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)
His mother waved him off. “They’ll get the smell out. The real question is how you found the time to fiddle down there in the first place when you have that final to study for.”
Thoreau stopped his eyes mid-roll. “I’m done with finals and you know it. I won’t have another until after winter break.”
Cassandra wasn’t swayed. “It’s never too early to get a head start.”
Solomon wasn’t going to laugh. “He’s always working or studying, according to Seamus. He can’t stop talking about Thor’s ideas and his knack for tweaking recipes. It seems like a skillset in chemistry runs in your family.”
She was beaming at him again. “You have no idea, Solomon. Between Austen and Thoreau… Even Emerson was part mad scientist when he was Lang’s age. Before he decided on forensic accounting, I was sure he’d end up in Frankenstein’s lab. The stories I could tell—”
“Younger?”
Everyone froze at the sound of Hugo’s shocked exclamation.
Heart lodged in his throat, Solomon gently took his partially decorated cast away from Barry and got to his feet. “Happy birthday again, Hugo.”
Surprise.
He had his shirt balled up in his hand, his smooth, muscular chest bare as he stood in the doorway of the large kitchen. It took every ounce of willpower Solomon had not to go to him. Touch him.
The longer Hugo stared, the more uncomfortable the silence became.
Jesus, he’d been right. This had been a mistake. No matter how charming the Wayne family was, or how much he’d been enjoying himself, in the end this was about Hugo. He looked around the room, wondering how he could slip out unnoticed when Bronte stepped in front of Hugo, drawing his stunned gaze.
“Before he left the hospital, I invited him over for dinner.” Her words held layers of meaning Solomon knew he wasn’t meant to understand. But Hugo did.
“You…” He shook his head slightly, as if to clear it. “Of course you invited him. That’s good. The more the merrier.” He looked away and spoke to his family over his shoulder. “I need to wash up and change my shirt before dinner.”
The instant he was gone, everyone looked Solomon’s way as if he could explain Hugo’s reaction. Even the three men who’d followed Hugo up from the basement looked curious.
One of them is Hugo’s father.
He pushed his hair back behind his ears, finally giving in to the urge to tug on his collar before Cassandra Wayne stepped over to him, quietly brushing his hand aside to readjust his tie. “Did my son call you Younger?”
She was so kind, he marveled, nodding. “I’m named after my father but I…my family calls me Younger. I prefer it, to be honest.”
Her smile softened, as intriguing and mysterious as the Mona Lisa’s. “I like it, too. I think that’s what we’ll call you from now on.”
Chapter Four
Hugo tossed his shirt on his old twin mattress and started to pace the room he’d been raised in, unable to wrap his head around what he’d walked in on in the kitchen. Solomon Finn was sitting with his family. They were laughing with him, sharing stories with him and…
He was here.
He’d ask himself what Bronte was thinking inviting him, but he knew her too well. She’d set him up for his birthday. She knew there’d been something between them and she wanted to reignite it, because Younger in a cast and heavily medicated seemed harmless and looked like a Viking.
If you’d told her how you felt about him she wouldn’t have done it.
If she’d minded her own business, he wouldn’t be hiding in his bedroom as if he were nine. As to how he felt, how could he tell her when he hardly knew from one minute to the next? He didn’t trust his emotions when Solomon was around. They were too complicated.
A few years ago, he would have given anything to have him here and officially introduce him to his family. Back then he’d wanted to wait for the right moment, when everything was perfect, but it never came.
He was here.
He had to admit, Solomon looked damn good in his mother’s kitchen. More male model than retired cop. He’d even dressed for the occasion.
That was new. His uniform was about as buttoned up and pressed as he usually got. Hugo would be willing to bet he’d borrowed his outfit from a Finn with more expensive taste.
Still, there had obviously been some changes in his life, and Hugo hadn’t been around him for a while. Maybe along with everything else—his hair, his tattoo, his availability for intimate family dinners—he’d also taken some fashion tips from GQ and filled his closet with designer ties.
Why the hell are you obsessing over his clothes?
Because he couldn’t get over the fact that he was on his turf, with his family for a change. It was usually the other way around. But now there wasn’t another Finn to be seen. It was like sighting a wolf that had been separated from his pack.