Chapter 12
Twelve
Chess
Finn is waiting to catch me. The thought haunts me more than I want to admit. It runs through my head in the weeks that lead up to our trip to California.
It looms large when James finally comes home and slyly offers to let me stay with him, both of us knowing full well that I’m
not going anywhere.
I like living with Finn. Though I want my condo back desperately, living anywhere else doesn’t appeal.
Actual Thanksgiving rolls around. James and I spend it with Finn and his friends.
Finn’s team plays that day, but he gets us tickets, which nearly makes James cry. Wrapped up in team scarves and woolen caps,
James and I sit at the fifty-yard line and scream ourselves hoarse.
At one point, Finn taps his fist to his chest and salutes in our direction. Which causes the crowd around us to go wild and
speculate why he’d singled out our section; James, however, wraps his arm around my neck and gives me a happy noogie.
“Who’s caught the quarterback?” he sings.
I do a very bad job of pretending to be annoyed. And don’t even try to hide my joy when Finn and his team win the game.
Dinner is catered and better than any Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had. Since Finn’s dining room is an unfurnished space he
uses for exercise, James, Jake, a lineman named Russell, Finn, and I crowd around his coffee table, sitting on the floor to
eat.
Shoulder to shoulder, Finn and I laugh and eat and trade jokes. He is a warm presence at my side the whole time. True to his word, he doesn’t try anything, but his promise keeps spinning in my head. I’m going to be there to catch you when you fall.
Now we are in San Diego where the sun shines lemon yellow and the sea air is a warm kiss on my cheeks.
Finn has rented a lime-green convertible Jeep and put the top down.
“This feels very 1980s,” I say over the noise of the wind.
His teeth flash white within the tan of his face. Jeep could sell dozens of these vehicles just by using a picture of him
driving.
“Too much?” Finn asks me.
It is; my hair whips around me like a lash, even though I started out with it in a secure ponytail. But it’s also fun. After
hours of being stuck in a stuffy plane, the open sky and fresh air acts like a balm. “It’s perfect,” I yell back.
He laughs and then guns the Jeep up the curving road that hugs the coast. The scenery is stunning, with massive homes carved
into the coastline, their endless glass windows glinting in the afternoon light, and the Pacific stretching west like a dazzling
sapphire and gold-studded canvas.
Finn pulls up to a gated drive and punches in a number.
“I had these installed after I was drafted,” he tells me, somewhat grim. “Dad didn’t like the idea, but I liked the idea of
some crazed fan trolling around even less.”
“Someone would do that?”
“Someone did do that.” The gates slowly open. “Young woman last year tried to break in. She was looking for my old room.”
“Jesus.”
“She was harmless, but someone else might not be.”
Finn heads up the drive. It isn’t very long but hides the house from view until we round a bend. Finn’s parents’ house is
an L-shaped, sprawling ’60s California-style ranch painted soft gray and trimmed in bright white that overlooks the ocean.
As soon as we pull up, the double doors to the house open and a slim, tall blonde woman comes out.
“Finnegan,” she cries, hurrying over to him as he steps out of the car. His reply is muffled in her hug.
I smile at the scene, shamelessly watching. But my car door opens, and I’m face-to-face with an older version of Finn. There
are differences: this man’s eyes are light brown instead of blue. His skin is swarthy and weathered from what is clearly a
life lived under the sun. And his posture is arrow straight even when apparently relaxed.
He gives me an easy smile, more of a curl of the lips and a deepening of the crinkles around his eyes. “Ms. Copper, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.” Because this man exudes authority without even trying. “You must be Finn’s dad, Captain Mannus.”
He helps me out of the Jeep even though I don’t need it, and then shakes my hand with one firm pump. “Finn has never brought
a woman friend home before. Which means you’re special, Ms. Copper. Call me Sean.”
“Sean. I’m Chess.”
With a nod, he gestures toward the house. “This way. Meg will be fawning over her boy for a good while more.”
“I heard that,” Finn’s mother says from behind us.
Up close, Finn’s mother is beautiful in that golden, eternally youthful way of Californian women. I don’t know if it’s something
in the air or all the excellent plastic surgeons who live here, but I want to look half as good when I’m her age.
“Finn’s been telling me all about you, Chess. I’m so glad you could make it.”
Finn got his blue eyes from her. And her smiling mouth. We are of the same height, and when she shakes my hand, her smile
is genuine, but her eyes search my face as if looking for internal flaws.
I don’t resent her for being protective.
I know she loves her son. But having never met a man’s family before, I find myself wanting to squirm.
I can only imagine how she sees me—pale skin, black hair with colored tips, tattoo on my arm.
My white halter top and rose patterned A-line skirt are feminine, but they’re no match for the casual elegance she manages to pull off with her cream-colored slacks and linen top.
“Thank you for including me in your holiday.” There, that was polite. I can do polite and mannerly.
Finn rests his hand on my lower back. “All right, all right. Can we get inside? I’m starving.”
“You ate a fish taco on the way here,” I say with a half eye roll. In truth, it had been impressive the way he ate that taco
while driving. Not a drop spilled or his attention from the road compromised. But then his hand-eye coordination is better
than most. And Finn never wastes good food.
“That taco was tiny, Chess. It was gone in two bites.”
“Well, with the way you ate it, yes—” I cut myself off, remembering belatedly that I’m meeting his freaking parents.
But Sean merely gives me a wink so quick, I almost miss it.
I let out a breath and tell myself to relax. I’m nervous, which is a new experience for me. Not one I like. Doesn’t stop me
from wanting to make a good impression.
Inside, the house is open and airy, with vaulted, beamed ceilings painted white, shiplap walls, and multiple picture windows
framing the sea. The furniture is big and comfortable, California casual. It’s like we’ve stepped into a design magazine.
And yet there are signs of a well-lived life everywhere. Framed pictures of family on the tables, knickknacks from exotic
ports of call.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell Finn’s mom.
She smiles wide. “Thank you, Chess. Let’s get you situated, and then we can have drinks on the patio.”
Finn is back at my side, proprietary hand on my shoulder. “I’ll show her, Mom.”
There’s an awkward beat of silence in the room, and I truly want to elbow Finn in the gut.
I have no idea if his mom had planned to room us together, but the fact that he’s made it clear that we are is mortifying.
And, sadly, something I hadn’t really thought about with this whole relationship farce.
“Ah . . . yes, of course,” Meg says with a small smile my way.
Wrapping my arm around Finn’s waist, I smile back like a dolt, even as I surreptitiously pinch his side. He twitches, then
presses his arm against my hand to keep me from attacking again. Nice block, but I’ll get him in the room.
Aware of his parents watching us go, I keep quiet as he leads me down a long hall and into a bedroom at the far end of the
house. I have a quick impression of clean, white furniture, and blue sea views before I pounce, pinching his little nipple.
“Ow!” He dances away scowling as he closes the door behind us. “What the hell is up with all the pinching?”
“You might as well have peed on my leg back there,” I hiss.
Finn rubs his chest and frowns some more. “What are you talking about?”
“Out there.” I gesture to the door. “Did it occur to you that your mom might have wanted to place us in separate rooms?”
“What are we, sixteen?” He looks appalled. “We’re supposed to be together. There is no way I wouldn’t be sleeping in the same
bed with my girl. Mom knows that.”
“Are you sure about that? And your dad is military . . .”
Finn laughs, looking genuinely amused. “Dad is a sailor at heart, Chester. He’s the last person who would try to put you in
the guest room.” Finn peers at me as if noticing something, and I have the annoying urge to check my face for dirt.
“You didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, did you?” he asks, smugly smiling.
“I knew.” I glance at the bed. It’s a queen. Not nearly big enough for us to share.
Not when Finn is the size of a tree.
“Uh-huh.” He takes a step closer. I don’t like that twinkle in his eye. It spells trouble. “You know we’re going to have to be a little affectionate toward each other, right?” Another step. “Remember? Cuddle, gaze at me with utter adoration.”
“I don’t think I’m that good of an actress,” I mutter, refusing to back up, though I want to. I’m beginning to feel like a
juicy piece of steak, the way he’s eyeing me.
His warm, slightly calloused palms skim up my arms. Little shivers of pleasure follow the motion. His lazy gaze lowers to
my mouth, and I swear my lips plump in happy appreciation.
Finn makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I’ll probably have to kiss you a few times.”
My lids flutter, my lips going soft and full, as I try not to sway. He’s close enough that I feel his warmth. My body wants
him to breach the tiny distance and take. But my brain is filled with blaring Klaxons. I suck in a breath, and hear him do
the same.
“If you were my girl, I’d definitely kiss you any chance I got,” he whispers, dipping closer.
“Try to kiss me now,” I murmur, my lips nearly brushing his. “And I will bite you.”
A huff of laughter brushes over my skin. “Oh, Chester, you really shouldn’t dare me.”