Chapter 34
Quinn
I hover outside my father’s office, listening with Lucas at my back.
“It’s not our fault!” Madoc shouts.
“It is absolutely your fault!”
I wince, my dad’s voice more of a growl than a bellow. Lucas holds my shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the back of my neck.
My parents got home late last night, and when they found out everything they’d missed, they wouldn’t even listen to me.
My brothers were summoned. Jared, Madoc, and Jax haven’t been in there more than sixty seconds, and there’s already shouting.
I can just picture them lined up in front of my father’s desk like they’re back in high school facing the principal.
I don’t hear my mother at all. Usually, she can shorten my dad’s leash, but if she doesn’t, then she must agree with him.
“I have raised her for twenty-one years without incident!” my dad screams. “I leave her with you three for a week, and she moves out, jumps into bed with an older man, and almost gets herself killed!”
I half roll my eyes. He’s just as bad as my brothers. As if he wasn’t an older man, seducing my mother when she was younger than me.
He keeps railing, my brothers not saying a word, and I turn my head, lifting my eyes to the only man I’ve ever wanted. As if they couldn’t see this coming my entire life.
“He’ll come around,” I say.
My dad is like him. And like my siblings. He tends to react before he reasons.
“I’ll speak to him tonight.” Lucas dips his nose to my hair. “I need to talk to Farrow first.”
He takes my hand and leads me through the kitchen where Juliet, Hunter, and A.J.
make breakfast, and out of the house, around the back.
Everyone showed up here this morning to get all the news and the full story from Lucas, but he’s avoided talking to anyone until he can see my father.
Farrow stands just inside my father’s second garage, checking out his boat.
Lucas reaches into his breast pocket and hands Farrow documents in a trifold—the deed to Green Street, I assume.
Farrow lifts the corners of his mouth, looking pleased, but he doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t say thank you for a free building.
Instead, he holds out his hand, asking, “Your key?”
I shift my eyes to Lucas.
He simply cocks his head. “If you feel it necessary to keep me out, change the locks.”
I smile to myself, but I’m not sure why.
Not reading the documents shows that Farrow trusts Lucas, but by Lucas still requesting access shows that Lucas doesn’t trust him.
Not completely. I guess I like that he feels a responsibility to keep an eye on Farrow, and not because he doesn’t like him, but because he does.
Serving in Weston’s city government is a commitment to serve the citizens, and Farrow knows as well as Lucas does that Green Street serves itself first. They’re not in this together. Not one hundred percent.
Farrow sticks the deed into the back pocket of his jeans. “If you keep a key, then you’re complicit in what happens there.”
“I don’t plan on being complicit in anything,” my man responds. “No drugs, no arms, no prostitution.”
Farrow laughs, but he doesn’t look amused. “Does that include weed?” he retorts.
Marijuana is legal in this state, but Farrow isn’t seriously asking. Selling weed won’t make them the income they’re used to making.
“How the fuck do you expect us to make money?” he barks.
“I have some ideas,” Lucas replies calmly, as if he expected the pushback. “But ultimately, it can be anything you won’t be ashamed to tell Fallon about.”
What? I glance between them.
Why would Farrow have to explain anything to Fallon, of all people?
“Let’s meet at Breaker’s at seven.” Lucas offers Farrow his hand. “We have things to discuss.”
They shake, and I almost ask if I can come, but Lucas will feel better on his own.
And I have so much to do. Frosted and the house.
We make our way back up to the patio, the trickle of the little waterfall in our pool soothing as the sound of the lawn mower kicks up and the scent of grass hits my nostrils.
Looking up, I see Madoc pushing our old lawn mower that my dad doesn’t even use anymore. He keeps it because “kids who can’t be trusted don’t get to use the riding mower.” Jax holds open a canvas bag as Jared swipes a cordless trimmer around the hedges and dumps little branches into it.
I let my mouth fall open, the urge to laugh nearly overtaking me. They’re being punished? They’re more than forty years old.
“I can’t believe they stayed for this.”
“They love this family,” Lucas states, holding my waist. “They want your dad happy.”
I shake my head, blinking a few times to make sure I’m still seeing Jared actually doing yardwork that’s not for his own yard.
Maybe he likes having a father, after all.
My eyes start to sting, and I blink it away.
“I’d better help,” Lucas says.
He leans in for a kiss, but I pull back. “What did you mean about Fallon? Why would Farrow care about her knowing what he does?”
Lucas just kissed my forehead. “I’ll tell you later. Promise.”
He starts to move toward my brothers, two of whom haven’t completely accepted us yet, but I hold on to him for another minute.
“Can you actually wrangle them for another job?” I offer a shy smile. “Mom says I can have the bed from my room until I get the house renovated and pick out a new one.”
His eyes widen, and he inhales a deep breath. “You want me to ask your brothers to help move their sister’s bed that I’m going to sleep with her in?”
“You have to.” I shrug. “Jared has a truck.”
I kiss his cheek, then move to his mouth. “I have to get to the shop. All of my ice cream equipment came in,” I breathe over his lips, “and my stand opens this weekend.”
And I have to call a plumber, and figure out some more furniture, and get the Jeep registered, and whip up about fifteen gallons of ice cream.
I bolt away, but Lucas hauls me back, and I grin wide as he wraps his arms around me. Sinking his mouth onto mine, I brush his tongue, my body stirring so easily that I could forget the rest of my day if we didn’t already have the promise of tonight.
I feel my brothers scowling at us, but I don’t look because I’m not going to stop.
“See you in Weston after my meeting with Farrow tonight,” he whispers.
I nod, picking out the piece of old, folded notebook paper from my pocket and handing it to him.
“I added number eleven,” I tease. “I may or may not be in the attic when you get home.”
He opens it as I move away, reading what I wrote this morning.
Home invasion role play.
Like the Marauders from Winslet’s day.
Stifling his smile, he quickly refolds it and stuffs it into his pocket.
“Leave the lights off for me,” he says with one final kiss.
And I nearly bounce all the way to Frosted.