9. Finn
Chapter 9
Finn
“T his next driveway should be it,” Rune says, reading the little red fire number signs posted on the side of the road.
Mairi’s driveway hasn’t been plowed recently; there’s at least a foot and a half of snow piled up.
“I’m not sure I can make it through that,” I tell Rune, eyeing the snowbank left by the plow at the end of the driveway.
“I can walk. The driveway isn’t that long.” Rune’s tone is confident, belying the little furrow between her brows as she takes in the sheer volume of snow. “Auntie left detailed instructions on how to use her snowblower. I’ll have this cleaned up in no time.”
That pulls a sharp, incredulous laugh out of me. It would take me at least two hours to clear the driveway. She’ll be lucky if she’s finished by the time it gets dark.
“Can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon, right?” Rune looks at me for encouragement.
“Sure,” I agree, to humor her. There’s a reason I pay someone else to plow my driveway. The guy who does it is semi-retired and comes before dawn. By the time I came downstairs this morning, my own driveway was completely cleared off, leaving me free to spend my day working on other things…like helping Rune with her car and going out for a late lunch. Which, strangely enough, I enjoyed.
Despite the fact that she’s now reached her destination—and I have a pile of work waiting for me at home—I find myself asking, “Do you want any help with the snow removal?”
She opens her mouth, looking as surprised as I feel about my offer. For a moment, I think she’s going to say yes. Then she seems to catch herself. “I’ll be fine.”
I ignore the slight twinge of disappointment. I don’t doubt that she’ll manage, and yet—I take another look at that snow drift. “That’s a sore back waiting to happen.”
“Please,” she scoffs. “Didn’t you see my skills in the ditch? I’m a master snow person.”
“A master, huh?” Not exactly the word I would have used.
“Usually I don’t like to brag about it, but yes.” She can’t wholly hide the smile that’s fighting the corners of her mouth. She’s well aware of how bad her shoveling technique is. She has to be. I shake my head, but the spark of humor in those dark eyes has me wholly entranced. Like I’ve been all day, if I’m being honest. From the moment she woke up, eyes as bright as a kid at Christmas and dressed in my clothes, I haven’t been able to look away. She’s enchanting in a way I would not expect possible from someone to be when they’ve been through hell and back so recently.
Sweet, charming, and intriguing.
Her ex-boyfriend is a fucking idiot to have let her go.
“Here, give me your phone,” I say, holding out my hand. I type my number in as a contact and send myself a quick text so I have hers. “Let me know if you change your mind and want some extra help. Or if you need anything at all.”
Rune murmurs her assent. Our fingers brush when I hand her phone back to her. The touch sends shivers up my arm, and I’m suddenly all too aware of our proximity, that we’re alone together. Say something clever, my brain murmurs from a distance. Bring that smile back. But I can’t. Her breath catches slightly and my eyes flick to her lips. I wonder if they’re as soft as they look. I wonder what they taste like. I force my gaze back up to those brown eyes staring back at me.
I clear my throat and break the connection while Rune fumbles for her mittens. For fuck’s sake, I hardly know her and she just broke up with someone. That should make her off limits.
“Well, thanks again,” she says, throwing her backpack and duffel bag over her shoulder as she climbs out of my truck. She immediately sinks up to her knees in snow.
She has that same look on her face that she had this morning when she was struggling with the snow shovel in the ditch: half self-deprecating humor, the other half pure determination. I’m not going to lie…it’s fucking adorable. When she looks back almost defiantly after making it across the big drift, I give her a thumbs up.
“You change your mind yet?” I call out through the open window.
To my surprise and delight, she merely pulls one hand out of a mitten and gives me the middle finger. “I don’t give up easily,” she shouts back.
That much is obvious.
I linger until she makes it to the house. Then, with no further excuse to stay, I drive off.
* * *
It’s nearly three o’clock by the time I’m back home. Despite the fact that I’m now crunched for time, I can’t quite bring myself to regret spending the day helping Rune.
After all, I don’t need to pack much, I reason; I have a full closet of clothes at my house in Chicago—but I do need to review a shitload of paperwork. Not the fun kind, either. This is legalese with nuances so small that I soon have a headache from parsing it out.
I make myself a coffee and settle into the chair in my office. With a sigh, I start working through the documents alongside the latest series of emails from my lawyer. Definitely the part of the job that I’m not fond of, which is why I have every intention of having this wrapped up before the holidays hit. I’m obviously not the only one with this mindset: it was absurdly easy to get people on board to meet on a weekend.
The blue sky fades into a bright red sunset outside an hour later, and I’m still working on the papers. Success looks so fun on the outside…but in reality, it’s kind of a nightmare.
I wonder how Rune’s getting on with her snow removal. I’m beginning to wish I’d stayed to help her out. It would have been far more fun than this legal shit. An odd thought for me to have, since I’ve never been a fun kind of person. The artistic and serious one, yes. But fun?—never. People and commotion make my head hurt. Which is why it’s so odd that I’m still thinking of Rune.
As if in response to my thoughts, my phone lights up. A text from the woman herself. I open it to find a somewhat blurred selfie of her giving a thumbs up against the back drop of a cleared driveway, followed by another text:
Rune: “Finn the Hero”
I grin, despite myself.
That’s what I’d labeled my contact in her phone.
Right before I felt the inexplicable urge to kiss her. I run a hand through my hair, offset by everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. For fuck’s sake, I’m being ridiculous. She’s little more than a stranger, freshly dumped by an asshole of an ex. And yet—I get up, restless. I probably just need to eat something. Then I can wrangle my mind back to work instead of thinking about whether I’ll see her again or whether she might want to see me again.
Because if I’m being honest, I wouldn’t mind an opportunity to test that spark between us, to see whether it would survive a real date, a longer visit.
Downstairs, I tidy up the makeshift bed I’d made for Rune. It feels like folding up the few vibrant moments of an otherwise grayscale year. When I shake out the last blanket, something tumbles to the floor. A phone charger, overlooked when Rune packed her things to leave.
I turn it over in my hands, considering. Chargers are a dime a dozen, but this one might have more intrinsic value. It’s an opportunity (fine, an excuse) to see her again. I shoot off a quick text before resolutely walking away from both my phone and the charger. I have other things to do tonight rather than stare at a blank screen, waiting for her to reply.
With Rune’s determination fresh in my mind, I sit down at my desk to write. The words don’t flow as easily as they did last night, but I refuse to stop until I reach my quota. It’s depressing how little I do accomplish by the time eleven o’clock rolls around and I have to quit several hundred words short of what I should have written.
I can try to catch up on the flight tomorrow, but—this isn’t the first time I’ve missed my word count goals. At this rate, it will take a solid two years to finish any kind of a draft, let alone have a polished novel ready for the press.
I lean my forehead on my hand, weary and dreading this task that used to come so easily.