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“When do we leave?”
“Do you never listen?”
“I have selective hearing,” I say and then drag his mouth down to mine, where I lick and bite until I’m ready to fuck again.
“Sweet baby Jesus, not again,” my mom mutters, and I wrench my mouth away from Finn to see my mom grabbing a bottle of wine as Vincent trots along next to her wearing that tie-dye sweater my dad made for him, looking utterly ridiculous.
And fucking cute.
“I love you both but please refrain from making out in my kitchen. It makes me nervous.”
A giggle escapes my lips, but I bite it back when she glowers at me, pointing her wine mug at me.
“I’m not fucking joking, Landon. Your brother is bad enough. I found nipple clamps in the laundry machine.Nipple clamps…Jesus fucking Christ! I do not want to imagine him wearing those.”
“Who said nipple clamps?” Logan asks loudly, coming in through the slider door, and my mom just sets the mug down and grabs the entire bottle.
“Nope. Not doing this,” she mutters and moves back outside. “I’m too old for this shit.”
“What?” Logan says and then calls out, “What’s wrong with nipple clamps, Mom?”
She plugs her ears as best she can and my brother bellows after her, “This is payback for ruining slow jams for me! I can’t even look at Beyoncé without having horrific flashbacks!”
He turns back to Finn and me and chuckles. “God, it’s too good. Just wait till she finds the dildo.”
Finn tries to move away from me, but I cling to him.
“Where you going, Finn?” I ask.
He chuckles and bends slightly, picking me up in his arms. My leg wraps around his waist as I hold onto him tightly, and Logan just beams at us, chomping on a piece of celery noisily.
“I am so fucking glad you both got your heads out of your asses.”
“Me too. And I’m glad Finn got into my ass instead….” I say and press a kiss to Finn’s neck as he sighs and carries me outside where Vincent is head-butting my mom’s ankles. My mom sighs and pulls out a carrot from her sweater pocket, handing it to the goat.
Ha, I knew she liked him, carrying around snacks for him just in case.
“Oh, hey. Guess what! Finn is going to take me on a romantic getaway,” I blurt, unable to contain my excitement.
“Oh shit, yeah?” Logan asks, following behind us, chomping away. Crunch, crunch. Like a horse. I mean, honestly, who eats celery plain like that? Is he a psychopath? Celery was made to be turned into compost. “Where you guys going?”
“He won’t tell me.”
“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Finn retorts.
“We hate surprises,” my mom says. “The family curse, remember? All surprises are bad ones.”
Well, she’s not wrong. Just look at my poor grandma. Surprised by a coconut to the head—ended up dead as a doornail. And that deer that bolted out in front of the car that night a year ago. Surprise! There went my fucking leg. Plus my scholarship and a year’s worth of college while I recovered.
“Maybe you should just tell us so it’s not a surprise, and then bad luck won’t follow,” I say, my bottom lip protruding out in a pout.
“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “I’m not telling you a thing.”
But we all just stare at him until he caves, sitting down on a chair and sliding his hand up my shirt.
“Fine, Jesus, stop with the peer pressure. I’m taking him to Carmel.”
Ooh. Yes. Carmel. It’s this small beach city on the Monterey Peninsula. It’s ritzy as fuck, but so, so pretty. I’ve never been there on vacation; I’ve only just passed through.
