He barks out a laugh and snatches the red apple from the bag before I can stop him. Taking a large bite, he flicks his gaze over to me, a chuckle rumbling in his chest.
“Fucker.”
Chapter 11
Ash
“Thanks for inviting me tonight,” I say over my shoulder as I climb out of August’s truck.
“Glad you could come!” his boyfriend, Tripp, calls out from the rolled-down window.
I wave back at them before bounding up the steps to Finn’s house. Making friends with August was unintentional, since it was his boyfriend who I started talking to first. Tripp works at the coffee shop in town, and they have the best raspberry lemon bars I’ve ever tasted. One afternoon last week, Tucker and I stopped in there after leaving the park, and Tripp recognized Tucker. We swapped numbers, and we’ve hit it off, which is nice. I could use some friends here.
When they invited me to dinner tonight with them and Tripp’s roommate, I was nervous because, other than Wednesday dinners at Gentry’s, I’ve never hung out with August. It was actually pretty chill, and I’m glad I went. As I unlock the front door, I wonder if Finn will be up or not. It’s nearing nine o’clock, and he tends to be an early bird mostnights, but itisSaturday, and as far as I know, he’s not doing any work in the morning.
My lip tips up into a grin as the soft music of whatever record he’s playing reaches my ears as soon as I have the door open.Guess he’s up after all.I kick off my shoes, setting them by the bench, before I amble down the hall into the low-lit living room, finding Finn where he is every night; reclined in his chair, a glass of bourbon in his hand. I’m quickly discovering that Finn is nothing if not a creature of habit.
Head turning as he must hear me enter the room, his eyes look me over from head to toe before he tips his chin at me. “Hey.”
“Hey, didn’t think you’d still be awake.”
Walking over to the dry bar, I pull a beer from the fridge, cracking it open, and tossing the bottlecap in the jar on the counter before I take a seat on the couch. I bring the bottle up to my lips, letting the chilled liquid roll down my throat. I’m already a couple of beers deep from dinner, so this should give me a warm buzz.
“Tucker talked me into watchin’The Lion Kingagain, so he just went down not that long ago.” He shrugs. “Guess I’m not ready to call it a night yet.”
I chuckle, knowing that Tuck and I watched that almost every day this week. “He sure loves that one, doesn’t he?”
“Right now, he does,” Finn says gruffly before downing a sip from his bourbon. I shamelessly watch the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, wondering what it would feel like under my tongue.Fuck. Boss. Sister’s boyfriend. Knock it off, Ash.“He goes through his phases. In a couple weeks, it’ll beMoana,thenLilo and Stitch.”
This—us, hanging out together—has become a nightly thing over the last week. At first, I felt a little awkward, like maybe I was interrupting some time to himself that he wanted, but asthe days pass, he seems to enjoy having me out here. He’s less grumbly and short with me when he’s out here with the music on, relaxing with a drink in his hand. Not that he’s an alcoholic or anything. Most nights he only has one, but if the glassiness to his gaze is any indication, I’d say he’s indulging a bit.
“Who’s this?” I ask, gesturing toward the record player.
Finn rolls his eyes, then drags his gaze over to me. “You’re jokin’.”
I breathe out a laugh. “I’m not.”
“It’s George Strait.” Setting his glass down on the coffee table, he sits up, resting his elbows on his knees as he fixes his furrowed gaze on me. “How the hell’er you from Texas, and you don’t know George Strait?”
Taking a pull from my beer bottle, I chuckle, setting it down on the same table as I match his position. “Well, wouldn’t exactly say I’m from Texas,” I start. “I moved here during high school, then moved away after graduation.”
He clucks his tongue at me. “Still. Where’d you live before that?”
The question has me arching a brow. “Shouldn’t you already know the answer to that?”
“Why would I?” he asks, brows pinched.
“Uh, because you’re dating my sister.” I chuckle. “Surely, she would’ve told you that. She loves talking about growing up in Alabama.”
“Oh.” With a shrug, he grabs his drink, bringing it up to his mouth. “She’s never mentioned it, I guess.” After he takes a sip, and I once again greedily watch him swallow, my own mouth salivating at the sight, he asks, “Why don’t y’all have southern accents, then?”
It’s strange to me that he’s asking me this. Has he never met my parents?
“My parents are originally from the West Coast. After they got married, they moved to Alabama for my dad’s job. So, while Vi and I grew up in the south, neither of our parents had an accent, so we didn’t develop one either.”
“Interesting.”
Finn downs the rest of his drink before walking over to the dry bar to pour himself another. “Want another beer?” he asks, his eyes and rosy cheeks giving away how the bourbon has him feeling.
