Page 87 of Savage Blooms
“You’re cold,” Adam said simply. “You need a coat.”
Maybe it was something about all Americans, or maybe it was something about Adam, but Finley found the way he offered up his goodwill without an ulterior motive uncomfortably sexy.
This was bad, Finley decided. Eileen might permit all sorts of indiscretions in her house, but only when she was the one pulling the strings.
Finley was doing it again, rushing to defend Eileen from her own bad behavior. The woman wasn’t even here; who was he trying to please?
Fuck Eileen’s plans. Hell, fuck Eileen. Finley was allowed to keep things for himself, never to be shared with her, and maybe this spark of interest was something he could nurse in private. It wasn’t likely to go anywhere, anyway. What could it hurt?
“Walk me home?” Finley ventured, allowing himself the indulgence of a slight innuendo threaded through the words. It was so faint he doubted Adam could have picked up on it, but it still felt electric, thrilling, like Finley was a boy stealing a peek at his Christmas presents before his father caught him.
“Happy to,” Adam said, and fell into step beside him.
They found Eileen and Nicola curled up in the parlor loveseat, peering down at the brightly lit phone screen in Eileen’s hand. Nicola’s brows were furrowed in concentration, her fingertips pressed to her lips.
“What if you move that little cherry cluster over to the left?” she asked. “Would that complete the pattern?”
“No,” Eileen said, glued to her phone. She tapped it a few times, resulting in the sound of popping bubbles and chiming bells. She hadn’t even heard Finley and Adam walk into the house. “We should remove the apples first, there are more of them. But I don’t see how.”
“You could use a power-up?”
“I could, but I consider that cheating.”
“Since when do you have any moral scruples when it comes to winning?”
“It’s not a matter of morality. Winning when there’s more of a challenge is simply more satisfying.”
Finley cleared his throat, standing awkwardly in the doorway with Adam at his side. It seemed rude to interrupt whatever strange feminine bonding ritual was going on as Eileen and Nicola tried to riddle out the right strategy to beat Eileen’s fruit-matching game. Eileen tended to prefer analog games, but she always kept two or three games on her phone, dumping a small fortune in microtransactions into them in an effort to beat her own high scores.
“Oh,” Eileen said, shaken from her reverie. She clicked off her phone screen. “You’re back.”
“We’re back,” Finley said.
Eileen glanced up at Finley through mascaraed lashes. Finley knew that look. It was her best approximation at an apology.
“Got all the nonsense out of your system?” Eileen asked.
Nicola elbowed her in the ribs.
“Because I’ve got it out of mine,” Eileen added.
“Looks like we’re both feeling better,” Finley said, impressed by the show of personal responsibility, tiny though it was. What kind of spell had Nicola cast over Eileen to make her so agreeable?
“You know what I think we all need?” Adam asked, clasping Finley on the shoulder. Finley tried not to tense. Apparently, Adam was very physically effusive with his friends. “Brandy.”
“And then,” Finley added, “I think we’re overdue for a level-set. Are we all in a place where we can talk things through like adults?”
“I’m game,” Adam said.
“Me too,” Nicola replied.
“You bring the brandy and I’ll bring my best behavior,” Eileen said.
Finley nodded. It was a start.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Eileen
