Sending a lazy two-fingered salute to Lucan, he shrugs, unworried. “Boot's full of business at the moment, yeah. I told you I was in the area; I helped a garl with a wee problem she was havin’. Serious cunt—him, not her. Let’s carry on.”
I don’t even—whatever.
He doesn’t move to go inside and I don’t either. Faintly, I can hear the squeak of trampoline springs and the occasional laugh from one of the girls as the sounds of their play drifts in our direction. Whimpered pleas from a human throat and the growl-induced shuddering of Esmerelda’s windows above her glaringly painted door panel is concerning, but by Finn’s placid expression, I might be the only one worried about these things.
“Our Lucan rang me up for permission to tell you something,” Finn explains. “I was afraid he’d muck it up, so here I am.”
I stare at him. “You showed up to have the discussion Lucan and I were going to have in private?”
“I showed up to help handle a very delicate situation,” he claims. My gaze sharpens on him, and I finally notice him—he’s in well-loved blue jeans and his typical steel-toed boots, which I’ve always thought must be murder to stand on all day, but he does it and never complains, and he’s sporting a black leather jacket with open lapels, silver snaps, and a zipper above his breast pocket that has a piece of folded paper sticking out of it. There’s writing scrawled on it: ‘Thank you, Finn,’ it starts.
Under the black leather is a white shirt bearing The Gargled Werewolf’s logo.
(Only a little bitterly, I mentally glare that he’s not stuck in a teeny tiny tank top for work. However, I bet his gratuity tabs at the end of the day aren’t as nice as the female staff have been seeing. Not anymore. Tits make tips, we’ve found out.)
Finn smooths a hand through his wiry hair. “Sue, a stór, I’m about to arrange the impossible and give you two some much-needed privacy.”
I cross my arms. “You showed up unannounced to give us privacy? How do you figure?”
Finn shrugs and turns to wave at a Dodge truck that’s pulling up to the curb. “I wouldn’t call my arrival unannounced. The moment I hung up on Deek, he knew I was coming.”
Out of the truck steps Rooker, alpha werewolf and fellow employee at the pub. He reaches to the passenger seat and extricates a stack of what has to be a dozen insulated The Gargled Werewolf Pub carry-out boxes. By their shape and dimensions, they can only be pizza boxes.
Rooker looks to Finn. “You rang?” He sends me a chin jerk. “Hullo, Sue.”
“Hi.” I swing my stare up to Finn. “You got us pizzas? Why? And how did you get them here so fast...”
“I told you! I’m here to help.” He motions for Rooker to head into our house. “That way to the Taylor residence.”
Rooker shifts his gaze to Lucan, who hasn’t stopped his lower-than-thunder growling. “We gonna let Deek out?”
“Not yet,” Finn replies, unworried.
I throw up my hands and shake my head at him. “I’m so confused! I’m not sure if I should thank you for bringing pizza or lecture you about permission…”
“Lectures don’t work on me,” Finn shares. He takes my hand, prompting Lucan’s growl to intensify. “Let’s get the lads out.”
He doesn’t walk me to his car to release Lucan. He moves me to Rooker’s truck, opens the door, and reveals Liam in a car seat, his brother Rory beside him, and Harper, Gail’s daughter, on the far side.
Finn leaves me with Liam and moves into the street to get Harper’s door and assist her and Rory out from the side of the vehicle that does not have a car seat blocking the way.
As he herds the kids to where I’m helping Liam to clamber down from the truck’s running board, he explains, “Rooker was headed to the dens with the pizza and kids. Since he was pulling pupsitting duty, figured I’d have him reroute and watch these three with your three. Should be enough food to feed everybody.”
“But why?” I ask. “Not that I’m not grateful for pizza and playmates for the kids but, Finn…”
“Because you and Lucan can now head to the dens for some alone time. Rooker and I will watch both broods.”
Holding Liam’s tiny hand in mine, I squint at Finn. “Are you crazy? There is no such thing as alone time at the Pack headquarters.”