Chapter Two Shelby #2
It requires pushing the passenger seat as far back as it will go and some contortions, but Finn fits in my car.
At the refuge headquarters, he directs me to pull around back among some of the government-issued vehicles.
I do as he says, and before we get out, he asks if I have anything to change into.
Thankfully, I do. I never took my luggage for our honeymoon into the resort since we were going to be driving my car to the airport tomorrow.
My gym bag is in the backseat, full of clean clothes and my sneakers.
I grab it and follow him into the rear entrance of headquarters.
The building is mostly empty. A couple of his coworkers notice us walk in and raise their brows but don’t say anything.
Maybe this isn’t an uncommon occurrence?
Maybe Finn is always bringing stray brides back to his office.
Or his girlfriends. Someone as gorgeous as him must have one.
Maybe more than one. Doesn’t matter. He made it clear a couple of years ago he’s not interested in me that way.
Stopping in front of a door marked with a female figure, Finn says, “You can change in here. I’ll get a hanger for your dress.”
Considering I’d be just as happy to smush it into a ball and throw it in one of the piles of goose shit outside, I’m touched by his consideration.
I’m sure the dress can be cleaned and donated to a bride who will find it beautiful.
No reason to waste it just because I hate it.
Finn’s waiting outside the door when I exit wearing black leggings, a royal blue T-shirt, and Converse sneakers.
My hair is up in a ponytail, and I’ve removed the ridiculous lashes that feel like spiders on my face.
I need makeup remover for the rest, but I feel more like real Shelby and less like Social Media Influencer Shelby.
He takes my dress and puts it on the hanger. His hands are huge and tanned against the white crocheted lace. A startling contrast. But beautiful too.
I follow him to his office. He hangs the dress on the back of his door and gestures for me to sit in the chair in front of his desk.
“Do you want a bottle of water?” He’s holding up two from the mini fridge in the corner.
“Yeah, that would be nice, thank you.”
I look around his office. It’s tidy. There are framed photos of birds and pine trees. Maps of the refuge. It’s so much larger than just the trails and driving loop here at headquarters.
“Do you have a plan? Somewhere to go?” Finn’s chocolate brown eyes and furrowed brow express his concern.
I shake my head. “We were going to stay tonight at the resort down the road where the wedding was going to be and then board the cruise ship tomorrow. I don’t want to go to the resort, obviously, or check in anywhere else under my own name. Who knows what’s been posted?”
Our guest list was full of other social media personalities that have their phones constantly at the ready.
I don’t know if my people have said anything or if Konner has posted.
I’ll have to address everything at some point, but that’s something for future me to handle.
Present me needs to find someplace to sleep.
“What about your family? Can you stay with them?” He glances at the framed photo on his desk.
It’s a picture of him with who I assume is his family—his parents, brother, and sister.
They are all tall. If you know what to look for, it’s obvious they are Bigfoot shifters by their height and sturdy builds.
His mother is pretty, with lustrous brown hair and kind eyes.
Finn has her full lips. Their dad has a rugged bone structure, and in his plaid shirt, looks like a lumberjack. They’re a beautiful family.
I sigh. “It’s just me and my sister, Phoebe. She couldn’t come to the wedding. She’s attending pastry school in Paris.”
“Your parents...”
“They passed away when we were girls. Small plane crash. We were raised by our paternal grandparents, and they both passed away while I was in college. We’re the last of our branch of the Albrights.”
Finn has the most compassionate eyes I’ve ever seen. My throat tightens, and tears flood my eyes. I keep my loss buried. It’s easier that way. But the kindness on his face and the pictures of him with his family make me feel things.
He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing against the sleeve of his T-shirt. The way his cheeks puff when he purses his lips and blows out a breath is hilarious. Like a six-and-a-half-foot-tall chipmunk.
“You can say no and I won’t be offended.
I have a cottage near here with a guest room.
It’s on a creek with marshland so we can see anyone coming.
I have a dock and a boat, so if we had to get away to avoid the press, we could take the boat.
I know the waterways here like the back of my hand, and it’s adjacent to refuge waters where we’ll be safe.
You’re welcome to my guest room as long as you want it.
We can leave your car here and take mine.
Nothing creepy. Just so you can remain incognito.
That blue Mustang is pretty identifiable.
But no pressure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I only want you to be safe.”
The urge to laugh is so strong I can’t stop it. My laughter dies when I see the flash of hurt cross Finn’s face. That’s the last thing I meant to do. On impulse, I take his hand from where it rests on his desk.
“I’m so sorry, Finn. I’m not laughing at your offer.
That is the kindest, sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
I was laughing that you, a man who had a handful of conversations with me a couple of years ago on a dating show, are offering to help me when the man who was supposed to love me has betrayed me and caused this mess.
I am the worst judge of character. In men and friends. ”
His nod is stiff, and a rosy blush burnishes his tanned cheeks. Crap. I squeeze his hand.
“If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate a place to stay tonight. If you’ve changed your mind, that’s okay too. Maybe you realized what a mess I am and want nothing to do with me but are too much of a gentleman to say something. I wouldn’t blame you.”
He flips his hand so we are palm to palm, and instead of it being awkward, it feels good, right. My hand is pale and tiny in his firm, yet gentle, grip.
“I’m sure. You’re welcome in my home, Shelby.
I was afraid of freaking you out by being too forward.
” He gives my fingers a tender squeeze, and I feel that action on my heart, too.
But I know it’s just kindness. He’s not attracted to me.
He never would have cut me from the show if he was.
I’m a relatively public figure; he could have contacted me through social media in the two years since if he thought he made a mistake in letting me go.
He didn’t. I can’t confuse kindness with anything deeper.
I’m not the type of woman men I like go for.
Twice now, men I’ve had feelings for have chosen someone else.
How can I be attracted to this man? I was going to pledge my love and fidelity to Konner this afternoon.
What does it say about my morals that I’m so easily attracted to someone who’s essentially a stranger?
How can I be so comfortable with him so soon?
It took a couple months of getting to know Konner before I agreed to go on a date with him.
My best friend introduced us, saying they had grown up together.
We had a whirlwind courtship, and we were engaged within three months.
Our wedding was supposed to happen two months later.
I was pinning my forever on someone I knew less than a year. How crazy is that?
Well, call me crazy, then. Going home with Finn tonight seems like the best idea I’ve had in a long time.