Both of them looked playfully horrified at the idea.
"Only if it's strawberry ice cream." Sarah grimaced and started on her quiche.
Fiona shook her head sadly. "Sometimes I wonder where she came from. On the other hand, more strawberry ice cream for me."
"You can have every spoonful," Sarah said. Judging by the way she dug in, she preferred quiche.
I sliced off a section and popped it into my mouth. "Mmmm, this is good." I could taste the bacon, and the handmade pastry, which melted in my mouth.
"It's nice to cook for someone else," Fiona said. "Too often, Sarah and I heat up something in the microwave. I'm trying to teach her how to cook."
"I kneaded the dough!" Sarah declared, her mouth full of eggy quiche.
"You did a great job." I picked up a roll and broke it open, watching the steam rise from the perfectly cooked bread. "This is delicious."
"I might be a chef when I grow up," Sarah said. "Or a baker."
"You'd be a good baker," Fiona told her. "You like being up before the sun. You could make me cupcakes."
"Yes!" Sarah wriggled in her chair.
I ate quietly, watching them as they bantered back and forth, talking about their Sunday and the school week ahead. The conversation was cozy, comfortable. Like a warm hug.
The whole town was like that. A warm hug with hot, possessive mountain men thrown in for good measure.
While they talked, I thought back to the afternoon. Connor fucking my mouth, then binding and edging me, then finishing me off before Riley fucked my mouth. Knowing Seth and Charlie were close by, knowing what was going on. Did they know I was the one in the truck? They probably guessed. Next time I saw them, I was going to blush like hell.
"Does Miss Ferguson's brother like you?" Sarah asked me.
I tried to contain my surprise at the sudden question, but probably failed. "Why do you ask that?"
She shrugged. "I saw him leaving your house one time. Is he your friend?"
"I guess you could say he is," I said. We hadn't talked about anything beyond that. Did I want to be more than friends? More than fuck buddies? I couldn't deny I was attracted to him and Riley, but my feelings for them were complicated.
"Is he your best friend?" she asked, in that singsong way kids had when they were teasing.
I laughed softly. "I don't know. Maybe. I've made a lot of friends since I moved here. You might all be my best friends." I glanced over at Fiona, who smiled.
"I feel like I've known you forever," she said. "I'm glad I spoke to you that day and told you about next door."
"I'm glad you did too," I said sincerely. Otherwise, I might have spent a couple of nights in the hotel before moving on. For some reason I couldn't put my finger on, it felt like the universe wanted me here. Like I belonged here. As though these were my people.
Whatever happened with the guys, I was going to do whatever I could to stay here.
"Mom said we could have had a serial killer next door instead," Sarah said, her eyes wide. "You're not a serial killer, are you?" She scrunched up her brow as if trying to picture me doing something horrible like that.
"Definitely not," I said with a laugh. "I like to eat cereal, not kill it."
Sarah giggled. "Me too.” After a beat or two she added, "Mom also said she wouldn't have minded the hot mafia twins from her favourite books, to live next door."
"Sarah!" Fiona said with mock outrage.
"What? You did," Sarah insisted. "Remember? You said they could?—"
"If you want ice cream for dessert, don't finish that sentence." Fiona waved her fork at her daughter. She rolled her eyes andturned to me. "It's not my fault if book boyfriends are better than real-life ones. Especially the hot mafia ones." She sighed.
“All boys are yucky," Sarah declared.
