Charmer (Havenbrook #1)

Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

FINN

I could’ve spent every day of the past ten years preparing for this reunion, and it still would’ve knocked me on my proverbial ass.

From the day all those years ago when I’d walked into the animal shelter we’d both worked at as teens and saw Willow Haven standing there, something had sparked between us. She’d been everything good and pure in my dismal life—sunshine and light, happiness and home-cooked meals, porch swings and a dip in the lake on a hot summer afternoon. It was a wonder she’d ever given me the time of day, never mind actually letting me get close enough to taste all that heaven.

But I’d gone ahead and fucked it up, hadn’t I? I’d blown it all to hell when I’d left all those years ago. Forget the reasons I’d bailed—they didn’t mean shit, not in the grand scheme of things. They could’ve been the noblest of reasons, and it would’ve meant fuck-all if Willow hadn’t benefitted from it—if my leaving hadn’t made her happy, made her life better in some way.

Truth was, though, my reasons hadn’t been noble at all. Not really. I’d run, plain and simple. When faced with reality—with what it’d mean to me and her if I stayed—I’d turned tail and gotten the hell out of dodge. Not stopping until I was all the way in California, as far away from Havenbrook, Mississippi as I could get.

I’d have been lying to myself if I said I’d thought Willow’s and my first introduction after this long would’ve gone any smoother than the reality. Honestly, I was damn lucky she’d only tossed that handful of words in my direction instead of the coffee currently clutched in her hand. And she wanted to, too. Wanted to toss that hot liquid right in my face. It was written all over hers. Probably wouldn’t have second thoughts about it, either. Not with how she white-knuckled the travel mug, her restraint evident in every rigid inch of her body.

And even though it made me every bit the asshole she’d called me, I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over that body. From taking in each detail of her, starved for her when I’d been denied her presence for so long.

Where she’d once had a fresh-faced innocence about her, a bombshell now sat in front of me. She’d done some growing up in the time I’d been gone, her curves filling out so much my fingers begged for a test drive. No longer were they the ones I’d once had memorized with my hands. And my tongue.

Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail exposing her long, slender neck, her cheeks flushed and alive, her eyes bright with…okay, yeah, that was definitely fury lighting those green irises. Couldn’t say I blamed her.

Her words rang in my ears, the first ones I’d heard from her lips in far too long. And I couldn’t even find fault in them.

“Always did have a mouth on you, didn’t ya, Willowtree? Least, around me you did.” My lips kicked up on the side, unable to keep the taunt to myself. Christ, I was a jackass.

My gut twisted when she narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists against her desktop. But then she took a deep breath, and I could practically see her armor clinking into place, piece by piece. Something I’d forgotten she’d even done—how could I have forgotten something like that? I’d thankfully never been on the receiving end of it, though. No, she’d put up that shield for one person and one person only—her father.

I had watched it more times than I could count, each instance she’d felt the need to do it, to cover up the real Willow in deference to what her daddy expected her to be, making me hate him a little more. Which had been a damn hard feat, considering I held the devil himself in higher regard than Richard Haven.

I watched as a false calm settled over Willow. It no doubt fooled Nola and my brother—would have probably fooled most. But not me. I could still see the anger humming beneath her surface. I’d always been able to read her, as long as I could remember. Looked like no amount of time had changed that.

And it seemed she knew it, too, if the narrowing of her eyes was any indication, the tick of her jaw as she clenched her teeth. No, she definitely wasn’t greeting me with open arms—not that I’d expected any different.

“Drew,” she said, nodding to my brother. Of all the things to get worked up about, her saying my brother’s name before mine should not have been one of them, and yet there we were. “Griffin.” She spat my full name like it was a piece of gristle and she couldn’t stand the feel of it in her mouth. “If y’all’ll give me just a minute, I’ll get the correct paperwork drawn up so we can get this done as quickly as possible.” Her so you can get the hell out of my sight just as quick went unsaid, but I didn’t have any problem reading between those lines.

As soon as Willow left the room, it was clear Drew hadn’t had a problem picking up the not so subtle tension either, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as he looked at the now closed door to Willow’s office.

Nola let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Damn, Finn. Can’t believe you made sweet Willow Haven cuss. I’m not entirely certain, but I don’t think she’s forgiven you quite yet.”

“You don’t think?” I asked, scratching my chin. “Went better than I expected, to be honest.”

“What the hell did you expect?” Nola cocked an eyebrow. “A kick to the nuts?”

I shrugged. That very scenario might have crossed my mind a time or two.

“Maybe it was a front,” Drew said, settling in the chair to the right of Nola. “She’s probably out there now planning a welcome home party for you.”

I didn’t bother responding as I glanced around Willow’s office, just lifted a certain finger in my brother’s direction, letting it drop once Drew rumbled out a laugh.

Willow’s office was devoid of anything personal—no art on the walls, no vase of flowers on the side table, no framed photo of her with friends or her sisters on her desk…nothing. To anyone else, it probably looked like she preferred to keep it professional, sleek. No clutter, no mess.

But I knew better. Knew her deepest fears and her greatest insecurities—or I had at one time. And I’d bet my left nut she kept her office sparkling and pristine, lacking any personal touches, so her father couldn’t use it as a weapon against her while she tried to perform this job under his command. So he couldn’t turn it into some kind of weakness on her behalf, as he’d been known to do a time or twenty.

Jesus, what had made her come back here? Not just here to Havenbrook, but here to town hall, to an office twenty feet away from her daddy. To a career working for a man she’d constantly butted heads with. A man who’d made it his mission to make her feel less-than. One who never, ever saw her worth.

Nola cleared her throat, drawing my attention. She stared at me with expectation, eyebrows raised.

“What’s up, Xena?” I asked, settling in the chair on her other side.

“Look, I don’t know all the details of whatever went on between y’all”—Over Nola’s head, I met Drew’s eyes and exchanged a look loaded with gravity. No, she didn’t. Not many did—“but this is my life here. I don’t want y’all’s history messin’ with things. It’s already gonna be hard as hell runnin’ this by myself after y’all leave, ’specially in this town filled with good ol’ boys. The business?—”

“Is ours too,” Drew cut in.

“No, I know that.” She divided a look between me and Drew. “Of course I do. Keepin’ in touch while y’all’ve been gone is one thing, but for y’all to come back and do this with me… Well, I appreciate it, ’cause you both know I didn’t have the capital by myself.”

Nola’s proposition for us to go into business together couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I had been itching to do more for a while, and though it’d been logical to move toward ownership of the bar I managed in California, it hadn’t felt right. Not like this did.

“You know we were happy to—goin’ back to diapers, we’ve been a team,” I said. “Always had your back. Always will.”

She elbowed me—her version of a hug. “Same goes. But that doesn’t change that y’all’ll be leavin’ soon, and I have to stay here, you know? Just…” She sighed and shot me a look out of the corner of her eye. “Just go along to get along, okay? Don’t make waves for me where you ain’t droppin’ your anchor.”

With a nod, I agreed, because I couldn’t do much else. Drew and I had flown back to Havenbrook with plans to stay only long enough to help settle things with the new space. Nola, Drew, and I had purchased it together in a 20-40-40 split respectively, going into a partnership with Nola when she’d presented us with an offer too good to pass up.

Of course I loved that Drew and I were able to help out one of our oldest and closest friends, but this bar in this town meant so much more than that. After all, it wasn’t every day I got to stick it to someone I despised. First bar in a town Richard Haven had spent his life working tooth and nail to keep pure ? The poetic justice was too good to resist, especially considering my history with the mayor.

The plan had been for the three of us to get the paperwork settled, sign Drew’s and my names where necessary—much as Nola hated it, two male names carried more weight than hers ever could, especially in the backward town of Havenbrook with a mayor like Dick himself—approve the blueprints and construction plans, and then bail again. Head back to California, back to our lives…

Truthfully speaking, though, despite living there for the past ten years, we didn’t have much of a life on the west coast. No matter what we did, how many roots we planted there, it had never felt like home. Not like Havenbrook had.

“Sorry ’bout that.” Willow slipped back into the office, not a chink in that armor I’d watched her put on, and settled behind her desk, fake smile spreading her lips. She straightened the stack of papers in her hand, brightly colored flags popping out along the edges. “We’ve got just a few things to take care of then y’all can be on your way. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” Yep, that armor was perfectly in place, but she wouldn’t look my way. Instead, she spoke to Drew. “If you’ll just sign right by the flag.” She pointed to a spot on the paper, handing Drew a pen. “Then go ’head and pass the stack on down so we can get everyone’s signatures.”

She shuffled through more papers on her desk, avoiding any and all eye contact, with me in particular. “Looks like Nash has already filed for the proper permits to get started on construction, so y’all’re all set there.”

Jesus, was there anything worse than listening to her small talk, go on about some nonsense like we were two random strangers? Like I didn’t know the weight of her body on my own, didn’t know the taste of her on my tongue, didn’t recall the exact tenor of her moans? I hated it, absolutely fucking hated it.

And I had no right to. None at all.

I’d given this up— I’d been the one who’d walked away, never mind that I hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn’t fair of me now to demand things, to want to know everything that’d happened while I’d been gone. To want answers to all my questions—why was she here? Why was she working for her father? Why wasn’t she in Tennessee like we’d planned? But even knowing I didn’t have a right to those answers, it didn’t stop the burning in my gut, the suddenly overwhelming urge to know everything boiling up inside me.

“Since the permits have?—”

“Why aren’t you in Nashville?” Shit. I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but I couldn’t deny it was the single question that’d plagued me for far too long— years . Since Nola had let it slip long ago that Willow’d been back in Havenbrook for a while. Had started working for her daddy.

That was a far cry from her original plans of going to art school and becoming the creator I knew she was, deep in her bones. So far from the buttoned-up professional sitting in front of me in her tailored suit—which, yeah, looked hot as hell on her, but didn’t belong on her nonetheless. I wanted to pop the buttons on that fitted suit jacket just to see if she’d kept a tiny bit of her old self under this facade.

The thought of one of her paint-stained tanks under her professional clothes had my lips tipping up at the corners. No matter where she’d been or what she’d been doing, she’d used to wear an old tank, perpetually stained with every color of the rainbow, beneath her clothes. In case the urge to paint hit her, she’d told me once. Jesus, those white slips of fabric covered with paint spatters with the tiny little straps had driven me and my teenage brain crazy. They’d fit her like a second skin, clinging to every inch of her body.

“Why aren’t you wherever the hell you ran off to?” Willow snapped back, her temper flaring before my eyes. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, connecting with mine and giving me that contact I craved, even if only for a second before she took out her anger on the papers in front of her.

A not-so-discreet elbow jab and a pointed stare from Nola had me keeping my mouth shut for the rest of the meeting, scrawling my signature above the line indicated by the blue flags. As soon as my name was on the last paper, Willow snatched the pile from me and stood, making it clear in no uncertain terms it was time for us to get the hell out.

“I’ll let y’all know if there’re any problems, but I don’t foresee anything,” she said with false cheer, not moving from behind her desk. “In the meantime, let me know if anything comes up, Nola.”

“Thanks, Will,” Nola said.

“’Preciate your help, Will.” Drew gave a short nod in her direction, tipping his baseball cap up, before stepping aside to let Nola out the door ahead of him.

I stood, rapping my knuckles twice on the desk. For the briefest moment, Willow’s eyes met mine, and sparks went off under my skin. Just like always. “I’ll see you again soon, Willowtree.”

She huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head to break the spell. Then she dropped into her seat, twisting her chair around until her back was to me. “Goodbye, Griffin. And don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath.”

I wasn’t going to win this battle, no matter what I said. So I stood there for another moment before turning and walking out of her office. Nola and Drew waited outside, and I joined them, the hot May sun beating down on us.

“That went well,” Drew said on a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Willow that mad. And I was there when Billy sprayed her white shirt with water in high school—you remember that?”

Yeah, I remembered. And thinking about it now wasn’t going to do anything but get me half hard again, just like I’d been while sitting across from her.

“Y’all, quit it. I’m serious now. Stay out of her way,” Nola all but pleaded. When I didn’t respond, she wrapped her hand around my forearm, digging her short nails into my skin hard enough to leave indentations. “Griffin Reilly Thomas, I mean it.”

With a laugh, I peeled her fingers from my arm. “Shit, Xena, quit reminding me why we gave you the nickname in the first place. I’ll give her space, promise.”

She narrowed her eyes, but Drew changed the subject, like a good twin. “Damn, never imagined I’d forget what May in Mississippi’s like, but I think California made me soft.” He lifted his baseball cap off his head and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it again, shading his eyes from the brutal rays.

“Don’t worry. Y’all’ll be back there in no time.” Nola patted Drew on the cheek. “Though, you might want to get some sunscreen so you don’t burn all this pretty, delicate skin.”

One second Nola was walking between me and Drew, and the next Drew held her planked across his shoulders, spinning round and round.

“Oh my God! Andrew Brennan Thomas, you better put me down right this second!”

With a laugh, Drew finally set her on her feet, chuckling as he jumped out of the way to dodge a slap to the chest. “Damn, girl, what’s with you throwin’ around middle names all willy-nilly? I can’t believe you three-named me.”

“You’re lucky those are the only names I called you.”

Laughter bouncing between us, we walked across the street, striding toward the building on the corner— our building. The town square was quaint and well kept, considering how run-down it’d been the last time I had seen it. But I shouldn’t have been surprised at the life that was now evident. Not since I knew Willow was responsible for it.

I could see touches of her wherever I looked. The new streetlamps, flower baskets filled with bright pops of color hanging from the wrought-iron posts. Park benches every few feet, the back rungs decorated with paintings I immediately recognized as hers. So she hadn’t quit painting… Maybe she’d decided she hadn’t needed to go to art school to be happy? Maybe she’d found a way to do both—working on her art while staying in her hometown, a compromise of sorts. Maybe she was happy here, working for her daddy?

That was all I had ever wanted, was the main reason I’d left in the first place. More than anything, I wanted her happy, living the life she deserved. I just had to trust she was. And I hoped I’d be able to see even a sliver of it in the few short days Drew and I would be in Havenbrook.