A New Leaf (Hemlock #1)

Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Charlie

My brain is in a haze this morning. Last night, what was supposed to be an innocent walk turned into something far from innocent. The old Charlie would’ve been mortified at what had happened, but, honestly, I haven’t felt this relaxed in months. It's as if my brain was reset to its factory setting, especially after Finn said please, use me.

Who am I to not give the man what he wants?

Finn, being the gentleman that he is, helped me pull myself together by smoothing out my wild hair and fastening the buttons on my sweater last night before he followed me home—something he’s been doing quite regularly. Patiently, he waited for Vera and me to enter the house before he drove off. We didn’t speak much after our . . . moment , mainly because I was too tired to string two words together. When I got home and fell into bed, I slept like the dead.

Finn’s commanding voice, skilled mouth, and deft touch refuse to leave my thoughts after igniting every nerve ending in my body last night. I shift on my stool, already feeling myself getting aroused again, and it hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since what went down last night. Or, more specifically, who went down last night.

“What the hell kind of look is that on your face?” a snarky voice bellows out, causing me to jolt and almost fall off my stool.

My face flushes, caught thinking indecent thoughts about my night with Finn. Luckily, it’s just Marnie. We’re at the store earlier than usual to prepare for the Harvest Festival later today.

Lord, help us all, because this will be an experience that no one wants to endure.

Marnie is carrying a gigantic cardboard box of plants that we plan on selling today at a discounted price. These plants aren’t our bestsellers in the store. Upon further research, I’ve discovered that these plants can be a nightmare to take care of and require filtered water, not tap water. I drink water from the tap, and I haven’t wilted . . . yet . I’m hoping some amateur plant enthusiasts will take on these high-maintenance weeds as a passion project. Either way, they hopefully won’t be my problem anymore.

She sets the huge box on the counter with a grunt, wiping her hands on her jeans. “You know, I told you to start using retinol to help those grump lines of yours.” She points to her forehead. “I can see you haven’t taken my advice, Charlotte.” She clicks her tongue, raising one dark eyebrow at me.

I tilt my head at her, simultaneously amused and baffled by her honesty. “Please, Marnie, tell me how you really feel.”

“Well, now that you opened that door?—”

Funnily enough, the store door bursts open with force, and Finn walks in looking like a hot professor on his day off. His long legs are clad in dark denim, matched with a black cardigan sweater, a t-shirt underneath, and a long charcoal gray wool coat. His hair is extra disheveled today from the breeze outside, but he pulls it off effortlessly.

As he strides into the store, his coat breezes behind him, which is so inexplicably attractive. Frank comes running in, cutting Finn off, and skitters across the floor. The tapping of Vera’s nails on the wooden floor comes from behind me as she stretches after a restful nap and spots Frank. The moment they recognize each other, the dogs start wiggling and begin to play. Eventually, they’ll tire of us and scurry off into another part of the store where they can be alone.

I still haven’t figured out where they hide when they’re together.

“That’s so fucking cute.” Marnie sighs, looking down at the dogs, who are now squeaking with excitement upon seeing one another.

“I know,” I reply. “It’s so annoying.”

“Right? Like it’s annoyingly cute. They’re just so happy . . . and here we are dealing with these assholes,” she says, hitting the box of plants.

A deep sigh escapes from me. “If someone doesn’t take these, I’m throwing them off a bridge. If I have to filter water one more time, I’ll lose it,” I groan.

My head shakes, peering down into the box of sad, high-maintenance souls. I really do hate these plants. Pothos? Easy. Philodendrons? No brainer. Succulents? Simple. Calatheas? They’re the devil incarnate. Marnie and I are still relatively new to plants, but it didn’t take long for us to learn that these are absolute nightmares to care for.

Finn casually saunters up to the counter with a shit-eating grin on his face and three cups of coffee. Marnie quickly glances back-and-forth between us a few times, trying her hardest to decode why the vibe in the room changed all of a sudden.

I didn’t tell her about last night, mainly because she would make a huge deal out of it. Like, throw me a party kind of deal.

Hard pass.

“Okay . . . now, why do you look like that , Finn?” Marnie asks with narrow eyes.

“No reason, Morticia. Here, take your coffee.” He hands her a cup, and Marnie tentatively takes it. Her eyes are still narrowing at him, unsuccessfully trying to decipher his thoughts, which frustrates her since she can read just about anyone. I can see her brain working overtime to get inside of his head.

Finn glances over at me and cocks an eyebrow. My face is emotionless as I look at him—refusing to crack under his gaze. Despite his composed demeanor, his eyes are telling a different story. They’re saying I know what you taste like and how you sound when you come against my tongue.

Call it stubborn, but there’s no way he’s getting the upper hand this early in the day. I’m a pro at staying emotionless. Plus, I love to win.

“And a coffee for the woman who may turn me to stone with that look.” He slides the cup across the counter with a single finger, biting back a laugh.

“Right? I keep telling her to start using retinol. Those little grumpy gremlin wrinkles are asking for Botox in the near future.” Marnie shrugs, sipping her coffee and burning her tongue in the process. “Christ! That’s so fucking hot.”

My gaze moves slowly over to her. “Karma. That’s called karma. Leave my wrinkles alone. I happen to like them.” My voice comes out a little higher than expected, which takes all of us by surprise.

“I happen to like them, too.” Finn joins in, nodding in agreement and taking a sip of his coffee. Marnie and I look over at him with our heads tilted to the side. Finn shrugs when he adds, “What? I just wanted to feel included.”

Marnie shakes her head. “What a sweet boy you are. You’re a momma’s boy, right?”

“And you’re the daughter of the Dark Lord, correct?” Finn quips back.

An approving smile takes over Marnie’s face. She looks over at me, pointing a single, sharp-tipped finger painted in black in Finn’s direction. “I like this one. You should keep him,” she whispers.

“Morticia, I’m quite literally standing right next to you and can hear everything you say,” Finn remarks. “But, to your point, I’m also trying to get her to keep me.” He makes eye contact with me as he takes another slow sip of his drink.

Marnie looks over at Finn and smirks. “You know about the golf club, right?” she questions.

He chuckles. “Very well acquainted with it, yes.”

With an approving nod, she asserts, “Good. Don’t fuck this up. I know a lot of people in high places.”

“Well, lucky for me, technically I’m in a high place because. You know . . . because I’m tall,” he quips back.

Marnie and I groan, rolling our eyes at his remark.

I mean, it’s true. He is in a high place due to his height advantage.

Marnie turns abruptly and strides towards the backroom, gathering the necessary supplies to set up for the Harvest Festival.

For a brief moment, Finn and I stand in silence, sipping our drinks, enjoying the peacefulness of the quiet store. I open my mouth, about to ask why he isn’t back at his shop setting up for the event, when Marnie comes barreling in from the back of the store. She halts when she notices that Finn has not moved from his spot.

“Hold up. Don’t you have to set up your own tent or something? Why are you here?” she questions.

“Ahh. I forgot to tell you two.” He looks at Marnie and I. “We’re sharing a booth today.” A proud smirk that radiates victory spreads over his face.

My jaw drops while Marnie’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Unsure how he convinced his unyielding aunt, I decide it’s better if I don’t ask questions.

Ever since I got the flyer in the mail, I’ve been dreading the Harvest Festival. There have been several sleepless nights of tossing and turning in bed, my brain wracked with worries about the event. Feelings of guilt and sadness keep me awake for longer than I would like to admit. My parents loved the festival and I should’ve paid more attention when they were running A New Leaf’s booth. Maybe even offer to help for a year or two.

But that time has come and gone.

I can’t rewrite the past, but I can certainly shape the future.

I can only hope that wherever my parents are, they’re looking down (or up) at me, proud that I am carrying on their legacy, stepping outside of my comfort zone, and moving forward with my life.

Because when you lose someone, you never move on. You simply learn to move forward with the memories that you’ve gathered with them and tuck those memories snug inside your heart for safekeeping.

Even though it’s painful, it has to be done.

As I reflect, hopefulness and optimism wrap around my chest.

Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.