Page 14 of The Sunday Brothers Novellas

EPILOGUE

TEAGAN

“You’re not coming, are you?” I accused the second Fern’s voicemail beeped.

“Fern, you are fifty-two minutes late. Fifty-two minutes is not ‘Surprise! John and I stopped to get you maple donuts, Teagan!’ Fifty-two minutes is not ‘Oops, we turned left instead of right coming off the highway and ended up at the Little Pippin Hollow Tree Museum.’ Fifty-two minutes is ‘Sorry, Teagan, I have decided to forsake nine years of friendship and abscond with the U-Haul containing your sofa, every single one of your loaf pans, and oh yeah , the love of your life to build a life in Canada amongst the moose and Mounties, leaving you all alone in your brand-new house in the wilds of Vermont!’” I closed my eyes and sniffled delicately, feeling incredibly put-upon by this turn of events.

“Let me remind you that you don’t even like Celine Dion. ”

And I was pretty sure that was a requirement for Canadian immigration.

“But I do.”

“Holy shit!” The deep voice startled me so badly that I took a giant step backward, directly into the shiny metal surface of the vintage refrigerator that had come with the cottage John and I had purchased just two weeks before. “Where did you come from?”

The hot guy in my kitchen doorway looked me up and down, and his lips twitched beneath his thick beard. He wore a bright green T-shirt that did amazing things for his eyes—which was why his husband had picked it out for him—and an old snap-back hat that had seen better days.

He was not wearing his Hannabury hoodie, because his husband had stolen it from him. And, I thought as I disconnected my call and shoved my phone in the large pocket, I was not gonna give it back.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” John said, his eyes gleaming as he recited the words he’d first said to me more than a year and a half ago. “I’m just here to…” He tilted his head in my direction.

“Check your mail?” I said dryly, folding my arms over my chest.

He grinned. “Nope. I’m the perfect stranger who’s here to help move your sofa.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and I fought hard not to laugh.

“Really? You’re sure you’re here for the sofa?” I narrowed my eyes. “Because you wouldn’t believe how many cases of mistaken identity involving sofa moving occur each year.”

“Oh, I’d believe it. Feel free to tell me more about it, though.

You might not know this about me, since we only just met…

” He lowered his voice and stepped closer, getting allllll up in my personal space…

which was exactly where I always wanted him.

“But gorgeous redheads who quote random statistics at me are my biggest turn-on.”

“How oddly specific,” I exclaimed, not having to fake my excitement as he rucked up my—I mean, technically his , but whatever—sweatshirt and spread his big hands on my bare waist.

“One thing you’ll get to know about me, baby—you don’t mind if I call you baby, do you? —is that I am all about oddly specific kinks. For example, karaoke with charming-if-not-particularly-tuneful singers. Also, baked goods.”

“You’re attracted to baked goods?”

“Mmmm. Mostly the men who bake them.”

“ Men ?”

“ Man,” he corrected, nipping at my lower lip. “Just one man.” He kissed me more deeply, sliding his tongue against mine and reminding me just how much I’d missed him for the two days we’d been apart. “Just one incredible man.”

“You’re very forward,” I said breathlessly. “For a perfect stranger who’s just volunteered to move my sofa.”

“But it’s a really nice sofa.” He moved his hands under the waistband of my shorts to cup my ass.

I collapsed into laughter as I pulled his lips back to mine. “I missed you, baby.”

“Me, too,” he said. “A really pathetic amount for having only spent thirty-two-point-five hours away from you. Not that I was counting.”

“Of course not. Did you get Fern moved into our old place?”

John nodded. “Moved our stuff out, moved her stuff in, then we jumped in the truck. Monica and the Graziellas are unpacking Fern’s stuff for her, God help everyone involved, and then they’re driving up here tomorrow.

I left Fern outside having a Come to Jesus with Monica about allowing Monica’s cats to sleep on a pile of Fern’s unmentionables.

How about you? Were you bored while I was gone? ”

“Bored?” I rolled my eyes. “Not quite. Thursday night, I hung out at Molly’s with the new baby, and we concepted a whole new book series.

Friday morning, I had a meeting with the principal at Averill Union and got the keys to my new classroom so I can start preparing for the fall.

A bunch of the other teachers took me out for a welcome lunch at this little diner-type place in Little Pippin Hollow?—”

“Panini Jack’s?” John demanded, and when I nodded, he groaned enviously. “Oh, damn. I forgot that was only the next town over from us. I feel like we’re going to be eating in the Hollow a lot from now on.”

“Uh-huh. But it turns out Knox’s little brother works there, and he wanted to hear the whole story about how we’d met Knox and Gage down in Boston?—”

“The probability of us meeting guys from Vermont at our local bar in Boston was…” He shook his head.

“Only slightly lower than the probability of what ended up with happening with Knox and Gage after that?” I finished.

“Yes, agreed. But I kind of like how it all worked out. It’s nice to already have friends here, in addition to Molly and your moms. And Gage isn’t a terrible person,” I allowed, “despite our tragic first meeting.”

John grinned and nipped at my earlobe. “I love when you get jealous.”

I sniffed but didn’t argue. I was just a trifle jealous when it came to him, which worked out nicely since I was really into how caveman-possessive my guy could be.

“ As I was saying ,” I continued as he chuckled knowingly and squeezed my ass more firmly. “I met Knox’s little brother, Hawkins, who works at the restaurant. And then Knox’s other brothers came in—the lumberjacky one we met last winter?—”

“Webb Sunday,” John supplied. “The guy with that whole bugle drama.”

“Yes, right! And oh, God, you’re not gonna believe how that story turned out. But he was also with their other brother Porter, who’s going to be a senior at Hannabury?—”

“Small world.”

“Seriously. And their other-other brother Reed, who’s home for a quick vacation from DC?—”

“Jesus Christ. How many Sunday brothers are there?”

“So many,” I said gleefully, because each one was cuter and lumberjackier than the last, and while there would never be anyone for me but John, a man could look . “Then Gage came in with his brothers?—”

“No shit! The Goodmans came up from Florida?”

“From Whispering Key,” I confirmed. “Gage’s two brothers, their partners, his cousin and his partner, his dad and stepmom, and some guy who kept offering to score me some pheromone supplements—whatever those are—are all up here for a visit.

” I bit my lip apologetically. “I was so caught up in the excitement that I mayyyy have accepted an invitation for all of us to attend a cookout tonight with all of them over at the orchard after we get moved in. And, um, I may also have indicated a willingness to consider a puppy from his dog’s latest litter? ”

“Did you now?” He laughed out loud. “So, definitely not bored while I was gone, then.”

I shook my head. “Not even remotely bored.”

John sighed and withdrew his hands from my shorts. “So, we won’t be christening the couch in our new home just yet, is what you’re telling me.”

Considering Fern was just outside, we wouldn’t be doing that for a couple more nights, but I didn’t remind him of this.

“I’m afraid so, yes. But, hey, we waited a whole year to have sex, right? We’re delayed-gratification experts, aren’t we?”

John’s lips pursed. “You know, we already skipped Netflix Night this week.”

“I know.” I grimaced. And it had been awful, because cuddling John was maybe the one sport I could gold medal in. “I really missed that.”

“Same. And now we’re missing Karaoke Saturday.” He took my hand and led me down the hall toward the front door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “That’s true. I— oof . John, this is our coat closet!”

“So perceptive,” he agreed. “I’m feeling a distinct lack of Teagan in my life, husband. So may I introduce you to the concept of Coat Closet Blowjob Afternoons?”

“I… what?”

“My husband taught me that anything can be a holiday if you give it a fancy name.” He grinned as he shut the door, enclosing us in the darkness.

“Should I explain how we celebrate this holiday? It’s like delayed gratification, but with way more orgasms. And we still have a year’s worth to make up for. ”

I sputtered out a laugh. “Oh my God, I’ve created a monster. Fern is…”

“Very used to walking away and complaining loudly when she hears you moaning?” John suggested, mouthing his way down my neck. “Yes, she is.”

“She… she really is,” I sighed, giving in as his hands found their way to my ass once again.

“You know, I once had a very quiet life,” John groaned as I reached for his belt buckle.

“Uh-huh. And then you met me, and it became exponentially louder?” I teased.

“Then I met you,” he agreed. “And it became exponentially more fun. Love you, baby.”

Fuck, I loved him, too.

“So pick one, Teagan Donahue. You wanna get on your knees for me, or want me on mine for you?”

“Both,” I said without hesitation. Because the best part of being in love with my best friend was that I didn’t have to pick at all.

Thanks so much for reading! Want to know what happened to Knox Sunday and Gage Goodman after they left the bar? Read Pick Me , book one in the Sunday Brothers series, available here → http://readerlinks.com/l/2235263 or turn the page for a sneak peek!