Chapter 2
Finn
I woke up extra early this morning so that I could find a coffee shop to stop at on the way to the job site. I am not in a big city anymore, and long gone are the chain coffee shops on every corner. I thought it would be more of an inconvenience than it truly was. It forces me to get up a little bit earlier and watch the sun rise over the ridge at my vacation rental. The property backs up to an amazing green belt that has moss-covered conifer trees.
I’ve lived in the Pacific Northwest my whole life. I am familiar with the sites and hiking and camping. I’m familiar with the rainy weather, and I actually love it. However, growing up in the city is entirely different from waking up and looking out your back window at this beautiful piece of heaven on Earth. The display of nature everywhere you look is something that can’t be beat. It’s a shame I’m only going to be here a few months while I work on this project. Maybe I will need to make it a point to get away from the city and get out in nature.
I quickly get ready and hop in my truck, heading for downtown Evergreen Ridge. I take in the sites as I drum my fingers on my steering wheel in time with the music. I scan the cherry blossom lined street for something that resembles coffee, and my eyes land on a brick building with the name “Pore Over” on the front. Hmm, they spelt pour wrong, I think to myself. Oh well, coffee is coffee, so I park my truck and walk inside. The bells on the door chime, and I’m greeted by a pretty blonde woman behind the counter. She is conventionally attractive, much like a lot of the women I come across back home in the city.
“Good morning. Can I get a sixteen-ounce Americano black, please?”
She smiles brightly. “Sure, any breakfast to go along with that this morning?”
“No, thanks, just the coffee.” Then, before I can shove the words back in my face, I blurt, “You spelled pore wrong on your sign outside.”
“Oh, no, the owner was trying to be funny and name the cafe with a pun and it fell a little flat.”
Confused, I ask, “How is it a pun?”
She looks a little embarrassed, which is strange because I am the one who doesn’t understand, and replies, “Well, ‘pore’ can mean to read attentively, and obviously there is ‘pour’ as in pouring coffee. Our cafe doubles as a bit of a literary oasis for people, with all the books that we provide, so the owner thought it would be cute to use a play on the words ‘pour’ and ‘pore.’ Don’t worry, literally everyone from out of town asks the question. It’s how we can tell you aren’t a local.”
I feel my cheeks heat, but I give her my winning smile, anyway. “Well, that is super clever. Thanks for enlightening me, and thanks for the morning fuel.”
I step over to the side to wait for my coffee and can’t help but to replay that conversation in my head. She spoke about the differences with such confidence that I was utterly embarrassed that I even had to ask the question. It’s a word that I should have known. Or at least, I would have known, if I went to college like my parents had wanted for me since I could talk.
I ruminate for a few more seconds before I turn to my left and see the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She looks up at me like she can sense me staring. We make eye contact, and it seems like she’s daring me to look away. So, instead, I give her a smile and a wink. Usually, women would blush and look away coyly. She looks away alright, but after she scowls. I try not to let it get to me. Maybe she is having a bad day. I find myself wondering why she is having a bad day, and how I can turn that around.
I must have been staring at her for a couple of minutes. The only thing that snaps me out of my stupor is my name and coffee order being called. I really need to get to the job site, but I just can’t walk away from this woman who I know nothing about. I find myself wanting to know everything. So, instead of doing the responsible thing and leaving this woman alone and heading to work, I stride over to her table and take a seat. She looks up at me, and I can hear the short intake of breath that is her surprise at my forwardness of taking a seat without asking or being offered.
“You’re nervous,” I say to her.
Brows shooting up, she replies, “Excuse me?”
“You’re nervous. I make you nervous.”
“Well, I don’t normally have strange men come and sit at my table uninvited.”
I smirk. “I’m not strange; I’m charming.”
She mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, “Ted Bundy was charming.” However, I can’t quite hear her.
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing. Can I help you with something? I’m actually really busy.”
“No, tell me what you said.”
Now she is the one smirking. “I said ‘Ted Bundy was charming’. Do you mean to suggest that you’re like Ted Bundy?”
I spit out my small sip of coffee from laughing so hard. Who the heck is this girl, and who talks like this? When I first sat down, she looked like a scared doe, and now her brown eyes are sparkling with amusement, either at my reaction or her own humor. Either way, I think I love it. It certainly is refreshing to go back and forth with a woman like this. It would never happen in Seattle. Women would try to be charming and say what they thought I wanted to hear, or what they thought would charm me most, in hopes of either snagging a husband or rolling around in the sheets.
I like to think that I’m confident and not cocky. I have a mirror, so I know that I’m not horrible to look at, and I definitely have no problem in the women department, but that’s not what’s important to me. I know my parents are disappointed that I didn’t go to college to become a doctor or a lawyer, but I have made a pretty good living for myself as a contractor. I worked my way up—blood, sweat, and tears from working construction to starting my own company. I’m actually in pretty high demand in the Seattle area, but I needed a change of scenery and people. So, when an old friend reached out and wanted some help on a development, I jumped at the chance to live the small town life for a few months.
Now, I am sitting here with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Petite, with the cutest button nose and high cheekbones. Short, hazelnut brown hair that hangs just above her shoulders, exposing her long, slim neck. By far, the thing that stands out the most are her dazzling chocolate brown eyes, with little flecks of light honey in them.
“Hello!” A hand flails in front of my face. “Are you having one of those non convulsive seizures? Or a stroke? Aneurysm? Should I call someone for help?”
“What?”
“Are you okay? You’re sitting here, staring at me, with your mouth open and coffee dribbling down your chin. At first, I thought you were the charming type of serial killer. Now I’m beginning to think you’re more of the creepy kind and I’m definitely your next victim.”
I stare at her with a brow arched. “I was staring at you in disbelief because you compared my charm to the most prolific serial killer in the world.”
“One of.”
“Huh?” I ask, confused.
The smirk on her pretty pink mouth is back. “I said ‘one of’. Ted Bundy was one of the most prolific serial killers in the world; there are arguably others who are more so.”
“Like who…? You know what, never mind. I sat down to introduce myself. You were sitting here alone, and frankly, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you and I wanted to get to know you better, and before I knew it, I was being compared to ‘one of’ the most prolific serial killers of all time.”
She visibly tenses, and I’m kicking myself because I can’t for the life of me figure out why. I’m not upset. I’m teasing her the way she seemed to be teasing me, but something shutters in her eyes, and I know, somewhere, I made a mistake.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I truly did just want to introduce—”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just really busy right now,” she replies, cutting me off.
“Okaaaaaay. Again, I’m sorry if I offended you. My name is Finn, by the way. I’m in town for a few months for work. It was nice to meet you… What was your name?”
A little of the light has returned to her eyes as she says, “Nice to meet you, Finn, but if you are really a serial killer, it wouldn’t be very smart of me to give you my name, now would it?”
“No, it wouldn’t.” I give her my bright, winning smile. “I’ll see you around, and maybe I can convince you I’m not a serial killer.”
“Maybe. Bye, Finn.”
I stand up and stride for the door, and as the little gold bells chime, I look back. As I turn around, I notice it takes her a second to avert her gaze, but I can tell that she was looking at my butt. Her cheeks turn an amazing shade of pink, and I leave the cafe thinking to myself, So, you’re saying there’s a chance. I smile to myself the whole way to the job site.
I can not get this girl out of my head as I drive to the other side of town. There was something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite place. I thought maybe it was sadness, but it seemed to be a little more complex than that. I wonder what happened in her past to cause her to be so closed off. As I wonder, I realize that I could have sat there and talked to her for hours. Which is definitely strange for me. Sure, I go on dates and talk to women, but I never really go past surface level with anyone. I don’t even know this girl, but I want to know all her secrets and I want to tell her mine.
I turn down the road to the project site. An old worn down warehouse is being torn down, and my buddy Mason jumped at the chance to develop it into a new apartment complex. We worked together on a project in Seattle, and we worked so well together that when he called and asked if would help him out with this project, I jumped at the chance. I love his approach to developing and the fact that he wants to keep the charm of this small town. So, instead of making a sterile, modern building, he is creating brownstone apartments at an affordable price, and I’m proud to be helping while getting a bit of an escape.
I pull onto the gravel drive and take in the scene before me. What started out as an absolute dump is now a clean canvas for us to build on. The place had been taken over by squatters and teens throwing keggers. Mason’s guys did an awesome job cleaning it up, but there’s still a lot of work to be done. That’s fine with me. I’ve only been here three days and I can already tell I’m going to like it here. Especially now, since things just got interesting with the beautiful stranger.
I park and spott Mason, who lifts his hand in a wave. I grab my stuff and head out to meet him.
“Hey, boss, how’s it going?”
“Oh, come on now, Finn, you know I’m not your boss. We’re in this together,” he replies with a wide smile and a pat on the back.
“Everyone knows you’re the brains of the operation. I’m just here to do what I’m told and enjoy all this amazing scenery.”
There is a small twinge in my chest at my self-deprecating comment because I often say the thing out loud that I think others were thinking, whether it is true or not.
“Hello. Earth to Finn.”
Mason is staring at me like I have something sprouting out of my head. This is the second time today that someone has had to snap me out of my own thoughts. I’m not going to tell him what’s really in my head, so I guess I’ll tell him about the stranger.
“Sorry, man. I just can’t stop thinking about this girl that I met—well, kinda met—at the “Pore Over” downtown.”
He’s scowling at me. “The girl that works behind the counter?”
“No, she was sitting by herself in the corner. Petite, short brown hair, beautiful brown eyes.”
Now he is smirking. “Was she scowling at you pretty intensely, like you were the scum on the bottom of her shoe?”
“No, more like she thought I was a serial killer,” I mumble under my breath.
“Huh?”
“Oh, nothing. We had quite the banter going on for a few minutes about me being a serial killer before she kind of shut down and wanted me to leave.”
“Ouch.” He winced.
“Yeah, it wasn’t my finest moment. I sat down uninvited to introduce myself, and she pretty much wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That sounds like Riley, alright. She really knows how to kick you in the balls.”
Riley. I let that sit on my tongue for a while and decide that I like it, and I hope it’s a name I get to say over and over again.
“Well, I did catch her checking out my butt as I was leaving the cafe, so I see that as a definite win.”
Once again, he is smirking at me. “Well, good luck with that. Riley hasn’t given anyone the time of day in years. She pretty much just keeps to herself besides hanging out with her best friend.”
Something sparked in his eye at the mention of her best friend. “Well, from the looks of things, I’m going to be here for a while, so I have time to show her how amazing and charming I am.”
“Yeah, good luck, buddy.”
I have a feeling I’m going to need a lot more than luck to get through to Riley. At least I know her name. Now I just need to convince her to get to know me better.