More of You: The Home Series, Book Two

by Gretchen Tubbs

  “I’ve never wanted to call in sick so bad in all my life,” Finn says, hugging me at the door of our apartment. He’s all dressed and heading out to Ink Addiction for the day. He’s got those glasses on again that make me absolutely crazy.

  “You can’t. You have a family to feed. Besides, I have some neighbors to go gossip with and a date to get ready for. It’s girls only. You would only distract them with your hotness if you came over. We have much to discuss.”

  He laughs. “I don’t think Troy and Landon would mind spending the day with me.” I get a delicious kiss from Finn. Before he grabs the door, he turns back around. “Not that I’m complaining, but what changed your mind, Magpie?”

  I was hoping that it wouldn’t come up. What am I supposed to say? My dead dad came to me in a dream and told me to try? I sound like a lunatic.

  I can feel the heat on my neck and face. He rubs a thumb over my reddening cheek. “Tell me, Magpie. I want to know.”

  “It’s silly,” I tell him, looking down at the ground.

  “I want to know.”

  “I had a dream last night about my Daddy. We talked about you. Between that, and the efforts you’ve made, I wanted to give us a try. I’ve just been too scared.”

  He’s grinning, which earns him a smack on the chest. “I told you it’s silly. Now you think I’m a lunatic.”

  “I’m Irish, Magpie. I believe in fate, destiny, magic, and tiny men that hide pots of gold at the ends of rainbows. I think it’s great.” His face gets serious again. “And don’t be scared of this. This is a good thing. We are going to make this work. It’s going to be too good not to. This will be the best thing ever. Better than anything else you’ve ever had.”

  He leaves me with a beautiful kiss and a promise to pick me up at eight o’clock for our date.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Where’s the fire, Doll?” Landon asks, throwing open the door I’m currently beating on. Umm, yummy. He’s got a hint of scruff on his face, which is a rarity, and he’s wearing a faded pair of jeans, the top button undone, drawing attention to his very prominent six pack. His blonde hair is messy and sticking up in every which direction. Oh shit, maybe I interrupted him and Troy.

  “Oh, I’ll just come back later. Sorry.” I turn to leave, but he grabs my arm, pulling me into the apartment and shutting the door behind me.

  “I was just about to hop in the shower, but it can wait. Troy ran out for a minute, but he’ll be back soon.”

  I plop down on his couch and sink into the softness. “Go grab your shower. I’ll make myself comfy and fantasize about you until Troy gets back. I need to talk to y’all.”

  He’s smiling, but the second I tell him we need to talk, it drops from his face. “Is everything alright? Did something happen?”

  “Yes and yes, but I’m good.” I close my eyes, wrapped up in the comfort of him and Troy’s plush couch. I flick my hand in his general direction. “Go, I’m ready to start fantasizing.”

  A head landing in my lap wakes me from my cat nap. I open one of my eyes and peer down. Troy is grinning up at me, his dimples on full display. He looks so child-like when he’s not in his work clothes. He’s wearing black sweatpants and a tight fitting gray work out shirt. His dark hair is flat and sticking to his head. If I had to guess, a baseball cap was resting on it while he was out, but he flung on the island when he walked through the door.

  I give his brown hair a tussle. “Don’t you have some houses to sell today? Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I’d rather spend the day with my two favorite people.”

  “You’re such a liar. You didn’t even know I was over here.”

  “Well, you being here is just a bonus. Where’s Landon?” he asks, his eyes searching the apartment.

  “Showering. I was just about to go jump in with him, but you ruined my plans.”

  He laughs, sitting up beside me and giving my bump a rub. “You’re bigger than you were a few days ago. This thing is really growing.”

  “They tend to do that.”

  “How’s the hot new roommate?”

  I can feel the blush creeping up my face.

  “Maggie Brennan, what have you been up to?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I need your help.”

  Landon re-enters the living room, back in those delicious jeans, but this time he added a shirt.

  “What do you need help with?” he asks, coming to sit next to me and Troy on the couch.

  “I have a date.”

  “A date?” they ask, looking at each other with raised eyebrows.

  “Yeah. A date. With Finn,” I answer casually, checking out my cuticles like they’re the most fascinating things in the world.

  Troy stops laughing first and starts talking. “Honey, you’re pregnant, with twins, and you live with the man. I think the two of you are past dating.”

  “Well when you put it like that it sounds silly, but he wants us to date. Finn and I didn’t start out on the best of terms, you know that. He wants to do this. He wants to show me that he’s changed. That I can trust him.” I look back down at my hands. “I thought it was kind of sweet.”

  Landon grabs my hand from my lap. “Oh, Doll, it is. Let him show you what you mean to him. Let him woo you.”

  “‘Woo me’?”

  “Yes. He’s trying to get you to fall in love with him. He wants you to be completely smitten with him.”

  “It won’t take much,” I whisper. I smile at the two of them, clearing my throat. “Come next door with me. Finn took me shopping a few weeks ago. I need you to dress me for my date.”

  The boys help me pick out something to wear. Finn didn’t tell me what we were doing, so we decided it was safe to go with one of the dresses he bought me. I thought getting dresses was silly at the time, but now I’m glad he convinced me to do it.

  I’m standing in front of my full length mirror, sideways, fascinated with my ever changing profile. I swear, when I woke up this morning I was not this big. I feel like my belly doubles in size from morning to night on a daily basis.

  My dress is very simple and fitted, but it shows off every one of my curves. I like it even more than I did when we bought it, now that I’m a little bigger. It’s navy blue, short, and the sleeves stop right below my elbows. The ruching on the sides of the waistline is my favorite part. I add a chunky coral necklace and bracelet. As I slip on my navy heels and check my hair and make-up one last time, I hear the doorbell ring.

  I laugh as soon as I open the door. Finn is standing there, holding a pint of ice cream in one hand and a jar of pickles in the other. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, still laughing at his gifts. He wraps his arms around my back, the cold from the ice cream container causing a shiver. As he deepens our kiss, moving his tongue against mine, an entirely different type of shiver takes over my body.

  Finn pulls his mouth away, resting his forehead against mine to get his breathing under control. I pull away and look into his eyes. They are bright, shining, and full of lust. It puts a devious smile on my face.

  “You know, we could always have our first date in my bedroom,” I tell him, taking the ice cream and pickles from him and putting them away.

  “Hush, woman. I have plans for you, no beds involved.” He grabs my waist and turns me around, looking me up and down. “You look incredible. I love this on you.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.” I take a minute to check him out properly. He’s got on tan pants with his scuffed brown boots that I love and a chambray shirt, rolled at the sleeves, those incredible tattoos peeking out. His hair is a mess, just like I like it, and those black framed glasses are perched on his nose.

  He pulls out his phone, pulls my cheek to his, and snaps a picture.

  “Finn O’Leary, did you just take an usie? Are you gonna put that on Facebook? Make us your profile picture? I’m shocked!”

  “No, Magpie. It’s for the fridge. We have our babies up there. Don’t you think we need a pic
ture of our first date up there, too? I’m sure when they’re older they’ll want to hear all about it.”

  I smile at him, amazed at his thoughtfulness. I grab his phone and text the picture to myself.

  He smirks. “Besides, this will be a date we can actually tell them about.”

  “Did you forget something here? I thought you were all moved out.”

  I’m confused as to why we’re at Finn’s old loft.

  He shuts off his Bronco and opens the door. “Nope. This is where our date is.”

  I can feel my forehead wrinkling in confusion when he comes to my door to help me out and walk me to the door. When he pushes his loft door open, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  The space is completely transformed from how it looked just the other day when we were packing it up. If I didn’t know better, I would think I just walked into Landon’s art gallery downtown.

  “What is all this?” I ask, speaking in a whisper. I walk slowly around the space, Finn at my back.

  “I wanted you to get to know me better. This seemed like a perfect way to do it.”

  I spin on my mile high heels, coming face to face with Finn. “These are yours?”

  He gives me a shy nod, accompanied by a quiet, “Yeah.”

  I walk closer along the edge of the walls this time, taking in the sights laid out before my eyes. I notice the drawings that were on the walls the night I came over after the first attempt at Brennan Family Dinner. In the right hand corner, I can just make out Finn’s now familiar messy signature.

  Walking further along the wall, I let my focus settle on a group of beautiful oil paintings showing serene landscapes. They are displayed in a cluster of five, each of the same peaceful setting, but each a tad different from other. I look back to Finn, shocked at the fact that his name is on these, as well.

  “This is where I grew up. Loughrea, in Galway. This is my family’s land.” He points to one of the paintings at the far right of the cluster and smiles. “My earliest memories are of tormenting those poor sheep. Have you heard of Aran jumpers?”

  I give him a puzzled look.

  “Irish wool sweaters? Jumpers, in Ireland.”

  I nod.

  “My family has been farming the wool and making the sweaters for generations. You can find them in the finest shops throughout Europe.” He looks down at my belly. “We’ll make sure that the babies have original O’Leary Aran Jumpers and blankets.”

  I try to imagine a picture of a young Finn, running around Irish hillside and chasing sheep, but come up short. This is the first time he’s even so much as hinted at his past. I don’t want to talk and ruin the moment, so I don’t. I feel his hand come to the small of my back, propelling me to the next set of drawings.

  I’m staring at a woman, her face done in charcoal. Even though they are done in black and white, they are anything but harsh. The lines are soft and light. The kindness in her eyes is evident. She has the same eyes as Finn. There is a progression of age through the multitude of pictures, but it’s obviously the same woman.

  “That’s Móraí,” Finn whispers behind me as I look at the beautiful pictures. “My Da’s Mother.” I feel him laugh at my back. “Old as dirt and tough as nails. She’s the Matriarch to the O’Leary Clan. She runs all the family businesses. Textiles, farming, fishing, she’s got her hands in all sorts of things around Galway. She can be completely ruthless. Except, of course, when it comes to me. She’s got quite the soft spot when it comes to me. I hear she was like that with my Da, too.”

  He turns me in his arms, looking over my face. “She grills me about you endlessly. Wants to meet you, but refuses to leave Ireland. I guess one of my cousins over there will have to teach her how to FaceTime or Skype so she can see you. The constant nagging won’t end until she does. Or, you could always let me take you there.”

  My eyes feel hot. “You told her about me?” This makes me very happy.

  “Of course I did. She asks about you and the babies every time we talk. She thinks you’re good for me.”

  “She does?”

  He nods, smiling. “She says you’re keeping me from ‘twistin’ hay’.”

  “What?”

  “Getting into trouble. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was always in trouble when I was younger.”

  He looks back at the faces of his Móraí a beat or two longer and then continues giving me a tour of his artwork. None of the rest are quite so personal, but they are just as impressive and I enjoy them just the same. This is the most connected I’ve ever felt to Finn. Absent, however, is any talk of his parents. I don’t want to push, so I will save that line of questioning for another day. I am curious about something, though.

  “What do you want to do, Finn?”

  A look I’ve come to know quite well passes over his face. “That question could get you into a lot of trouble, Magpie.”

  I slap his shoulder. “That’s not what I mean. I mean with your life. School, career, what do you want to do?”

  “Well,” he starts, “I’ve already done the whole school thing.” He throws his arm wide and circles it around, indicating the art. “I graduated from Loyola with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. While I was living in New Orleans I interned at a tattoo shop and decided I wanted to focus on that as a career.”

  “But you have a real talent here, Finn,” I tell him, nodding to his work on the walls. “This is all so incredible.”

  “So is this,” he says, pushing his arms at me, showing off his tattoos. “I’ve had a few shows, sold some of my art in the past, it’s just not what I want to do. The art is for me. It’s cathartic.”

  I can understand that.

  “Anyway, my plan is to buy Ink Addiction and make it my own. That’s why I’m working both jobs right now. Every penny I earn goes into investments, along with the money from the artwork I sold when I got out of school. And now, I’ll have the rent coming in from this place to add to my income.”

  I must look confused by his last statement because he explains what he means about the rent.

  “I own this loft, Maggie. Móraí bought it for me after graduation. So, renting it out is pure profit. All of that will go towards the shop.” He gets quiet for a minute. “I have the money to buy it now, from my Da, but I want to save that for the babies. I want to do this on my own. It’s important to me.”

  “I get it.” I take hold of his hand and give it a squeeze. “Will you tell me about him?”

  “One day, Magpie, but not tonight. Come on, let me feed you.” He kisses me gently and leads me to the kitchen.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Finn

  She’s making it so damn hard not to throw her on the bed and bury myself inside of her. When I said to get ready for bed I thought she’d at least go in the bathroom to change, not peel that skin tight dress off while standing just a few feet away from me.

  “Maggie, what are you doing?” I ask, my breath becoming shallower as she picks up the hem of her dress.

  “Getting ready for bed, just like you asked me to.” She’s got a gleam in her eyes that doesn’t hide what she’s thinking. The dress comes over her head and I stop breathing.

  “Christ, woman, you knock the wind right out of me.”

  I’m hypnotized. She’s in front of the window, her dress dangling from her hand. The sheer panels covering the windows are letting in enough of a glow to bathe her in a bit of light, causing her to look like an otherworldly creature. As I walk towards her, her chest rises and falls more rapidly, keeping time with each one of my steps.

  When I reach her I kneel down slowly, running my hands down the outsides of her legs. I pull her heels off one at a time and place her feet back down on the floor. I look up at this beautiful creature before me. The light is surrounding her from behind, making her glow. She’s ethereal.

  I wish I had my Da’s gift for prose. I just can’t do her justice with the words I have.

  I stand up and walk to the back of her. Slowly, I move her blonde h
air off one shoulder and push it to the other. Her body shivers at my touch, goose bumps erupting across the surface of her creamy skin. My lips move to replace the spot on her neck that I just cleared, my hands move to wrap around her growing belly. I cradle her in my arms, breathing her in, intoxicated by her.

  “Finn, I want you,” she tells me as my lips move down her neck and along her shoulder.

  “And I want to draw you, Magpie. Will you let me?”

  My hands move from her belly to cup her breasts, which are getting more heavy and swollen with each passing day. She moans as soon as I get them in my hands. She nods against me. My hands slide to her back, unclasping her black bra. My arms travel with the straps down her arms and I throw it to the floor. Maggie pushes against my growing cock, but I’m not giving in to her. I’m merely drawing her tonight, and then putting her to bed.

  “Get on the bed.” My voice sounds like I’ve smoked a pack of cigarettes tonight, even though I haven’t had one in ages. I told Maggie I wouldn’t sleep with her, not that I didn’t want to. She’s got me wound up so fucking tight.

  “Now you’re talkin’, Irish,” she says, walking over to the bed. I can’t do anything but shake my head at this woman.

  I run out the room to grab my sketchbook and some pencils out of my room. When I come back into her bedroom, she’s on her side in bed, her head resting in her hand, and that scrap of black lace she was wearing as panties dangling from her other hand.

  “You forgot to take off these,” she purrs.

  “I don’t need those off to draw you, tease,” I say, taking the lace from her and shoving it in my pocket. She reaches for me but I shake my head. I busy myself arranging Maggie in the perfect position to sketch her. I keep her propped, but replace her hand with some pillows, pull the sheet over her legs and arrange it under her bump, and use her thick, wild blonde hair as a curtain for her breasts. The last thing I do is take off her jewelry.

  “This is all very Titanic-like, Finn,” she says, yawning. “I didn’t know you could be such a romantic.”