Epilogue

 

Two weeks later…

 

Hugo was close. “That’s right, baby. Push back against me. Take all of it.”

Solomon was bent over his old twin bed, jeans gathered around his knees, fist in his mouth to mute his shouts of pleasure as he fulfilled another one of Hugo’s fantasies.

He hadn’t planned this. They’d been packing after lunch with the family, taking things he’d left with his parents even after he’d moved in with his brother. He’d looked over at the man smiling with his mother and known he had to have him again.

And it had to be here.

Hugo’s hand tightened on his shoulder, the other tangling in his silky hair. The wet slap of flesh was so loud he was sure they could hear it in the living room, and he didn’t fucking care.

“I can’t resist your ass, baby. Especially when I know how much you love the thought of getting caught. Don’t you, Chief? Love the idea of someone walking through that door and seeing you bent over and begging for what I can give you.”

Solomon’s moan was muffled but desperate.

He reached around to stroke his fiancé’s cock, feeling it swell in his grip. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll come by the station for lunch again. We’ll lock your office door and I’ll bend you over your desk and eat your—”

“Fuck!” Solomon shouted, burying his face in the mattress as he came hard around him.

Hugo groaned into his neck. “Coming with you, baby.”

His orgasm crashed over him in a devastating wave, leaving him clinging to Solomon’s back and struggling for breath.

Every time. It was like this every time.

He pulled out, swatted his favorite ass and flopped back on the narrow bed beside him. “You really do want to get freaky at the police station, don’t you?”

“No comment.”

Hugo snorted. “You don’t have to say it. Every time I mention Chief Finn breaking the law it gets a big reaction.”

He turned his head and found those eyes on him. His favorite color. His favorite man. “Want to finish packing us up now? I’d like to get home. Especially since your brother dropped off dinner so we don’t have to make eggs again.”

Solomon’s expression brightened. “What did Rig make for us this time?”

Hugo made a mental note to watch that YouTube channel where Rig and his grandmother gave cooking lessons. “It’s a surprise.”

He stood and pulled up his jeans, looking around his old room with a wistful smile. Everything was changing and the Waynes were playing musical chairs with their living arrangements.

Hugo was moving in with Solomon. Shelley was moving in with Austen. Thoreau had added a strange, unexpected addition to the Wayne-plex with his coworker and sometimes girlfriend, Fiona. And that move was made possible by Bronte deciding to take the apartment above their parent’s garage. There was even talk that Robert would take the spare room at Emerson’s house, since he was on leave from work after an altercation with a coworker. Hugo had a feeling he knew which one.

But no matter where life took their children, Cassandra and Foster would always be here. This house would always be here. Rooms just where they left them, and an open invitation to stay.

It was a comforting thought.

“What’s wrong?”

Hugo slid his arm around Solomon’s waist. “At the moment? Not a single damn thing.”

“Then let’s go home.”

 

***

 

Bronte

 

It never failed. Every time she needed something from the top shelf, all the men in her life disappeared as if by magic. Wasn’t that always the way?

Bronte stood in her parent’s garage, looking up at the box in consternation. Her brother had moved out of the upstairs apartment, taking everything with him to his new house and giving her the excuse she needed to move out of the duplex for a while.

Now that Hugo wouldn’t be there to carpool to work and save her from Austen’s harebrained schemes and cosmetic concoctions, she had two choices. Stay where she was or go back to where she started.

She’d been the oldest, and the first to move above the garage when she turned eighteen and started nursing school. Coming back at forty-one wasn’t the dent to her ego her coworkers seemed to think it would be. It was a safe harbor. And she needed one right about now.

It was also better than living in her own version of the Odd Couple. Austen was loving and supportive, but she was constantly trying to turn Bronte into something she wasn’t. She needed a new hairstyle, a new wardrobe. She needed to stop crocheting on the couch and start taking salsa lessons.

She needed to have sex.

That might be the one thing they agreed on, but she wasn’t about to admit it to her stunning little sister.

So for now, this was the right move.

As long as her parents never found out what she’d done.

Bronte searched the garage until she found the stepladder. It wasn’t all that sturdy, but she only needed to keep it steady long enough to get that box.

When she put her weight on it, the creaking sounded ominous, giving her pause. She supposed she could go seek out Hugo and Solomon, but she had a feeling she’d be scarred for life.

She was so happy for her brother. She’d liked Solomon Finn the instant they’d met, and she’d known he was the one for Hugo, but those two together raised the temperature by twenty degrees wherever they went now. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other during lunch, even with their mother and father sitting right there at the table.

The fact that they’d disappeared ten minutes ago did not bode well for them being available for this situation.

She’d have to do it herself.

Big surprise.

It wasn’t that important, she thought as she took another step. Some picture frames and decorations she’d bought with money from her first job to decorate her first adult apartment. Pure sentiment that she shouldn’t be risking her neck for.

She took another step.

She wobbled dangerously when she lifted her arms. “Oh, Jesus.”

“I’m not him, no. But if you’re needing help, Nightingale, I’m at your disposal.”

Bronte whirled at the sound of his voice, swearing viciously as her ankle twisted and she started to fall.

Strong arms were wrapped around her and carrying her to the old worktable before she had time to catch her breath.

“There now. Let me grab that box for you.”

She rubbed her ankle, glaring at the intruder. It was the leprechaun.

If a leprechaun was a tall, deliciously well-built Irishman with a rakishly bent nose, ice blue eyes and a wicked tongue. 

You forgot young, she told her hormones with a mental scowl. William Finn was too young and too wild for her. A troublemaker with a fondness for pugilism, gambling and flirtation that would have any sensible woman running in the other direction.

And Bronte was a sensible woman.

“I was told you were leaving town last week.”

William set the box down carefully, shoving his hands in his pockets as he moved closer. “I had a favor to do for James first, but now, good boy that I am, I’m off to earn an honest living for the next few months at least.”

“Only a few months?”

“At least,” he assured her, his eyes twinkling. “But I didn’t want to leave without seeing you, and thanking you again for the favor.”

She crossed her arms protectively, hiding her reaction to his charms. “It’s not for you. I’m considering it a wedding present to my brother that no one has to know about. I’m also expecting you not to make me regret it by getting into trouble while you’re gone.”

“I’m a new man, Bronte Finn.” Was he closer? “I’ve heard marriage can do that to people. Change everything.”

Finn. Not Wayne. Finn.

“Don’t call me that,” she grumbled, looking down at the ridiculous ab muscles she could see through his snug, white shirt. “Where’s your jacket?”

“You mean the new one I had to buy since my favorite jacket was stolen out of a police station?” He winked. “It’s in the truck. I like that you’re worried about me, but I’m hot-blooded. I’ll be fine.”

Hot-blooded and fine. Yes, you are.

Stop.

“I’m not worried, just curious. You should get out of here before anyone sees you hanging around. Solomon and Hugo are inside with my parents right now. I’m sure they told you they didn’t want to see us together.”

They’d definitely mentioned it to her.

His lips firmed and he nodded abruptly. “Then I’ll make this quick.”

He was kissing her before she saw it coming.

More than kissing. Claiming. Tongues mating as his hands slid her quilted jacket open enough to slip inside.

Her legs wrapped around his waist when he cupped her ass, moaning into her mouth and grinding his erection against the empty ache between her thighs.

He tasted like hot chocolate and peppermint mixed with something forbidden. Something she shouldn’t want. Something she couldn’t want.

But damn, she wanted.

Bronte grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand down to her pajama bottoms, guiding him to where she needed him most.

He stiffened for a heartbeat, groaning into her mouth as he leaned forward, pressing her back onto the table as his fingers dragged her panties to the side and he was finally there. Touching her.

Oh God.

He lifted his head, his fingers slipping through her heat. “There’s time, Nightingale. We could go upstairs and I could kiss all of you goodbye. It wouldn’t be the first secret we’ve shared since the wedding.”

The sound of brakes slamming in her head shook her out of her lust-induced haze.

Shit.

“You had to talk, didn’t you?” she sighed, pushing him off her and hopping off the table.

She winced, landing on her sore ankle. “You better go now.”

She couldn’t afford to forget herself. Not with him. Thank God he was leaving the state, because for being such a pain in the ass, he was way too tempting.

William Finn backed away, studying her as if memorizing every feature. “Stay safe. You’ll be hearing from me soon, Nightingale. That’s a promise.”

“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” They’d both already been guilty of that.

“If you need me, all you have to do is call.”

She wouldn’t call. She was fine on her own.

Which was a good thing, since her twenty-four-year old temporary husband wasn’t going to be back for a while.

Not until it was time to get their marriage annulled.