Adele
Ididn’t care. Really. I didn’t. He was another asshole in a vast ocean of them who stood in my way every day. But we were the only ones here.
And without a word, he’d jumped in to help me clean the shop.
Our work was complicated and messy, but we worked most efficiently when each and every aspect of the shop was in order and put to rights. So at the end of each day, every tool and piece of equipment was cleaned, checked, and put away.
Like a restaurant kitchen, we started from scratch every morning.
Evening cleanup was a team effort. But the day had been so nice, and the sky was so clear. I wanted my staff to enjoy it, so I’d sent everyone to Richardson’s for ice cream. And yeah, maybe part of my motivation to shoo them out was because I wanted to be alone.
My favorite Taylor Swift playlist was blasting and I had just taken off my coveralls when Finn showed up.
And wouldn’t you know it. He knew how to catalog and sort wrenches exactly the way I liked it done.
Bastard. I busied myself silently but couldn’t resist sneaking looks at him. Because the sight of this man holding tools in his massive hand—especially with a rag thrown over his shoulder—was doing something to me that I didn’t want to acknowledge.
Though I’d been itching for time alone, I couldn’t deny I was appreciative of his help and his initiative.
So the least I could do was attempt to be polite.
Which, in my case, meant remaining silent.
If I opened my mouth, I feared I’d either hurl insults or attempt to shove my tongue down his throat.
I’d narrowly missed the latter on the Fourth of July. I had almost mauled him in the woods that night. Thank God Clive had the good sense to cause mayhem. Because if I’d besieged him the way my body had demanded in that moment, I never would have recovered.
Merely brushing my lips against his had altered my DNA and sent me into a weeklong lust spiral. Now I was finally getting a hold of myself. There was no way I’d allow myself to tempt fate again.
“You know,” he said, locking one of the storage cabinets. “You struck me as more of a Reputation girl. Folklore is an inspired choice.”
My heart tumbled in my chest. “You a Swiftie?” Could it be possible that this man could discuss the divergent tones and themes of each album?
He smiled. “Of course. I have a ten-year-old daughter. Sometimes we have entire conversations using only T-Swift lyrics.”
God, why did he continually and unwittingly have to remind me of what a great dad he was? It only poured gasoline on the simmering fire of attraction I was desperate to extinguish.
“Also—” He pulled the hair tie out of his hair, shook his head, then pulled the strands back up again.
I made a mental note to snap my jaw—which had hit the floor—shut. His hair was thick and shiny but just wild enough to be sexy.
“I wanted to thank you. For what you did at the diner.”
Dropping my chin, I busied myself with wiping down one of the worktables. “It’s no problem.”
“Adele.” The tone he used was sharper than I’d ever heard from him.
I stopped my assault on the stainless-steel surface and looked up.
His blue eyes were dark, penetrating. “I’m serious. You stood up for Merry and me when no one else would.”
Forcing a grin, I brushed off his praise. “Most people in town are bigger assholes than I am.”
He stalked toward me and splayed his hands on the table, edging in close to me so I was forced to meet his gaze. “You are not an asshole.”
“Right.” I huffed and lifted one shoulder. “I’m a bitch.”
He slammed a hand down on the table, making it vibrate beneath my fingers. The sound echoed through the cavernous space. “You’re not a bitch. You’re fierce and brave, and you don’t owe me anything. But you went out of your way to protect my kid, and that’s a big deal to me.”
I nodded, feeling like I was going to swallow my tongue.
He didn’t walk away or even break eye contact.
When I’d jumped up and berated the townspeople in the diner, it hadn’t felt like a big deal.
It was something that needed to be done.
But now, the weight of it sat firmly on my chest. The daughter of Frank Gagnon publicly defending the son of Mitch Hebert.
The town was no doubt still gossiping about it.
Still standing too close for comfort, he nodded toward the main door to the shop. “I like the sign.”
Following his line of sight, I turned to the sign hanging directly across from the door to the shop. It read: Do what you can, with what you have, where you are. I had made it myself years ago. When I’d taken over here and was trying to get my footing.
He held out his left arm and twisted it until his palm was turned up. I leaned in and studied the intricate knot tattooed on the inside of his forearm. When you’re at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on was inked around it in script.
“You’re a TR fan,” he said softly.
His words did something funny to my heart. It almost felt like it was floating in my chest. Very few people knew the origin of the quote on the sign.
I took a step back, needing to put more space between us so I could pull in a lungful of air that didn’t smell like him. There was something intimate about examining a person’s ink, and his thick, ropey forearms were, like the rest of him, frustratingly masculine and sexy.
“I am,” I said, snatching my rag off the table. “Big fan. America’s most badass president.”
He stood perfectly still, grinning at me as I busied myself. “I’m also a big national parks lover.”
My traitorous stomach flipped then. Why couldn’t he be awful? Why couldn’t he be obsessed with video games or something equally off-putting?
If he really was a national parks nerd, then I’d officially lose my shit. Between the forearms and the compliments and the Teddy Roosevelt deep cuts, I was already dangerously close to reenacting that kiss. Throwing in a love for our country’s parks would be a total disaster.
But the shop was clean, and every tool was in its place. It was time to lock up and get as far away from Finn Hebert as I could.
He had other ideas. “Acadia was my first. What was yours?”
“U Maine offered these freshman orientation trips. There were a bunch of options, but I had never been out west, so I chose a backpacking trip through Rocky Mountain National Park.”
It was an expensive endeavor, but I begged my parents.
My dad was easier to convince, and, thankfully, he’d helped me convince my mom.
He always had my back, especially with Mom, who had always been overprotective of me.
But he’d done it, and then he’d driven me to Bangor to pick up a hiking pack and supplies, making me promise to take lots of photos of the trees out there.
The memory never failed to bring a smile to my face. God, I missed him so much.
“The park is spectacular. I was only eighteen, but I was totally obsessed with all of it. The history, the geology, even the rangers. I wanted to soak up every single detail. It’s not only about the vast untamed wilderness, you know?
It’s about the planning and preparation and infrastructure that go into protecting the place and making it accessible to people. ”
“America’s best idea,” he mused, crossing his arms. “My ultimate destination is Denali.”
I gasped. “Me too. But in the lower forty-eight, I’d say Glacier is at the top of my list.”
“I’ve never been, but the glaciers are melting, so you should go soon.”
My heart lodged in my throat at the thought.
But I shrugged, ready to move on. Before Dad passed, I’d take two weeks off every summer and travel.
The summer before we lost him, I hiked and camped in Yosemite while obsessing over the redwoods.
But for the past few years, I hadn’t felt like I could take time off.
Even in the slow season. Things at Gagnon Lumber were so hectic, and even now, while the financial side had improved, things had still been rough.
“Sure thing. I’ll gas up my jeep,” I snarked.
“I mean it. Take it from me. It’s so easy to get wrapped up in your life and develop tunnel vision. Work, sleep, eat, laundry, taxes. On an endless loop.”
I scrutinized him where he stood on the other side of the table.
The man who had given up his dreams for his family.
Who was hanging on to a life he didn’t want because he was putting his child’s needs ahead of his own.
A man who was living in the shadow of his father and facing the consequences head-on.
“When you’re standing in the wilderness, it’s easier to remember that the world is so much bigger than you. It allows you to appreciate all the things you miss when your world is reduced to the monotony of daily life.”
My throat was thick, and words had escaped me. I had always categorized Finn as a meathead. Never, until this moment, had I realized how deep and thoughtful he was under the Viking warrior exterior.
So, to calm my racing heart and force the emotions bubbling up inside me to recede, I settled for grabbing my bag and getting the lights.
Silently, he followed me out and escorted me to my car.
Once I’d found my keys, I climbed into the driver’s seat. Twisting at the waist, I reached for the door, but he leaned in, resting his hand on the frame of the jeep above my head.
“We’re not as different as you think, She-Ra.”