Snared
Page 9
I groaned, but Finn grinned, reached up, and tipped an imaginary hat to me. Then he threw the car into gear, steered away from the curb, and drove out of the subdivision.
4
Finn drove me to Fletcher’s house—my house now—and dropped me off. A familiar car was sitting in the driveway next to mine, and the front porch light was on.
“What’s Owen doing here?” Finn asked, waggling his eyebrows at me. “You guys having a hot late-night date? A little bow-chicka-wow-wow time?”
I punched him in the shoulder. “Your maturity never ceases to amaze me.”
He snickered and started to tease me some more, but I drew my fist back again in a clear warning about what would happen if he kept on yapping.
Finn threw up his own hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He grinned. “Just don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
I snorted. “You would do anything and everything.”
His grin widened. “I know. That’s what makes life fun.”
And just like that, Finnegan Lane triumphantly got the last word in, beating me two to one tonight.
Finn promised to let me know if he found out anything else about Damian Rivera or what he might have done. I got out of the car, stood on the front porch, and watched until his taillights disappeared down the driveway, then went inside and locked the door behind me.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called out, singing the old cliché.
“In the den!” Owen called back.
I toed off my boots, yanked off my toboggan, and shrugged out of my fleece jacket before walking down the long hallway to the back of the house. I reached the doorway to the den and stopped, my eyes widening at the sight in front of me.
Normally, the den was, well, just a den, with a couch, television, tables, and other well-worn furniture. But tonight it had been transformed into a cozy, romantic space. White and red candles covered the end tables, casting out a warm, soft, flickering light. Thick pillows large enough to sit on had been positioned all around the coffee table in the center of the room, adding to the intimate feel.
Fine china and silverware covered the table alongside crystal wineglasses. Dinner had already been served, and steak and mashed potatoes were on the menu, along with a garden salad and a basket of bread that had just been taken out of the oven, given the delicious curls of steam wisping up from it. Even better, a chocolate cheesecake topped with fresh raspberries sat perched off to one side of the table, just begging to be cut into. My stomach growled in anticipation.
“Do you like it?” a low, husky voice asked.
I looked over at Owen Grayson, my significant other, who was arranging a few more candles on the fireplace mantel. He was a little more than six feet tall, with a body that was all strong, delicious muscle. He struck a match, and the resulting glow highlighted his black hair and rugged features, including his slightly crooked nose and the faint white scar that slashed across his chin.
“What’s all this?”
Owen finished lighting the last candle, blew out the match, and set it aside. A teasing grin lifted his lips. “Not what you were expecting?”
I shook my head. “When you called and said that you wanted to come over tonight, I expected pizza and a movie. Not all this.”
“Well, with all of us working nonstop to learn more about the Circle, we haven’t exactly had time for a proper date these past few weeks.” Owen gestured at the candles, pillows, and gourmet food. “So I thought I’d change that.”
I went over and looped my arms around his neck, staring up into his violet eyes. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best?”
“Right back at you, babe.” He grinned and drew me closer. “Right back at you.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, opening my mouth and seeking his tongue with my own. Owen kissed me back, holding me tight. My fingers started to roam down his chest, but he caught my hands, brought them up to his lips, and kissed the spider rune scar branded into each of my palms.
“No funny business,” he teased. “Not yet anyway. I spent way too much time cooking dinner for it to go to waste.”
I peeked around his broad shoulder at the take-out containers stacked by the trash can in the corner. “Really? Because those containers make it look like the fine folks at Underwood’s spent way too much time cooking dinner.”
Owen laughed. “Okay, okay, you got me. But I did painstakingly reheat everything.”
I clasped his hands to my heart and batted my eyelashes at him. “My hero.”
He laughed again and pulled me over to the table. We sat down on the pillows on the floor and dug into our meal. Underwood’s was the most expensive restaurant in the city, and the food matched its excellent reputation. The steak, mashed potatoes, and garden salad might have been simple dishes, but they’d been made with the very best ingredients, elevating them to new heights. And the cheesecake was a chocolate dream, melting in my mouth bite after sinfully rich bite, along with the tart, refreshing bursts of the raspberries.
After dinner, we lay down on the pillows on the floor, Owen with his arm around my shoulder and me with my head on his chest, and I told him everything that had happened at the Rivera estate, including Damian’s dig at Tucker about his feelings for my mother. I’d gotten over my initial shock and denial, and Owen was the perfect person, the perfect sounding board, to help me work through all my turbulent feelings about the startling revelation.
“Hugh Tucker and your mother?” Owen asked. “You really think they were an item way back when?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember Eira ever mentioning him, not even in passing. The only memory I have of them together is when Tucker threatened her in her office the night of her last Christmas party.”
Ever since I’d found out about the Circle, I’d been desperately trying to remember every single thing I could about my mother, searching my mind for the smallest, faintest images of her face, smile, laugh, words. The memory of Tucker threatening Eira had bubbled up to the surface of my brain a few weeks ago when I was sleeping, dreaming, as did so many of the bad things in my past.
4
Finn drove me to Fletcher’s house—my house now—and dropped me off. A familiar car was sitting in the driveway next to mine, and the front porch light was on.
“What’s Owen doing here?” Finn asked, waggling his eyebrows at me. “You guys having a hot late-night date? A little bow-chicka-wow-wow time?”
I punched him in the shoulder. “Your maturity never ceases to amaze me.”
He snickered and started to tease me some more, but I drew my fist back again in a clear warning about what would happen if he kept on yapping.
Finn threw up his own hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my mouth shut.” He grinned. “Just don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do.”
I snorted. “You would do anything and everything.”
His grin widened. “I know. That’s what makes life fun.”
And just like that, Finnegan Lane triumphantly got the last word in, beating me two to one tonight.
Finn promised to let me know if he found out anything else about Damian Rivera or what he might have done. I got out of the car, stood on the front porch, and watched until his taillights disappeared down the driveway, then went inside and locked the door behind me.
“Honey, I’m home!” I called out, singing the old cliché.
“In the den!” Owen called back.
I toed off my boots, yanked off my toboggan, and shrugged out of my fleece jacket before walking down the long hallway to the back of the house. I reached the doorway to the den and stopped, my eyes widening at the sight in front of me.
Normally, the den was, well, just a den, with a couch, television, tables, and other well-worn furniture. But tonight it had been transformed into a cozy, romantic space. White and red candles covered the end tables, casting out a warm, soft, flickering light. Thick pillows large enough to sit on had been positioned all around the coffee table in the center of the room, adding to the intimate feel.
Fine china and silverware covered the table alongside crystal wineglasses. Dinner had already been served, and steak and mashed potatoes were on the menu, along with a garden salad and a basket of bread that had just been taken out of the oven, given the delicious curls of steam wisping up from it. Even better, a chocolate cheesecake topped with fresh raspberries sat perched off to one side of the table, just begging to be cut into. My stomach growled in anticipation.
“Do you like it?” a low, husky voice asked.
I looked over at Owen Grayson, my significant other, who was arranging a few more candles on the fireplace mantel. He was a little more than six feet tall, with a body that was all strong, delicious muscle. He struck a match, and the resulting glow highlighted his black hair and rugged features, including his slightly crooked nose and the faint white scar that slashed across his chin.
“What’s all this?”
Owen finished lighting the last candle, blew out the match, and set it aside. A teasing grin lifted his lips. “Not what you were expecting?”
I shook my head. “When you called and said that you wanted to come over tonight, I expected pizza and a movie. Not all this.”
“Well, with all of us working nonstop to learn more about the Circle, we haven’t exactly had time for a proper date these past few weeks.” Owen gestured at the candles, pillows, and gourmet food. “So I thought I’d change that.”
I went over and looped my arms around his neck, staring up into his violet eyes. “Have I told you lately that you’re the best?”
“Right back at you, babe.” He grinned and drew me closer. “Right back at you.”
I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him, opening my mouth and seeking his tongue with my own. Owen kissed me back, holding me tight. My fingers started to roam down his chest, but he caught my hands, brought them up to his lips, and kissed the spider rune scar branded into each of my palms.
“No funny business,” he teased. “Not yet anyway. I spent way too much time cooking dinner for it to go to waste.”
I peeked around his broad shoulder at the take-out containers stacked by the trash can in the corner. “Really? Because those containers make it look like the fine folks at Underwood’s spent way too much time cooking dinner.”
Owen laughed. “Okay, okay, you got me. But I did painstakingly reheat everything.”
I clasped his hands to my heart and batted my eyelashes at him. “My hero.”
He laughed again and pulled me over to the table. We sat down on the pillows on the floor and dug into our meal. Underwood’s was the most expensive restaurant in the city, and the food matched its excellent reputation. The steak, mashed potatoes, and garden salad might have been simple dishes, but they’d been made with the very best ingredients, elevating them to new heights. And the cheesecake was a chocolate dream, melting in my mouth bite after sinfully rich bite, along with the tart, refreshing bursts of the raspberries.
After dinner, we lay down on the pillows on the floor, Owen with his arm around my shoulder and me with my head on his chest, and I told him everything that had happened at the Rivera estate, including Damian’s dig at Tucker about his feelings for my mother. I’d gotten over my initial shock and denial, and Owen was the perfect person, the perfect sounding board, to help me work through all my turbulent feelings about the startling revelation.
“Hugh Tucker and your mother?” Owen asked. “You really think they were an item way back when?”
“I don’t know. I don’t remember Eira ever mentioning him, not even in passing. The only memory I have of them together is when Tucker threatened her in her office the night of her last Christmas party.”
Ever since I’d found out about the Circle, I’d been desperately trying to remember every single thing I could about my mother, searching my mind for the smallest, faintest images of her face, smile, laugh, words. The memory of Tucker threatening Eira had bubbled up to the surface of my brain a few weeks ago when I was sleeping, dreaming, as did so many of the bad things in my past.
