Chapter 15
Ash
“ W ant me to peel that for you?”
Tucker shakes his head as the tip of his tongue pokes out from between his teeth. He’s trying so hard to peel the skin off the cutie orange, but he’s not getting very far.
“You sure? I can get it started for you.”
“I got it,” he huffs with such conviction.
“Alright, little man. Jelly or no jelly?”
“Jelly!”
We’re down by the creek having lunch and skipping rocks today. It’s hot as hell out, but the trees shading the area and the breeze in the air offer a nice break from the sun. It’s been kind of a slow day for me, since I woke up with the world’s worst hangover known to man. I barely made it to the toilet this morning before puking my guts out. It’s almost noon now, and I’m finally starting to feel semi-human again. Although, if I had to guess, I’d say that I’ll probably feel like shit all day.
Tucker’s making way on his cutie, and I’ve got the rest of our lunch out, when I hear a sound that has my ears perking up. I can’t make out what it is… Sounds like trotting? Glancing in the direction of the sound, I realize I’m right…it is trotting. A horse carrying Finn on her back is trotting over to us.
And Christ Almighty, the sight of Finn riding horseback, cream-colored cowboy hat shading his eyes from the sun and his tight Wranglers accentuating his thick thighs and bulge is enough to make a grown man weep. Fuck, he’s too hot for his own good.
“Daddy!” Tucker squeals.
“Hey, bug.” Finn comes to a stop, climbs off the horse, and ties her to the tree.
“What’re you doing here?” I ask, peering up at him as he walks over to us.
Finn sits down on the blanket beside his son, opening his lunchbox that Tucker and I packed for him last night before I went out with Tripp. “I was nearby, had a minute, and was hungry. Hope it’s okay that I’m crashing your picnic.”
My stomach dips as his gaze lifts, meeting mine. Finn’s the first to look away as he swipes something out of his lunchbox. The note Tucker wrote for him. His lip ticks up into a crooked grin as he reads the messy and adorable handwriting before turning it around for me to see.
“Tucker draw this, or did you?” he asks, something akin to humor in his tone.
I huff out a laugh as I take in the poorly drawn image of Bubba cuddling with his favorite chicken. “If I say Tuck, would you believe me?”
“Not a chance.” He shakes his head, tossing the piece of paper back in the lunchbox. “You suck at drawing,” he adds with a smirk that makes my stomach dip.
It takes a moment for my mind to catch up to what he said, and I can’t help but snort when I do. “I’d like to see you do better,” I tease.
“Daddy, look!” Tucker says, pulling our attention to him. “I peeled this all by myself!”
“Good job, bug.” Finn smiles down so genuinely at his son, and I can’t help the flutter of butterflies taking over my stomach. There’s something so attractive about a man loving on his child. Especially when said man seems to only soften around said child. It’s like getting to see a side of him not shown to many.
We start eating, but honestly, I don’t have an appetite. I feel like I could puke again, but I force myself to at least eat some of my sandwich because I need something in my stomach. That’s the last time I get shitty drunk on a weeknight.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Finn glances over at me and asks, “How ya feelin’ today?”
“Like garbage,” I huff out, which earns me a chuckle from him.
“Didn’t really expect to see you out of the house after last night.”
My eyes slice over to him, eyebrows pinching as confusion fogs my mind. “What do you mean?”
He arches a brow. “You don’t remember comin’ home and being locked out?”
“Um, no.” What the fuck is he talking about?
“Daddy, guess what?” Tucker chimes in.
“What?”
“The fire alarm went off this mornin’,” he tells his dad, and I groan. “It was so loud!”
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I say, “I accidentally burned the eggs.”
“It smelled so bad,” Tucker continues. “Ash opened up the backdoor because it stunk, and the chickens ran inside.”
His little giggle would normally make me laugh if I wasn’t so mortified. This morning was an utter shitshow. Getting those chickens out of the house was way harder than it should’ve been, and Bubba didn’t help. He was chasing them around—I swear, working against me—while I was doing my best to not hurl again.
Finn looks at me as Tucker tells him all of this in great detail, humor shining from his eyes. Why is he in such a good mood? Why is he looking at me like that? And what was he talking about, me being locked out last night? We manage to finish our lunch, with them eating more than me, before Finn heads back out to the pasture to get back to work. It’s not until Tucker and I get back to the house that it hits me…
Coming home last night and not being able to find the house key.
Talking to Finn through the Ring camera.
Him letting me in, then making me food.
Fuck. How embarrassing. What did I say to him? Did I go to bed after eating? Why did he make me food in the first place? He probably thinks I’m a fucking mess.
After dinner, I decide to go for a run on the trail to clear my head. Mostly because I’m too damn embarrassed to face Finn just yet. Why did I let myself get so drunk last night? And what else happened that I don’t remember?
On my way back to the house, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Pulling it out, I take in the name on the screen, guilt eating at me as I answer, bringing the phone up to my ear.
“Hey, Vi.”
“Well, hi, stranger.”
“What’s up?”
“How is it possible that I see less of you now that you live fifteen minutes away than I did when you lived halfway across the country?”
I wince, guilt filling me like smoke as I realize how right she is. “Sorry.”
“Heard you got pretty drunk last night.” There’s humor in her tone, but her words make my pulse race.
“Who’d you hear that from?”
“Finn. I called him before I called you, and he mentioned you went for a run, and that he was surprised to see you running after last night.”
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing much,” she says. “He couldn’t really talk because he was getting Tucker ready for bed.”
“Oh, well, what’s up?” Getting back to the house, I stroll up the steps, sitting on the top one, not wanting to go inside just yet.
“Wanted to check and see how you’re doing with the new gig,” she says softly, which only intensifies my guilt. I haven’t been distancing myself on purpose; it’s just kind of happened.
“It’s good,” I reply, looking out across the yard and fidgeting with the hem of the shorts I’m wearing. “I’m enjoying it. Tucker is a cool kid, and he’s well behaved.”
“That’s good. I’m glad.” Violet goes silent for a moment, but something is telling me she has more to say, so I wait. Finally, she asks, “Is anything going on with Finn?”
My brows pinch. “What do you mean?”
Why is she asking me that? My heart races in my chest as sweat lines the back of my neck.
My sister blows out a breath. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “He came over the other day and acted really weird before leaving suddenly, and we’ve hardly talked since. I didn’t know if maybe he mentioned something to you?”
“Vi, he’s my boss. Why would he discuss his relationship with me?”
Huffing out a small laugh, she says, “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. It just feels like he’s pulled back a little lately.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. “How so?”
“I don’t know. Like, we used to hang out at least once a week, but lately, we’ve barely seen each other, and when we have been together, we haven’t been, you know…intimate.”
Fuck. “Violet, I love you, but I don’t need to hear about your sex life.”
Hearing that they’re not having sex shouldn’t make me excited, but it does. What a fucking shitty brother I am. If she knew this was where my head was at, she’d probably never talk to me again.
Giggling, Violet goes on. “I know, I’m sorry. I just…I like him, and for a while, it seemed like we were getting somewhere, but lately, it’s seemed to have halted.”
“Are you sure you guys are even on the same page?”
Shit, that came out harsher than I intended, and of course, she noticed.
“What is that supposed to mean?” There’s a bite to her tone, and I know I’ve struck a nerve. Jesus.
“I don’t mean anything by it, but Finn seems like a busy man with work and his son. Are you both wanting the same thing out of your relationship?”
“Did he say something?”
“No— Fuck, sorry.” Pressing my palm into my eye, I rub it until I see stars. “He didn’t say anything to me about you, Violet. I’m simply asking, but it was a stupid question. I’m hungover and feel like shit, and clearly not thinking properly. Ignore me. Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll call you later?”
There’s a tense beat of silence that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. She’s spiraling now because of what I said, and I know I should put her mind at rest, but I just…can’t. “Okay,” she finally murmurs. “But quit being so distant. We’re in the same town now; I should see my brother more often.”
“I will. Bye.”
Hanging up the phone, I rest my arms on my knees, letting my head hang. Never drinking again.
By the time I head back inside, Finn’s already sitting in his usual recliner, the lights dimmed, and music playing softly. Looking back at me as I put my shoes near the rack, he holds up his drink. “Want one?”
Grumbling and fighting the urge to gag, I shake my head. “Fuck no.”
I pad across the house into the kitchen, grabbing a huge glass from the cabinet, and fill it with water, chugging the whole thing in one go before refilling it. Aside from the nausea, I swear the worst part of a hangover is how utterly dehydrated you are the whole next day.
“Gotta say,” Finn says from behind me, startling the ever-loving shit out of me. “You were in a much better mood last night. Much nicer too.”
Spinning around, my gaze lands on him. I didn’t even hear him come in, but he’s standing at the center island, tan, corded forearms rested on the counter as he watches me with what seems to be amusement in his gaze.
“Was I?”
“Mmhmm.” He nods.
I rest my backside against the counter, crossing my right ankle over the other. “You cooked for me.”
“Oh, so you do remember?”
“Nothing after you feeding me. What a gentleman you are,” I tease, a smirk tugging on my lips.
He huffs out a laugh. “Only because you probably would’ve died from alcohol poisonin’ had I not.”
“Aw, you care if I die? Does this mean you actually”—I gasp—“dare I say it…like me?”
Finn chuckles, looking down at the counter as he shakes his head. There’s something so cute and boyish about it. “I don’t know ’bout all of that,” he drawls. “Tucker would be sad.”
“Oh, right.” I nod with a sigh. “Tucker would be sad. Daddy can’t let that happen.”
As if saying the word triggers the foggy memories, I’m suddenly hit with how many times I called him that last night in my inebriated state, and all the blood drains from my face, especially when his head snaps up, and he meets my gaze. There’s a pregnant pause before either of us moves or blinks or says anything. My mouth dries as I watch him, as I watch his Adam’s apple roll as he swallows.
What I wouldn’t give to drag my tongue along it.
Fuck, I need to get my shit together. Not even twenty minutes ago, I was listening to my fucking sister go on about how much she likes this man, and here I am, fantasizing about tasting him. It’s so fucked up.
Clearing my throat, I grab the glass of water off the counter, and announce, “I should go to bed.”
“Yeah.” Finn stands to his full height and nods. “Get some rest. I’m sure you’ll feel better in the mornin’.”
I don’t look at him as I walk by. I can’t, or I might do something ridiculous like throw myself at him. Climb his tan, muscular body like a fucking tree, and make more of a fool of myself than I already have. Because while Finn may not be as straight as I originally thought, two very strong reasons still stand as to why that would be a terrible idea.
Shutting my bedroom door behind me, I walk over to the desk and open my laptop, knowing what I need to do. I’m sexually frustrated; it’s been way too long since I’ve gotten laid, and while I don’t think I’m going to do that any time soon, there are things I can do to stave off some of the frustration… Toys.
When I was packing up all of my stuff in Portland to move here, I got rid of anything I had. It felt weird and kind of inappropriate to bring sex toys to my new job, but continuing to call my sister’s boyfriend and my boss ‘daddy’ is infinitely more weird and inappropriate. Desperate times and all that.
After I pull up my favorite website, I find a handful of fun items that’ll no doubt satisfy my needs and add them to my cart. As I check out, I notice how long the delivery will take. A fucking week. I groan, suddenly missing Portland even more. Two-day shipping isn’t a thing way out here, but I could get almost anything in the blink of an eye in the city. That would come in handy now.
There.
They’re ordered. Maybe now I’ll finally be able to stop thinking about my twin sister’s boyfriend in a way I very much shouldn’t.
I can do this.