Let Me: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family Book 2) (4 page)

“Thank you, but I’m good with just coffee.”

I nod and dig into my food. I’m not as hungry as I appear, but I don’t want to overdo it with Sol. That doesn’t mean I don’t like how her smile seems to linger and how it keeps finding its way into her pretty eyes.

“What about you?” I ask.

She tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“If you were to describe yourself, how would it be?”

She crinkles her nose. “Why do you want to know?”

I shrug, trying to keep my voice easy. “Maybe cause I want to know you.” I’ll admit, for all I’m messing with her that much is true. We’ve crossed paths a handful of times, at a couple of weddings and a few parties. But I still don’t know Sol as more than as that sweet, sexy woman who hooks me with her smile.

She nibbles on her bottom lip, like she’s trying to keep herself quiet. When her attention shifts to the window where a group of kids are heading off to school, I don’t think she’s going to answer. But then she does, or at least tries to.

“I don’t know,” she says. “Studious maybe?”

I stop mid-chew, swallowing hard so I can speak. “Studious?” I repeat. At her nod I say. “Is that the best you can do?”

She smirks. “I know it’s not the same as having Greek god-like charm, but we all can’t be Thor.”

“Thor?” I ask.

I’m trying to stir that cute blush again, and while her cheeks go slightly pink, this time she doesn’t turn away. “You know Thor, the guy with the really big hammer?” She shrugs. “You have to respect the hammer.”

“Damn, there’s so much I can say to that.” I hold out my hand. “But I won’t because I’m a classy guy.”

“Classy, alpha,
and
charming?” she rests her cheek on her hand. “Tell me more.”

The way the side of her face falls perfectly against her hand coupled with the way she waits patiently to hear what I have to say, momentarily holds me in place. A lot of women I’ve dated strike poses to look good and show off their assets. I’m not talking about when they’re standing for pictures―I mean in general, for attention, so I’ll buy them a drink, and yeah, to get me to take them home and fuck them. I’ve walked in on a few practicing their stances, adjusting their expressions and curves just so in front of a mirror. It’s fake, well-rehearsed, and effective. But the way Sol is sitting in front of me doesn’t appear anything close to phony. She looks good―damn good―don’t get me wrong. Yet it’s like she genuinely wants to hear what I have to say and this is simply who she is.

It shouldn’t give me pause like it does. Sol’s just―I don’t know―
real
I guess. Maybe that’s why she’s been so hard to forget, despite our mostly brief interactions throughout the years.

I push my empty plate aside, crossing my arms in front of me and leaning in close. “What do you want to know?”

She gives it some thought. “What do you think your best feature is?”

“Besides these muscles you can’t stop looking at?” I ask, stretching. When that blush finds its way back into that face, and it looks like it’s taking all she has to keep her eyes off my body, I’ll admit it’s my turn to smirk. I wasn’t positive she was attracted to me. Not like I am to her. Now that I know she is, I want to play and tease her a little more. But I hold back, though it takes some effort. “I have to say my jaw,” I answer.

“Your
jaw
?” Again it’s like she’s fighting to keep from looking elsewhere.

“Yup. I can take a hit, and it’s never been broken.”

“Well, thank God for that,” she says cringing. She scans my face. “What about your nose?”

“That’s been busted three times.”

Her mouth pops open. “Seriously?”

“Hell, yeah,” I tell her. “Want to feel?” I ask, leaning in.

I don’t think she’s going to touch me, but then she reaches out, grazing my skin so lightly, I barely feel it. When most girls touch me, they really touch me, making it clear they want to do a lot more. With Sol, it’s different, more like she’s afraid to cause me pain. Weird, especially since she knows I bust people up for a living.

She finds the spot where my nose curves just slightly, her features revealing sadness I don’t expect. “Wow,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good. Part of the job, you know?”

She nods like she understands, but it doesn’t erase that hint of sadness I catch. I watch her hand as she pulls it away and carefully places it on the table. Yeah. Sol’s different. But I’m starting to think she’s different in more ways than I originally thought. “What about you?” I ask.

“I can honestly say my nose has never been broken,” she answers.

I chuckle, knowing that now she’s the one trying to lure my grin. “You know what I mean. What’s your best feature?”

“My brain,” she says. She points to her skull when my stare lowers to her perky round breasts. “This one right here.”

“Sorry,” I offer, not really meaning it. “Didn’t mean to get distracted by your . . .”

“Personality?” she teases, “Sparkling wit, dazzling sense of humor?”

All right, two can play it that way. I lift my arm, bending it enough to bulge the muscles along my bicep and pecs as I pass my hand through my hair.

Sol’s gaze drags along my shoulder, chest, arm, all the way up to the broody stare I’m pegging her with before she catches herself. “Looks like we’re even,” I say when her lips part.

She covers her face with her hand and shakes her head. “You are seriously unbelievable.”

“You forgot hot,” I remind her. I shift my position so I’m as close as can be with this damn table between us. “So, when are we going out?”

So much for not over doing it.

She lifts her face, raising her brows. “Going out?” she asks.

I glance around like I’m confused. “Yeah. We can’t exactly make out here . . . unless you really want to.”

“What happened to being classy?” she asks, giggling.

“This place is classy.” I motion to the mini juke box perched at the end of the table. “Where else can you hear the Rolling Stones for fifty cents?”

“Good point.” It’s what she says, but then lifts her coat from where it’s lying beside her.

“Where you going?” I ask. “I thought we were having fun.”

She pauses in the middle of buttoning her wool coat. “Finn, I did have a good time―and please know I appreciate you keeping me company. This . . .” She purses her lips, cutting herself off. “I’m sorry. I have lot going on in my life right now. I’ll see you around, okay?”

“That’s it? You serious?” I ask, standing when she does.

Her smile softens, but when she looks at me, her gaze doesn’t pass along my form, doesn’t stop to take in my muscles, doesn’t invite me closer. She simply stares at me, as if trying to gather her words. “You’re really sweet,” she finally says. “But this is a bad time for me to get to know more of that sweetness.”

I frown when she slips a twenty out of her purse and places it on the table. Considering she only had coffee, that’s one hell of a tip. “You’re not paying for me,” I say. “I got this.”

She places her hand on my wrist when I reach for my wallet, the same way she touched my nose, barely grazing my skin, but having one hell of an effect. “Don’t,” she says. “It’s my way of thanking you.”

I cock my head. “For what? Keeping you company?”

“No,” she explains quietly. “For giving me a smile I didn’t know I had in me.”

It’s what she says. But as I watch her walk away, I realize she did the same damn thing for me.

CHAPTER 5

Finn

I reach into the back of Killian’s F-150 for a giant tray packed with what smells like stuffed peppers, but Sofia’s clasp to my arm holds me in place. “How are you doing?” she asks. “You were really quiet on the way over here.”

She waited for Killian to head into her brother’s house with another tray of food before asking. I haven’t talked to Kill about all the shit going on in my head lately, not like I used to. He’s noticed and probably told Sofia I’ve been pulling away. But I can’t seem to talk to anyone anymore, not about anything real. It’s probably one of the reasons I’ve been getting worse, but I don’t want to admit as much.

“Good,” I answer. Just tired. How you doing?”

“You know what I mean,” she says quietly.

I don’t want to worry her, or him, or hell, anyone. But somehow I always manage to screw that up. “I’m in counseling,” I answer like a dumbass, like she doesn’t already know.

Her long springy curls brush against her shoulder as she tilts her head. “Do you think it’s helping?”

Nope. I think it’s horseshit. “Sure.”

“Finn, I’m serious.”

“Me, too.” I say. I don’t add that as motivated as I was to get help, I totally shut down the moment I meet with my therapist. It’s not that Mason isn’t nice. He is. The court appointed psychiatrist even hand selected him thinking we’d be a good fit. But we’re not. Totally not.

Nothing personal, but the guy wears loafers―with tassels! And the first time I saw him, I swear to Christ he was in a sweater vest. He can’t be more than in his late thirties. What is he doing in a damn sweater vest?

Let me play out our first session: Mason sat in front of me, crossed his leg, and waited for me to speak. When a few moments passed and I didn’t say shit he said, “So, Finn. The way you’re looking at me makes me think you don’t like me.”

He wasn’t angry, just sort of smiled politely all the while calling me out. “I don’t know you,” I’d admitted. “Can’t say I do or don’t yet.”

“Fair enough,” he replied. “So let’s work on getting to know each other . . .”

Yeah. So far it hasn’t happened. Not the first time. Or the second. Not even this last time. I mostly talked sports, and he lets me. Get this, he likes chess and tennis.

Me and him, we just ain’t connecting.

“I want you to be okay,” Sofia says. She hooks her thin arms around mine and glances up at me. “We’re all worried about you, Finn.”

I nod like I’m listening, and I am. What she doesn’t know is I’m worried about me, too. Lately, I can’t get past what happened to me. It’s messing me up five ways from Sunday.

For a second, neither of us moves or speaks. It feels good to feel close to someone like this―I don’t mean in the sexual sense. God knows I get my share of tail. But as close as am to her and my family, we don’t really touch each other. Probably because I don’t let anyone touch me. Not since . . .

Kill’s heavy feet crunching against the snow gives me an excuse to glance up. I smirk when his stare bounces between me and Sofia. If I wasn’t his brother, he probably wouldn’t like me so close to his girl. But Sofia has always been just that: Kill’s girl, even when they were too young to know what love really is.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “I told her to quit fondling my ass, but she can’t seem to help herself.”

The stare he pegs me with would have sent anyone else running. Me, I just laugh.

“You’re lucky I trust her,” he warns.

“Don’t you trust me?” I ask, my grin widening.

“Not even a little bit,” he says.

“Behave, Finn,” Sofia says. She pats my hand and reaches for the last tray of food, a fresh blush coating her cheeks. It doesn’t take much for her to blush, something Kill can’t seem to get enough of.

He grins as he approaches her. “I got it, princess,” he tells her, lifting the tray away from her with one hand. He places his free arm around her waist, stopping to kiss her before leading her forward.

I tuck my tray of food and slam the rear doors of his truck shut. “So what were you saying, Sofia? Something about my irresistible ass.”

“You’re pissing me off, Finn,” Kill says.

It’s what he claims, but even with his back to me I know by now he’s laughing.

I follow them down the stone path that leads to Teo and Evie’s, Sofia’s brother and sister-in-law. Teo has killed it in the automotive repair industry, but he’s never forgotten his friends. Every now and then, they have a bunch of people over for dinner. Tonight is one of those nights, I’m only hoping Sol will show.

Sol . . . yeah. I haven’t been able to shake this sexy woman with the even sexier smile from my mind―not since seeing her at the clinic, and especially not after flirting with her at the diner. When I’m attracted to a woman and start talking to her, it doesn’t take long for her to warm up to me, and it sure as anything doesn’t take long for us to end up in bed. That’s not the case with Sol, and in a way it’s new territory.

Women like me. I know how to make them laugh and feel good. Call it a gift. The part where I end up pissing them off, call that a need to move on. I don’t let women get too close, but that goes for everyone I know. I’ve had a few relationships here and there between hot make-out sessions and one night stands, but nothing that’s ever really meant anything and that’s how I like it. My brothers were pretty much the same way. But they had “daddy” issues. Me. I wish our cheating and absent father was all the shit I had to deal with.

“Hey,” Teo says, bending forward to kiss his sister. His baby girl, Lynnie is pressed against him, taking everything in. “How’s it going, Finn?” he asks.

I shake his hand. “Aside from prying your sister off me in the driveway? Pretty damn good, man,” I tell him.

“Sure you were,” Teo says with a smirk, laughing when Kill mutters, “Christ.”

I kick the snow off my boots and step inside. “Where’s your pretty wife?” I ask.
And your hot cousin
?

“Kitchen,” he answers as we make our way inside. He puts Lynnie down in the foyer. The little blondie grabs on to her father’s finger and shuffles forward.

“She’s walking already?” Kill asks him.

“Yeah. It’s the only way to keep up with her big brother,” he answers.

Teo’s house is a huge classic colonial with beautiful wood floors and plaster walls. The kind of house that tells people you made it big with a hell of a lot of work. Lynnie lets go of Teo the minute she catches sight of her mama in the kitchen, her chubby little legs rushing her forward.

“Hi,” Evie sings, scooping her up, even though she has their son Mattie perched on her opposite hip.