Chapter 15 Finn
Finn
WORK SONG BY HOZIER
“Yo, Finn,” Cal calls, tossing the ball. “Eyes on the game, lover boy.”
To be fair, I have a valid reason for not keeping my eyes on the game.
Rowan’s in a black bikini. Not just any black bikini.
The bikini that clings to her like it was made to personally ruin me.
It’s tied at the hips, her hair’s down, she’s got her legs crossed in the chair like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
I’ve had years of bad ideas about this woman.
Years. And now I'm living out every single one of them.
The sun’s hot enough to make the sand burn under my bare feet and melt any reasonable sanity I had left.
Cal’s been playing like he’s trying to impress some ladies watching, the music from a portable speaker filling the court.
We're all shirtless, sweaty, and dangerously distracted.
We're going to get beaten by the tourist team, and at this point, I don't even care.
“Shut up,” I mutter, but my eyes are exactly where they shouldn’t be. On her.
She tips her sunglasses down just enough to meet my gaze, smirks, and bites into an orange Popsicle like she’s trying to end me.
Cal serves. I jump and spike. A whistle cuts through the air. I turn to look at what Cal is whistling at, and a bachelorette party has just walked up to watch us.
Three girls in matching “Last Fling Before the Ring” crop tops and tiny shorts line up at the edge of the court, drinks in hand, waving like they’re auditioning for a music video. One of them giggles. Another yells, “Nice arms!”
Cal grins at them and waves. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”
I barely register them. I’m already looking for Rowan—
And when I turn, she’s staring at the girls like she’d happily hex every single one of them on the spot.
A pinch of something tightens in my chest. Not amusement. Not ego. Protectiveness and a need to steady her. I want to make sure she knows the truth before she spirals into thinking anyone else is even on my radar. She’s the only one I’m seeing and the only one I want to see.
I step closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “Hey,” I murmur, catching her eyes. “I wouldn’t have noticed them at all if they hadn’t yelled.”
Her expression flickers—surprise, maybe a little relief—and it hits me hard how badly I want to keep giving her that.
The one thing she never expects anyone to offer her.
And that’s when it clicks and I’m smiling because for the first damn time, I think she might care even a fraction as much as I do.
Cal jogs past me, muttering, “Please just call it, whatever this is between you two. I want front-row seats to this romcom movie unfolding.”
I playfully roll my eyes and wave at Rowan, and she smiles and waves back.
I don't know what we're calling this. I know what I'm calling it because I want this.
I want everything with Rowan. I want a future, I want a life.
I want vacations, and mostly I want every day.
I want to bring her coffee every morning just the way she likes it.
I want to work with her in her garden every night getting hot and sweaty and laughing.
I want to eat dinner with her each evening and not just on our Thursdays at The Rusty Anchor.
I want to do big loud holiday dinners with her next to me holding my hand.
And I want to get lost in her every single night, making her mine. I want it all and I always have.
The next game’s a mess because every time I glance at Rowan, she’s doing something else that’s designed to make me lose my mind, like flipping her hair, and leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her tits pushed up in her bikini like she's trying to make me throw her over my shoulder caveman style and drag her back to the cottage.
Cal whistles. “And Finn once again forgets he’s in a game and not a goddamn sex dream.”
“Bite me,” I say.
“Buddy, the only person who’s gonna be biting you is her,” Cal singsongs.
He’s not wrong. I've got plans for her tonight. Now that she's given me the green light, I'm literally in heaven. If this is a dream, don't even think about waking me up.
A time-out’s called, and I head over for water, half because I need it and half because I need her.
She hands me a cold water bottle out of our cooler bag we packed.
And then she does something that shocks the hell out of me.
She leans up on her toes and kisses me. Not soft or innocent, but like she wants me just as much as I want her.
And it gets the attention of the bridal party sitting on the chairs not far from us as a few of them groan.
Cal yells, “We’re in public, horn dogs.”
I grin against her mouth, pull back just a little, and say to her, “You doing that to make them jealous?”
She tilts her head, smiles wickedly. "I’m reminding you about who you’re spending the week with.”
I nearly drop the water bottle. "I haven't forgotten."
Her hand trails down my stomach, feather-light, right above the waistband of my shorts, just enough to make my dick twitch against the fabric.
I lean down and mutter in her ear, “You’re gonna pay for making me hard in the middle of a volleyball game, Rowan.”
Her eyes flash as if she’s enjoying every second of this game that's going to wreck me. “Oh yeah? How am I going to pay?”
I lean down so close that my breath skims her ear. “Later, you’ll find out.”
She shivers, and I feel it. Hell yes. I glance down at the goose bumps on her arms that are comical being how hot it is outside.
Behind us, Cal clears his throat dramatically. “Do you want us to lose this game? Or should we all just get some popcorn and watch this tale of lovebirds unfold even more?”
Rowan flips him off over her shoulder without missing a beat and Cal laughs.
“Okay, lover boy,” Cal says when I step back onto the court, “try not to pitch a tent out there, yeah?”
“You're dead, Cal.”
“I’m just saying,” he yells, “if I had a girl looking at me like that, I’d have gone home by now.”
The ball hits my shoulder because I’m not even pretending to pay attention anymore. And I know I’m not winning this game. I don’t even care.
Because the real game’s tonight. And I'm going to make the most of every second I have with Rowan Maren.
The tiki bar is busy, and full of people.
The food is good after a long, hot day in the sun, the drinks are strong, and the music’s easy with old songs we all seem to know by heart.
Coconut Beach has always been the perfect place to unwind and fully relax.
I have a lot of good memories here and have been coming here since I was a kid.
And there's no one I'd rather be here with right now, than Rowan.
Rowan’s sitting on one of the barstools, her legs crossed, wearing one of my T-shirts over her black bikini, and a pair of cutoffs, which should not be allowed.
I’m behind her with my arms around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder, both of us swaying to the music like we don’t have anywhere else to be.
She tilts her head back against my chest, laughing at something one of the old guys at the bar says about Cal being “the worst volleyball player in recorded history.” Cal gives him a look from across the bar, like really?
She fits against me like she’s always belonged.
We talk with a few locals, people who’ve lived here their whole lives.
They tell stories about fishing, hurricanes, and weddings on the beach.
Rowan listens with a wide, soft smile that makes my chest hurt.
Every time she turns her head to say something, her hair brushes my jaw, and I swear I forget how to breathe.
I've stepped away a few times and each time she pulls me back in closer, wrapping my arms around her.
This feels like a dangerous game we're playing, but I have no intention of stopping.
After a while, she twists a little in my arms, tips her head up, and whispers, “Want to get out of here?”
I don’t need to be told twice. I nod to Cal, who closes out our tab and brings me the check to sign. I slide my card back into my wallet and take Rowan by the hand and pull her toward me, tucking her into my side.
We walk barefoot back along the beach, the late afternoon soft and quiet except for the waves.
The tiki bar fades behind us, just a hum of music and laughter now.
She looks over at me, hair blowing around her face, and for a second, I forget every reason this is supposed to just be temporary.
I don't want that, and I'm beginning to question if she feels the same way.
I want to talk about it, but I'm also scared of the answers.
Back at the cottage, we fall onto the bed, the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead.
Her skin is warm from the sun, and she smells like coconut sunscreen and saltwater.
We are facing each other, talking the way you only do when the world feels small and safe with your person.
And Rowan has always been that person for me.
I heave a big sigh. “Rowan, I love this. I want this. But I also know we have to really talk about things.”
She puts a hand to my cheek and leans against my shoulder. “I know.”
“Where's your head at with all of this? We went from friends to...I don't know what we are. And now not knowing, that's kind of messing with my head,” I admit.
“I’ve always loved that I can be myself with you, Finn,” she says softly, tracing a lazy line across my chest with her fingertip. “Very few people I can feel safe with, and you are one of them.”
“Why can’t you be that way with anyone else?” I ask, knowing this is big for her to be vulnerable about. Rowan and I have always had a kismet connection and there's no denying that. But until we got to Coconut Beach, we never crossed any lines.
She snorts lightly. “Trust me, nobody is ready for that version of me.”
I tilt her chin up, keeping this moment serious. “I love every version of you.”