Finn
Alicia’s words swirled around in my head as I ambled up to the bar. I wanted more. I deserved more. But I feared I’d never get it.
Adele hadn’t responded to my texts, and I refused to become that desperate guy who sat around waiting for the crumbs she’d drop for me. She was skittish, I got that, but Jesus.
After our night in the woods, I expected more. I expected better.
We had connected. And not just physically. The sex had been phenomenal, yes, but the connection between us had been so much more than that.
We were adults. Not children. So this avoidance tactic of hers was pissing me off.
I didn’t, for even an instant, regret sleeping with her. Even in my maddest state, that would be impossible. Chastened was more like it. I should have known she’d ghost me.
So instead of spending time with my brothers, which had been the purpose of coming out tonight, I was watching Adele’s every move like a creep and sulking into my lukewarm beer.
Gus and Jude, though they’d never be mistaken for social butterflies, were at least playing pool and acting like humans. I leaned against the wall and tortured myself with thoughts of her.
At first, she was clustered near the bar with Parker Harding and Hazel and a couple of her brothers.
So I sat and watched her pathetically. She laughed, she smiled, she sipped what looked like rosé.
Her hair was down in a way I’d rarely seen it, and I itched to run my fingers through the silky strands. It hung down her back in a curtain with the slightest wave.
“What do you think?” Gus asked, elbowing me in the ribs.
I blinked at him, tearing myself from my Adele-induced stupor. “About what?”
“The proposal for the land.”
“He’s not even listening,” Jude said, checking his phone. “Cole’s on his way.”
“He’s in town?”
With a sigh, he shrugged, “I guess so. You know how he is. Goes where he wants when he wants, with no regard for the rest of us.”
I lost track of the conversation again when Adele wandered over to the dartboards with Dylan Markey.
Truly, I didn’t have any issues with the guy. As a neighbor, he was polite enough. He kept to himself, and he taught at Merry’s school. He was also Remy Gagnon’s best friend, so we’d never traveled in the same circles.
He was leaning in close to Adele, smiling as he chatted her up.
At one point, she put her hand on his arm and threw her head back in laughter. The sight combined with the sound made my eye twitch and my chest hurt. It was irrational, but the thought of her sharing those rare, beautiful smiles with any man but me made me see red.
“Tone it down, brother,” Gus warned, lining up his next shot.
I shot him a glare, willing the rage simmering beneath my skin to settle, but it was no use.
“You’re like a bull moose ready to fight over a mate. Let it go,” Jude added.
I clenched my fists. The anger I’d kept a lid on was beginning to boil over. I couldn’t let it go.
She was mine.
At least I wanted her to be. Desperately. I was a caveman, but I wasn’t delusional.
Obviously, with her consent, she’d be mine.
And Dylan fucking Markey was whispering in her ear and making her laugh.
I had several inches and at least thirty pounds on the guy, but he was strong in his own right. He could probably hold his own. And if he had the backing of an army of Gagnons behind him? Shit. Things could get ugly fast.
More than anything, though, I wanted to throw Adele over my shoulder and make sure everyone in town knew who she belonged to before I took her home to my bed.
Then I’d spend all night fucking her like she deserved. I wouldn’t stop until she begged me for forever.
Yes. That was my fantasy. I was clearly deranged.
It was late, the bar had mostly cleared out, and my mind was buzzing.
Not from the beer. I hadn’t even finished my first one, which had long ago been discarded. But from Adele. Her presence.
She was wearing her standard cotton tank and jean shorts. The edges of those shorts were frayed, and the tiny threads brushed against her strong thighs.
Shit, I wanted to drop to the dirty floor right here, regardless of the people still here, and kiss my way up those legs.
That impulse meant it was time to call it a night. I needed to get out of here, clear my head, and talk myself out of knocking on Dylan’s door first thing in the morning and punching him in the face.
I was headed to the bar to close out our tab when Dylan shrugged off his flannel shirt and draped it around Adele’s shoulders.
Instantly, my vision went red.
Nope. Not wearing his shirt.
My spine snapped straight and my vision tunneled on her, my brain on high alert. Like I was flying a combat mission and I had one objective. Get that punk away from my girl.
Without a moment of hesitation, I was striding across the bar at top speed. I dodged groups of people and a table of my mom’s friends who attempted to say hello.
Nothing registered except the rage pumping through my veins.
The thought of his clothing touching her precious skin sent me into a tailspin, and before I could come to my senses and consider the consequences, I was standing next to her, pulling myself up to my full height, and growling in Dylan’s direction.
Unbuttoning my own shirt to reveal the white tank underneath, I shrugged it off, even as several sets of wide eyes landed on my bare arms.
I stepped between them, boxing Dylan out entirely.
“You cold, She-Ra? Here,” I growled at Adele and jutted my chin. “Take that shit off.”
She looked up at me slowly, her eyes narrowed and her gorgeous mouth set in a firm line of disapproval.
“Go away, Stretch,” she said. “I don’t want your shirt.”
“Wear this.” I pushed the shirt into her chest.
Her glower only intensified. I was out of line and I knew it, but there was no stopping me now.
“Is everything okay?” Dylan asked, coming around to stand beside her, reminding me of his presence.
Before I could answer—words weren’t exactly flowing from me fluidly in my state of agitation—angry voices piped up around me.
The three Gagnon brothers had assembled on either side of me.
“You got a problem?” Remy said, stepping between me and his sister.
“Fuck off, Remy,” Adele said, pushing him back. “Worry about yourself.”
“Is there an issue here?” Henri asked, cocking a suspicious brow at me. This guy signed my paychecks, but in this moment, I didn’t care.
“I was offering her my shirt,” I said through gritted teeth. “The lady is cold.”
“She’s fine,” Remy spat, weaseling his way up beside Adele again.
“Don’t speak for her,” I growled.
“Why do you care?” he taunted, getting in my face. “Why are you even speaking to my sister in the first place? Go away.”
He had always been the family hothead. For a moment, I contemplated if Adele would hate me for punching him in his pretty face. He had recently appeared on the cover of a Racine catalog, and he could probably stand to be taken down a few pegs.
We stared at each other for a moment, both fuming, fists clenched at our sides and eyes narrowed. But then Gus stepped in, putting a hand on my chest and pushing me back.
“We don’t want any trouble,” he said, guiding me away from Remy.
Adele’s little brother stood his ground. He hadn’t once flinched in my presence. Next to him, Dylan crossed his arms. Damn. Maybe I had underestimated the mild-mannered science teacher.
“You are all out of your minds,” Adele shouted in my periphery. “Everyone back off and take your toxic masculinity with you.”
Remy ignored his sister in exchange for puffing out his chest and doubling down on his glare. Behind him, his brothers stood silently. “Do we need to take this outside?” he asked, his voice low.
Over my right shoulder, Jude laughed. “What are you gonna do, Gagnon? Climb a fucking tree?”
“I do hold a world record,” Remy replied, lifting his chin a little higher.
I took another step toward him. If a fight was what he was looking for, then I’d be happy to oblige.
But Henri stuck his arm out in front of his brother.
“We’re done here. Come on, Remy, Adele.” The look he shot me wasn’t one of rage like his brothers’, but one of utter disappointment.
And damn if it didn’t have its intended effect.
Instantly, I felt like shit. But I couldn’t roll over now without looking like a coward.
The three Gagnon brothers and Dylan, all standing with their arms crossed, were an intimidating sight. I was man enough to admit it. But I had my brothers with me, and my insane obsession with Adele was apparently rendering me both stupid and impossibly brave.
“I’ll handle this,” Adele said, grabbing me by the arm. “Outside, Stretch.”
“Adele, don’t go anywhere with him,” Remy protested.
She whipped around and almost bit his head clean off. “Walk away, or you’ll get the next ass kicking.”
That’s all it took for him to stand down. Clearly, he knew she was serious.
As she pulled me through the bar, we passed a table of older ladies who were hooting and hollering.
“You should settle this like men,” one of my former teachers shouted. “Wood-chopping competition.”
Her friends, which looked to be the majority of my mother’s quilting group, giggled.
Mrs. Franklin, the librarian, added, “With shirts off.”
They were clearly sauced, but the remarks only added to the rage pumping through my veins.
Half the town had seen my little spectacle.
And although I should be ashamed and embarrassed, I was more concerned with the feel of Adele’s fingers where they gripped my wrist so hard they would probably leave bruises.
She didn’t let go, even as we hit the parking lot. The crowd inside gawked and held up their phones, recording us in hopes of catching some of the drama on film to share with their friends. I could only imagine what kind of rumors would be flying through the diner tomorrow.
She marched over to the far side of the parking lot, where we’d have a modicum of privacy, dragging me along behind her. The gawkers were probably hovering close enough to keep their recordings going, but my sole focus was on Adele.