Finding Peace (Rollin On Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  A sun with rays shooting from the back of his ribs, stretching toward his spine, then in the center of the sun is a woman’s face with wispy hair and pretty eyes, like one you would see in a modern video game.

  Spikey roses and thorns jut out in random places, then interspersed between all those are what appears to be diamonds or some other precious gem.

  “So…,” he begins again, startling me and I literally jump where I stand. He looks at me curiously but then looks back at Evie, deciding I’m just a fruit loop and it’s definitely not worth asking. “I was so mad at you for standing me up,” he admits. “I thought you were a b.i.t.c.h on the fame train.”

  “The fame train?”

  “Yeah, as in you knew I was a Kincaid, ready to jump aboard, but then you stood me up because I wasn’t Jim or Bobby.”

  “I didn’t know you were a Kincaid.” I want him to know that. To believe that. I would never stand him up if I had a choice, and I especially wouldn’t stand him up because he wasn’t his brothers.

  “I guess we established that downstairs when you knocked my balls up into my throat. I could taste them, you know that?”

  “I’m so sorry.” I’m whispering, feeling doubly awful but he shakes his head softly.

  “You had good aim.” His lips twitch up at the side, the first smile he’s given me tonight and my stomach flips. He’s so handsome. “We kinda encourage that around here. We like our girls to be able to defend themselves.”

  Our girls? “Yeah, I heard about your brother teaching Kit how to fight. And Izzy too.”

  “Yeah, the girls in our family sure know how to fight. I’m surprised they haven’t dragged you along yet,” he muses distractedly, then he takes a cup and starts to trickle the water over Evie’s hair.

  She sits still, eyes closed, with a contented smile on her chubby face and lets him do it. I stare open-mouthed. She fights me like I’m hacking her leg off when I wash her hair. “Do you like that, Smalls?”

  “Yeah-huh,” Evie says, melting under his ministrations. I can’t believe I’m jealous of my daughter right now.

  “Why do you call her Smalls?”

  “Dunno,” he rumbles, massaging her head with his fingers, his arm muscles rippling with the movement. “I just did, then she called me Biggie. Now it’s stuck.”

  “It’s kinda cute,” I admit and his lip lifts again. I swear he’s fighting it. He doesn’t want to give me the smiles.

  “She’s kinda cute.”

  “Yeah she is.”

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

  Deciding to get comfortable, I stroll the rest of the way into the bathroom, but spotting myself in the mirror, I groan again at the reminder. I look so bad.

  Resigned to looking like shit in front of this guy, I sit on the closed lidded toilet and I turn back to Aiden. “See what?”

  “You and Smalls. You’re almost identical except the hair. I should’ve seen it.”

  “Guess you were too busy looking at my ass,” I quip, attempting to be funny. I regret the words instantly. But then I stop regretting them when he gives me a full-face smile.

  “Yeah, Peaches, I was definitely distracted.”

  Ugh. “Can you not call me Peaches?”

  “Why not? It’s cute. You’re cute. Your butt is cute.”

  “I have a name--”

  “You have several names, apparently,” he argues, his smile gone flat again. Touché. I should have just let him call me Peaches.

  “Come on Smalls, time to hop out.” He takes a towel from the counter beside me and wraps her immediately. “Did you bring any spare clothes for her?”

  I shake my head. Incompetent mothers 101.

  “It’s okay. Let’s grab you something from Kitten’s closet.” He walks by me, carrying her as she snuggles against him.

  I follow behind them like I’m the outsider, dragging my feet and feeling like an idiot. A total, incompetent, hobo-lookalike idiot.

  I should have known today would only get worse.

  I should just go home.

  “Are you still freaking?” Aiden’s voice breaks through my pity party and I look up to find him flicking through a clean clothes basket at the foot of Kit’s bed.

  “Freaking?”

  “Do you still think I’m some stalker who’s gonna steal your daughter?”

  Oh. Well. “Do you still think I’m a psycho woman who followed you home and tried to steal your little girlfriend?”

  “Not anymore,” he smiles, something I would normally fixate on, but I’m busy swooning as he distractedly pulls a Rollin’ tank over Evie’s head. “I see the resemblance now,” he continues. “She’s yours, so I guess I gotta play nice if I ever wanna see her again.”

  I work to not flinch at his words. He’s good at these sneaky jabs - lethal and to the point. But I don’t want him to play nice just to get to Evie. I don’t want to be used. I also frown because he pulls a fresh shirt over his own head, removing his dark cap to pull it on then replacing it again.

  Shaking away my perversions, I focus on his dark eyes again. “You make this sound like we’re a divorced couple fighting for her.”

  “Not fighting, Peaches. I’m just smitten and hope you don’t hold tonight against me.”

  “I won’t,” I murmur, irrationally heartbroken and not even sure why. I met the man less than an hour ago. “She loves you, so I can’t keep you apart even if I wanted to.”

  “You love me, Smalls?” He picks her up again and she wraps her arms and legs tightly around him. I feel totally redundant right now and I don’t like it. I’ve been her everything since the day she was born, then the strong and handsome Kincaid just strolls on in and takes her from me.

  I don’t like it.

  “Yes. I wuv you, Biggie.”

  “Aw baby, I love you too,” he answers her softly, so softly I’m sure the words weren’t meant to be overheard, but I hear anyway and my heart and mind war with each other.

  I want my baby to be loved. That’s all any mother wants, is for her baby to be surrounded by love. But I’m selfish enough to want to be enough for her.

  Momming is hard.

  “Have you eaten yet?” Aiden asks, walking away with Evie securely in his arms and I follow him out of the room.

  No. I wasn’t hungry earlier. I was anxious and stuck under Evie. “Yeah.”

  He stops on the spot, halfway down the hallway, about ten feet from the staircase landing and he turns to face me. I step back because he’s suddenly the closest I’ve even been to him, and he’s big. Big and intimidating.

  His features are just so dark, the opposite to his brothers. Now that his chest is covered again, I can focus on his face. Where Jimmy and Bobby are flirty and light and outgoing, Aiden is quiet and mysterious. He more resembles Izzy’s brother Jon, even though they’re not actually related at all.

  Every time I’ve seen him, including this time, he’s worn a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, shadowing them and making them appear darker.

  His square jaw is so sculpted it’s as though his creator took a knife and shaped it exactly right, setting the mold for everyone who came after him. He has a shallow stubble and I can’t decide if it looks spiky or soft. I’d like to touch it though, just to check.

  “You just lied again,” he declares but this time he’s not looking at me like I’m the enemy. Mostly he looks like he’s playing with me.

  “I--”

  “You just lied, right?” he chuckles and my face flares with embarrassment. “Honest answer? Call it market research.”

  “Yeah,” I admit, looking down at my feet.

  His big hand cups my jaw, drawing my face up to his. “Why’d you lie?”

  “How’d you know I lied?”

  “Your voice does this hitching thing. It’s like your body rebels against the lie,” he laughs again, the sound dragging out throatily and I swallow my spit before I dribble. “And your right hand grabs your left.”

  “It d
oes not--”

  “Peaches?”

  “What?”

  “Look at your hands right now.”

  I drop my hands, stepping away from his smile and Evie’s giggles. She thinks he’s hilarious. Traitor.

  “So why’d you lie?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t want you to think I was a hungry hobo.”

  “A hungry hobo?” he asks, still smiling. I’m tempted to kick him in the nuts again.

  “Well, I look like a hobo… I didn’t want you to think I’m also hungry.”

  “You do look a little homeless right now. What gives?”

  I groan. “We’ve had a big day.”

  “Come downstairs. I’ll make you something to eat and you can tell me about your day.”

  “I can’t just come downstairs and cook in Kit’s kitchen.”

  “You won’t be cooking. I will be.”

  “Still, we can’t--”

  “Would you rather come to my kitchen?” he asks with a lifted brow. He’s daring me. “I’m just across the street.”

  I definitely do not want to go to his kitchen. I’ll probably get pregnant just by being alone with him. My ovaries have been squealing for attention since he took his shirt off.

  Or perhaps from when he hugged my daughter and caught her vomit with his chest.

  Five

  Aiden

  Don’t be a pussy

  I pull a stool out for Tina slash Sarah slash Peaches with one hand while Evie lies super relaxed against me in the other. “Take a seat.”

  Looking away from her peach ass, I spot Tink out the corner of my eye, sneaking around the dining room corner with a mischievous smile on her face and her arm batting someone away behind the wall. Probably Jack. Immature fools.

  I glare at her, snapping my head to the side, telling her to get lost and with a giggle and some scuffling behind the wall, she shoots back and out of sight.

  I shake my head.

  It feels like we’re in grade school all over again. Except this time I get Tink along for the ride too.

  I honestly don’t know how Kit survived. They’re opposites in every way.

  “I can take her.” Tina nods toward her daughter, going to stand again but I tuck Evie closer, enjoying the warm and sleepy snuggles.

  I’ve only ever held a sleepy Evie once before but I had to cut it short to go home.

  “I got it, Peaches. You wanna put her down to bed for a bit?”

  “I’ll take her,” Kit says, conveniently sashaying into the kitchen and I roll my eyes.

  Subtle.

  “You don’t have to--” Tina starts but Kit brushes her off and takes an almost asleep Evie from my arms.

  “Her Advil is ready in the other room. I’ll take her to lie down and you can have something to eat, you’re probably starving.” Without another word, Kit winks at me then leaves the room.

  I seriously thought these people were cooler. They’re not. They’re not subtle at all.

  “What do you like to eat?”

  “I’m not h--”

  “Peaches. What do you like to eat?”

  “I don’t kn--”

  “Any deadly allergies?”

  She sighs. “No.”

  “Okay, I gotcha.” I turn from her beautiful hobo face and help myself to Bobby and Kit’s fridge. I’m no sous chef, so I just grab some bacon and eggs, and some cheese and ketchup out then dump them all by the cooktop. I’ll make us sandwiches.

  Protein and carbs. I’ll pour her some milk and we have a complete meal.

  I flick the gas on and get the burner going then I grab a pan from the cupboards and toss it on top. I crack eggs into the sizzling pan before I turn back around to face her.

  “So tell--” I stop speaking, focusing on Tina as she flails. She was sitting with her elbow on the counter, her chin in her hand and a film over her eyes, but now her face is on fire, her chin slipping off her proffered hand.

  She rights herself in her stool, avoiding my gaze and I let the awkward moment drag out, tormenting her.

  I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I’d give anything to find out.

  “I should go home now.”

  “You good?” I ask as I lean back against the counter, the sound of sizzling eggs behind me. “Nearly fall out of your chair?”

  She groans out loud. “Shut up.”

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not gonna tell me?”

  “Not ever,” she declares petulantly and I smile big.

  When she meets my gaze again, pink washing anew over her features, I turn back to the stove and toss some bacon into the heat. I turn and grab some bread then I pop the toaster down and walk to the fridge to grab some butter as she finger combs her hair nervously.

  “So tell me about your day,” I ask again, remembering how this whole fiasco began. Remembering we actually had a date set for tonight and she was a no show.

  “It started out with Evie vomiting on me in bed,” she begins and I grimace. That would suck.

  “Is she okay? Why’s she vomiting so much?”

  “She’s fine, just a tummy bug. It happens. Toddlers lick shit, it’s gross.”

  “That is gross,” I agree, flipping the eggs and imagining my sweet Evie licking random stuff. I should talk to her about that.

  “So, she woke me up, vomiting all over me, then we showered and vomited some more. Then I had to cancel a really well-paying client, which made me want to vomit, then I had to stand Sexy Store Guy up.”

  “Shitty day,” I muse and she snorts inelegantly.

  “Super shitty day.”

  “So, you call me Sexy Store guy?”

  “You call me the babe who eats Cap’n Crunch?” she returns and I grin at her twinkling eyes. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen them twinkle before. I’ve seen them scared. I’ve seen them wary. I’ve seen them pissed.

  But twinkling is nice. I like it.

  “No. I call you The Ass, but I didn’t wanna tell my brothers that. I didn’t wanna draw attention to it.”

  Tina smiles, a soft chuckle working past her lips. “Your brothers have been blind to anyone but their girls for as long as I’ve known them.”

  I nod. I know that, but I wasn’t going to risk it.

  I turn back when the toast pops up then I start buttering, smothering the slices.

  “Anyway, that’s why I look like a hobo today,” she continues. I turn back to her, one eye on her pretty face, the other eye on my food prep. Because men can multitask. “I started my day covered in vomit, I got half a shower with Evie where I didn’t actually get any water, just enough to wet my hair and make me cold but not enough to wash. Then Evie slept on me most of the day. Then I sulked a bit about lost work and a lost date. I called Kit to cancel and she made us come over. I specifically asked if you would be here--”

  “You did? Why?”

  “Well, I mean, I knew you existed. I guess I was intimidated by my daughter’s boyfriend. The girls haven’t shut up about how single you are,” she says and I groan. “Or how good looking you are,” she continues and suddenly I’m not groaning anymore. “I was scared to meet you looking like this. Turns out you had a date tonight,” she says sarcastically, throwing her hands in the air and I chuckle. “I even checked your driveway when I got here. All that for naught, because your date stood you up, you came home early and tried to kick me out of here anyway.”

  I plate her sandwich, then mine, then I grab milk from the fridge and glasses from the cupboard, then sit them all on the counter in front of Tina.

  I take a seat next to her, my knee brushing her thigh because I pulled my chair closer than I probably should have.

  I’m not moving it. She can move if she’s uncomfortable.

  “Thanks for the sandwich,” she murmurs, picking at the crumbs on her plate.

  “Welcome.”

  I pick my own up with both hands and bite into it, and I watch her lift the top slice of hers
, picking a tiny corner of the bacon off, she puts it in her mouth.

  I chew my mouthful, watching her pick delicate pieces but by the third pick, I can’t ignore it any longer.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Yeah, I’m starving.”

  “So eat.”

  “I am.” She picks another dainty piece.

  “Pick the sandwich up and bite it.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, picking again.

  I snatch her plate and stand up.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asks, her hand still suspended in air above where her sandwich was just sitting.

  I don’t answer her, instead I just walk around the island counter and to the knife block.

  I take one and cut her sandwich into four small triangles, like I would for a kid, then I slide the plate back toward her, the plate coming to a rest almost under her hand again.

  I couldn’t aim more perfect if I tried.

  “Now eat it. Actually eat. You make me feel like my cooking is shit.” I sit again, picking my whole sandwich up and taking a large bite. I’m starving too. I was expecting to eat earlier.

  In a restaurant.

  With this girl.

  “So, I guess you forgot your topic cards, huh?”

  “Yep,” she answers with a smile as she eats her triangles. “And it turns out I already know your siblings, so we lost that hour of material too.”

  “I guess we’re done then.”

  “Guess so,” she agrees with a soft laugh. “I’ll just eat my food and go home then, I suppose.”

  I hope not.

  “Tell me about yourself. Your family?”

  “Nope,” she says suddenly, so suddenly, so to the point I actually blink in surprise.

  “No?”

  “No, not gonna tell you about my family.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “Got none.”

  “None? At all?”

  “You know my family. You know Evie.”

  “Where are your folks?”

  “Good as dead.”

  “Jesus, Peaches. What’d they do to you?”

  “Nothing. They did nothing.”