Finn looks back at me and winks. “Animals love me.” He flips up the top flap of the carrier and suddenly there’s a high-pitched screech. A second later, he jumps back, falling on his butt. “What the ever-loving fuck is that?”

“It’s a cat. I adopted a cat,” Tank mutters between clenched teeth.

“That is not a cat.” Finn leans closer to get a better look. Poochie is now hiding behind the recliner in the corner. When Finn steps closer, she hops up to the top of the chair and hisses, her bony back arched. If she’d had hair to speak of, it would be standing completely on end.

“It’s naked,” Finn accuses before turning to look at Tank. “You have a naked cat?” Then he starts to laugh, his deep voice booming across the room. Poochie doesn’t like the noise so she hisses again and then settles down on the back of the recliner with a haughty look on her face.

“Emma volunteers at the animal shelter.” Tank looks vaguely embarrassed so I decide to help him out.

“Your brother was kind enough to help me out there yesterday. They’re severely underfunded and there are so many animals that need help.”

Claire puts her arm around me in a supportive squeeze. “That’s so lovely that you volunteer to help out like that.”

“Well, I want to be a veterinarian,” I admit. “That’s been my dream since I was a kid. I’ve always loved animals. But I wasn’t allowed to have a pet because my mom was allergic to almost everything.”

“Why don’t you have one now?” Tank asks.

I take a deep breath. “Ivy isn’t so fond of critters as she calls them. It’s fine. Once I’ve saved up enough for my own place, I’m getting a dog. A big, sloppy, happy dog that will give me kisses when I come home.”

Finn snickers. “Hell, you can just take Tank home with you if that’s all you want.”

“Finnigan!” Claire scolds but there’s laughter in her voice as she says it.

I’m blushing but I’m laughing, too. “Anyway, the point is that Tank helped me out yesterday and while he was there, Poochie took a bit of a liking to him.”

“So you adopted it?” Finn looks back at the now snoozing cat in disbelief.

Tank shrugs. “The damn thing followed me around the whole time then looked at me like I was sending her to the gas chamber when I had to leave.”

Finn looks between the two of us and then back to the cat before shaking his head in exaggerated wonder. “I’m just shocked. You’ve never been a cat person.”

Tank looks over at me. “Apparently this is an exception.”

My face heats under his scrutiny. His words from yesterday come back to me.

I just don’t care that much as a general rule. You seem to be the exception.

I can’t even begin to puzzle out what he means and what I want him to mean while under the watchful eye of his mother and brother. So I cough and step away.

“The bread should be about ready to come out of the oven. Excuse me.”

I take the opportunity to check on the sauce again. The smell acts as a beacon and before long Claire, Finn and Tank are in the kitchen with me, gathering up plates and bowls and peering over my shoulder. It’s a warm and wonderful feeling to have people to cook for again.

“It’s ready.”

Tank leans over my shoulder and I instinctively raise the spoon to his lips for a taste. His arms tighten around my waist and his head dips. We’re so close, his chest to my back and his hips snugged up against my waist. My thoughts can’t help but veer off in a different direction when he parts his lips.

Finn elbows him. “Get a room, you two. I’m starving.”

The moment is broken and the murderous look on Tank’s face makes up for the embarrassment of almost jumping him in his mother’s kitchen. We all fill plates with pasta and bread hot from the oven. Once I’m seated, Claire holds up one of the wine bottles on the table.

“Red or white?”

“Red will go well with this meat sauce.”

She pours a little in my glass and then some for herself. Tank brings out a beer for himself and one for Finn. He winks at me as he sits down.

There’s no conversation for a while as everyone digs in. It’s the most amazing sound for a cook when everyone is so absorbed with their food that they don’t even stop to talk. I’ve outdone myself on the meat sauce and the pasta is perfectly al dente.

“This is delicious, Emma,” Finn finally says around a huge mouthful of pasta. “You need to come around more often.”

“Yes, she should.” Claire sends a pointed look at Tank. “We’d be glad to see you anytime. That means bring her back, Tanner.”

When she says his name, it reminds me that I wanted to ask her about it. “How did he get the nickname Tank?”

Tank looks over at me, surprised. “Why didn’t you ask me that? I would have told you.”

“Because I want to ask your mom. She’ll give me the real story.”

Finn snorts. “It’s really not a story. He hit puberty and suddenly he hit like a tank. I had the bruises to prove it.” We all laugh at his affected expression.

“You’re hardly a small guy yourself. I’m sure you could handle it,” I respond.

“True but not so much when he was fifteen and I was twelve. The story you really should ask Mom to tell you about is his skills onstage.”

Tank drops his fork and glares across the table at his brother. “You really want me to tackle you right now, don’t you?”