Chapter 3
Three
Skylar
Oliver has taken off for some reason, leaving Iris and me to operate the booth on our own. Which is fine. It was always the plan. He sure was helpful, though. And I liked seeing someone be kind and attentive with her—up until he left. Perhaps flaked, even.
That’s what men do, in my experience. They flake.
Finn’s frame overwhelms the tent, and he looks lost without his brother. The reason for Oliver’s sudden departure seems unknown to Finn, too.
“You don’t have to stay,” I say, giving him an out.
“I’m staying,” Finn insists.
When he goes to sit, his shirt tail flutters, revealing a slightly rounded, perfect belly.
My inner chaos gremlin is having thoughts.
Want to nibble it. Want to eat chocolate pudding off of that tummy.
Finn heaves his frame down onto the cheap plastic chair. Under his weight, the spindly chair legs sink into the grass about a third of an inch.
My underboob area begins to sweat.
OK. Maybe not such a flake.
I like him.
“You and your brother always take vacations to quaint small-town festivals together?” I tease, trying to pump Finn for information.
Finn laughs. “No. I don’t get vacations. I came to check on my baby brother and make sure he’s not making the biggest mistake of his life.”
I nod, but in a way that tells him I’m trying to comprehend. “The biggest mistake of his life was taking a vacation in a small town?”
He casts a glance toward Iris, who is staring off after Oliver.
I look back at Finn, whose face has turned severe. Concerned. He leans in and says only for my ears, “He says he’s in love. He’s talking crazy like he wants to uproot his life and move here because of…well, because of your friend.”
“Iris,” I say.
“Yes.”
I have to think about this for a second. Just who does he think he is?
Shifting in my chair and sitting up straight, I say with my most charming smile, “Let me tell you something, Captain. If your brother wants to fall on his face, you need to let him. But I can assure you, the only mistake this man would make when it comes to my best friend Iris over there is to not worship the fucking ground she walks on, and that’s the goddess’s honest truth. ”
Finn goes speechless.
Maybe that was too harsh.
We simply stare each other down for a moment.
Then he says, “Noted,” arching an eyebrow and taking a swig from his coffee.
“I’m serious,” I say, doubling down.
“I can tell.”
“And if he is leading her on and breaks her heart, I will hunt down both of you.”
“I believe you.”
“Good. Because you don’t want to cross me. I used to get into plenty of fights in high school. I haven’t done anything so unseemly in many years now, but I still have it in me. I’m a hair puller.”
Finn does a spit take.
“I don’t know if you noticed,” he says, swiping coffee off his lip. “But neither Oliver nor I have all that much hair for you to pull.”
I lean in. “I’m not talking about the hairs on your head, sailor.”
Finn’s upper lip shines with a sudden bloom of sweat.
“You know, I came here to find things out, but I’m starting to think maybe you and I were meant to meet each other. I like your fire. You’re exactly the kind of person I’d like to work with,” he says.
Work with. Oh. Of course.
“I’m sure you’re a great contractor, Finn, but I don’t know you from Adam. And I’m sure even if I did, I couldn’t afford you.”
He leans forward, pinning his elbows to his knees.
That flannel shirt has seen better days, all worn and soft in places.
The pocket is torn to shit from attaching pens and carrying tape measures and safety glasses, if I had to guess.
And his cargo pants are worn at the knee.
I’ll bet he actually has cargo for those pockets.
“Listen. Do you have floor plans? I’m offering free advice.
I’d be more than happy to have a look and see what I can do for you. ”
I swallow down the bubble of happiness in my chest. Surely he’s joking.
But then again, I know down deep he’s not.
Finn is not the kind of guy to mess around with his words. I bet he waits to say “I love you” until he absolutely knows it in his gut. Whoever he says that to will be the luckiest person alive.
“If you insist. But again, I have to warn you, I’ve already been laughed at by three different banks, and there’s no chance I’m going to be open by my birthday at this point.”
“When’s your birthday?”
I tell him it’s the third of May.
He shrugs one of those hard shoulders and says, “Why don’t you let me do what I do and we’ll take it from there?”
I know what he means by that. Literally, I need to let him give me his expert opinion.
But his deep, mature voice, that intense gaze, and the words coming out of his lips, “why don’t you let me take it from here,” have all conspired to make my heart rate quicken in my chest. I’m picturing this man hovering over me in bed, hooking his arm around my waist and positioning me just right, just how he wants it. He knows best.
Inside, I’m squirming.
I give him a quizzical look, but then something moves in my peripheral vision, setting off my alarm bells. I know what it is before I turn my head and lay my eyes on her.
Pastor Patty, my childhood nemesis, is coming this way.
I jump from my seat and tug the sleeve of the spaced-out Iris’s sweater.
“Mayday!” I whisper.
Iris’s eyes widen, and she looks from me to where I’m gesturing with my chin.
It’s too late. That older woman moves faster than I remember.
“Hello, Iris.”
Oh, crap on toast.
The stance in her orthopedic shoes. The thin lips set in a forced half smile. This isn’t going to go well.
The pure noxious energy makes me up and leave the tent, hiding in between the sprawling flower display next door at the plant sale booth.
I have to give these two blood relatives their space to talk, but I keep an ear out in case intervention is needed.
“What’s going on?” Finn says.
I jump, realizing the man is right up on my elbow. Stealthy.
I turn to him, and he is at attention, ready for anything. I like that. And I like that he smells like wood and spice.
Turning my attention back to the drama, I whisper over my shoulder. “That’s her aunt. Watch out, she’s a bigger ballbuster than I am.”
Finn snorts softly, and I feel the hairs rise up on the back of my neck. “She doesn’t look that mean.”
I turn and give him a look. “I have a memo from vacation bible school from twenty-one years ago that says otherwise.”
“What did you do to the poor woman?”
“Me?! What did I do?”
When I look up at him, his eyes are all sexy and squinty, and I know he’s winding me up. Hmph.
I purse my lips. Do I tell him? “I was nine years old, and she wrote to my nana saying I was banned from VBS because I was ‘putting on a wet T-shirt contest for the boys.’”
“Excuse me? At nine? I think not,” he says.
“Thank you! So my nana told her, maybe if she wouldn’t be so cheap and turn on the air conditioning, I wouldn’t have to keep going into the church kitchen to steal ice to pour down my shirt and my shorts. They had words, and that’s when my nana lost her shit, and I was invited to never come back.”
“Wow. I kinda like your nana.”
That admiration hits like a gut punch. There’s a hell of a lot more to say about Nana, but no way he’s getting that story.
“I got my revenge on ol’ Patty. I, of course, became best friends with her niece, who happened to live with her, so she got to see me every day, whether she liked it or not. And ever since, I live my life in a way that makes people like Pastor Patty turn paler than pale.”
“But you’re as sweet as can be, I can’t imagine that to be the case,” he says.
Finn’s breath wafts over the back of my neck, and I shiver.
I take this opportune moment to demonstrate. Turning toward Finn, I pull out my red lipstick from my purse and dab some on. His gaze flits over my lips. Somewhere nearby, a dog growls at something, but I don’t see it.
I mash my lips together. “How does that look?”
“Juicy,” he says, low and gravelly, making me realize it wasn’t a dog I heard growling a second ago. It was Finn.
I think we both need a cold shower.
Or, even better, to share a really hot one.
I clear my throat and shake the cobwebs out of my head. What was I doing? Oh, right.
Back to business. I march back to my pop-up bookstore tent and get in between Skylar and Pastor Patty. I hand the older woman one of my business cards and turn on my thousand-watt smile.
“Raven’s Books, Music and Gifts. Coming soon to Songbird Ridge. Follow me on TikTok; I’m a delight.”
The older woman sniffs at me and puts the card away before really looking at it.
She gives a polite but meaningless, “Be sure to let me know when you open, dear.”
“I sure will, Pastor Patty. I’d love for you to come by and do a cleansing.”
She looks at me like I just said something vile. “You mean a blessing.”
I twirl my hair and give her a genuine smile. “One of those, too, just to be safe. Thanks for stopping by!”
I don’t give her time to respond. I walk away, pretending to busy myself by straightening some books and stickers.
“She did blanch. I enjoyed that,” Finn says with a laugh. Again, he’s back at my elbow without a sound.
Oh boy.
Flustered and blustering, Aunt Patty finally leaves. Iris, though, I can tell, is having a hard time gathering herself after that confrontation.
“How come I always come up with a dozen zingers after Aunt Patty walks away?” Iris asks.
She needs to get out of here for a while. I tell her that her meddling aunt doesn’t understand her and advise her to go home and take a breather.
“My friend here is about to take to her bed. Do you think you could look after my booth while I walk her home?”
Finn doesn’t hesitate. In fact, he looks like he was ready to make that offer if I hadn’t asked. He looks concerned after seeing the exchange between Iris and her aunt.
I just met the guy, but Finn seems trustworthy.
I squeeze his hand, the same one that held mine earlier today, and this time it feels different. Warm and rough, but comforting. Still, a twinge of excitement rolls through me.
“I’m on it, girl,” Finn says, without a hint of bravado or irony.
That reassuring touch, that steadiness in his voice, echoes through my head on the walk to Iris’s house.
I tamp these feelings down while I’m with my friend, knowing I need to help her get out of her head before she spirals about her family issues.
So I talk about my plans for the store, about book signings I want to do with local authors, about my dream to someday do a large book festival and bring a whole new audience to our little town.
Skylar smiles appreciatively as I talk. This is why we’re friends. I talk, she listens. She emotes, and I am more than happy to pick up the pieces.
I’m probably jinxing it all because I’m getting way ahead of myself. I haven’t even gotten the lease approved yet, and there’s no telling if I’ll ever get approved for a bank loan for renovations, but I know that Iris isn’t going to fault me if some or part of my plans don’t work out.
Once Skylar’s in her bed, I make her some tea and stay until I’m sure she’s going to be OK.
I feel bad for talking about myself, but she thanks me anyway for helping her get her mind off Aunt Patty.
“Don’t pay her any mind, do you hear me?” I tell her. “You can wallow for today, but tomorrow I want you to take the day off and pamper yourself.”
I also remind her that as a dressmaker, she needs to be taking better care of her mental state because nobody wants a depressed and traumatized dressmaker for their wedding. “It’s bad luck!”
She smiles into her pillow.
“I love you,” I say.
Iris mutters, “Love you too,” and rolls over to face the wall.
I wait until she’s asleep, and then I go back to my booth at the festival.
Once I arrive, Finn is not manning my table.
In fact, there’s no one around at all.
Once again, my instincts were wrong, and that sucks.
I slump in my chair and wait for more customers.
I should never let a disappointing man determine my mood. Grabbing a lotus drink from the nearby coffee truck, I let the fruity goodness boost my attitude. Or at least allow me enough wherewithal to hide my feelings.
But all through the day, I wonder why I didn’t see the red flags. Man, that Finn really did seem like a good guy. He had me convinced he was a man of his word and had his head on straight. That he wasn’t like the dozens of other guys who have let me down, again and again and again.
I’m in such a sour mood that when Oliver strolls up later, I tell a blatant lie.
“Iris had a wedding dress emergency,” I tell him before he has time to ask where she is.
“Oh. OK. Is everything OK?”
I can’t look him in the eye, and begin shuffling items around on the table, putting my guard up, because men. “No, like I said, she had an emergency, so…”
I don’t need to be any nicer. I don’t know this man, but I know his brother isn’t what I thought he was.
Oliver eventually walks off, and I find myself ruminating on men in general and on Finn specifically.
Where did he go?
I need to get out of here before I get any more bad news.
And just like that, my stomach drops out of my butt because Peter Hutchinson, the owner of the building that I want for my bookstore, is approaching. And he looks serious.
“Let me stop you right there,” I say. “I didn’t get the building.”
“You didn’t?”
I blink at him. “Weren’t you coming to tell me I didn’t get it?”
The burly man in the polo shirt embroidered with his real estate logo looks confused. He takes out a folder from his leather satchel and presents me with a small stack of papers.
“Your lease agreement.”
“What?”
“The other guy bowed out,” Pete says.
“How? Why? Who?”
“I can’t give out that information,” Pete says stiffly.
Now I’ve known this man since I was knee high to a grasshopper, and if there’s anyone who leaks like a sieve, it’s Pete.
“Come on, Pete.”
He holds up two hands in surrender. “It doesn’t make a lick of difference. Just some out-of-towner who changed his mind trying to set up shop here.”
Doesn’t matter. I’ll find out. I’m sure the entirety of Main Street already has the scoop, even if Pete won’t spill it.
I flip through the pages. “What’s this about my deposit being paid already? Pete, I hate to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this must be a typo, right?”
“Once again, I cannot tell you how or who or why, but it’s not a typo. The place is yours. You can start moving in today if you like.”
With that, Pete hands me the keys.
Tears sting my eyes.
That’s some incredible news that I desperately needed today.
I don’t know who my guardian angel is, but I’m going to find out.