Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance 2)

Nesting? Royal Hale? The only man Brendan has ever claimed is more of a ladies’ man than he is?

It dawns on me that Royal didn’t mention Austen. Her absence on the list is so transparent and suspicious, I bet her witchy Sherlock senses are tingling way over on the other side of town.

Is he really that interested? Nesting level interested?

“That’s great,” I say sincerely as Brendan nuzzles behind my ear and hums against my pulse. “If you need any help with that, let me know. I could use another guy in the neighborhood.”

Brendan shouldn’t be the only man I hang out with. That’s weird, right? And I miss him too much when he’s gone.

“I’ll introduce you to my brother and his husband. They’ve finally decided to make those Dry Spell Diaries of his into a book, so he’s a little hard to live with these days, but he’s always a riot. You’ll like JD.”

“Dry Spell?” My grip on Brendan’s hand tightens until he makes a sound of vague, drunken protest. “Your brother is the advice columnist? I thought his name was Green.”

“It is. We all have the last names we came to Rick and Matilda with. It was confusing for the postal service and family stationary was out, but it worked for us.” Royal’s eyes narrow on me in the mirror. “Why do you look so shocked? Did you two date? You should tell me now, because Carter can be a little possessive of my brother.”

“No,” Brendan growls, trying to tug me closer.

What the hell?

“My neighbors are fans, that’s all,” I say weakly. “Big fans. I’ve never met JD.”

I’ve never met him or dated him, but Royal’s brother is the reason my neighbors keep trying to fix me up. The reason I hate matchmaking so much I almost didn’t agree to come out tonight.

Small world.

We finally pull up to my two-story house and I instantly set to work disentangling our limbs so I can get Brendan inside where he can sleep it off.

He doesn’t want to let go.

“I’ll get his luggage,” Royal calls when I’ve finally got him on his feet and walking toward the front door. I nod, pulling the key chain out of my pocket one-handed.

Once inside, I flip on the lights and a part of me automatically relaxes, tension I wasn’t even aware of disappearing in an instant.

Home.

Away from the noise and crowds, this place is clean and peaceful and exactly what I need. Every brick and square of travertine tile has been repaired or installed by yours truly. Every picture on the wall, including a few my mother painted before she died, is framed and hung with care.

After a lifetime of one-bedroom apartments with leaky faucets and warped linoleum, this might as well be a mansion.

It’s too big for one person.

Brendan picks that moment to stop clinging and strides into my living room, dropping on my couch with a thump.

Déjà vu.

Royal curses in the foyer, and when I turn to help him with his load, I get another surprise.

The luggage is alive.

That must be what was in the front seat.

“Um, Royal? Is that an actual dog?”

“In theory.” He sets the crate down and chuckles. “It looks more like a baby Ewok to me, but what do I know? I don’t even have real plants at my apartment.”

It’s a Yorkshire terrier. Bigger than a teacup, but not by much. “How—”

“Beats me. Unless he swiped it from some Paris Hilton type or it’s the heir to a canine fortune, we shouldn’t do jail time for keeping him for the night. He even came with his own pads to pee on.”

“Pads?”

Royal chuckled. “You see the size of that thing? A hawk could carry him away for supper if you let him roam the backyard unattended.”

Good point.

“If you invite me back for breakfast, we can ask Kinkaid about it in the morning. I’d love to get a front row seat to the hangover he’s in for.”

I bet he would. “Sounds like a party,” I say automatically. “You’re invited.”

What am I going to do with a dog for the night? Will he eat my shoes? Furniture cushions? Empanadas? It’s not like I can kick him out, though—he’s too ridiculously cute and the way he’s snoring is so loud for such a little thing it makes me smile. “I’ll take care of them.” The man and his Ewok.

Royal hesitates. “You okay with Brendan staying with you for a few days? At least until he sorts out his condo situation or gets another place? If not, JD and Carter have the room—”

“I have room too,” I say gruffly. “It’s not like he hasn’t crashed here before.”

“He’ll definitely be more comfortable here,” Royal agrees easily. “TMI, but my brother and his husband can be a little loud.”

I glance up at him and bite my lip. “So was it really an orgy? At the condo?”