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“Who is it supposed to be?” Fiona asked. “Which Finn is getting his own flavor this time?”
Wyatt hadn’t even thought about that. “Please tell me it’s not Younger. He’s not this spicy.”
Thoreau shook his head. “These are my personal creations, not necessarily a part of the Finn theme. And it’s a surprise until I’ve perfected the final beer of the series,” he finished mysteriously, popping a fried mushroom into his mouth.
“Sounds intriguing.”
“Delicious,” Wyatt corrected her, licking his lips. “And Seamus is jealous I’m tasting it before he gets to, which I love. Wayne-plex living has definite perks. Thor makes the good stuff.”
“Told you.”
Fiona looked back and forth between them again with a puzzled expression. “Have I slipped into an alternate universe?”
Wyatt grinned. Had they been that bad?
Probably.
He waggled his fingers through the air. “Maybe we all have.”
Thoreau tried to grab for Wyatt’s bottle but he was faster and held it up out of reach. “Hey now.”
“Do I need to get the sippy cup out again? You’ve been off the pain meds for a while now.”
Wyatt scowled. “I’m fine, Thor. This is only my second bottle. I used to need a six-pack before I got a buzz.”
Fiona patted his thigh. “Take it slow or we’ll nip this party in the bud, bud.”
Wyatt nearly moaned at the contact. She might be aiming for soothing but her touch sent a bolt of lust straight to his dick.
“I’ll forgive you for calling me bud and not kissing me hello if you keep doing that.” He gestured to her fingers caressing the bare skin beneath the hem of his shorts.
“Kiss him hello, Fi.”
Fiona stared at Thoreau, and then Wyatt, with a question in her eyes. She looked as though she couldn’t quite decide what was going on but was determined to play along.
Leaning forward, she pressed her closed lips to his chastely.
He grumbled when she tried to pull away and cupped the back of her neck with his free hand. “That’s not a real hello.”
He traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, tempting her with the spicy flavor of Thoreau’s creation until she opened her mouth for him. Tilting his head, he kissed her deep, groaning softly when she sucked lightly on his tongue and nipped his lower lip before backing away.
“Hello,” she said softly.
“Hello, Fiona.”
She licked her lips and smiled at Thoreau, who was watching silently. “Wyatt’s right. It tastes good.”
Thoreau gave her a look of sensual approval, and she cleared her throat. Wyatt had to admit the man had game, if he could get Fiona flustered with just a look.
And your assist, man. You did kiss her first.
That made him feel better.
“So why are we having a party in the first place?” she asked him.
“Wyatt got his bill of health from the doctor and can start working out and getting back to normal again. I’m creating another brewing masterpiece. You’re here.” Thoreau leaned back on the pillows and finished off his beer. “We figured it was about time we got to know each other better, so we’re sharing stories.”
She swallowed hard, looking anywhere but at either of them. Yup, definitely flustered. He wasn’t used to seeing her like this.
“You’ve been sharing stories without me?” She tossed back her juice like it was a shot of whisky. “I love stories. Any topic in particular?”
Wyatt snorted. “Mostly firsts and embarrassing kid shit. Now I know that I was right about him being class president and king nerd in middle school.”
“And I know more about the pranks he played in high school and his favorite sock.”
Wyatt picked up a stuffed date and aimed it at him threateningly. “We’re not talking about that sock again. Ever.”
“Okay, this sounds fun,” Fiona said with a relieved grin. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
Thoreau reached up to push a few strands of hair back behind her ear, and Wyatt saw her shiver of awareness. “We weren’t planning on it. But you have to join in. Those are the rules. We all share.”
She held her breath for a moment, looking wary. “I’m in.”
Wyatt frowned. She wasn’t reacting the way they’d expected. She loved talking about feelings, right? She seemed fine with the level of sexual tension in the air, just not the sharing. At least, not when it came to her sharing.
What was that about?
“I think it was my turn,” Thoreau said into the silence. “I’ve already told you both enough about my sisters to be in trouble, so we’re moving on to brothers now. It’s pretty boring, honestly. Other than all four of us going through a phase where we hated being named for famous authors in history, we were normal. Robert had a lot of friends, so he was gone most of the time. I hung with my sisters, but occasionally Emerson would join Austen and me in our basement lab of horrors and we’d nearly blow the house up. By accident, obviously.”
