21. Finn
twenty-one
Finn
“ P lease tell me you’re a fan.” Vivian does that bouncy thing she does when she’s excited, and my heart twists to the point of pain. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t so darn adorable all the time.
Watching her defend me had been an out-of-body experience.
It had taken several heartbeats for my sluggish brain to realize that it had actually happened.
Vivian might show the world one version of herself, but her strength is always there, simmering beneath the surface.
It felt like an honor, having Vivian use that steadfastness on my behalf.
After years of striving on my own, of trying to win this race against time, against my father’s puppet mastery, the raw gratitude of having Vivian in my corner almost capsized me.
I wanted to hold her against my chest and never let go.
I wanted to whisper thank you over her soft curls.
My fingers had flexed at my sides in preparation, but then the fair staff member interrupted.
Instead, I made a decision. I’m not leaving Vivian’s side today.
Repairing my tire can wait another day. Heck, the rotation of the Earth can wait until Vivian checks this off her list—part two of her self-improvement plan.
I firmly stand by my opinion that she’s perfect as is, but I also understand the desire to achieve one’s goals.
I close the book so we can both see the cover of the Regency romance, using my index finger to keep my place. “I haven’t read one of these before,” I admit. “But even after a few chapters—”
“You’re hooked, right?” Her luminosity nearly burns my retinas.
I’m so familiar with the falsehoods I weave on a daily basis that I almost lie out of habit.
This pattern began long before I signed my future away.
Early on, my father insisted that no one wanted the nerdy boy who read when they could have a charismatic athlete.
Excelling academically was an expectation, but the foundation of true success laid in being likable and making connections—something you can’t do while reading at home. Alone.
The sad thing is, Dad was right. I push away the memory of the one disastrous time I thought someone loved the real me.
Since then, I’ve kept everyone out. Even among other librarians, I focus on the social services aspect of librarianship.
No one knows about my fascination with historic bookbinding or that once the library closes, I don protective gloves and leaf through Wilks Beach’s oldest texts.
But maybe I can start with small doses of truth.
See what happens.
“Yes,” I answer.
Vivian barely contains a squeal while touching the cover. “ The Duke’s Honor is the first of eight. And when you’re done with this series, you should try Annie Ardent’s Wellington series. It’s similar to the Worthington series but kisses only.”
My forehead wrinkles. “Kisses only?”
“The one you’re reading has…” Her voice trails off as that captivating blush stains her freckled cheeks.
Our proximity creeps into my consciousness as I watch the color slip down her neck.
With Vivian standing between my spread knees, our eyes and mouths effortlessly align.
All I would have to do is slide my palm behind her neck and demolish the remaining distance.
I nearly complete my mental plan before remembering Vivian’s reaction last time we were this close.
There’d better be an ostentatious medal for willpower, because I earn two of them, leaning back and moving the book between us to create space.
“I admit, I’ve never read a romance before. I usually stick to non-fiction, the classics, or Pulitzer Prize winners.”
Vivian rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me you are one of those snobby literary types that can’t be bothered to pick up a book just for the fun of it.
Books like this aren’t supposed to make you rethink the state of the world.
They’re supposed to be an escape. A little drop of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day. ”
The corner of my mouth kicks up. I love when Vivian gets feisty like this.
“I never said I was.”
“Oh. Well…” She tucks her hands into her dress pockets. “What made you pick this book up?”
“One of the librarians wanted me to read it.” My free hand tightens on my knee to keep it from sliding over Vivian’s distracting curves.
“Who?” Her confused gaze falls to the cover as she retreats a small step.
Yes, move backward. In fact, would you mind walking down a block or two so I don’t snap and devour those perfect lips?
She’s been nervously chewing on them all morning, and I desperately want to soothe them with my own.
Forcing my gaze back to her eyes, I say, “I don’t know. They keep leaving it on my desk. A stack of them.”
“What do you mean?” Her nose wrinkles, and it’s like an imaginary sports commentator laments over my impending loss to my impulses.
I take a slow, controlled breath. “I mean that, every other day, this book and the next three in the series show up on my desk. I don’t know who puts them there. They just…arrive. I’m pretty sure I’m being hazed, but to keep them from popping up, I checked them out.”
“Finn.” Vivian settles her hands on my shoulders, and I nearly swallow my tongue. “Those aren’t from your staff.”
“They’re not?”
Vivian shakes her head, her slow, mischievous smile making me grip the hardback book like it’s my lifeline.
“The library is giving you those.”
“What?” My brows pinch.
“Remember when I said there’s a little bit of magic on our sandy stretch of beach? The library is known to present people with the books they need to read. It’s done it to almost every local over the years.”
That…that makes no logical sense. The migraine I’ve been fighting all morning swirls my skull, its tendrils squeezing like taloned claws. My free hand comes to my temple, rubbing as I close my eyes.
“Finn?” Vivian’s voice reverberates with concern before I feel her cool fingers on my face.
My hand drops away immediately, her touch infinitely more soothing than my own.
I keep my eyes closed as she removes my hat, one thumb holding perfect pressure against my left temple as her other fingertips trace through my hair.
An embarrassing, open-mouthed sigh leaves my tight lungs as I sag into the caress.
“There’s Tylenol in the first aid kit,” Vivian tells me, not moving.
“I have my migraine prescription in the glove box.” The truth just leaves my slack lips, effortless.
I wait for my shoulders to bunch, for the unease that accompanies divulging personal information to spike over my muscles.
Other people might think it silly, trying to conceal something so insignificant, especially since so many post their unfiltered lives all over social media.
But my father drilled into me that one should never reveal a weakness.
Weaknesses could cost you.
Vivian hums, her fingers soothing through my hair again. “You get migraines?”
I open my eyes, expecting to find disappointment or judgment, but there’s none in Vivian’s evergreen gaze. It makes me want to tell her all my secrets.
Every. Single. One.
“Yes.”
She frowns, her hands settling on my shoulders again. “What would you normally do when you get a migraine, besides taking medicine?”
“Lie down. Try to decrease stimuli.”
Her lips press into a line as she nods. “I’m sorry we’re so far from home, but maybe you can lie down in your car?”
“I’ll be fine.” I straighten, leaning back so her fingers fall away.
This has all gotten too intimate. I’m supposed to be keeping my distance.
The hard set of her jaw should be a warning. “Finnegan Reynolds, you are going to take your medicine and lie down right now, or I’ll sing ‘Alouette’ at the top of my lungs.”
“How did you know my full name, Vivian?” I can’t help the flirtatious twitch of my lips. “Did you look me up?”
Her fingers on my shoulders flex. “I swear to the sea, if you pour that fake charm over this, I will blind you with my phone’s flashlight.”
A chuckle tumbles from my mouth. “You’re a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? You pretend to be all sweet and quiet, but really, you’re a fighter.”
Vivian nearly growls.
Though my smile grows, I want to tell her my words are a compliment. If she could see herself the way I do, she’d never doubt her ability to do anything. But instead, I wink, poking the adorable teddy bear.
“Don’t.”
Vivian moves forward, hands firmly framing my face, and I’m done for. Whatever she wants, she can have. My lashes flutter before I remember myself and meet her steely gaze.
“Don’t do that.” Vivian hesitates a breath, her tone softening. “I like you like this.”
My eyebrows lift. “In pain?”
Her curls bounce with a subtle head shake. “Honest.”
The sharp breath stumbling into my lungs is entirely too noisy.
In addition to causing mortification to sprint through my veins, it draws Vivian’s gaze.
I expect her to focus back on my eyes, to continue my talking-to, but her attention fixates.
My vision goes a little gray at the edges as Vivian sways forward, her tongue wetting her bottom lip.
“Miss?” An older woman I hadn’t noticed stands at the entrance to the tent, clutching a dress. “Could I get this for my granddaughter?” The willowy teen beside her doesn’t look up from her phone.
Vivian startles, her blush fierce against her pale skin.
“Of course,” she says, moving toward them.
“I’m going to head to the car,” I mutter, giving the trio a wide berth as I step into the piercing sunshine.
A hot streak of lightning crosses from my left eye to the back of my skull. I squint, fumbling for the sunglasses tucked into my collar. The entire walk to the car, I focus on the searing pain in my head, not the wobbly uncertainty in my chest.
Because I’m sure my exhausted brain is playing tricks on me.
There’s no way Vivian just leaned in to kiss me.