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.