Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
OAKLEIGH
An hour after our little hiccup, I’ve been to what feels like half of the stalls at this festival. My bag is bordering on overflowing and weighing down my shoulder.
Nonetheless, I still decide to visit a stall that offers different kinds of jams and condiments, all of which contain cherries. They have some odd ones—cherry-flavored ketchup, cherry panko breadcrumbs, cherry pasta, but there are others that I’m dying to try.
“Hello, there,” the lady behind the stall says. “Welcome to Very Berry Cherries!”
“Hi.” I smile at her. She’s an older lady, maybe in her early seventies.
Her blonde hair is overrun by silver strands and wrinkles stretch across her forehead, but she also has lines on her face that show years of smiling that compliments the kindness in her eyes.
She actually reminds me of Wanda. “This all looks amazing!”
“Oh, well thank you so much!”
I pick up a jar of cherry and blackcurrant jam. “Do you make all of these yourself?”
“Damn right I do. My sons help me pick all of the cherries when the time comes, and I just make whatever I’m feeling at the time.”
“Cool,” Finn mumbles as he reads the label on a bottle of cherry-flavored mayonnaise.
I also pick up two jars of cherry and vanilla jam and hand the three containers to the lady. “I’ll take these, please.”
“Excellent choices!”
She bags up the products and hands the bag over.
She lets me know the price and I reach into my bag to try and find my purse.
My movements stop completely, however, when Finn’s hand rests itself on my lower back and immediately begins to slide lower.
My breath hitches as his large hand covers my ass cheek, everything he does so clear and concise.
I feel his forehead against my temple and his breath on my cheek, and just like that my body is on edge, waiting for whatever it is it should be waiting for.
His fingers drag against me, leaving a line of fire in its wake.
His hand leaves me and comes in front of us as he hands the lady the card that was in my back pocket. His card.
The lady takes the card and the entire time, Finn’s forehead hasn’t moved. His breath reaches my ear as he whispers, “My woman doesn’t pay for a damn thing.”
The possessiveness. My woman. His woman. The way I’m being taken care of without even having to ask; being treated to things that he knows I’ll love because of its cherry association.
The payment is processed and the lady smiles at us, completely oblivious to my distracted state. “Thank you so much for visiting.”
As we’re walking away from the stall, I smirk at Finn and say, “You do realize I’ve been paying for everything so far, right?”
“Oh, I know, but what makes you think I haven’t been putting the money back into your account?”
I look up at him wide-eyed. “You didn’t.”
His smirk resembles the one that I showed him just moments ago. He shrugs and walks ahead.
The rest of our time at the festival goes like that—Finn buying me everything that I so much as look at, and me being too surprised the entire time to even fight it.
As we walk down the path, Wanda smiles at the two of us. She looks down at where my hand perfectly slots into Finn’s. The comfort I feel has me feeling completely put out.
“So, may I ask just one question about your relationship?” Wanda asks.
Finn groans, but I feel bad for Wanda. She’s excited about her son dating the one person she hoped he would, and she’s not even allowed to ask anything about it.
“Ask anything you’d like, Mama.”
Finn’s look is questioning my decision, but I send him one back letting him know that she needs this and so does he.
She claps her hands together and a little high-pitched squeal erupts from her. “Thank you! Okay, so I want to know if you’ll be moving in with Finn when he finds somewhere?”
“We’re not ready for that just yet, Mama,” Finn says. “I’m not putting any pressure on Oakleigh to do anything faster than she wants to.”
In my mind, I’m questioning why he has chosen to phrase it like that, with the subtle implication that I’m the one apprehensive about the idea.
“Until I can finally make a career change, I don’t think I’d be able to move out of Beckford just yet anyway.”
* * *
I groan and stop walking, my legs protesting every step. “I think my legs are broken.”
Wanda laughs at me. “I’m twice your age, how am I doing better than you?”
“You’re younger at heart. It helps you cheat.”
Wanda shakes her head, her smile beaming. Finn’s chuckle is low and vibrates across my skin like a tingly caress. My bag, which is almost overflowing with stuff, is on his shoulder, and some bags from various stalls are in his hand.
He holds his free hand out to me. “Up you get, Cherry. We’re almost at the car.”
I stare at his hand like it’s diseased. “Getting up is not something I think I’m capable of right now.”
“I could always put you over my shoulder again?” he says, and even though there’s mischief in his voice, his smile suddenly falls a little flat.
“Again?” Wanda asks, her voice high and excited.
“Again.” Finn and I say together.
I take my time grabbing Finn’s hand and letting him pull me up.
When he pulls, he does so until my body is almost flush against his, our chests touching with each shallow breath in.
I watch his chest rise and fall and of its own accord, my hand finds its way there, and the feel of his heartbeat under my hand seems to steady me somehow.
A frown takes over my face, a frown fueled by confusion and fear. No, I promised myself. No one else. No more heartbreak.
I pull away, probably a bit too abruptly, enough to make Wanda’s eyebrows flinch downward.
“Electric shock,” I mumble, sending both of them an apologetic glance.
Finn turns and stoops down. “Hop on.”
“What?”
He flicks his head, motioning for me to get on his back. “Hop on, Cherry. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”
I hesitate, even though my muscles are ironically jumping for joy and begging me to do it. Finn looks back over his shoulder.
“You coming?”
I place my hands on his shoulders and feel him tense at the contact.
It makes me hesitate again, but his muscles then relax and I bend my legs before hopping up onto his back.
His hands immediately come back to brace me under my thighs.
My bare thighs. My shorts ride up enough that there’s nothing to provide a barrier between our skin.
The problem with that is my thighs are really sensitive, and right now the rough calluses on Finn’s hands are brushing against the smooth underside of my thighs and there isn’t a single second between here and the car that I’m not going to be aware of that.
Finn turns to Wanda. “I’ll see for you lunch on Tuesday?”
She nods enthusiastically before awkwardly hugging us both. When she pulls away, there’s something clouding her features.
“Finn, if you’re struggling then I really wish that you’d—”
“I’m okay, Ma.” One of his hands leaves my thigh to grab his mother’s hand. “Please don’t worry about me.”
Wanda searches his eyes for something. I’m not sure if she finds it or not. She doesn’t let anything but motherly concern show in her eyes and in the creases around her eyes. Somewhat reluctantly, she nods.
“Okay,” she says. She then looks up at me and smiles warmly, but concern stops it reaching her eyes. “Will you join us?”
I shake my head. “I wish I could, but that happens to be the one day I actually have been given a day shift, so I’ll be at work.”
She nods in understanding and gives my calf a squeeze.
“I love you both.” She blows us a kiss and heads to her own car.
“Mom!” Finn calls out. Wanda turns back around. “Let us walk you to your car.”
She waves him off. “I’m not that old yet, Finley. Enjoy your evening!”
“Can you at least message me when you get home?!” he yells after her.
I can hear her laugh, light as ever still swirling around us as the distance between us grows. Finn lowers his head and lets out a sigh. The tension returns to his shoulders.
Before I even know what I’m doing, I rub at his shoulders, kneading at the muscular planes of his body with the intent of rubbing out the intrusive thoughts I can tell are running through his mind, leaving scorched footsteps as they go.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice strained.
“Reminding you.”
He turns his head as much as he can, and it’s enough for me to see the way his thoughts plague him, control him. I don’t usually feel bad for Finn, but this is one area where I have always been empathetic.
It’s not the action itself that feels strange, the act of massaging his shoulders while I’m sat against his back.
No, it’s the tenderness emanating from me, this need to make sure that he knows his mother will be safe.
Years of disregarded attraction between us is finally catching up with me.
And what’s worse is that it’s all built up over time.
Instead of appearing and then dispersing when it realizes it’s not needed, it’s clung on to the space between us, just waiting for the moment we are closer and it can no longer be ignored.
“Reminding me of what?”
“Of whose voice you should be listening to.”
His eyebrows dip, flinch, more like, as if he’s just as confused as I am when it comes to my actions.
He doesn’t say anything else, he simply starts walking toward the car, and my massage ceases.
* * *
I’m choking on the awkwardness that sits between us.
The car ride started off comfortable, the car making enough noise to keep us company, but the longer we went without talking, the more awkward it became.
Now, it’s the kind of quiet that’s forcing me to shift in my seat every few minutes, hoping that the noise of my clothes against the leather seat is enough to fill the car for a second of reprieve.
“I never said thank you,” Finn says all of a sudden, his voice hoarse and low.
“For what?”
“For what you did back there. It genuinely helped.”
“Oh,” I search for the right words. “Well, glad it helped.”