Chapter 3 – Finnegan Sunderland
Finnegan Sunderland
C ommotion in the kitchen draws my attention. I vaguely wonder who's drunk. Sounds like someone's utterly sloshed. Hmm, maybe I'll join them. What better pass time during a blizzard? Might as well get warm and toasty from the inside out.
Sliding around the corner in my socks, my jaw falls. There's a small blonde toddler and a young woman holding a newborn baby, both on the kitchen floor.
Christ, am I in the wrong house? No, this is most certainly my kitchen.
My eyes scan the woman, she's rocking the baby and trying to comfort the toddler. All from the damned floor.
"Bloody hell, what happened here?" I ask, making my way over to them.
"I was trying a help," the toddler says. "I was making a bottle."
That's when I notice the powdered formula spilled across the floor.
"Christ, are you and the wee one alright? I'll bet that hurt, didn't it?" I ask.
"I'm fine," Mum whispers.
Crouching down, I lift her up. Luckily, I don't bust my arse and take the both of us down.
Mum is an omega. A potently sweet omega at that. She smells like lightly scented vanilla cake batter. Glancing away, I swallow thickly. Fighting the urge to lick that scent right off her lithe neck isn't easy.
Which is a completely uncalled for thought and why I turn to the still crying wee one. Lifting her up, powdered formula spills off her. It's not much, likely a bottle's worth, but the poor child looks utterly devastated.
"Mummy's not mad, Button. She's just had a bit of a tumble. Nothing we can't set back to rights. Up with you," I say, placing the toddler on the counter. "Don't fall now, it's quite high."
"I made a big mess," she sobs.
"Cove, it's okay," the mum says, making her way carefully across the kitchen.
"Might I inquire as to who you are?" I ask, scratching at my chest. "That's not one of ours…" I nod to the baby. "Right?"
Mum raises an eyebrow at me, shooting me a disdainful frown.
A jolt of panic travels right down my damn spine. Good Lord, what have Killian and Cannon been up to?
"You look a bit young for any of us," I continue. "Right? You're just taking the piss? Most definitely not one of ours? Am I mostly right? Kind of correct?"
She scoffs. "Not your kid." Her lips tip up and she shakes her head.
"I don't know what Cannon was thinking…" She snorts.
"Inviting me to stay here with two kids.
If you can't even remember all your possible baby mama's then I'll definitely be cramping your style," she says, trying to make a bottle one handed.
"I've already said I was joking." I grin. "Mostly anyway. Can I help you?"
"No, I'm sorry to be a bother. I'll sweep this up after I feed her."
"How about your name?" I ask, studying the beauty I stumbled across in our kitchen.
Mum has large blue eyes that are shadowed with exhaustion and wavy dark blonde hair. The toddler is an exact replica of mum minus being tired. The wee one is quite peppy despite the late hour.
"Riley Thomas." She nods to the toddler. "This is Cove and the baby is Lily."
"Finnegan Sunderland," I say, grabbing the dustpan and broom. "Most everyone calls me Sunde."
"Sunday?" Riley asks. Her face shows her amusement.
I prefer to think of it like Sundae. Ice cream is so much more interesting than a day of the week.
"Nah, that's just my accent." I smile. "Call me whatever you like." I give her a megawatt grin. She's clearly on edge, but I'm the least scary bloke I know.
"How old are you Riley?" I ask, studying her face. She appears quite young. I'd imagine she's over eighteen. Possibly twenty, but not much older than that.
Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head. She frowns at me before deciding to respond. "Twenty-one," she says in a soft voice.
"Right. Just making sure. A man can't be too careful." I head back her way with the broom.
"You don't have to do that," she says, popping the bottle into the tiny baby's mouth. "I promise I'll do it before I go back to bed."
"Nah, me and the button will handle this," I say, plucking the no-longer-crying toddler off the counter.
"I'm not a button," Cove says, crossing pajama clad arms over her chest. There's a delightfully cute frown on her face as she glares at me. She's precious.
"My nanny always said if you make a mess you must clean it up. Lest the guilt eat away at you all night." I wink at Riley.
She frowns.
Oh well, I'm not quite to everyone's tastes. You win some, you lose some.
"Right, Button, you hold this," I say, placing the toddler back on her feet.
"Like this?" she asks. Squatting down she holds the dustpan quite terribly at an awkward angle.
"See, you've got the idea," I say, sweeping up the formula. "Now you've got to have a strong wrist when you hold it. And try to keep it level with the floor."
I grin. She squats with her bottom out and her hands braced on the end of the handle. She's truly invested in getting this clean up done right.
This is the most fun I've had in ages. Nothing this exciting ever happens around here. Certainly not at this time of year.
Holding the dust pan with two hands, the wee one has a look of pure determination on her face. I squat down helping her hold the pan and sweeping up the mess.
"Excellent work," I praise the girl.
"I did it, Mommy!" Button squeals. She runs head first into her mother's thighs.
"Good job," Riley says, squeezing the girl with her free hand. She has to hold the bottle with her chin to manage. "Thank you." She carefully watches me.
"Put it out of your mind," I say, swiping a hand through the air. "It was nothing. Now tell me, how did Cannon come across you?"
Riley immediately shuts down. Her shoulders slump and she breaks eye contact.
Interesting.
"It's late," she says to Cove. "Let's feed Lily in the bedroom. We'll get out of your way." The last part she directs at me.
I'm so flummoxed, she's already halfway down the hallway before I realize I've royally stepped in it. The clock says four a.m. and Cannon is certainly already in bed. I suppose the mystery will hold until tomorrow.
Grabbing a water I head back to my room.
I do love a good mystery.
Actually, there's very little in life I enjoy more than unraveling a good puzzle.