Let Me (O'Brien Family, #2)

“Why?” I ask, my tone deepening further.


“Because it makes me wish you hadn’t stopped kissing me.”

Fair enough. So I pull her close and kiss her again.





CHAPTER 9


Finn



“It’s that one, with the red door,” Sol says.

She had to leave her car for some minor repairs at Teo’s shop. I’d picked her up in the parking lot at her internship and then took her out for a late dinner. It was nice. Real nice, reinforcing how much I like her.

I pull my F-150 to the curb, on the opposite side of the one way street. I’ve been through this neighborhood a few times, and in the ones in the surrounding blocks, but I didn’t realize exactly where she lived.

“Something wrong?” she asks.

She must have caught the change in my expression. She’s like that, able to pick up on even the most subtle changes. But her soft smile tells me she’s not offended. “Nah,” I say, setting my truck in park. “I just didn’t realize this was your neighborhood. You’re not far from where I grew up. Maybe a mile and change.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asks.

“Not at all,” I tell her. “I have a couple of friends on this block―they can be real dumbasses sometimes―but they’re good people.” I reach to play with the edges of her soft hair. “But if I knew you lived here, I would have hung out with them more.”

She glances down in that shy way of hers. “Who do you know around here?”

It’s what she asks, but I think she’s trying to talk just to talk, like she’s suddenly nervous. She probably thinks I’m going to kiss her again. If so, she’s right. Those kisses on Teo’s couch the other night were sexy and sweet, just like her. If I’m being truthful, I can’t keep her out of my mind.

I didn’t let my hands wander again when she pulled away, but I’ll admit it was hard. Sol has that typical Latina body: plump breasts, firm round ass and a tiny waist. But in my book “no” never means “maybe” or “keep trying to see how far you can get”. It means you’re doing more than she wants, and you need to stop. “Trevell McMurphy and Angelo Conti,” I finally answer.

She rolls her eyes, but keeps her smile. “You’re right. They are dumbasses. Did you hear what Angelo did when he was at Kutztown?”

“Streaked naked through a sorority house?”

“No―I mean, yes, that, too. But there’s more.”

“Pissed in front of the dean’s house?”

She starts laughing. “Yes. I heard that, too. But did you hear how he and his cousin got wasted and broke into a state store?”

I unbuckle my seatbelt and swivel in my seat. “When the hell was that?”

“Last semester of senior year during finals week.” She follows suit and removes her seatbelt, turning to face me and getting all into the story. “They claimed they were drunk and stressed from the exams. So they break in through a back window. But an alarm goes off and the police come.” She makes the raw-oo, raw-oo sound of a siren for effect, making me laugh. “Well, of course, they panic. And panic and dumbasses don’t mix well. His cousin grabs a case of Sam Adams, screaming something like, ‘if I’m getting caught, I’m getting caught taking beer.’”

I hold out a hand. “Back up a minute. He thinks it’s better to get caught with evidence rather than just taking off with the hopes of not getting caught at all? Nice,” I say, laughing harder.

“I know, right? Like you said, total dumbasses.” She bounces in her seat. “So the cousin runs off, carrying a case of high-end beer in hand. Angelo grabs a six-pack of Schlitz and another of Iron City and takes off like the building is on fire.”

By now I’m laughing so hard my sides are killing me. “What an asshole.”

Sol waves an arm out. “And who gets caught?”

“No way. Tell me it wasn’t Angelo.”

She nods. “His father had to drive up to bail him out. From what I heard he smacked him upside the head on their way out of the precinct, humiliated―not because his drunk son broke into a liquor store―but because of the type of beer he stole. Is it a wonder Angelo is so screwed up?”

I wipe my eyes because yeah, I’m laughing that hard. “Okay. I have a good drunk story for you. You know my brother Seamus?”

“The contractor?”

“No. That’s Angus. Seamus is the carpenter. Anyway, since Seamus never went to college, he never experienced what it was like to hit the parties, join a frat, that sort of thing. He was playing around with the idea of going when Curran enrolled and was pretty much shouting to the world how he was having the time of his life. Seamus felt like he was missing out. Curran, being who he is, invites him up during Greek Week or whatever it’s called. Big mistake.”

She covers her mouth. “On Curran’s part or Seamus’s?”