Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 351(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 234(@300wpm)
Solomon’s eyes widened and he glanced over at Hugo. “I don’t know why I’m talking so much. Do I usually talk this much?”
“No,” Hugo said once he’d picked his jaw off the floor. “No, you never talk this much.”
“Looks like your happy pill finally kicked in.” Bronte walked over to the bed, studying his pupils while taking his wrist in her hand to check his pulse. “Some people react differently to certain pain meds than others. You don’t have any allergies you didn’t tell us about, do you?”
“I don’t think so. And you’re right because I’m in a better mood than I should be. Very relaxed. Does your shirt have dinosaurs in skirts or is that another side effect?”
Solomon spoke like a man who’d just become incredibly aware of his teeth.
He was high.
High and gorgeous and approachable and…
Fuck.
“Tutus,” Bronte corrected as if the question were perfectly normal. “It’s not a hallucination. My brothers have a childlike sense of humor and very few real pleasures in life, so I indulge them. Every year they get me something with dinosaurs, to commemorate the time they kicked an older boy’s butt in the schoolyard for calling me Bronte-saurus.”
“They commemorate it with dinosaurs?”
“You sound confused because you don’t have sisters. This is one of those, I can call you that but they can’t situations. It’s a term of endearment now, and as long as they use it sparingly, I allow them to live.”
Understanding lit Solomon’s eyes. “Like my cousin, Jen. Everyone called her Little Finn, because she was the baby. She didn’t appreciate it at all, but now it’s fine. Mostly because of Trick.”
“Trick. Is that her boyfriend?”
Hugo flinched when Solomon didn’t hesitate to answer. “More than that. He’s the father of her baby. Well, one of them.”
“One of the babies?”
“One of the fathers.”
Bronte turned to Hugo, her eyes nearly popping out of her head in surprise. He knew that look. She was going to demand details as soon as they were alone. He forgot sometimes that not everyone knew every detail about the sexual and romantic exploits of the Finn family.
“Sure. It sounds like Jen and I have loads in common.”
Solomon’s grin grew. “You’re very nice.”
Bronte blinked at that. “I am not. You’re catching me on an off day, blue eyes, so don’t go spreading that theory around.”
She likes him.
Hugo’s defenses were crumbling fast. He needed to get away from this vulnerable, open version of Solomon before he lost his resolve. “I should call someone. If William doesn’t come back, he’ll need a ride and someone to watch him for a few hours. I’ll get one of his brothers on the phone.”
“You’re off duty, Hugo. How about you stay and keep an eye on him while I handle that.” It wasn’t a request.
She touched Solomon on his shoulder to get his attention. “Anyone in particular you want us to call? Someone who can hang out at your place for a while?”
Younger licked his lips again. “Seamus, maybe? He’d probably take me to his place since mine might be underwater by now and he has the kids. My mouth is dry.”
“Hugo, get him some water while I call Seamus.”
“Let me do it. You don’t have his number.”
Bronte raised her eyebrow at his naiveté. “He’s Thoreau’s business partner. The entire family has his number in case of emergency. It’s on the Google doc, along with the rest of the Not-Waynes.”
Solomon chuckled as she breezed out before he could say another word and slid the curtain closed behind her.
“The Not-Waynes?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Too late.”
Hugo moved to the side table and poured water into a paper cup, handing it to Solomon with a sigh. “Drink and I’ll tell you.”
Those eyes were a problem. He remembered being unable to look away the first time he’d seen them, thinking they reminded him of the old crayons he’d loved to color with as a child. There was one shade of blue he’d used until it wore down to a nub he could barely grasp in his fingers. Cerulean? Blue III? He couldn’t remember the name of the brilliant shade, but it was the exact color of Solomon Finn’s eyes.
He wasn’t sure why he was so drawn to them. Blue eyes were common enough, especially in Solomon’s family. But none of them had that exact color and shape. And what was behind them—the good and the bad—that was all uniquely Younger, too.
Planning on writing a poem about his damn eyes now, you weak-willed idiot?
“Not-Waynes?”
He was almost thankful for the excuse to stop staring. “Right. The Not-Waynes is a list of people we’re in close contact with who aren’t members of our family. It’s a habit my mother started for slumber parties and summer camps, but she’s kept it updated. Now she’s including boyfriends and business partners into the mix. Everyone gets a copy when a new number is added.”