22. Finn
TWENTY-TWO
FINN
I’m in a shit ton of trouble.
I like this girl.
I like this girl a lot.
I like her when she’s sitting across from me and asking for more food. I like her when she’s laughing at my sweater or a stupid joke I tell.
I really like her when she has flour on her face and dough on her fingers from the cookies we’re making. When she smiles at me, it’s a punch to my gut. It’s a reminder of how beautiful she is, how fucking fun she is, and I want to bottle it up so I can see it whenever I’m feeling sad or lonely.
“Hey!” Margo exclaims when I wrap my fingers around her wrist and lift her hand in the air. “What are you doing?”
“Making sure everything tastes okay.” I bring her pointer finger to my mouth and wrap my lips around it. I suck the dough off her nail and lick down her finger. “Wouldn’t want you to end up poisoned.”
“What if I wanted that bite?” She tugs her finger free and puts her own mouth around it. “It’s rude not to share.”
“Sorry. That was selfish of me.” I grin and use my thumb to wipe away the flour from her cheek. There’s even some in her hair, and I can’t wait to get her into the shower after we eat the dessert we’ve made. “Your kitchen is a mess. You’re a mess. Did any of the dough actually end up in the oven?”
“After you finished eating it all, I think we managed a dozen cookies. Maybe one or two less.”
“And we’re going to eat them all when they come out.”
“Can your rocking six-pack sustain that much sugar?”
“What are you talking about? It’s the perfect way to carb load.” I grab the mixing bowl and drop it in the sink. “I’ll clean this up.”
“No way. I’m guilty of contributing to this disaster, and you’re my guest. I’m not going to make you do all the work.”
“Tag team it?” I ask, and Margo grins.
We work in tandem cleaning up and make small talk between wiping down the counters and rinsing out the measuring cups. Margo talks to me about the places she used to travel with her dad when she was a kid, the layovers she got to experience and the stamps she has in her passport. I mention the volunteer work I do at the animal shelter on the rare weekends I have off and how I’ve been thinking about adopting a dog to help fill the void of living alone and not having anyone to come home to.
Half the flour on the counter lands on my sweater when I try to wipe it up. I drop my head back and laugh when Margo draws a snowman right next to the bell of Santa’s hat on my chest. I put my palms on the back of her sweatpants, leaving handprints on her ass she doesn’t bother to clean off.
The oven beeps when I put the tablespoon and teaspoons back in the drawer next to her dishwasher. I grab the oven mitts, taking out the cookies and setting them on the stove.
“They look delicious.” I turn off the oven and pull her to me. “Nice job, chef.”
“Pretty sure this is all because of you. I would’ve burnt them all and had nothing to eat.” She grabs a cookie off the sheet pan and blows on it. “Want to take the first bite?”
“Gladly.” I sink my teeth into warm chocolate chips and sigh. “God damn. That’s delicious.”
Margo pops the other half in her mouth and hums in agreement. “So freaking good. It’s not your first time making Christmas cookies, is it? You were way too quick to whip out that tree cookie cutter.”
“I’m a damn expert at this point. Last year, there was a gingerbread house competition at work, and I took first place. You should’ve seen the decorations I piped.”
“Sounds like you missed your calling to be on Great British Bake Off . You’re too busy saving lives to be a pastry chef.”
“One of your comfort shows?” I grab another cookie off the tray and hand it to her. I smile when she bites down on a reindeer’s head. “What else do you like to watch?”
“Anything that makes me laugh. Romcoms. Ted Lasso .”
“God. Ted Lasso is fucking brilliant. When Jeremy was a kid, he played soccer with a bunch of five-year-olds. I got tapped in to be the head coach, but I was let go after a month for being too competitive.” I lick the pad of my thumb and brush a piece of cookie away from the corner of her mouth. “Sorry. Is it weird to talk about him?”
“No.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “He’s part of your life. He was, unfortunately, part of mine too, but that doesn’t mean you can’t mention your son. The only time I’ve seen you be a parent is when my hand was on your dick, but you’re a nice guy, Finn. And I bet you’re an incredible dad.”
I don’t know why that makes my chest hurt, but it does. Maybe because, in less than two weeks, I’ve come to value Margo’s opinion of me more than I value other people’s. Maybe because I want her to keep thinking I’m a nice guy. Maybe because I want to give her the whole fucking world and ask for nothing in return.
I knew I was physically attracted to her when I saw her from a distance, back when she was dating Jeremy. But now that I’ve gotten to know her, I’ve learned she’s this incredible force of a woman I’m emotionally attracted to too.
And fuck if there aren’t differences between us: an age gap. Life experiences. Hell. We might even have different goals and where we see ourselves in ten years, but I cannot deny the pull between us. The electric chemistry we have, and even if it’s for another month or another year, I don’t want to give that up without giving this a try.
“Thanks,” I rasp, and I rest my hands on her hips. “Do you have any plans for Christmas Eve tomorrow?”
“Nope. Katarina is out of town, and with my parents across the Atlantic Ocean, it’ll be me and a movie marathon on the couch.”
“Come to my place. I have the tree and the decorations. It’s supposed to snow. It’ll be nice.”
“Are you sure?” Her eyebrows wrinkle and she touches my jaw. “Don’t you want to spend some time alone after work?”
“No. I want to spend it with you.”
Her gaze collides with mine. She chews on her bottom lip, and I’d give my entire life savings to know what she’s thinking.
“Okay,” Margo says slowly after a beat. “I’d like that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Your sweaters are a lot more fun than sitting by myself.”
“I knew that’s what sold it. I’ll cook dinner and?—”
My phone buzzes on the counter, and I glance at it. Layla is FaceTiming me, and I look back at Margo.
“It’s my ex. Jeremy’s mom. Mind if I take this?”
“No.” She smiles and pats my chest. “I’ll get the TV ready so you can have some privacy.”
“You can stay here.” I draw her closer to me and rest my chin on her head. “You don’t have to run away. Besides, she’ll probably call me a dimwit or something, and you might want to hear that.”
Margo laughs. “Fine. But keep me out of the frame.”
“Got it.” I position the screen my way and answer. “Hey, Lay.”
“Finny. I’m going through the list for Christmas and—” Her eyes bounce from whatever she’s holding in her hand up to me. “Is that flour in your hair?”
“What? Oh. Yeah.” I touch the lock across my forehead and laugh. “I’m making cookies.”
“Cookies, huh?” Layla grins. “With who?”
“A friend.”
“A friend,” she repeats. “And is this friend pretty?”
“Yeah.” I turn my attention to Margo, who sticks out her tongue. “Prettiest woman I’ve ever seen in my life.”
“Wow. You haven’t smiled like that in ages. I’m clearly interrupting something, so I’m going to make this quick. I have you down to bring mashed potatoes and the turkey for dinner. Is that still the plan?”
“You know it, Laylacakes. If you think of anything else you need, shoot me a text tomorrow and I’ll swing by the store when I’m out. Oh. I got the twins a gift, by the way.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Course I didn’t. I wanted to.”
“You’re too nice for your own good. Thank you, Finny. They can’t hold themselves up, eat or think, but they’re going to love it. You’re the best.”
“I try.” I flash her a smile and play with the ends of Margo’s hair off camera. “Rhett, Jada and Holden are coming too, by the way. I figured that was okay, since we’re going to have enough food for a small army.”
“The more the merrier.”
“I have to run, Lay. I’ll see you at two on Thursday?”
“Sounds good. See you then! Say hi to your pretty friend!” Layla blows me a kiss and hangs up.
“You two get along,” Margo says, and I silence my phone. “And it’s nice you spend Christmas with her family.”
“After first, it was for Jer. We wanted him to have that cohesive family unit, you know? When Jeremy went to college, we kind of just kept spending the holidays together. I’ve brought people. She’s brought people, but we’ve learned co-parenting is a hell of a lot easier when you like the person you’re working with.”
“That sounds nice. She sounds nice.”
“She’s great.” I pop another bite of cookie into my mouth. “Ready for a movie?”
“Yeah, friend . I am,” Margo teases, and I narrow my eyes.
“I think you might get in trouble for that one, Miss Andrews.”
“Well.” She dusts off her hands and slinks away from me. “If you can catch me, Mr. Mathieson, I’ll let you punish me.”
I blow out a breath and grip the counter. “I’ll give you a five second head start, baby, but I won’t be nice if I win.”
“The naughty list is way more fun.” Margo pulls off her shirt and drops it on the floor. With no bra, her tits spill free, and I groan. “Ready?”
“I may not make it to Christmas Day if you keep walking around like that.”
With a wink and a devilish grin, she says, “Then we better have all the fun we can tonight.”