Chapter 2
“Why are we driving? The bar is like two blocks away,” I ask, sitting in the back of Finn and Spencer’s car.
“Because it’s supposed to rain. Do you not pay attention to the weather?”
Finn snorts a laugh, and Spencer gives him the death glare. The kind that says, don’t start. I’ve heard the stories about how Spencer never checks the forecast and ends up caught in surprise downpours. I figure he’s overcorrecting.
I missed a lot after Finn moved here and I was still in California. Now he’s in love, settled, happier. He took a leap to get away from his toxic family, and it shows every time he smiles. I’m proud of him. Proud of the life he’s building. Even if we’re driving two blocks to avoid some maybe rain.
We pull into Leo’s, a local queer-friendly bar that Jaxon, and I guess now my group of friends, hang out at sometimes. The parking lot isn’t overly packed since it’s a weekday night, which is perfectly fine with me since I’m not into big crowds. I like the solitude of my kitchen.
Pulling open the front door, with Finn and Spencer trailing behind me, I’m hit with the smell of stale beer, grease, and rock music blaring over the loudspeakers.
It looks like everyone’s here. Jules and Mira are pushing the tables and chairs together over by the pool tables. Our usual spot.
Since moving back, I’ve been welcomed with open arms into this amazing group. They’ve become my family, and it’s reflected in our once-a-week dinners.
As Finn, Spencer, and I make our way over to the tables, I notice Olly and Jasper over at the pool tables, doing things that are highly inappropriate for public spaces.
Jaxon and Alex weave toward us with a tray of drinks.
I’ve known Jaxon since I was a temperamental kid—he was friends with my dad—and at twenty-seven he still treats me like I haven’t quite grown out of it.
People take their cues from him. I know it’s well-intentioned, but I’m not in the mood to be handled tonight, and I’m definitely not ready to unpack my recent failures.
“Your usual,” Jaxon says, handing me a beer.
“Thanks.” We clink bottles, and I take a long pull before he grabs a seat next to me, with Finn pulling up a chair on my other side.
I’ve heard it’s not good to drown your sorrows in alcohol, but tonight I’m gonna let myself wallow. That phone call earlier from Lucas was just more shitty news to add to my already shitty year.
If I really wanted to wallow, I would say my shitty life. But I can’t do that, even if life hasn’t dealt me the greatest hand.
I take in the group—my people—and there he is, the world’s sexiest, brooding not-a-stalker leaning against a pillar by the pool tables. How lucky I feel doesn’t even begin to cover it.
His gaze finds me and pins me in place. It’s not a glare, not quite a smile… just that steady, deliberate look that heats my skin from the inside out. Every time his eyes land on me, something low in my chest unfurls, warm and shameless.
Have I mentioned yet that I have a bit of a crush on Mr. Bossy Pants? What I wouldn’t give to feel the press of Dom’s body holding me down, freeing me from the weight of life. We’d be ridiculous together, the kind of heat that fogs up windows and starts rumors.
He keeps his distance, though. No one gets too close, except maybe Jaxon on a good day.
Most folks see the armor and decide that’s the man. I don’t. I see the careful hands, the quiet acts of kindness, the small smile he tries to hide when someone makes him laugh. There’s a softness under the steel, and it calls to me.
Next to me, the scrape of a metal chair against the cement floor catches my attention.
I gracefully, yet unsuccessfully, try not to choke on my tongue when I let my eyes roam over the man before me.
Now that Dom is mere inches away, my eyes land on his chest, taking in his shirt struggling to keep its shit together as the black fabric stretches across his biceps.
I wonder if he’s the kind of man who loves having his muscles worshiped because I would drop to my knees and apologize for how slutty I was about to become.
Tattoos line sun-kissed skin as they snake from his arm up his neck. Fuck, I could come in my pants right now. And that damn toothpick. What the fuck? He can’t get that much food stuck in his teeth. If he needs to, he can always nibble on my wood…
What is wrong with me? That was horrible… I… I have no excuse.
“Beckett! Beckett!”
“Hmm,” I say, dragging my eyes away from Mt. Saint Dom.
He can mount me. I would totally let him mount me.
Jaxon snorts, and I give him the finger.
“Hey now, is that any way to treat your elders?” Dom smirks, and I give him two middle fingers. He barks out a laugh, the sound settling deep inside me, taking hold like a flower of silk nestled in thorns.
I don’t know that I could’ve written a better description than the keys did by stroking themselves… And moving on…
“I was just gonna tell you I’ll be over on Sunday to look at the washer and the window you said are having issues. Is there anything else that might need fixing while I’m there?”
Finn leans in. “The step up to the bed platform is loose.”
I laugh, remembering Finn lived in the apartment before me. “Yeah, that,” I tell Jaxon.
“I’ll take a look.”
“So, how is the apartment?” Finn asks.
“A hundred fucking times better than the shithole I was living in.”
I met Finn shortly after I moved to California.
I was a young kid with a tragic backstory who wanted to get out of this sleepy town.
Same tragic story as the next—parents died young, left alone to navigate young adulthood, fucked up at every turn, foolishly following my dreams before I even knew what they were.
That last part… that’s probably just me.
I dreamed of leaving this tiny town where everyone knows everyone’s business. I wanted the big kitchens, the white jackets, the whole Michelin fantasy—none of which Camden is exactly famous for.
That’s what I’d thought I wanted, but turns out that world isn’t for me. It’s more about how quickly you can advance your career, and less about the love of cooking. I won’t do that. I won’t sacrifice one for the other.
I’ve lost pieces of myself before. This isn’t going to be one of them. Cooking is the one thing that still feels truly authentic to me—with steady hands, the perfect heat, and genuine flavors. If I let that go, then what’s left? That would be the real failure.
I can’t fail the two people who loved me fiercely and had strong feelings about following your dreams. Sometimes, those dreams need to pivot, so that’s what I’m doing.
“I was talking to Lucas the other day,” I mention to Finn.
The table wobbles, causing me to quickly grab my beer before it topples over and spills everywhere. I look up at Dom, who’s holding on to the table, staring down at his drink and looking like it killed his beloved dog. Chill, dude.
“Oh yeah? How is he? Still a sore loser who needs to call his Daddy?” Finn jokes, setting his beer back on the table once it settles.
“Actually, his Daddy broke up with him.”
“Oh, ouch, my bad.”
“Yeah, he’s pretty torn up about it. Sounds like he’s thinking of flying out here for a few weeks. Says he needs cuddle time.” I roll my eyes.
Finn chuckles. “Always a needy little fucker.”
Lucas is a great guy, and he and Finn get along fairly well. They’re just not allowed to play Mario Kart together. Feelings get hurt.
“Wait? A few weeks. Where is he going to sleep?”
“Well, for now, he’s going to be sleeping on my couch.” I wince; we both know sharing a room with Lucas can be… difficult. He’s… messy and a loud sleeper, and I’m not talking about snoring. I’m talking tossing and turning, and little grunts and moans with every fucking shift in position.
The table wobbles again, this time with a grunt from Dom as he gets up. We need a stack of napkins. “I’m going to buy another round. Anyone need anything else?” he all but barks out. My brows rise, and I shake my head.
What’s gotten into him?
I turn to look at Finn, who just shrugs.
The bastard knows what’s going on because whatever Dom’s babysitting act is, Spencer’s in on it, and he’s a horrible liar.
The other day, I dropped a hot plate—which, to be fair, was really fucking hot—and Spencer all but pushed me out the door, telling me I work too hard and need to find time for myself before I burn out.
He’s already started the process of hiring someone to help in the kitchen.
He has no idea of the burnout I’ve already been through, and this isn’t it. Frustration? Maybe. Burnout? No.
“We should all get together when Lucas is in town,” Finn says.
“Yes, let’s do that,” I agree.
Spencer comes up behind Finn and wraps his arms around his shoulders. “Finn, honey. I don’t want you to panic.”
Finn turns his head. “Panic? What’s going on? Why would you say panic? Oh god, it’s Mazie, isn’t it?”
I laugh. Spencer is usually the one panicking, but this little girl has Finn so tightly wound around her finger, I fear the day she asks for a pony.
I never pictured Finn with a kid. Especially knowing what his life was like back in California.
But here, in this sleepy little town with his adorkable bookstore geek, I can’t see his life any other way.
I’m so happy he found love. He deserves it the most out of anyone I know. And Mazie is so fucking adorable, how could he not spoil her rotten? We all have our fingers crossed that the paperwork to adopt Mazie gets processed soon.
“Calm down,” Spencer says, kissing Finn on the lips. “We’re going to have to cut our evening short.”
“What happened? I told you that leaving her with Ms. Cook and Ms. Brandy was a bad idea. They didn’t lose her, did they? Is she sick?”
“You left her with Ms. Brandy and Ms. Cook? What were you thinking?” Jasper pipes up. “I mean, not that it matters to me who watches the spy.”
Spencer rolls his eyes. We all know Jasper has a soft spot for the nugget, even if he’s not ready to admit it.
“Shhhh, Finn, she’s fine,” Spencer says.
“Ms. Cook just called, and apparently Ms. Brandy’s sciatica is flaring up.
She said she ‘can’t handle two babies’ simultaneously, and if we don’t come back soon, she’s ‘going to duct tape someone’s mouth shut, and it won’t be Mazie’s. ’”
“Well, that’s somewhat of a relief. But yeah, we should probably head home. Oh, shoot. Beckett rode with us.”
“You guys, it’s no big deal, I swear. I can walk home.” It’s two freaking blocks.
Spencer turns and looks out the window. The rain is coming down in sheets.
I sigh, maybe not.
“I’ll drive him home,” Dom says, magically appearing by my side and handing me a drink.
Another way for him to keep tabs on me. I wish he would keep tabs on me by fucking me. At least then I’d be left feeling satisfied instead of all pent up and frustrated from looking at his sexy ass. Did I tell you his muscles are fine as fuck?
I narrow my eyes. “Okay, whatever. If it’s still raining.”
“Our work here is done. Come on, let’s go see what our little girl is up to. We might even get home in time for you to read her a bedtime story.” Spencer pulls Finn up, wrapping his arms around him. “What do you say? Wanna go be all domestic and shit?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Finn says.
Barf… I’m gonna barf. These two are so sugary sweet and in love that four out of five dentists suggest staying away.