with." Finn's grinning face is so close, the flecks of navy in his irises are visible. Those happy eyes full of mischief.
"Okay," I say. "Do it again."
He adjusts his grip on the phone, lifting it right in front of us. As soon as I feel his arm tense to take the picture, I kiss his cheek.
Finn gives a small start, his breath hitching. Before I can move away, he turns, his eyes a little wide. I've shocked him, making first contact.
A smile wavers on my lips. "How was that-"
Finn presses his mouth to mine. The kiss is sweet and swift, a touch of lips to lips, a slight exchange of air. And it still manages to stop my heart and send heat flaring up my thighs.
He backs away just enough to meet my eyes. For one tight second we stare at each other, breathing a bit faster, deeper, as if we're not sure what just happened. And then he kisses me again. Another soft peck as if to make certain this time is real.
The third kiss is mine. His lips are firm and smooth, addicting.
Finn makes a small noise at the back of his throat, his lips lingering as if he's simply enjoying the feel of me.
We're barely touching, barely kissing even, yet it feels almost frantic, as if we have to take what we can get now. My hand rises, fingers clutching his shirt. More. Give me more.
"Yeah, enough of that," Glenn-the rat bastard-says, suddenly in front of us. "We have a tree to trim and Mom's hooched up nog to drink."
Finn's glare is scary, and I'd run if I were Glenn. But the man seems immune. He gives us a shit-eating grin and backs away, holding up a silver ball ornament like a taunt.
Shaking his head wryly, Finn turns back to me. Meeting his gaze is too much. I can't kiss him again. Not here. Not now. I won't be able to stop.
"Kissing in front of the family accomplished," I blurt out, hating myself as I do.
Ugly heat prickles on my cheeks, as he simply looks at me. I expect to see disappointment. But it's worse. His expression is one of affection and gentle amusement, as if he's silently saying, Oh, Chess, who do you think you're fooling?
"I think," he says after a long, hellish moment, "we'll have to practice that play some more."
With that, he leaves me. And I want to follow.
* * *
Finn
* * *
Sunset at Black's Beach is one of my favorite settings in the word. It's almost surreal this canvas of gleaming oranges, hot pinks, and turquoise blues. The cliff face flares tangerine in the fading sunlight. The air is cooler now, tinged with briny sea spray.