Chapter 5
What happens when you accidentally snort in front of a boy you like
Alex
I checked my watch as I settled onto one of the leather sofas in the living room. Fourteen more minutes before Dom and Enzo appeared. Four until our agreed six-thirty departure, and at least ten more until they finally materialized.
I’d chosen a linen batwing blouse in granny smith green with soft white dots, paired with creamy wide-leg cropped chinos.
It was cheerful without trying too hard and hit the sweet spot between polished and casual.
My trusty Birkenstocks completed the look.
Supremely comfortable and fashionable enough to work.
My hair was still in braids but now pinned up around my head. I ran my fingers through my bangs and the few wisps I’d pulled to frame my face, before adding almost-casual eye makeup and lip gloss. Hopefully the photographers who liked to follow Dom and Enzo around wouldn’t find us tonight.
Crossing my ankles and shaking them a bit to get the energy out, I checked my text messages. Aside from my assistant Tabitha rearranging my meetings, everyone had left me blissfully alone.
Until now. Two messages from my business partner, Oliver, sent about an hour ago.
Oliver: Have you given any more thought to our chat last week?
Ugh. Our chat. Our chat about him wanting to retire early so he and Ginny could move closer to their kids in North Carolina.
The chat that had my mind spinning around what it meant if he sold his share of the studio we’d spent seven years building.
I didn’t have money to buy him out, and I didn’t trust anyone else to do it either.
Oliver: I know you’re taking extra time away and I love that for you. You need it. But Ginny asked about it the other day. I think she’s looking at houses.
I sighed and dropped my phone into my leather handbag, uncrossing my ankles and leaning forward to rub my forehead. Ginny’s timing couldn’t be worse, though I didn’t blame her for wanting to be closer to her children. But I had a full plate and just... couldn’t think about it.
Bergamot and cloves filled my nose as Finn moved past me, sitting on the opposite sofa as I glanced at my watch. Of course he’d be exactly on time. Better than late, though. I sat up and offered a small smile, hoping he wouldn’t ask about Alex again.
“You look great,” he smiled back, leaning into the sofa and resting one arm along the back as his eyes moved over me.
“Thanks... you... too.” I cringed inwardly.
He did look great, though. Downright delectable in worn Wranglers, brown western boots, and a white button-down.
The shirt was perfectly pressed without looking stiff and he’d rolled the sleeves to just above his elbows.
The top two buttons were undone, revealing a dusting of dark chest hair against his tanned skin and the thin puckered line of his tracheotomy scar.
His hair was still pulled back, and I wondered if he ever let it down, or why he’d grown it and his beard out when everything else seemed to center around military precision.
“Thanks,” he chuckled, cocking his head and regarding me with earnest eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry about this mornin’. I was out of line.”
“It’s fine,” I waved my hand, not wanting my mood to sour. It wasn’t fine, but it wasn’t worth rehashing.
“That’s kind of you to say,” his hand moved to his neck as if reaching for something, then smoothed down his shirt. He readjusted his position, resting an ankle on his opposite knee. “But we both know it’s not fine.”
“No, it’s not,” I admitted, then caught myself. “But I forgive you anyway.”
Something shifted in his expression, surprise and maybe relief.
His directness was unexpected, and I couldn’t help noticing how his eyes lightened when he wasn’t guarded.
Refreshing after years of men who seemed incapable of honesty until they were telling me exactly how unattractive and difficult they found me.
“You know, most people would’ve just doubled down on ‘it’s fine.’”
“Most people don’t like admitting when things aren’t actually fine,” I shrugged.
“And you do?”
I considered this. “I’m working on it.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. The way he was looking at me, patient and genuinely interested, made me want to keep working on it. He made honesty feel safer than it had in a long time.
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the faint sounds of Dom and Enzo still getting ready upstairs.
It wasn’t uncomfortable, though, and I relaxed, crossing my ankles again and setting my elbow on the sofa arm, resting my head against my fist. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sat with someone without feeling the need to perform or manage the conversation.
I chuckled to myself.
“You can’t just laugh and not share with the class,” Finn teased gently.
I met his eyes, catching the way the corner of his mouth had hitched into a lopsided smile. “I was thinking how nice it feels to sit here without needing to fill the time with small talk.”
“Small talk’s the worst,” Finn scoffed. “I’d almost take getting hit by another plane over small talk. But maybe just a small one… or a drone.” He lifted his hand, fingers pinched to indicate exactly how small.
I snorted and my cheeks burned at the sound.
But Finn’s smile turned into a full grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
The fact that he could joke about something so traumatic, could make me laugh about it without making me feel guilty for doing so, took a level of emotional intelligence I wasn’t used to encountering.
“We’re here!” Dom breezed in, adjusting the cuffs of his Hollywood-cool jacket. “Or at least I’m here. Enzo will be just a minute longer.”
“Dom, how is my brother, who makes money crashing into things so you don’t have to, somehow more high-maintenance than you?” I grinned up at my future brother-in-law, feeling buoyant from Finn’s reaction to my laugh.
“I heard that,” Enzo entered next, his eyes full of merriment as he tucked his teal and gold silk shirt into his impossibly slim jeans. “And you should take it back.”
“Shall we go?” Finn interrupted, standing and extending his hand toward me. “Our reservation’s for seven and we’ve still got to sit in traffic.”
I took his hand as he helped me up, calloused fingers sliding against mine before he released me quickly.
He rubbed his palms against his jeans, then, so slight I almost missed it, his hand moved to his neck again.
He caught himself, scratched at his chest instead, dropped his hand and rubbed it against his jeans a second time. All while looking away.
Muscle memory, I realized. He was reaching for something that wasn’t there anymore.
We followed Dom to the front door where Paulie had moved Dom’s Q7. Finn helped me into the backseat, settling beside me while Dom and Enzo climbed in the front.
I caught Finn’s almost imperceptible wince as we pulled onto the street, his jaw tightening slightly. Motion sensitivity, probably. I shifted closer to the window, giving him more space, and placed my hand briefly on his forearm with a gentle squeeze of understanding.
His eyes met mine, grateful and slightly surprised.
I felt the warmth of his skin under my palm, solid muscle beneath that.
Before I could pull away, his other hand covered mine, his fingers curling gently around my knuckles in a gesture so natural it made my breath catch.
The touch was casual, but it sent warmth shooting up my arm anyway.
The moment stretched longer than it should have, his thumb brushing once across my knuckles before he seemed to realize what he was doing and released my hand.
I pulled back slowly, my fingertips still tingling from the contact.
After a moment he relaxed, settling back into the seat, and I told myself the flutter in my stomach was just the car’s movement.
Within minutes we were moving through the evening traffic toward whatever restaurant Dom had chosen.