Chapter 8 #2
Just as I’m about to argue, a customer steps up to the counter like she’s on a mission.
“Excuse me,” the woman says. “Do you have any recommendations for cozy fall reads with magic… but not, like, too much magic?”
I flip my hair back like this is the moment I was born for. “Ah. You’re speaking my language.”
I grab a copy of Practical Magic, Fall Too Well, and my personal favorite, The Pumpkin Spice Spell. I set them down with a flourish as the woman’s friends also join us, curious. “These are perfect. A little chaos, a little love, some mild hexing. Basically, real-life small-town magic.”
“Okay, I’ll take them,” the first woman says. Then she squints at us. “Wait. You guys aren’t the Maren sisters, are you?”
I deadpan. “Depends on who’s asking. Friend or foe?”
She laughs. “You’re funny and definitely friend.”
“Thanks,” I say sweetly. “I would have been burned at the stake in 1692 for this personality. And yes, we are, in fact, the Maren sisters.”
That gets a full-on giggle fit from her friends. One of them looks at the others and back at me. “Can we take a picture with you guys? You’re like iconic.”
I glance at Willa and Ivy, who are already smirking like smug little witches that they are. “Sure,” I say, sliding between them for the photo.
“Smile, Wisteria Cove’s witchy sweethearts,” Ivy stage-whispers, and I elbow her in the ribs while still cheesing for the camera.
They wander off to browse more books, still giggling and looking at the picture on their phones and back at us. I plop down on the stool next to Ivy, and Willa slides a mug of tea my way like she’s rewarding me for unboxing her books for her, not that I minded in the least.
My phone dings in my pocket. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Finn: I found a cat. I think I’m keeping him.
"Finn found a cat," I tell them as I text him back.
What? Where?
Finn: Someone dumped him on the edge of town. One of my clients found him.
What kind of asshole dumps a cat?
Finn: I know, right? He’s so cute.
Willa lets out a long, dramatic sigh. “The kitty distribution system is working overtime in this town and I’m here for it.”
Ivy laughs. “We have barn cats at the farm now. Tate and you have Cobweb. Now Finn’s got one. It’s almost like…”
“Don’t even say it,” I mutter as my fingers fly over the phone texting him back as Ivy leans over to read it.
I’m coming to see it as soon as it’s time to close the shop.
Ivy smirks. “You’re going to ‘see it.’ Uh huh.”
“I’m going to make sure he didn’t find a demon in disguise,” I say, standing when I hear the bell over the door ding on my side of the shop. “I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“Right,” Ivy says, tapping her pen. “Don't think we're done talking about your sexy time vacay with Finn. We’ll pick this up again, later. And we’ll work on your love spell.”
“Yeah, we’re going to need to plan this out!” Willa calls.
No, we’re not. I shake my head as I hurry over to my shop. But I am starting to get excited about this trip to Coconut Beach.
After I closed the shop, I made my way to Finn's house where his truck’s out front, tailgate down, and there’s a cardboard box sitting on the ground next to it with a piece of screen over the top.
When I look inside the box, it's the grumpiest looking thing I’ve ever seen. A tortoiseshell cat glares up at me with bright green eyes, like I personally hexed its bloodline.
“Hi, kitty,” I say softly. Which makes the cat look like he’s glaring even more and blinks at me slowly like he’s already over me.
Finn’s crouched beside the little grump, sleeves rolled up, sawdust still clinging to his forearms. He looks like he just stepped out of a blue-collar hottie calendar shoot with his broad shoulders, forearms that could probably bench press me, and that easy, rugged kind of strength that doesn’t need to brag.
He's the epitome of big dick energy. Best friend big dick energy, I think to myself. Also, I’ve seen his boners through his boxers. Definitely big dick energy.
When he looks up, that slow, deep grin of his hits me right in the stomach and trickles down to my lady parts. My knees forget what they’re supposed to be doing.
“Isn’t he cute?” he says, voice warm and low, like he’s got no idea he’s the real problem here looking like that.
“Why does his face look like that?”
Finn frowns. “What do you mean?”
“He looks angry like he’s plotting something. Blink once if you're safe right now, Finn. Has he held you captive or something? Do you have Stockholm Syndrome?”
Finn laughs softly, eyes crinkling. “No, that’s just his face. He’s misunderstood.”
I scoff and cross my arms, pretending not to melt at Finn looking so good with the cat.
And he’s not wrong. I can’t tell you how many times people have called me a bitch and not liked me because I’m quiet, admitted have a resting bitch face at times, and can be serious.
It’s literally my Scorpio personality. “So, what’s his name? ”
“Allen,” he says, gazing at the cat lovingly like he’s a newborn.
“Allen? Really?”
“Yeah, like as in Allen wrench.”
I blink. “You named the cat after a tool. No wonder he looks like he wants to murder you.”
He grins. “He looks sharp and reliable.”
“He definitely looks like he could have sharp claws or a shiv.”
He stands, brushing his hands on his jeans, and the look he gives me is too warm, too soft. “Nah, I think he likes me. Don’t you, Allen?”
Allen responds with a glare directed at both of us.
I bravely reach into the box and scoop Allen up. The cat lets out a half-hearted grumble but doesn’t fight. He’s warm and surprisingly cuddly. Finn watches me like I’m picking up his newborn baby.
“You love him already,” Finn teases. "I knew you’d love Allen."
I meet his eyes. “He’s got attitude and I respect that.”
We stand there for a beat too long, just staring at each other while Allen purrs like a tiny engine with his absolutely terrifying RBF. Hmm, maybe he is misunderstood.
“So,” Finn says, clearing his throat. “What’s the plan for the trip? You still letting me come?”
I stroke Allen's soft head and scratch his ears, the little grump growing on me. “I meant it, you know. You don't have to go.”
He pretends to look mildly offended, “I want to go. Do you not want me to come?”
“I just don't want you to feel obligated. Like I'm pitiful and need someone to go with me.”
He smirks but gives me a flirty look that he knows works on me when he wants to soften me up. “If it means sunscreening your back and laughing all week with you? Yeah, I'm going.”
My stomach somersaults and I remind him, “There's only one room, Finn. You have to be near me like all the time.”
He steps closer, enough that I can smell cedar and coffee and something that makes me dizzy. “I'm pretty sure we can figure it out. You were going to share with Jessica." He says her name as if it’s a disgusting bug.
“Yeah, but she’s a girlfriend and doesn’t mind sharing with me.”
He leans in a little, eyes steady on mine, voice dropping lower than usual. “Rowan,” he says, and my name sounds different on his tongue. Warmer. Rougher. “I definitely don’t mind sharing with you.”
The air tightens and his tone is suggestive without crossing a line, like he is testing the waters, like he’s saying one thing but meaning more. And when he said “you,” it hit me low in my stomach, because he’s not just being polite.
He sounds like he wants this. He wants me.
And the way he said Jessica’s name earlier, being dismissive, almost irritated makes this feel even more serious. Sharing a space with Jessica would be tolerable. Sharing with me? That feels like something he wants. Something he’s offering.
Heat flickers through me, unexpected and sharp. I try to swallow, but my throat is dry. I should laugh it off. I should say something breezy. But all I can do is look at him and feel that familiar, terrifying pull.
I look down at Allen, whose grumpy face seems to be judging both of us while he's still purring. What an odd cat.
“Who is going to watch him?” I whisper, snuggling him close to my chin, the cat surprisingly purring harder, liking it.
“Remy said he'd be happy to watch his new nephew, Allen. Remy and Tate are also going to check on your plants with your sisters while we're gone. Everything has been worked out.”
I chuckle at him referring to Allen as Remy’s nephew. Finn’s always had a soft spot for animals.
“Alright. Pack your swimsuit, flip flops, and sunscreen because we are going to spend the whole week relaxing, Coconut Ken. I need this,” I say, trying to sound breezy.
But the second the words are out, my mind betrays me. Because I know exactly how relaxed I will be with Finn sitting next to me in a beach chair all week. Sun on his shoulders. That warm, steady smile. The way he looks at me sometimes, like he is seeing something I do not know how to hide.
Finn’s grin spreads, slow and certain. “Yes.”
Allen lets out a tiny meow, like he is adding his vote.
“Welcome to the chaos, Allen,” I tell him softly. “You fit right in.”
But Finn’s smile lingers and it stays on his mouth, in his eyes, in the air between us. Slow. Devastating. Warm in a way that does things to me I am not ready to admit.
I try not to picture the cottage by the beach.
Or the one bed. Or how much space Finn takes up without even trying.
His body heat beside me, inches away. The softness of sheets and sand and the quiet sound of waves outside the window.
Him turning over in the night and brushing against me and his breath on my neck.
I swallow, heat blooming low in my stomach.
One small bed. Just one. Fine for most people. But Finn is not most people. Finn takes up space just by existing. And the thought of sharing that cottage with him burrows under my skin on the drive home, warm and impossible to shake.
By the time I crawl into bed, it is still there, pulsing through me with every heartbeat.
I already know exactly where my mind is going to wander once I close my eyes. And I don’t fight it.
I jolt awake in the middle of the night, my heart pounding, sweaty with the heat pulled at my core. The sheets are tangled around my legs, the moonlight leaking through the curtains just enough to paint the ceiling in silver streaks.
For a few seconds, I can’t breathe. It’s like my body hasn’t caught up to the fact that it was just a dream. My skin is flushed and warm, and I can still feel Finn's hands and mouth on me.
God, it felt so real and so good. I have never had an orgasm in a dream before. This is a wild feeling.
I roll onto my back and press a shaky palm to my chest, my heart beating so fast. The edges of the dream cling to me, my legs still shaking. It felt so real and I can still hear the sound of the ocean and the taste of salt on his skin.
I close my eyes, and I still feel his breath against my neck before he kissed me. The low sound he made when I touched him and ran my hands down his chiseled torso. The weight of him over me and moving. The way I felt… safe and complete. The way I unraveled in a way I’ve never let myself before.
I’ve had great dreams before. Stupid, fleeting flashes that disappeared the second I opened my eyes.
But this one felt real, and like Finn and I were at Coconut Beach with the warm sand under our feet, and a soft breeze on our bodies through an open window as Finn made me come over and over.
Until I woke up from my dream having a real orgasm.
I swear I can still feel his fingertips brushing down my spine, his mouth on my body. His voice was low and rough, whispering things that send heat curling through every inch of me while I replay it in my head.
God, it was only a dream, but it felt so real. How am I supposed to go on this trip with Finn in a few days and trust myself to sleep in the same cottage as him and not have sex dreams with him nearby? It’ll be so embarrassing.
I drag a hand over my face, half mortified, half dizzy from how real this was.
This isn’t some silly crush anymore. This isn’t just best friends and easy smiles.
This is deeper and messier like it’s been simmering for years, waiting for a crack to push its way through, and tonight it changed something in me.
I shift under the sheet, trying to shake it off, but I can’t. My skin tingles where he touched me in that dream. My stomach flips like I’m still there, tangled up with him while the world faded away.
It wasn’t just the physical part, though. That’s the thing that undoes me the most. It was the way he looked at me. Like I was it for him and he’d been waiting for me just as long as I’ve been quietly, stupidly waiting for him.
A breath shudders out of me as I press the heels of my hands against my eyes. I shouldn’t let a dream mess me up like this. Because if it felt that real in my sleep, what would it feel like if it actually happened?
My throat tightens because it wouldn’t just be physical and never could be with Finn.
Being with him would be the kind of thing that changes everything.
If I was ever with Finn like that it would be impossible to go back to being just friends if anything happened.
It would change everything and ruin the friendship.
I turn onto my side and stare at the soft glow of the fairy lights over my small bookshelf. The quiet of the small studio apartment wraps around me, but I can still hear his voice in my head. I can still feel him.
And the scariest part? It didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt inevitable.
I let out a soft laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “God, Rowan,” I whisper to the ceiling. “You’re so gone for him.”
This trip to Coconut Beach isn’t even here yet, and my brain is already trying to undo me in my sleep.
My fingers twist in the sheets. If I go… if we’re there together… I don’t know if I could keep pretending.
Because tonight, in my dream, it didn’t feel like pretending at all. It felt pretty damn real.