“Not at all. I’m fine. I promise.” She thought he would step back to let her pass, but instead, he wrapped his arms around her. Snuggled into his warm embrace, breathing in his appealing scent, Erin relaxed ever so slightly. He made her feel like nothing bad would happen if he continued to hold her this way. “Let’s go finish dinner.”

He kissed the top of her head and released her, but kept his hand on her back as they returned to the dining room, where the others carried on as if nothing had happened, which was exactly what she needed.

Erin loved these people. She truly did. And she was beginning to love Slim, too.

Chapter 13

Kevin cooked a turkey that turned out sort of dry. His sons would eat anything, so he wasn’t too worried about impressing them. No, he was far more concerned about making sure Chelsea had a nice dinner.

She brought mashed potatoes and apple pie and wore a pale pink sweater that clung to her breasts. Her long blonde hair, which was usually braided for work, was loose around her shoulders. What in the world was a goddess like her doing with a schlep like him?

“Nice apron,” she said, her eyes taking a slow, lazy trip down the front of him, making him thankful for the apron.

“You’re not allowed to look at me like that today.”

“My apologies.”

“Ah, fuck it.” He put his arm around her and was kissing her senseless when Riley walked into the kitchen, clearing his throat to let them know he was there. Kevin withdrew from the kiss, noting the way she diverted her eyes as her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” Riley got a beer from the fridge, cracked it open and went into the living room.

Chelsea glared at him. “You’re not allowed to do that,” she hissed. “Not here.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not.”

“No, I’m really not. They need to get used to seeing me kiss you.”

“Baby steps, Kev.”

“Which one of us is the shrink, anyway?”

Chelsea stirred the gravy he had simmering on the stovetop. “Sometimes I wonder.”

Placing his hands on her hips, he leaned into her to check the other pans.

“Get that thing off me.”

“You like that thing.”

“Kevin!”

“What time are we eating, Dad?” Finn asked as he made his first appearance of the day. Neither of his sons had been there when he got home last night. He had no idea what time they’d rolled in. Finn’s dark hair was standing on end, and his blue eyes were rimmed with red, signs of a hangover.

“Half an hour or so. Rough night?”

“Fun night.”

“You remember Chelsea, right?”

“Sure,” Finn said. “How you doing?”

“I’m good,” Chelsea said. “Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, same to you.” He escaped to the living room with his brother.

“Awkward,” Chelsea whispered.