Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,51
Colby, trailing after her like the trio of Musketeers they were. There was clattering as they picked up their swords—er, shovels—from the basket on the deck then pounding footsteps as they sprinted across the wooden planks. His nephews—Max, Mike, Joey, and Teddy—were involved in a very complicated imaginary game on the sand just in front of the house that involved explosions, mobs of bad guys, and copious amounts of digging.
“I should watch them—” Shannon turned to follow the girls.
“I’ve got them,” his dad said, “these old ears need a break from the noise.”
He disappeared out the front door.
“Just saying,” Lexy said into the beat of quiet that trailed him, one that was punctuated with more cries and orders of “wet sand!” and “five turrets” and “dig faster.” Her lips twitched. “I don’t think it’s any louder in here than out there.”
“Accurate,” Phil, his younger brother, said, dipping a finger into the sauce their mom was making and earning himself a smack on the hand for his transgression.
“Fingers to yourself, buster!” she snapped, spinning back to the stove.
Lexy bit her lip. “Ooh, you got in trouble!”
His older brother, Steve, snorted, opening the door to pull out a beer, asking the room at large, “Anyone want one?”
Kathy ignored him and asked, “What, are you, six?”
“Twenty-six,” Lexy retorted.
Shannon said, “I’ll take one,” completely unperturbed that his family was crowded into her kitchen, that his mom was at her stove, that his brother was helping himself to beverages from her fridge.
Steve passed one over, grinned at her. “You’re too good for this brood.”
She started to shake her head, his woman who was bright and happy, but who still didn’t always see how wonderful she was, and Finn tugged her back against his chest, pressed a kiss to her head. “She is too good”—he nuzzled her throat—“She’s also too good to say otherwise.”
“Finn! I—” A firm shake. “No—”
“Tell me about this peanut butter milk Stephanie was waxing poetic about earlier,” Kathy said, rescuing her.
“Well . . .” She started giving away her trade secrets, because she was always generous with her time and knowledge. Finn admitted he began tuning out, letting her voice wash over him, just thrilled to be here with her, to have his family around. He’d be gone for six weeks of shooting in less than a week, and he wanted to soak up every minute.
Such a change.
Half a year ago, he’d been equal parts numb and angry, taking no joy in anything, and today he couldn’t care less about the conversation, about the food. The only thing that mattered was . . . family, love, connection.
“Marry me,” he blurted.
Of course, he’d unknowingly timed his words to come right during a lull in the conversation, where typically the statement would have been lost in the chatter. Instead, it fell directly into silence.
Shannon twisted in his arms, eyes wide.
“Um, what?” Lexy asked.
“That had better not be your actual proposal, Finn Stoneman,” his mother snapped, turning to glare at him, the large wooden spoon held aloft in her hand.
“Shh,” Kathy said. “She hasn’t answered him yet.”
He heard them, obliquely anyway. Because his eyes were on the woman in front of him, the woman whom he loved beyond measure. The woman . . . who was looking at him incredulously.
“What do you say, Blue Eyes?” he asked softly. “Will you make an honest man out of me?”
Her lips slowly curved up, and the impact of her smile was a meteor to his chest. Not a single trace of sad, just pure unadulterated happy and bright and . . . love. Her smile was filled with love. She took a step forward, their toes touching, and reached up to cup his jaw. “You sure about this?”
He scoffed. “Am I sure about the two people I love most in the world?”
“Hey!” Lexy said.
“Shh,” Steven hissed.
Shan giggled.
“I love you, baby,” he said, covering her hand with his. “But I don’t need an answer now. We can wait until this sideshow goes and we’re alone—”
“Oh no, you can’t!” his mom exclaimed.
More giggles from Shannon.
“Yes, you can,” he told her.
“I love you,” she said, drifting closer.
“I love you.”
“I will marry you”—a burst of noise from his family had her lifting her voice—“but I have one condition.”
They quieted and Finn’s heart skipped a beat, and he hoped, sent a mental prayer out to the universe that he would be able to fulfill that condition, even as he said, “Anything, honey.”
Another smile.
This time, one with warmth and love and . . .