Chapter 16 #3
I lifted a brow like a question mark. “Will I have to go through your agent?”
It took a beat, then a full grin washed over his face. “Oh, we’re actually ready to joke about this?” he asked. “Then no, not today. Sunday special—take one, get one for free.”
I paused, then laughed. “Pretty sure there’s a quip about cum shots somewhere in there, but I can’t think of a good one.”
“I’ll take a bad one, too.”
“Low standards?”
He slid me a slow, long look. “No—that was before you.”
Wow, and just like that, I wasn’t laughing anymore. God, how had I ever thought I could resist him? “Hey, remember that first night?”
“In vivid detail.” While coated in innuendo, he kept it light and playful, giving me an easy out.
“Yeah,” I said, serious. “Me too.” Our gazes tangled, and it felt like being drunk on sunlight and how much I wanted him. I inhaled. “But what I meant is… I told you I could see it—why guys would pay for your company. I thought you were magnetic. I still think that.”
His eyes went soft. “Jesse…”
Too much. I’d said too much.
“Coffee?” I asked quickly, with a smile that possibly bordered on manic. For a second, it looked as though he might push the issue. Then he relaxed and nodded.
“Like I’d ever say no to that.”
“Excellent answer. You must be a doctor.”
“Got it in one.”
We ate—chewing like we had time for once, no emergencies just waiting to happen. Above us, swallows arrowed in a swooping flock, gathering to fly south.
“So,” he said into a small lull after I’d described my hometown in unabashed hyperbole—one stoplight, two diners, three churches, my mom running the checkout at the supermarket and my dad doing parts delivery for the co-op that supplied the local farms. “What are the Jackson twins like? Beyond the medical challenge, I mean. I haven’t met them yet, so it’s still a little…
abstract. But I don’t want to grow into the kind of surgeon who sees charts instead of patients. ”
“Good. We’ve got plenty of those.” I dug through the bag for the best chips, the crumpled, twisty ones with more surface area for salt and grease. “The twins are… tiny. One has a grip like a clothespin. The other one kicks like she wants to go professional someday.”
Finn’s head tilted. “She just might. If”—the barest trace of hesitation—“things go right.”
“Yeah.” It came out less confident than I would have liked. The simulation had gone smoothly, but real life liked to throw curveballs. It was a knife’s edge, two small lives entirely in our hands. I tucked the thought away before it got heavy.
Finn was quiet for a beat. “Big day for you,” he said then.
I drew a breath. “Much bigger day for the twins and their parents.”
“Absolutely.” He kept his focus on the water. “Still. It would look very good on your CV.”
It would. But the words he didn’t say were what landed like a punch. Us, here, now? It could knock that very CV sideways. He’d be the wide-eyed intern who’d missed a step; I’d be the senior fellow who should and did know better.
Yet here we were.
I wiped my hands, glancing at the families closer to the shore, then at a couple in matching rain jackets who seemed to be arguing about the best route, voices raised but too far away to catch the details. Strangers, perfectly uninterested in our lives.
“You’re right,” I told Finn. “But just for today, let’s pretend that doesn’t matter.”
His smile caught specks of sunshine. “Deal.”
“Oh, and one more thing.” I reached for the bag I’d kept hidden in my pack. “Dessert.”
He peeked inside and laughed, bright enough to chase away any lingering thoughts. “My favorite.”
“Suspected as much,” I said, because I’d seen him sneak lemon bars from the vending machine a time or two, dry and plastic-wrapped.
These were not that. “Bakery-fresh,” I added, aiming for casual.
“From a café near me. Much better than the prepackaged stuff you seem to think is edible. I got a peanut bar, too, but that’s for me. ”
Something in his expression cracked open—unguarded and surprised, like he was only just realizing how much attention I’d been paying. I tiptoed on the brink of an apology when he leaned in and kissed me.
Oh. Sweet and quick, barely-there touch and immediate retreat, the taste of apple and coffee and a smile shaped against my mouth. Hazy as a dream, my brain still playing catch-up when he pulled back to look at me. Light in his eyes, the tilt of his head handing me the decision.
I blinked, heart caught high in my throat. Wind whispered secrets to the maple leaves above us while down by the water, a dad yelled, “Just throw it, Danny!” A world that simply kept on spinning.
“Yeah?” I asked.
Finn met my eyes. “Yeah.”
We’d crossed that line before—but this time, we were sober and aware, daylight washing around us. No alcohol to soften the edges, no blackout, no leftover adrenaline. Just us.
I stood, hummingbird pulse flapping in my throat, and held out my hand. He took it.
We veered a few steps into the trees, where the lake slipped behind a veil of green and rusty yellow.
Close enough to hear the splash of stones and kids that egged each other on, far enough that it felt like a blanket of privacy.
I walked him back against the tree, hooked my fingers into his collar, and tugged him into a kiss—slow, thorough, his mouth parting for me with a sweet little noise I felt all the way down to my toes.
God. Polyester crinkle of his jacket under my fingers, his hand curled warm against my hip, his mouth wet and slick, deliberate.
My thumb brushed over a hint of stubble just below his jaw that he must have missed this morning.
“Jesse,” he murmured, just my name, low and nearly lost between our mouths, as if it meant something all by itself.
I framed the curve of his jaw. “Finn.”
Ridiculous, Jesus. I’d never gone stupid and weak-kneed over a guy, trading names like prayers.
“He must be something special.” Shane’s words from what felt like years ago, stirring faintly in my brain.
I let them pass, nudging a thigh between Finn’s to press closer, closer.
He pulled me in and angled his hips, teeth nipping at my lower lip, hands gripping tight.
Leaves rustled.
Just a normal forest sound, a bird or a mouse stuck in a nearby bush, but…
Fuck. Reality check. We weren’t exactly safe behind a closed door.
Finn slowed our kiss, or maybe I did—flowing like water, mouths catching more lightly now, breaths going long and easy.
Eyes closed, foreheads touching. A breeze cooled my cheeks.
What were we doing? Sharp like the screech of a PA system—bad idea, whole fucking career on the line, what the hell is wrong with you? But I’d known all that when I’d asked him to join me today.
“This is still a really bad idea,” I mumbled.
“Yeah.” His breath was warm. “But it’s getting harder to remember why.”
Painfully true.
My heart fluttered like a dumb cliché. I opened my eyes to find him watching me already, blue gone a shade darker, lashes stuck together in one corner, maybe from when he’d slept in the car.
He looked braced for a fall, only his mouth still tilted soft and hopeful, and—fuck.
I’d asked him to come. I’d already made my choice, hadn’t I?
He was a risk I wanted to take, a lie I was ready to tell.
“I’ll have to submit your evaluation,” I said. “After the twins. Then your rotation’s done.”
“Right.” His eyes searched mine. “You’ll be free of me then, huh?”
I shook my head, smiling. “Not how I’d put it. No, my point is that I’ll be fully done supervising you after that.”
A beat. Yellow sunlight spun into patterns while he studied me, heavy like the weight of gold. Then he ducked his head, mouth curling up faintly at the corners. “Okay,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” I echoed.
It tasted like a promise.