Ford had introduced her to his parents first, Kate and Frank Sr. He was a bear of a man with a shock of orange hair that was probably visible from space, and she was an Amazon of a woman who was so pretty it was kind of hard to look her in the face and remember what to say.
Thinking of what to say wasn’t a problem with the oldest Hartigan, Frankie, because the towering ginger firefighter rarely stopped talking, so Gina didn’t have to think about what to talk about. It wasn’t like he rambled, it was just that he was so charming that people couldn’t help but hang on what he was saying and encourage him to offer up more. Frankie’s twin brother, Finian, had dark hair instead of red, but otherwise he looked almost exactly like Frankie. He talked almost as much, too.
Maybe being a firefighter just made them chatty—especially compared to Ford. That was her working theory, anyway, right up until she met the Hartigan sisters.
Fiona was ten minutes older than Ford, and Faith six and a half minutes younger. She found that out because Kate had taken her by the arm almost as soon as Gina had walked through the door and was delivering the best introductions that veered right up to the edge of the TMI line and then fell right over it.
“So, the doctors told us we wouldn’t have any more kids after the terrors over there.” She nodded at Frankie and Finian, who just grinned at their mom’s description of them. “I’d always wanted a big family, though, and boy did that fertility treatment take.”
“Mom,” Ford groaned. “She doesn’t want to know that.”
Gina fought to keep a straight face at Ford’s obvious discomfort while his mom was giving up all the goods.
“What?” Kate said, waving a hand at her youngest son. “It’s not like I told her about the injections and the timing of certain things and the little cup your father had to carry around with him.”
“Mooooooooom!” That from all of the Hartigan siblings at once.
And that was it for Gina. She couldn’t stop the giggles at the matching looks of horror on the siblings’ faces. Okay, the Hartigan crazy was definitely strong, but it was a different brand than the Lucas’. Theirs was heavier and a little darker, for obvious criminal-enterprise reasons. But the Hartigans? They were just the best kind of a mess, and she was enjoying the hell of it.
Kate lifted her shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and rolled her eyes at her children. Frank Sr, who was watching a hockey game on TV with one eye and the goings-on in the kitchen with the other, raised his glass—thankfully not the cup—in mock toast.
“Anyway, we weren’t expecting any more after our triple helping of trouble, but then came our sweet Fallon.”
Ford’s next-to-youngest sister, an emergency room nurse whose resting facial expression promised she would put up with exactly zero amount of bullshit, shook her head at her mother’s description. Someone near the stove, it was too crowded in the kitchen to know for sure who, mumbled something about Fallon being sweet as long as she got her way. Kate either didn’t hear it or decided to ignore it, because she kept going.
“Then the Lord blessed us with Felicia and—”
“I was so small, they knew it was time to stop,” Felicia said as she walked around the massive kitchen table, putting down plates while her fiancé, Hudson, followed a step behind, laying down the napkins.
Everyone chuckled at what had to be a long-told family joke, because unlike the rest of the towering Hartigans, Felicia was pocket-sized.
“Don’t listen to them, Matches,” Hudson said. “You’re the perfect size.”
A mournful cat wail sounded from the cat carrier in the corner at the sound of Hudson’s voice. He laid down the last napkin and squatted down to the carrier. She couldn’t hear what he said to the kitty inside, but it must have done the trick because the yowling stopped.
“Now, Gina,” Kate said, steering her toward the table. “Why don’t you tell us about yourself. Do you have any siblings?”
Ford stiffened beside her, and Fallon gave her an appraising look that said without words that she knew exactly who Gina’s family was, but Gina was saved from answering that question by the calming, computerized voice of Alexa announcing the first timer was up.