Third Time Lucky (Finn's Pub Romance 3)

He said he was sorry.

Why did he kiss me? That’s what I can’t figure out. I had him ranked and slotted and firmly in the friendzone. Or the I-fantasize-in-private-but-manage-to-restrain-myself-in-his-company-zone. This never should have happened.

Was it pity after hearing that I’d been dumped and was forced to rely on my brother to find a man? All the honest, almost intimate conversations we’ve been having?

Someone else might want you, but I sure as hell don’t.

No matter how far I get from that small stretch of road, it’s still inside me, ready to pop up again every time I meet with failure or rejection.

Does some part of me think I deserve it? Is that why I keep finding men who don’t want to want me? Who regret me? Did I stay with my ex for so long because he gave me a regular fix of that dysfunction and kept me from looking for something better?

If so, that part of me is full of shit and needs its ass kicked. Fuck that loser. I have every right to have the kind of relationship JD has with Carter. That Royal has with his wife, Austen.

I lied to Elliot. I won’t forget tonight, but I won’t use it to torture myself. I’m almost glad it happened. That kiss helped me realize what I really want in a relationship. I want that kind of passion, that same level of intensity, only with someone who isn’t ashamed of it, or me. I want to feel the way I felt tonight with someone else.

You don’t want someone else. You want Elliot.

I’ll get over it.

Chapter Seven

Joey

T-Diddy: Isn’t it relaxing to sleep in? Why are we up so early?

J-Pop: Grown-ups do this. That light you see out your window? It’s called the sun.

T-Diddy: I taught you about the sun, son. Before me you were up all night raiding castles with your gaming buddies.

J-Pop: It was Halo.

T-Diddy: Do I care?

J-Pop: *backing away slowly* Someone hasn’t had her morning tea yet.

T-Diddy: No, but I have some tea for you. Are you dressed? I need to see your face for this.

J-Pop: I’m not in a good place for FaceTime.

My phone instantly starts vibrating as I sit on the edge of my bed, the sound loud in the quiet room. “Why do I bother?”

I press accept with a resigned sigh.

“Where’s your shirt?” Tani asks.

“I’m not wearing pants either. Don’t we have rules against video calls while naked?”

She looks up at her ceiling with a grossed-out groan, exactly the way I expected her to. In some ways Tani is as prudish as her parents, and at this moment it works for me. I’m really not at my best.

I didn’t sleep that well. I think I’m coming down with a cold.

“What’s up, T?”

“Not my big dope of a brother, that’s for sure. You’re talking to me naked and he’s still pretending he’s asleep on the couch. It’s irritating. Why aren’t you in a good place?”

That news shocks me out of my pity party. “Arush spent the night? Why? Are you okay?”

“I’d be better if he left, which is why I’m calling you. If his manners kick in, he’ll be shamed into giving us some privacy. If that doesn’t do it, I may resort to violence.”

Members of her family never stay the night. Why would they? They live minutes away. But it’s especially surprising that it’s her older brother. He’s rarely around, and when he is, he’s usually a dick.

“What’s he doing there?”

“You won’t believe me, but I’ll tell you everything later,” she mutters.

“You won’t tell him anything,” her brother snarls out in the distance.

Tani’s lips curve in satisfaction. “Oh, are you awake and trying to give orders again? Remember our earlier conversation about leverage?”

“You’re being irrational.”

She narrows her eyes at him and I watch the scene unfold, dying of curiosity.

“You need to leave now before I say something I regret. And no stopping to shower along the way. I don’t need you clogging up my drain with your toxic masculinity.” She points my way without looking at me. “You put on some pants so we can have a real conversation.”

“If you called like a normal person, you wouldn’t see me.” I’m still mumbling about her being bossy as I set the phone on the bed and reach for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt off the top of my laundry pile. When I look down at the faded red shirt with the chipped lightning bolt I’ve just slid over my head, I nearly tear it off again.

The Flash? That’s the first thing I went for?

You know what? Screw that ballplayer, this shirt is comfortable.

“Stupid lightning bolt.”

“Stupid what? Why do you sound so upset?”

“Why do you sound irritating?” That was weak and beneath me. “I’m sorry. I’m dressed now.”

She takes one look at my face and her expression tells me all I need to know. I look like shit.