“I’ll finish this up,” he says quietly, thumb rubbing at my sweater. “Why don’t you three go out and wait by the fire pit?”

I should say no.

I should insist on helping.

But I chew my bottom lip. “Are you sure?”

Because yes, okay, I dipped out of laying the table like a punk, but I’m growing a whole freaking human inside me, you know? Give me a break. And I spent the last three days working on a gardening project for the Maple Creek elementary school, prepping the grounds for next spring. I put those kids to work for most of the digging, but I’m tired.

“Go.” Everett presses a kiss against my forehead, his mouth curving into a smile. “Go bear the brunt of Harry’s stories. Honestly, you’re drawing the short straw.”

That’s definitely not true, but I’ll take it.

“Okay. Love you.”

The night air is cool and crisp as I lead our two guests along the dirt track to the fire pit, the stars winking to life overhead. Archie’s a quick gray ghost panting at our heels. Everett has left wood already stacked, and Harry helps me to kneel before passing me the matches.

“So.” I steal a glance at the professor as he settles on the log across the pit. “When did you two get together? During or after that Spanish literature class?”

A flush creeps up the professor’s throat, and Harry laughs up at the sky, loud and bright.

And yeah—Everett’s got this all wrong. I definitely want to hear this story.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Harry tells his lover, elbowing the man’s thigh. “Josie can’t judge. Did you know we dated for four years before she fucked my uncle?”

The professor splutters, and Archie barks, and I shake my head, grinning at the matches in my hand. Typical Harry.

This isn’t the family Thanksgiving I ever imagined for myself.

But it’s so, so much better.

* * *

Thanks for reading Take Me Home! I really hope you liked it. :)

For another off-limits older man, check out Winter Ward. I let her stay as a favor to an old friend. But her father doesn’t realize… he sent a lamb to the big, bad wolf.

And for a bonus instalove story, grab your copy of Ride or Die. She’s sweet and innocent—and that’s like catnip in this strip club. It’s okay, though. I won’t let the pretty bartender out of my sight.

Happy reading!

xxx

Teaser: Winter Ward

“Come along, Bellamy.”

My father tugs on my elbow, towing me through the dense crowds of the U-Bahn. The underground train station is packed with bodies, loud and humid, and the rattle and roar of trains sucking through the tunnels is constant. I stumble over someone’s dropped jacket, and my father slows with a sigh. “Quicker, please. Felix—Herr Vogel does not like to be kept waiting.”

Felix.

My father may address the famous composer by his first name—they were neighbors as young boys, after all. But to the rest of the world, and certainly to me, he is Herr Vogel. Legendary composer and ice-cold family friend.