You’re My Cherry Pie

Prologue

FINN

Eight months ago

I’m really regretting not drinking more. One drink means I’m fit enough to drive not just myself home but also my sister’s best friend. My sister’s best friend, who I’ve been stupidly in love with since my sister, Wren, first brought her home all those years ago.

It’s taking everything in me not to say anything; to not say that I like her shorts that have sunflowers sewn onto them, even though wearing shorts in the middle of fall is crazy; or that I think the red tinge to her cheeks brings out the mahogany notes in her eyes.

What I said to her before we left the bar was true—that I don’t want Wren crying over her best friend going missing on her way home.

What I didn’t say, is that the thought of something happening to her causes my stomach to churn, because even though I pretend to hate her, she’s still pretty high up on my list of people that I care about, and I would rain hell down on anyone who touches her.

“Have you ever heard of a speed limit?” Oakleigh asks beside me, arms crossed over her exposed cleavage while she shivers in the passenger seat. I reach over to the center console and jam the button that turns on her seat warmer with a fake roll of my eyes.

“Have you ever heard of dressing for cold weather?”

“What I wear is none of your damn business.”

“And how I drive is none of yours. Not all of us drive around like we want to make it into the very emergency room that we work in.”

She huffs and falls further into her seat.

“Seriously, Cherry, it’s the middle of fall, for fuck’s sake. You’ve been shivering ever since we left the bar.”

“No, no, no.” She sends a glare in my direction. “Don’t you dare try and give me the big-brother tone. And I’ve told you a million times to stop calling me that!”

“There is absolutely nothing ‘brotherly’ about my tone, I can promise you that. And even if I did see you as a little sister—which I definitely don’t—I’m smart enough to know that you’re way too stubborn to listen.”

“Wow, you definitely don’t see me as your little sister?” She fakes a sniffle. “That hurts my feelings.” In my peripheral, I see her start to dab at her pretend tears.

“Oh, please. You’re trying to tell me that you see me as a brother?” My nausea increases as I wait impatiently for her answer.

“Hell, no.” She scoffs. “You will forever remain nothing more than my best friend’s annoying older brother.”

My own scoff is a pathetic attempt to hide the hitch in my breath as I keep my eyes trained on the dark country road ahead. My hands clench the steering wheel so hard the leather squeaks, and my shoulders are now tighter than a tourniquet.

“What’s the scoff for?” she asks defensively.

“What scoff?”

“The one you just did.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

She turns toward me. “Wait, are you upset that I friend-zoned you?”

“Believe it or not, Cherry, not everyone is interested in you.” I am, but that’s beside the point.

“And for the record, you didn’t friend-zone me, you best-friend’s brothered me, which is a whole level above friend-zone.

You’ve not just made it unlikely we’d ever get together, you’ve made it unsanctioned. ”

“Why are you explaining how it’s worse, if you’re not interested?” I don’t need to look at her to know she’s smirking as though she’s won.

Maybe she hit a nerve. Maybe she almost managed to unknowingly goad me into reacting rashly. Maybe my chest is feeling tight right now thanks to the violent sting of rejection.

Maybe…

Fuck, I don’t know.

Other than a light chuckle, she thankfully remains silent, but I know that’s only because her silent victory could be felt by the wild animal in the forest either side of the road we’re on.

Her shivering has ceased thanks to the seat warmer, so I’m able to fully concentrate on the dark country road.

Our friends all live in Eaglewood, a small town known mostly for its pumpkins and abundance of bakeries.

Oakleigh lives two towns over, in Beckford, a slightly bigger town that is one of five (including Eaglewood) to surround Lake Carlow.

The drive is mostly pitch-black until you meet the main roads in Beckford, so thankfully, it’s too dark for me to get distracted admiring the woman beside me.

By the time I pull up outside of Oakleigh’s cottage, I hear soft, steady breathing beside me.

My fake enemy is curled up on the passenger seat, eyes closed, her face curtained by dirty-blonde hair.

The strands shift as she exhales a long breath, telling me that she’s fast asleep. No wonder her jabs had ceased.

With a rather violent exhale, I hop out of my car, making my way round to her side.

I’m about to open the door when I freeze, my hand halfway to the handle.

Carrying her inside isn’t what someone who’s meant to dislike her would do.

I’ve never done it before, so how the hell would I possibly explain suddenly being so chivalrous?

My fist clenches as I pull it back to my side.

Hate her today, so she’ll love you tomorrow.

Does the saying make any sense? Fuck no, but I’ve been telling it to myself for years in the hopes it’ll help to dull the longing inside of me.

I convince myself to find the fun in the situation—to try and enjoy the way she glares at me; the way she sasses me with a flick of her hair and a raise of her brow.

I tell myself to forget about the fact that she never smiles because of me and to find comfort in the fact that while she offers nothing but annoyance when I step into the room, it’s better than no reaction at all.

I’m not trying to change her mind about me—you can’t force someone to love you—but I can at least keep her close to me the only way I know how.

I give the window two loud raps and Oakleigh startles, looking around frantically. When she sees me leaning over so I can see in the window, her expression immediately goes from panicked to furious. I smirk.

“I said I would drive you home. I never said I would carry you to bed like Sleeping Beauty. Get up.”

With an angry huff, she opens her door, not even bothering to wait until I’ve moved. I lean back just in time.

“White paint typically looks shit with blood smeared on it,” I point out.

“Oops.” She smiles sweetly.

I move to the side. “Get out.”

“Touchy, touchy.” She’s still smiling as she steps out of my car.

There isn’t a whole lot of space for her to stand as she gets out.

While I’m not bulky like my sister’s fiancé, Gus, I can still fill out a space.

When she realizes that I’m not going to move out of the way, her smile falters.

“Still touchy because I friend-zoned you?”

“Again, you didn’t fri—”

“Didn’t friend-zone you, yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waves me off. “What’s French for broken record?”

“How the hell should I know?”

“Look, you’re just bitter, and I get it. It’s upsetting knowing that you’ll only ever be annoying to me, but you really have to get over it.”

“You think I’m upset?” I take half a step closer and she shrinks, watching me cautiously. “Cherry, if I wanted to make it out the best-friend’s-brother zone, I could.”

Even though she’s still cautious, her eyebrow raises. “Oh, you think so?”

“I know so.” I lean closer to her to make a point. Her breathing shallows, her eyelids droop. She hates me, but even she can’t deny that there is a chemistry between us that cannot be explained.

She scoffs pathetically; it’s more like a release of breath she’s been holding. “Yeah, right.”

“You scared, Cherry, baby?”

“Ha! In your dreams. You have absolutely no effect on me. You could kiss me right now and I’d be completely unfazed.”

“Be careful of the challenges you put in front of me, Cherry.”

She steels her spine, staring me dead in the eyes, and for the first time I see the way lust mixes with fierce determination, making her brown eyes darken until they’re blacker than the roads I just drove down.

I lean my head forward, hoping that at the height Oakleigh is at, it will steal her attention away from the way my pants are starting to tent.

“I mean what I said,” she whispers, the words falling between us, filling up the little available space and choking us with their meaning.

I move so close to her, my lips brushing hers. The smell of her fills my nose and it takes everything in me not to close my eyes and savor how good she smells.

Her breath fans mine, and mine hers.

“Have it your way.”

In general, I’m a soft kind of guy. I act with chivalry toward all women. I buy flowers for my mom and sister, and I genuinely just try and mold myself to what others need me to be. But, when it comes to my romantic life, it’s never really accurately reflected my personality.

Take now, for instance. The way I roughly slam my lips down on Oakleigh’s in no way matches the way that I softly hug my friends and family.

The way my hand reaches up and decides that grabbing her throat is a much better way of pulling her closer than using the back of her neck… I’m a walking juxtaposition.

I bite and nip at her bottom lip before soothing it with a swipe of my tongue. Her sweet little moans make me move my hand from her throat to her cheek, caressing it as I deepen the kiss into something that I never meant for it to be.

Its purpose was to show her that I could easily have an effect on her if I wanted to; to make her see that whatever this is between us, it’s not something that can easily be tossed aside.

Instead, the hand that winds its way around her waist shows her how often I think of her. The moan that escapes my mouth tells her how long I’ve wanted her. And the way I rest my forehead against hers as I reluctantly break the kiss, tells her that she’s mine even though I can never have her.

Our breaths mingle, both short and forceful.

I keep my eyes closed when I feel her gaze on me, too scared of what I’ll find if I look.

“Finley—”

“Go inside and lock the door behind you,” I cut her off. “I’ll wait here until it’s done.”

I pull away and turn around, hoping that the cold, fall air will hit her enough to push her to go inside her house.

After a moment’s hesitation, I hear her receding footsteps, and eventually a door closes.

I blow out a breath, grab the tight curls on my head, and force myself back into my car. In my peripheral, a light flicks on and a curtain is drawn back ever so slightly.

I keep facing forward as I turn the ignition back on and pull away out of the parking space. I allow myself the briefest of glances at the window, only to find her watching me. She surprises me by waving. It’s the smallest of waves, but still something more than she’s ever given me.

I drive off, wondering why someone as head over heels in love as I am, would be the one to cut off what happened as abruptly as I did.