Was that why he hadn’t done anything about this guy yet? Because he felt something more than basic compulsion for the first time in his life? Because he couldn’t dismiss him from his mind, even when he tried?
Was he that much of a coward?
“I don’t have a thing for vampires, if that’s what you’re hinting at,” Rory muttered. “And who could blame me for the stripper comment after seeing those shorts? They’re practically a thong.”
Robert scowled at him. “I’m not looking at that man’s shorts, Finn, and you shouldn’t be either.”
“You don’t have to look at his shorts,” Matthew told him with a speaking look. “You could be looking on your computer instead, Nora. Then no one would have to guess.”
“He shoots, he scores,” crowed Rory. “Seriously, not to change the subject, but I love your mother. Nora,” he snorted, making Robert’s scowl deepen.
“You might feel differently if you were the only child out of seven named after a romance author instead of a famous literary icon.”
Rory pinged a small, cold potato at his chest. “She is an icon, and one of the most well-known authors in the world. Ask my Aunt Ellen. Maybe if you read a few of your namesake’s books, you’d have more luck with the ladies. Now put Matthew out of his misery.”
Robert flipped him off before leaning back on his stool and typing something into the laptop he’d set aside in order to eat. “His name is Garcia. Oliver H. I don’t know why you didn’t just hack in and find out for yourself. Your brother seems to think you’re some kind of genius in that area.”
Oliver.
“I have rules against messing with family,” Matthew told him.
“That explains it. But if you want more than that you can ask him yourself. The last thing we need is an invasion-of-privacy lawsuit before we officially open.”
“His name fits my story if anyone’s interested. Although the vampire is now a hungry orphan stripper with no one to love him.” Rory shoved the rest of the used paper plates back into the plastic bag he’d brought their dinner in. “Now why don’t you tell us what’s actually going on in that extra Irish head of yours, Matthew?”
His name is Oliver.
Matthew shrugged. “I guess it’s like you said, he doesn’t seem like he belongs here.”
“You genuinely think you’re being smooth, don’t you?” Rory’s blue eyes, so like his own, saw right through him. “You told me you thought your brother was nervous about the grand opening and you wanted to support him with a friendly visit while dropping off these leftovers for Robert. But I think you knew he wouldn’t be here.”
“He and Bronte are at their third-trimester dance class.” Robert’s mirth was evident as his gaze flicked between Matthew and Rory. “Then they’ll stop by my parents’ house for at least an hour, longer if William and the old man get to talking. It happens the same time every week, as Matthew is well aware.”
There was no point in looking innocent, so he didn’t bother to try.
“I’m going to want more information on that dance class, Robert,” Rory said. “For blackmail purposes.”
Then he crossed his arms and stared Matthew down. “Lying to a blood relative? The shame must burn. Meanwhile, Robert and I are trying to share a meal and swap sex stories, and you’ve hardly taken your eyes off sweet Oliver over there. You’re just curious? If I hadn’t heard all the gossip about what you’ve been up to at Owen’s old club, I’d think you were—”
“Okay, he’s interesting,” Matthew admitted. “A mystery.”
I want him. I can’t stop thinking about him. I feel like I’m losing my mind.
“A mystery you’d like to solve,” his cousin nodded sagely, as if he’d been expecting as much. “Like my three-pickle problem. Is that the kind of mystery you’re talking about?”
When Matthew didn’t deny it, Robert groaned. “Hell, he’s in love. And there goes another potential wingman.”
Matthew winced. “I’m not in—”
“Unless you want to start hitting the gay bars,” Rory agreed with a laugh, interrupting him.
“No offense, but it’s a woman I need.”
“If you want a good woman, you need to read Nora, Nora. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Can I just—”
“Will her books explain why Matthew is drooling after a vampire stripper when he was into girls until about five minutes ago?” Robert cut him off, staring Rory down. “Because that’s what we’re talking about, right?”
Rory chuckled. “I can’t believe I got you to say vampire stripper.”
“Oi!” Matthew ran a hand through his hair, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “I’m sittin’ right here. What say we focus on the desperate man, lads?”
They both turned obediently in his direction.
“Grand. Yes, I got you here under false pretenses, but I had a reason. Robert is a marketing guru and you’re the go-to on navigating difficult situations. I happen to be a man in need of guidance and potential rebranding, since my usual sales pitch is aimed at the opposite sex. If that’s not a prickly problem for you to solve, I don’t know what is.”
“Pickle problem.” Rory blinked in surprise. “Wait. Robert, can you record this on your phone for posterity? I think we’re being asked for dating advice.”
“Sure, now I’m Robert.”
Matthew wanted to snarl in frustration, but then he noticed Oliver starting his lunges. God love those damn lunges. “I’m not sure I know how to approach him here without coming off like a wanker. If we were at a club, maybe, but then you mentioned his car and now I’m not sure if he’s single. And we’re all assuming, but I’m not even sure if he’s gay.”
“He is.” Rory’s smile was practically angelic. “Trust me, Matthew, he is definitely gay. And you really do have it bad. Luckily, you came to the right OG.”
Robert frowned. “OG?”
“Original Gay,” Rory clarified. “Solomon may be the oldest but he was living in the deepest closet created by man until a few years ago. Owen was a serial womanizer and kinky bastard, like our boy Matthew, so there is a precedent. Seamus was trapped in perpetually single dad-pants, and Jen was engaged to a limp-noodled loser instead of living it up with her two hot bisexuals.”
Matthew blinked. “What about Brady?”
Rory quelled him with a look. “Brady is a giant anomaly. Also his fiancé could have this place bugged for all I know, so let’s leave them both out of it just to be safe.”
“I can see now why my sisters like you so much,” Robert laughed. “You’re as certifiable as they are.”
“All the Waynes adore me. I’m the LGBT EMT that’s the GOAT.” Rory shook his head sadly at Matthew’s confused frown. “Greatest of all time? You’re only twenty-three, my little shillelagh. How can you not know that? Jake knows that.”
Jake was the eldest son of Seamus Finn, the first family member they’d met in Ireland before William had rushed the whole family across the ocean to keep them out of trouble and away from his old boss.
“There is nothing little about my shillelagh,” Matthew responded sharply. “But your excessive use of initials has forced me to close your advice-giving window. Robert? You’re up.”
Robert lifted his hands in surrender. “I appreciate the guru status and the confidence, Matthew, but I’m a breast man, so I’m not sure how to help you. And as you know, the last time I tried to set my brother up on a date with what I thought was a suitable man, things went so wrong I was temporarily voted off the island.”
Rory smiled victoriously, but Robert wasn’t finished. “I still stand by the reason I set it up, though. Hugo had spent a lot of time suffering instead of going after the man he really wanted, and he was so damn miserable I thought he needed some help moving on. So maybe that’s an answer. If you want to make a move, just get off your ass and do it. If you fail, at least you tried. But if you keep waiting, a well-meaning relative might play matchmaker out of the goodness of their heart
and make things a million times worse.”
Matthew instantly slid off his stool and Rory scoffed. “Oh please. Don’t pretend that worked for you. Just do it? He stole my advice window and gave you a sneaker slogan. I’m telling the family to vote you off the island again,” he said, frowning at Robert, who rolled his eyes.
“He doesn’t need to rebrand or navigate anything. He just needed to run it by someone who wouldn’t judge him and get the go-ahead. He has it now. What’s the problem?”
“That’s not what he said,” Rory corrected, stepping over to Matthew. “Don’t tell Nora, but I partially agree with him.”
“You do know I can hear you, right?”
“You’re nervous because it’s new, but try not to overthink it,” Rory said, ignoring Robert. “It’s not that different from flirting with a girl at the club. You’re still just a guy, standing in your brother’s gym, asking another guy if he’s open to anal.”
“Jesus, Rory,” Matthew swore, laughing despite the knots in his stomach. “You’re not helping.”
“Yes, I am. Go say hello.” Rory put his hand on Matthew’s back and pushed lightly. “Report back after this assignment for further instructions and a cookie.”
Matthew hesitated before walking slowly in Oliver’s direction. Was he really going to do this? Just go up and introduce himself to the man who’d thrown him so off balance he no longer knew which end was up?
Getting this impromptu dinner together had been the best idea he could come up with, but he wasn’t feeling all that confident about any of their advice at the moment.
Then again, his current plan of waiting for Oliver to make eye contact or initiate their meeting himself was a giant fail, so at this point Robert was right. Other than being rejected in a way that might scar him for life, what did he have to lose?
You are a sad excuse for a Finn.
Maybe he’d blown the situation all out of proportion, and this awkward introduction was just what he needed to break the spell. On closer inspection, Oliver H. Garcia might not be as mysterious or desirable.
Stranger things had happened.
The man in question turned his head, just as Matthew reached his side.
“Can I help you?”
God, he hoped so, because he had the sneaking suspicion the ground was falling away beneath his feet.
“Hey.”
Chapter Two
Hey?
All Irishmen, and Finns in particular, were blessed with the gift of gab. Matthew was known for it. His own brother had managed to talk his wife into a secret wedding for fuck’s sake. And that was ages before she actually liked him.
Faced with a man as beautiful as this one, Matthew wanted to pull out all the stops, and all he’d managed to come up with was Hey.
But then his silver tongue was no match for those eyes. Christ, he was fucking stunning. There were paintings in museums that had nothing on the real thing standing in front of him and glistening—fucking glistening—with the sweat from his workout.
Matthew had been around burly boxers all his life, and though this guy didn’t fit that bill, he had to be an athlete. The way he moved had been Matthew’s first clue, but now that he was up close and seeing the lean muscles and perfect proportions? No one had a body like that without years of focus, a shit-ton of vanity, or both.
He couldn’t be a gymnast, could he? This wasn’t that kind of place and William wasn’t that kind of trainer. His brother was more likely to teach someone how to fight dirty in an alley, or stay off the ropes long enough to make a point.
You could always ask him why he’s here. Say something soon, though, because he’s looking at you like he might need to find his pepper spray.
“It’s Oliver, right?” His voice was pitched wrong. Deeper than normal. He cleared his throat and offered a harmless smile.
It held, despite the spark of wariness he saw in those warm brown eyes. Oliver tugged on the cords to his ear buds, his damp curls clinging to his temple when he tilted his head. “Sorry, it’s what?”
“Your name. It’s Oliver?”
He started to nod but something over Matthew’s shoulder caught his attention. From his expression, he had a feeling he knew what the poor guy was seeing.
“They’re staring, aren’t they?” You bastards.
“Yes. They are definitely staring. Wait.” He paused, pursing his lips in a way that made Matthew want to kiss them. “They were staring. Now they’re pretending to look at something behind us. Lots of head shaking. Some pointing. They’re really selling it.”
Matthew put a hand behind his back and made a rude gesture only Rory and Robert would see. “Sorry about that. I always wondered what having a big, nosy family would feel like. Be careful what you wish for, right?”
Oliver’s perfectly arched eyebrows rose slowly as he spoke. “You must be the owner’s brother.”
Be charming. “Is it the accent that gave me away?”
“He said almost exactly the same thing yesterday. About big families being nosy. And you don’t have freckles and aren’t as built as he is, but yes, that accent is hard to miss. Mark, right? He said he had a brother named Mark.”
Matthew wasn’t sure what he should react to first. The melodic timber of Oliver’s voice, his no-nonsense way of speaking, or the incredibly unflattering description.
Mark? Ouch.
“It’s Matthew. Matthew Finn. And I’m William’s only brother, unless he’s keeping secrets again. His less-built, but hopefully more interesting younger brother. At your service.”
“Damn, that was rude, right? I didn’t mean to be.” Oliver set his free weights down, unable to hide the flush that tinged his cheeks. “I tend to lose track of things when I’m in the zone. The time, my manners...” He stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you Matthew Finn. I’m Oliver Garcia.”
He hadn’t had anyone try to shake his hand since he moved to the States. A nod or a fist bump seemed to be the local greeting, but he wasn’t about to turn down the opportunity for physical contact.
Oliver’s grip was as strong and steady as his gaze, and damp from his workout.
Or was that Matthew’s nerves? His fingers flexed, tightening in reaction to the touch.
Oliver’s eyes lowered to their clasped hands and up again in silent query, and Matthew told himself he needed to let go before things got awkward.
Way too late. Shit.
He released him and made a fist at his side in case he was tempted to reach for him again. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your zone time.”
“Then why did you?”
Matthew blinked at that. “What?”
“Why did you leave the nosy family you’re still getting used to just to introduce yourself? Did the handsome suit at the front desk ask you to get me to leave? He’s usually pretty impatient to close up by now.”
Matthew’s smile slipped and he rocked back on his heels. He could have gone forever without hearing Oliver call Robert handsome.
“The suit is always impatient, but since he’s in charge of promotions for the grand opening next week, he needs to be here anyway. And you’re a paying member, so he’d never ask you to leave.” I wouldn’t let him. “If this place fills up the way he says it will, he’ll finally start to relax and have a social life again. There’s a woman at work I’m planning on setting him up with. She’s just his type.”
Jesus, did he really just say that? Did he make a gesture at his chest to imply Robert’s type was large-breasted? Was he actually jealous? Of Nora?
“That’s too bad.” Oliver’s shoulders fell in a subtle slump.
“It is?”
“I enjoyed having this place to myself. Not that I’m hoping your brother’s business fails or anything. Especially since it looks like he’s about to be a father at any minute.” He winced. “Now it sounds like I’m calling his wife fat, when she’s always been so nice to me. Have I mentioned I have no social skills?”
They had something in common after all.
“Bronte is about as pregnant as someone who isn’t having triplets can be, and she blames my brother for it on a weekly basis. It hasn’t slowed her down any, though. She’s out dancing right now.”
“She is?” Oliver’s lips quirked. “I knew I liked her. Thank you for the save. Now that I’ve managed to stick my foot in it twice in the last two minutes, why don’t we get back to why you came over now after staring at me for days? Was it just to let me know front desk guy is straight? Because I figured that out last week when he almost broke his neck checking out the curvy delivery woman.”
Matthew’s smile returned with a vengeance. “You’re very blunt, aren’t you? I like it.”
It was refreshing. Adorable.
“Nobody likes it.” Oliver’s beautiful brow furrowed in disbelief and suspicion. “It’s rude and incredibly off-putting.”
Had someone told him that? If so, Matthew wanted a word with them. “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but it’s not putting me off at all. I like knowing where I stand.”
“You’re the first then.” Oliver bent down to grab his water bottle and his shirt rose up, revealing a strip of skin where his lower back met that award-winning ass.
Matthew nearly swallowed his tongue.
Had he really thought talking to him might break the spell? If anything, it had made things worse. He still wanted to utterly defile the beautiful Legs he’d been lusting after for the last few days, but now the need to protect the adorable, outspoken Oliver was coming into play as well.
No, that wasn’t entirely true. Even adorable Oliver was in danger of being bent in half and fucked into next Tuesday.
So. Screwed.
“Do you like coffee?”
Oliver drained his water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as surprise flickered in his eyes. “That’s what this is? You’re asking me out?”
“Looks like it.” He hadn’t planned to. Not yet, anyway. His mission was to say hello and swap some small talk before reporting back for further instructions. He had totally fucked the mission.
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