Chapter 12 Rowan
Rowan
CONGA BY MIAMI SOUND MACHINE
“Come on, slowpoke,” Finn calls, his voice teasing as his big, warm, and strong hand slips into mine. It’s not just a grab.
Sure, Finn has given me a hand up before. We have gone swimming together, sat next to each other, watched movies shoulder to shoulder on his couch, gone camping in separate tents, done a hundred things side by side. But this is different. New. Quietly intimate in a way that makes my breath stall.
And I will admit to myself that I love it.
Not just the warmth of his hand wrapped around mine, or the steady pressure of his fingers between my fingers. Not just the way our palms fit, like they have been waiting years for this exact alignment.
It’s the way his hand grounds me. The way it makes me feel steady, like the world stops wobbling for a second. It’s how seen I feel, like he’s saying without words that I matter, that he wants me here, right beside him. That I’m someone he chooses to hold onto.
There’s safety in it too. Soft but undeniable.
Something that settles in my ribs and makes the tight, weary parts of me unclench.
His presence has always steadied me, but this…
this is different. This feels like a promise.
Like a tether. Like something I am suddenly terrified of losing. I tighten my grip without meaning to.
And when he squeezes back, warm and sure, something deep and quiet inside me answers him.
The soft music from Cocktails and Chaos drifts down the beach long before we reach it.
Buttery yellow string lights glow across the ceiling of the tiki bar, laughter spilling into the air.
Everything here feels calm, easy, and familiar coming back to Coconut Beach.
I’ve been here before with my mom and sisters.
But nothing about the way my heart is pounding while holding his hand feels casual at all.
His thumb sweeps over the inside of my wrist, slow and unintentional, in circles. Like he can sense I’m nervous and he’s trying to calm me. It’s ridiculous how good something so simple can feel.
My mind flashes back to earlier, the heat of the shower on my skin, the way every thought had circled right back to him.
The way I imagined his hands and his voice while he touched and talked me through coming so hard in that shower.
The memory is a low, warm ache in my belly now, and it makes the way he’s holding my hand feel dangerous and intense in the best way possible.
Finn glances at me, a smile curving his mouth like he already knows I’m thinking something I shouldn’t be. My heart trips. I squeeze his hand, maybe to ground myself. Maybe to hold on tighter. Either way, it feels like it is more than just handholding. It feels like a promise.
Cal’s behind the bar when he spots us, flashing that grin I’ve known since we were kids. He’s only a few months younger than Finn and looks like a younger version of Remy. The way they look so much alike is uncanny.
“Well, well, well,” Cal drawls when he sees us holding hands, tipping his chin toward Finn with a mock-serious nod. “You finally land yourself a Maren sister?”
Finn gives him a look I can’t quite decipher, something between easy, man and say something else, I dare you.
Finn and Cal have always been close, and he’s come to Wisteria Cove to visit.
When Willa, Ivy, and me were kids, Ivy used to have a big crush on Cal.
Kind of funny now that she’s with Remy and he looks like his cousin Cal.
I make a mental note to tease her about that later as a good sister does.
Cal winks as he slides me a fruity drink with a bright blue umbrella tucked in mine and Finn a beer like it’s a reflex.
I take a sip of my drink and say, “Oh, he couldn’t handle me, Cal. I’m too wild and I’d only corrupt him. He’s my best friend.”
The look that flashes across Finn’s face is everything. One eyebrow quirks, his jaw tightens just slightly, and that slow grin spreads across his face like he’s already picturing proving me wrong.
Cal whistles low. “Uh-oh. I know that look. That’s the challenge accepted face. And for the record, my ‘best friend’ doesn’t look at me the way you two look at each other.” He fake coughs and says, “Bullshit.”
Finn finally speaks, voice low and steady, “I can handle you just fine, baby.”
My heart does a full-on somersault, and Cal looks entirely too entertained by this.
Damn it. I love it when he calls me baby.
Anyone else, I’d probably throat punch. But there’s something about Finn saying it like he means it.
Not condescending, just sweet and endearing.
And Finn has a good sweet. He penetrates my black Wednesday Addams personality armor that everyone else teases me about.
But not Finn. He’s always seemed to like me for me.
I’ve never had to shrink myself or be smaller for him. He’s the one safe space I can be me.
Cal straightens, shaking his head like a man who’s seen this train coming for years. “All right then. I’ll leave you two sexually frustrated ‘just friends’ to it.”
I sip my drink, laughing, and twirl to the music on my stool. “Whatever, Cal.”
He winks, already backing away. “What? Somebody had to say it.”
“Was that a challenge, Row?” Finn’s leans over and says in my ear, his voice dropping, meant only for me, and it slides right down to my lady parts, making me tremble.
My pulse skips and my drink suddenly tastes sweeter.
I arch a brow, trying to play it cool even though my brain is not cool right now. And whatever is in this drink is giving me the liquid courage to flirt back with Finn. “What if it was?”
His grin spreads, slow and dangerous. “Then I guess I should start warming up. I never back down from a challenge.”
I snort into my drink. “Oh, please. You’re going to trip over your own ego.”
He leans closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of him against my bare arm. “Baby, my ego’s got great balance.”
My heart does back flips, and my mouth feels like it has a mind of its own the way I’m flirting with him recklessly. “Big talk, Casanova Ken.”
“Big follow-through too,” he shoots back, easy and confident, taking a swig of his beer.
The music dips lower, the beat rolling through the sand like a heartbeat that belongs to both of us.
Finn stands, hand out, grin wicked. “Come on,” he says, his voice low and rough in a way that makes my stomach flip.
That smile isn’t just a smile anymore. Nope, it’s more like a dare I don’t want to say no to.
“What are we doing?” I ask, taking one last sip of my drink before setting it down next to his beer.
“Cal, watch our drinks, will ya?” Finn calls to Cal, his eyes not leaving mine.
Cal nods his head like a man watching a slow-motion love spell unfold. He moves the drinks behind the bar, still grinning.
I slide my hand into Finn’s, and his fingers lock around mine. He pulls me close, my feet sinking into the sand, the night thick and heavy around us.
My arms loop around his neck as his hands settle on my waist. The tiki lights blur, the music hums in my chest, and the world shrinks down to just us in this moment, together.
The way his body fits against mine. The heat that rolls off him, like the comfort I’ve searched for all my life and not been able to find until Finn.
Other than my dad, no man has ever made me feel safe and loved like Finn does.
I can’t explain it. He’s always been special.
We start to sway, lazy at first, just a rhythm. Then his fingers press harder into my hips, and he guides me against him like he’s not even thinking about it. My hips move with him. The heat spikes between our cores.
His breath skims my cheek, his thigh brushes mine, and we’re locked into the beat. Grinding. Every shift of my body drags against him, every small roll of his hips answers mine.
I thread my fingers through the back of his hair and tug, just enough.
He groans, low and rough, the sound vibrating against my mouth as our bodies move against each other in ways they probably shouldn’t.
And honestly, I’d fuck Finn behind this tiki bar right now if I could.
They could haul me to jail for public indecency. It’d still be worth it.
“Careful, Row,” he rasps against my ear, voice shredded around the edges. “You keep doing that, and I won’t be able to play nice anymore.”
My laugh is soft and shaky. “Who said I wanted nice? Maybe I want whatever the opposite of nice is.”
His grip tightens, pulling me flush to him. His forehead dips to mine, breath hot and uneven. I can feel his heartbeat where our chests press together. His nose brushes mine. “What do you want?” he asks, his voice raspy.
We’re one small breath away from kissing.
I tilt up, and his lips graze mine, just barely.
Just enough to send a sharp shiver down my spine and set my pulse racing like I’ve been waiting my whole damn life for this.
I moan a little and tremble against him, feeling his hardness against me.
God, I want this man. What love potion did Cal serve us?
Is this my mom and sister’s potion working? Because whatever it is, it’s effective.
The world tilts and the music fades. All I can taste is the ghost of how close his lips are and the salt in the air as a warm breeze blows in from the ocean.
His hand slides up my back, his thumb tracing a line just under my tank top, and I melt against him even more without a second thought.
He tilts his head, so close that my lower lip brushes his.
And then—
“Hey, lovebirds!” Cal’s voice cuts through the music like a slap, full of smug amusement.
I jerk back half a step, breathless, my heart hammering.
Finn’s fingers stay curled at my hips, thumbs brushing against my skin like he’s daring me to pretend the last sixty seconds didn’t just happen. When he finally looks at me, he’s grinning slow, dangerous, completely unbothered.