Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
O ver soup and bread, Finn confessed he’d been told about the cemetery attack and her injured arm. Probably Mack Daggett, the other cop at the cemetery.
Rose told him the whole story. Better that it come from her. By tomorrow, the local gossips would have her fighting a slew of undead with a set of car keys.
She also told him about Caleb, the abbreviated version of why she’d ended their relationship.
“I learned Caleb never planned to move to Evers Hollow. Never planned to give up his condo in New York.”
That had been a rough night. She and Caleb had argued. She’d returned to the apartment she shared with her friends, Becks and Ada, who’d listened to her over pasta and red wine.
“Despite my love of New York City, I knew I couldn’t be happy there forever. I’d always planned to come home. I missed our woods, the quiet here, and my family.”
Finn nodded even while he looked on edge. “I get that. This is home.”
He understood the pull this place had. She threw him a small smile and rubbed her hands over her legs.
She said, “We’d talked about children. He lied about that too. Suddenly, he didn’t want them.”
Finn’s eyes blazed. “That’s a Rose deal breaker. You’ve always wanted kids. The number of times you made me play house. Didn’t you have names chosen before third grade?”
She nodded. She missed how he understood her, knew the way her mind worked.
“The children thing wasn’t the only deal breaker.
” She inhaled sharply. She’d tried so hard to be blasé about it, but never succeeded.
“Turned out he had a child with someone else. A baby girl. With one of his interns. I knew she was pregnant, even gave her a gift, but had no idea the baby was his.”
Her next words felt choppy, rushed. “I broke things off, cancelled all the wedding arrangements.”
Finn reached for her. “You did the right thing.” His hands slid over hers and held on like he didn’t plan to let go.
“Even though I was the one who broke things off?—”
Finn’s fingers tightened. “He never deserved you, your trust, or your love.”
“He blamed me. Said I was a prude. That it was my fault he’d gone elsewhere for sex. I never slept with him.”
His hands loosened. “Never? Even though you were engaged?”
She shook her head. “No. I was twenty years old when I met him, twenty-two when he proposed. I thought it’d be romantic to wait until my wedding night.”
“You’re a virgin.” His tone held a bit of shock.
Before he could speak again, she leaned forward and placed her hand over his mouth.
“Would you stop?” As if someone would hear.
He pulled her hand away. “Sorry. It’s not my business.”
“You’re right. It’s not. And I’m not a virgin.”
His attention returned to her. “Say again?”
She held her fingers up and did air quotes. “I’m twenty-eight years old. After my being romantic crap, I got tired of waiting.”
“Got it.” He looked flummoxed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I please look at your arm now?”
R ose agreed. When Finn sat down on her coffee table again, in front of her, she realized she shouldn’t have spiked their second cocoas.
His woodsy scent made her brain muzzy. Yet here she sat, halfway through her second mug, leaning back in her favorite cozy chair, her legs folded in front of her. Finn sat close.
His expression was grim when she pulled her left arm from her sweater to show him.
It looked worse than it felt, all the darkest colors of the rainbow.
The dull ache had lessened with more ibuprofen.
His touch ran gentle over the finger-like bruises on and around her elbow.
His warm palms, his callous’s felt better than the ice pack Doc Mason insisted she use every few hours.
“X-rays?” he asked.
“Doc Mason said nothing’s broken.”
“You using an ice pack?”
“Yes.” The word came out breathy. She couldn’t help it.
Her pulse responded to his touch, something that hadn’t happened when they were kids.
Finn didn’t stop at her elbow. His touch ran down her forearm, traced the back of her hand, outlined each finger, then her palm.
She closed her eyes. Desire exploded through her insides, like a cracked pen.
Could she just apply him every few hours?
The second cup of spiked cocoa was definitely a bad idea.
He let go suddenly, stood, his gentle fingers gone. “I’ll get the ice.”
The dull ache in her elbow returned.
While she held the damn ice to her arm, he sat back in his chair, drinking his cocoa.
His knee bounced. The intense way he looked at her made her fidget in her seat.
His chair was large enough for two people as long as she was the one straddling him.
Not that she’d ever used it in that way.
She had an excellent imagination, though.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fantasized about a scene involving that piece of furniture.
Images of what they could do outside of drinking hot cocoa for the rest of the night clicked like a slideshow in her mind.
The lights flickered again, more than once. The lantern sat between them, ready.
He leaned forward in his seat. “I have a confession.”
“Really?” Was he thinking of sexy chair activities?
“I made your grandmother a promise.”
Rose sobered some. That line of desire she’d been so focused on thinned.
“And?” She closed her eyes.
She heard him inhale. “I promised her I’d protect you. Keep you safe.”
He’d what? Her eyes flew open. “That was—you don’t live here.”
“I know. I wish I did. If so, maybe today wouldn’t…”
“I’m fine.” She was more than fine. “People don’t usually camp out on graves.”
“I told her I would.”
Every stubborn bit of her rebelled at the idea she needed protecting. Evers Hollow was a safe place. Crime existed, of course, but not in the numbers large cities experienced.
“Why didn’t you say something last time I saw you?”
“It was your grandmother’s funeral.”
He had a point.
He said, “I talked to Broome.”
“You spoke to him about it, but not me.”
“He’s the oldest, the head of your family now. Figured he might know what I didn’t, why you’d need protecting.”
“I don’t need protecting.” She sat up, winced at the twinge in her arm.
“Your bruises suggest otherwise.”
No wonder Broome added more cameras around the place, including the cottage. “The cemetery thing was random. They think it was a homeless person. He’s probably moved on. If not, the cops will find him.”
The man had called her Maggie, though. That worried her. What if he did mean Magnolia?
Finn’s lips pressed into a single line. It was clear he didn’t like her words.
What the hell was Magnolia thinking, asking this of him?
She may not know the details of his life, but knew what a medical degree demanded.
Thorne completed his residency last year at Duke University.
It was like he’d gone overseas to live. They rarely saw him until he finished, until they could call him Doc Finch.
When she lifted the ice pack from her elbow, he sprang up, took it from her and returned it to the freezer.
He stopped a few feet away, facing her. “There’s something else I’d like to tell you.” His tone was serious. Something flickered in his eyes. Guilt, maybe more?—
She curled her fingers into her afghan. “Okay.”
“We’ve established I was a jerk at that party six years ago. Did you never question why?”
“Because you were an awful friend, and I didn’t realize it until that moment.”
His voice pitched lower. “I was a terrible, jealous asshole friend.”
Her heavy eyes fully opened at his choice of adjectives. “What?”
“I was jealous. And pissed I never asked you out.”
Was he saying he was attracted to her? She glanced at her empty mug on the end table and stood. This didn’t seem like the kind of conversation one sat down for. She folded her arms, ignoring the twinge in her elbow. She tipped her chin up. No way did she believe him.
“That is impossible,” she said. “I overheard when Thorne suggested you ask me to prom. You said no.” It still bothered her, those overheard words.
I’d never ask Rose out. Definitely not to prom.
The use of definitely. He’d dated half the females in their grade. Why not her?
He moved closer. The scent of pine and cedar fluttered her insides.
“You were my best friend,” Finn said. “I had to say no. I was eighteen.” His face was so close to hers. “I would have kissed you, more than kissed you. The way I felt about you then…”
Something eased inside of her, made her want to reach out, but she held back. “Finn.”
His words sounded sincere. “I didn’t want to lose you as a friend.”
But he had lost her—for six years.
His minty breath mingled with her own. He lifted one of his hands, brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I wish I’d asked you. I’d have kissed you, more if you’d let me. Your soulful eyes, your legs. Evie, they haunted me, they still do.”
Her nickname. The one he’d given her forever ago. She’d missed hearing it. Too much.
His eyes reflected what she felt. He wanted to kiss her. Truth was, she wanted that too. But she didn’t want to be hurt again.
“I don’t know Finn. It’s been six years.
We should focus on our friendship.” Her hand reached out to push him back.
Her entire palm found itself against his chest. The warmth of him through his shirt made her feel as if she touched his bare skin.
His heart beat against her palm. What had she planned to do?
Had he somehow moved closer? His lips hovered over hers.
“You feel it too,” said Finn. “The connection we had before, but different. I see it in your eyes—the way you look at me. I’ve tried dating other women. None of them come close to being you.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t think—what I feel now—it doesn’t mean we should do something about it.”
They shared another breath. “We should. I’ve learned some things since I was fifteen. What about you?”
She nearly groaned. He was referencing the only kiss they’d ever shared, which had been awkward as heck.
“This isn’t a competition.”
He moved a tad closer. “You sure about that?”
Damn, he would use that. She couldn’t resist a challenge, even one that might work against her. Unable to say no, she inched towards him. Her sexual experience might be limited, but she knew how to kiss.
“One kiss.”
The smile on his face lit something inside her.
Her fingers curled in the cotton of his shirt. His other hand slipped around her waist. She pulled. So did he.
Their lips touched.
This time, there was nothing awkward or inexperienced about his lips on hers.
She cursed. This kiss was everything she feared it would be.
Warm, soft, firm, all at the same time. An ember sparked to flame.
Damn wonderful. Her hands circled to his back, still pulling him closer as she moved her lips against his.
His hand threaded through her hair while the other skimmed her skin just beneath the hem of her shirt. His lips slanted over hers again and again; his tongue teased her breathless.
Everything about this felt right. Finn wanted her. He actually wanted her. The evidence was hard to miss, pressed up against her middle.
Once more, her lips answered his. Her fingers curled tighter against his back, her nails pressing hard enough to leave marks. One kiss became many. It made her want more.
The distant sound of thunder nudged her common sense, reminding her that their friendship was more important than this moment of…desire. Weeks ago, she’d still been angry at him, hurt by him. Was it that easy to forget and forgive?
The kiss needed to end.
It hurt to let go, but she did so, unwinding her arms and using one of her hands to remove his from her hair. He released her, leaned back, his eyes heavy-lidded.
She looked away. “You should go. The rain’s letting up.” She hoped that was true.
He needed to leave. Before she did something she might regret. It had been awhile since she’d been intimate with anyone. None of her previous sexual experiences felt like that kiss. A homecoming. It would be easy to step back into his arms and take things into her bedroom.
She should focus on his socks. That’d be safe.
Wool socks. Gray socks. Strong lips. Perfect amount of scruff on his jaw, imagining it other places on her body.
The muscles on his back, how they felt against her palms. His socks were definitely gray.
He probably looked amazing shirtless. This wasn’t working.
She had to get away from him. Leave the room.
She pushed herself away, sidestepping around him. Their bodies brushed. She couldn’t help her sharp breath.
He brushed his fingers through his hair and followed her to the door. Her hands shook.
She hugged herself as he put his boots on, then reached for his rain jacket.
Only when she heard the slide of his jacket’s zipper did she dare meet his eyes with her own.
Despite being covered from head to toe in cozy clothes, she felt exposed.
She needed to think away from him, digest the butterflies slamming against the inner walls of her stomach and the desire she felt for him.
His eyes held something different from what she’d seen before, like he might want to kiss her again, maybe more. If he did, she wouldn’t be able to resist. He looked too damn savory for her peace of mind.
He didn’t kiss her again. Instead, he hugged her tight, all of him pressed against all of her, his hand against her nape. Her own hands curled into his back. The words were on the tip of her tongue.
Stay.
But she’d never been a person to jump into bed with someone on a whim, even someone she’d known forever.
He let go, eased back. “Thank you for dinner. I—” He swallowed. Looked how she felt. Scattered. “I’ll come by next time I’m in town. Maybe we can get coffee. Talk more.”
“Night, Finn.” She needed him to leave. Now. Even as part of her wished for a tree to fall on the driveway, blocking him in. He opened the door and walked out to his car. The driveway was clear. The rain had stopped, as had the wind. Stars were visible now.
She turned the deadbolt, fastened the chain. Then sagged against the door as she heard his SUV start. Her knees were weak from his touch. She touched her fingers to her lips. If one kiss did that to her, what would it be like to do more?