Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Raya
Voices swim in and out.
“Do we wake her?”
“She looks so peaceful.”
“A little less scary like this, for sure.”
“She can’t drive home if she’s this tired.”
“She needs to take a day off. A sick day. A mental health day. Something.”
I crack open my eyes and squint.
There are five shapes standing in the room. Hovering.
I frown. “What the. . .?”
“You fell asleep,” Poppy says. “You didn’t even budge when we got up.”
“You were mid-sentence,” Eloise giggles. “You were about to tell us about your date.”
I open my eyes wider and see Finn standing in the doorway.
I sit up, feeling embarrassed and not at all rested. “I fell asleep?” I chew through the cotton mouth and push a hand through my hair, immediately thinking about how much work I didn’t get done tonight.
I’d accounted for the time away for dinner, but not this. Not a random nap before 9:00 p.m.
I want to move out of this bed, but someone put a big, chunky blanket on me. It’s insanely cozy.
“When was the last time you took a day off?” Poppy asks.
“I went to dinner tonight,” I say, struggling with the blanket, finally managing to push it off me.
The five are still standing, looking at me, and I’m not a fan of feeling like I’m on display.
“Let me guess. You worked late, changed clothes in the bathroom, went to dinner, picked at a salad, then forty-five minutes later you were back in your car driving here.” Poppy glares at me.
She’s shockingly accurate, but I don’t admit it.
“It was at least fifty minutes at dinner,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.
“You need to take better care of yourself.” This from Eloise, who is not an authority on anything except stray dogs.
“Raya, why don’t you sleep here tonight?” Dallas says. “We can get you a change of clothes, and you can sleep in tomorrow.”
I laugh, pushing my way to a standing position.
“You guys, seriously. I fell asleep early. I didn’t pass out.
I’m not sick. I’m perfectly healthy.” I pat Dallas on the arm.
“But thank you. Your concern—all of your concern—is greatly appreciated.” I grab my shoes and walk out of the room, my sisters following close behind.
“Okay, but Raya, what about taking tomorrow off?” Poppy says, a thread of worry laced across her forehead.
I hold up a hand over my shoulder as I make my way to the front door. “I’m fine. And I really can’t.” I grab my coat from the hook and drop my heels onto the floor in front of me. “You know you don’t need to worry about me. Ever. I’m always fine.”
They’re both frowning.
“We also know you’ve never randomly fallen asleep at someone else’s house,” Eloise says. “You work way too hard,” she says, genuinely.
It almost gives me pause—but then I think of my to-do list, and that slams my brain out of Neutral and into Drive.
I slip on my shoes while shoving my arms into the sleeves of my coat, trying not to let any of this attention get to me. It’s not only unwarranted, it’s unwanted. I pride myself on not being a person anyone needs to worry about.
They know this. Or at least they should.
Finn walks into the entryway, keys in hand.
I stare at him. “What are you doing?”
“Following you home,” he says.
I shake my head. “No, you’re not. I’m fine.”
“I know. I just need to see for myself.” He shrugs. “For your sisters’ sake.”
“Finn. I’ll be—”
He leans in and, under his breath, out of earshot of anyone else, he says, “It’s kind of what I do.”
I open my eyes wide, shaking my head, silently telling him not to broach this subject in this company.
He leans back and, with kind eyes, just smiles and nods.
I huff out an annoyed breath. “Fine.”
I want to argue, but honestly, I’m too tired. The exhaustion really is unlike anything I’ve felt before. My eyelids are so heavy it’s almost painful, my muscles feel like they’re hanging on for dear life, and I never did take that Advil, so my head is still pounding.
I open the door and walk out onto the porch, wishing I’d gone home after I left dinner instead of stopping here. I really don’t feel like driving at all.
“Thanks, Finn,” Eloise says as he steps out onto the porch.
“I’ll text when she’s home safe, promise,” he says, then pulls the door closed.
I roll my eyes again. “So dramatic,” I mutter under my breath.
“Even you have to admit—that was weird.” He stands in front of me, staring at me. “Are you actually okay?”
I reach up to pat him on the shoulder, but instead, I place a hand on his cheek. It’s a strangely intimate gesture I hadn’t intended, and I’m instantly struck by a memory. It hits me like a flash—images scrolling like a slideshow.
The dark room. His hands on my hips. The long, lingering gaze.
I pull my hand back, trying to ignore the stunned expression on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t—” I gather myself. “I’m fine.”
He nods and motions toward the stairs. I walk to my car, hyperaware of his presence right beside me.
“How was your date?” he asks.
I frown at him. “You really want to know?”
“Sure,” he shrugs.
“It was fine.”
He nods. “You like him?”
“I do, yeah,” I say. “He’s in real estate. Very successful. Kind. Good teeth.” I smile.
“Ah,” he says in a wistful tone. “Just what everyone is looking for—good teeth. It must be love.” He pulls open my car door before I can get to it.
I glare at him.
“Don’t give me that look,” he says. “I know you don’t need a man to open your door, but my momma brought me up to be a gentleman.” He doesn’t budge. “And I believe a gentleman can take care of a woman at the same time that that woman takes care of everything else.”
“I really don’t need anyone to take care of me,” I say.
“No, you sure don’t.” He levels my gaze. “But every once in a while, wouldn’t it be nice if someone did?”
Something deep down in my bones answers his question with a loud and resounding, “Yes!”
I shake the thought away and get into my car. “You don’t have to follow me.”
“I know, but I’m going to anyway.” He closes the door, then walks over to his Jeep, and as I round the circle drive and head back out to the road, I can’t even pretend his headlights in my rearview mirror are anything but comforting.
Because for whatever reason—it’s nice to know I’m not alone.
The drive is only about ten minutes, but I take it slow because something still feels a little off, like I could fall asleep at the wheel. When I pull into my driveway, I exhale a slow sigh of relief, expecting Finn to honk and drive back to the city.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he pulls in behind me, gets out of his Jeep, and walks right inside my garage. I push my door open before he can touch it. “I’m home now. Look, I can even open my own door,” I say.
He chuckles at that, and I add, “Your services are no longer required.”
He pulls out his phone and makes a call, I assume to somebody back at Dallas’s house. “Yeah, she’s home.”
I roll my eyes as I grab my bag and get out of the car, closing the door behind me.
“Yep. All right, I’ll tell her.” He looks at me, and I shake my head, hoping to convey that I’m not going to listen to whatever they tell me to do.
But after he hangs up, he says, “That was Poppy. She said to tell you they love you and they hope you get a good night’s sleep.”
My shoulders drop. Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. It shouldn’t affect me—I mean, of course they love me. I’m their sister. But it catches me off guard. The simple reminder that I’m not alone.
I start fishing in my purse for my house keys, just to avoid letting him see my glassy eyes. The door isn’t even locked.
“They’re good people,” he says. “Makes me miss my family.”
I pull my keys out and lift my eyes to his. “You have siblings?”
He nods, and a slight chuckle escapes. “Oh, yeah. I have a big family. Five brothers and two sisters.”
My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Seriously?” I think about it for a second. “I can totally see that, actually.”
He laughs. “Buncha crazy ranchers in—”
“Montana,” I say. “I remember.”
He nods. “I’ll see them at Christmas, so—”
I go still. “Are you the youngest?”
“Youngest brother,” he says. “Rowe’s the baby, though.”
“I feel sorry for your sisters,” I say, shaking my head. “So many brothers.”
“Be sorry for the guys who try to date them,” he says.
“Believe me, dating is worse when you have sisters,” I bemoan.
He laughs. “I bet.”
All at once, I want to know more. “I don’t know anyone else from Montana.”
“Have you been before?”
I shake my head. The overhead light of the garage door clicks off, leaving us standing in the dark.
Dark room, hands on my hips, long, lingering look—my mind is at it again. I push the memory away, but the feeling from the kitchen returns—light, heightened senses, nerves on edge.
“Well, you’ve got an open invitation,” he says. “Anytime you want to see it for yourself.”
“I’m not sure I’d know what to do with myself in Montana,” I say.
“I can think of a few things.”
The air turns thick, and I try incredibly hard to ignore the flutter in my chest.
“That sounded—” Even in the darkness, I see him wince, laughing gently as he looks away. “Ah, shoot. I didn’t mean . . .”
A nervous laugh escapes, and I hear myself say, “Oh, sure you didn’t. . .”
He laughs. “Honest! For once, I wasn’t . . .”
Flirting? I think.
He shakes his head, cutting himself off. “I was thinking of my favorite hike—this great place in Glacier. Everyone should do it at least once. And there’s kayaking in the mountains and a really quiet part of the ranch with a hidden lake I think my brothers still haven’t found.” He smiles.
“It sounds pretty amazing,” I say, wondering how hard it is for him to be here, in the city, when he’s so clearly built to be somewhere else.
“I’ll show you someday.” He smiles, backlit by a streetlight dimly shining into the garage. “But for now—get inside and put yourself to bed. You need rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s about to go, but I stop him.
“Finn?”
He turns back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I say, turning my keys over in my hands. “For making sure I got home safe.” I meet his eyes and laugh lightly. “Again.”
He smirks, and for the first time all night, I see a trace of the playful Finn Holbrook I know. “Sometimes I think it’s my calling to make sure you’re safe, Hart.” He backs out onto the driveway, holding his hands out to his sides. “Lucky me.”
I smile, watching as he gets into the Jeep Cherokee. He starts the engine, then rolls down the window, pokes his head out, and shouts. “I can’t go until I know you’re inside the house!”
I shake my head and wave both arms, hoping that will shush him. He flashes his brights at me, and I give one last wave, escaping through the side door into the house.
My phone buzzes in my bag, so I reach in and pull it out to find a text:
Finn
Sweet dreams, Hart.
I stare at the words, not sure how to respond. I walk into the living room and stand in the darkness, watching as his Jeep backs out into the street, then slowly drives away.
And the butterflies in my stomach finally start to land.