Second Chance Charmer (Havenbrook Book 1)

by Brighton Walsh

  She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “First of all, you hired me because I was better qualified for the job. Jeff is a janitor at the elementary school, and I’m sure he does a fantastic job there. But to have you say he would’ve handled this position better than me is insulting.”

  She wanted to say more, wanted to tell him she’d worked her ass off for him and this town for the past five years. And she’d done a damn good job of it. Would it hurt him to recognize that? But she had more pressing issues right then. “And I think having a thriving business bringing in both revenue and jobs—not to mention giving us an increase in taxes for things like new parks and better roads—is a good thing for the mayor, but more importantly for the town. No matter what the business is.”

  Her daddy jerked his head back, eyes wide. Probably because Willow could count on one hand the number of times she’d stood up to him, and most of them had been during her teenage years. He narrowed his eyes, his jaw going tight. “You know damn well I don’t like that kind of business. Or that boy.”

  Understatement of the century. He’d tried to keep them apart when they’d been teenagers, though he hadn’t quite managed. Even if he’d done everything in his power to keep them from seeing each other, she and Finn had worked at the same place, and her daddy hadn’t been able to stop that, no matter how powerful he was.

  “That may be the case,” she said, “but they’ve done everything above board. Went through the right paths, secured all the proper permits, even verified with the historical society about the items they’ll need to be careful on to follow regulation. They’re doing everything properly, Daddy.”

  She waited for him to argue more, but he only stared at her for a moment, his face getting redder, before he grunted.

  “Now that I’m here, I might as well get to work.”

  “Don’t you wanna go home and change?”

  “Apparently, I don’t have time since it looks like you didn’t do much of anything while I was gone. Spend all your time paintin’ your nails or what? Those damn toys from Tina’s day care were all over the side parking lot, not put away like they’re supposed to be. The tables at the cafe are blocking the sidewalks again. And for God’s sake, when the hell are those planters gonna get filled? I thought that was supposed to be completed this week? If you don’t get it done, I’ll get someone in here who will.” With that, he turned around and shuffled into his office, slamming the door behind him and dismissing her without so much as a word.

  Willow stood there for a solid three minutes, staring at the dark wood of the door her daddy had shut between them, her hands clenched at her sides. It was getting more and more painful to bite her tongue around him. But she’d been raised with the knowledge that their family was as close to royalty as Havenbrook was ever going to get, her great-great-great-granddad founding it in 1867. Because of that, all four girls had been raised knowing there was an invisible line they needed to toe. And they were, under no circumstances, allowed to back talk their daddy—in public or private.

  After twenty-eight years, it was ingrained deeply in Willow’s psyche. But every time he said something like that, belittling her and cutting her down to size, she got a little more pissed.

  And a little more determined to prove him wrong.

  With a fire burning under her skin, she turned and stalked toward her office, stopping short when she got into the hallway to find she wasn’t alone.

  “Finn,” she said, breathless. She glanced back toward her daddy’s office, then at Finn’s face—the tightness of his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders. There was no doubt in her mind he’d heard what her daddy had said—she just didn’t know how much. “What can I help you with?” she asked, polite smile in place.

  What she desperately wanted to do was sweep her eyes down his body, take in the clothes he wore, decide if she liked them better or worse than what he’d been wearing last night. But she couldn’t focus on holding it together in the face of her father’s cutting-down if she got distracted by all of Finn’s…Finn-ness.

  “I see nothin’ much has changed with your daddy. Still as much of a dick as his name implies.” His response should’ve surprised her, but it didn’t. The hate between the two certainly wasn’t one-sided and had never been, and it apparently hadn’t waned with time.

  “Did you have a question about somethin’?” she asked, walking toward her office. The last thing she needed today was to have her daddy come flying out and get a look at Finn. That was an interaction she wanted to postpone as long as humanly possible.

  “Yeah.” He stepped close to her, closer than was appropriate for two business associates. Reaching out, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, let his finger drop to the side of her neck, resting against her pulse point. “I wanted to see if you got the delivery.”

  Her shoulders relaxed a fraction of an inch, the dormant butterflies in her stomach once again swirling to life when she thought about what the gift meant. Was he trying to tell her he hadn’t forgotten about her, about back then? Or that he was disappointed she hadn’t fulfilled her promise to go to art school? But that was a can of worms she couldn’t afford to open right now. Instead, she said, “I did. Thank you.”

  “You still use that brand?”

  Given he went out of his way to get them for her, she didn’t have the heart to tell him no, so she just bit her lip and kept quiet.

  He smiled, though there was still tension in his body. “Always so polite, aren’t you? That hasn’t changed.” His jaw ticked as he glanced toward her daddy’s office. “Is that why you let him talk to you that way? You deserve better than that.”

  She shrugged. “You know that’s just how Daddy is.”

  “That doesn’t mean—”

  “Did you need anything else, Finn? If you heard him, I’m sure you know I’ve got a busy day, so I should get to it.” She pasted on a fake smile, hoping like hell he bought it—or at least pretended to for her sake.

  Finn looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply through his nose. He gave a quick shake of his head and dropped his hand from her neck. “Nothin’ that can’t wait.”

  “If you’re sure.” But Willow didn’t wait for him to respond. Instead, she ducked her head and stepped around him, straight into her office where she had twelve hours of work she somehow had to stuff into seven.

  Finn wasn’t sure he’d ever hated another human being as much as he hated Richard Haven. The man was everything Finn despised in a person—arrogant, pushy, narrow-minded, rude. And he’d been that way as long as Finn could remember. It’d been different then, though. Back when he’d been just a teenager, someone good ol’ Dick could use his powers to intimidate and persuade and push exactly where he wanted.

  It’d been a long time since anyone had been able to do that to Finn. Come to think of it, it’d been since the day he’d left Havenbrook behind. When Dick had made sure Finn had no choice but to leave, he’d sworn he’d never allow someone to do that to him again.

  He only wished Willow could say the same.

  It’d about killed him to hear her daddy talk to her like that. Finn had stood in the hallway, fists clenched, body nearly vibrating with the urge to do something. To step in and intervene. To tell Dick to fuck off once and for all. But if he knew Willow at all, he was certain she’d hate that.

  His original intention had simply been to stop by and see if she wanted to grab lunch. See if his little talk at the hardware store had had any effect on her at all. Because it sure as hell had on him. Truth was, since he’d put it all out there, hoping she’d see things his way, he couldn’t stop the runaway train known as his desires. He wanted her, with a single-minded focus. What he should’ve been spending his hours concentrating on was getting the bar up and running, not on the probability of getting another kiss from Willow.

  But knowing with complete certainty she felt this pull too, that there was a possibility she’d give him another chance? We
ll, he couldn’t think about anything else. And he’d be damned if he left again without giving this everything he had. Without giving them another shot. He couldn’t live with the what-ifs for the rest of his life if he didn’t.

  “You gonna stand by the window all night like a goddamn creeper, or what?” Drew asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, tossing his keys in the air before catching them.

  “She’s been out there all damn day.”

  “Just doin’ her job.”

  “I can almost guarantee planting fresh flowers isn’t in her job description.” Finn looked out the window again, finding Willow across the square at the cafe, attempting to shuffle the heavy wrought-iron furniture into some semblance of order. No doubt on her daddy’s command.

  “Yeah, well, her daddy’s an asshole,” Drew said. “Never did think a woman was good for much else than cookin’ and makin’ babies. He’s probably made Willow sorry every single day that she took that job.”

  “I don’t doubt it.”

  Drew clapped Finn on the shoulder, then turned to leave. “Gonna meet Nola at Rudy’s. You wanna come?”

  Go and have a drink while Willow busted her ass for someone who wouldn’t even give her a grunt in thanks? Not if you paid him. “Nah. I’ll see you later.”

  “All right then.”

  The door shut behind Drew, but Finn didn’t take his focus from Willow. She still wore her favored business attire—a slim skirt and sleeveless top, the suit jacket she’d had on that morning tossed over one of the cafe chairs. Those siren red heels she still wore called his name. Her feet must’ve been killing her.

  All day, he’d watched her from inside the bar. Watched as she’d flitted around like a hummingbird, her legs carrying her as fast as they could go. First posting flyers around the square for the annual Fourth of July parade she’d no doubt she worked her ass off to make sure was amazing, then filling all three dozen planters with fresh flowers. As much as he’d wanted to go out there and help with her duties, he knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t want it—would, in fact, bite off his head for even offering.

  But now, long after he and the rest of the crew had closed shop for the day, she still worked. It was past eight in the evening, which meant she’d been working for nearly twelve hours. Not to mention, she was attempting to heft the heavy, wrought-iron cafe tables where they needed to go, in between wrangling the child-sized playhouses and toys strewn all about from the day care.

  Well, he’d had about enough of that.

  She’d probably give him a piece of her mind for helping, but he couldn’t stand around and watch her bust her ass for another hour when he was perfectly capable of assisting her so she could get it done in fifteen minutes.

  It was quiet on the square when he stepped outside. That was something he’d forgotten about, living in California for so long. At this time of night out there, many people were just starting their evenings. Getting ready to go to supper or out with friends. In Havenbrook? The entire town had been shut down for more than an hour already. If you wanted to go out after seven p.m., you did so in Parkersville. Of course, that’d all change once they opened their doors.

  Willow was completely oblivious to Finn as he strolled across the square. Actually, she was completely oblivious to most everything but the table currently giving her grief. She mumbled under her breath, agitation and frustration etched in every clenched inch of her body.

  Without a word, he went to the other side of the table and hefted his end off the ground. She stumbled a little now that the resistance wasn’t there and stared at him, mouth agape. Jesus, even after a day of manual labor, after running around for twelve hours with barely more than a water break, she was still so gorgeous. Her hair was mussed, strands falling this way and that around her face. Her cheeks were flushed the same gorgeous shade of pink they’d been when he’d told her he’d thought of nothing but being inside her again.

  And now there he stood, lifting one side of an iron table high enough to hide his hard as steel cock.

  “Should I go ahead and move this myself?”

  Willow shook her head then stepped into action, lifting her side of the table. “I didn’t need your help, you know.”

  “I know.” And he did. She’d spent so much of her life proving herself to people it was ingrained now. The thing was, though, she didn’t have to prove anything to Finn. Never had. “Now, where are we movin’ these to?”

  She paused for only the slightest moment before lifting her chin to indicate an area behind Finn. “Daddy wants them out of the pathway, so they need to stay close to the building.”

  He had a hundred different things he wanted to say in regard to what her daddy wanted and exactly how few fucks Finn gave about what Dick desired, but that would only start up a shitstorm between him and Willow, and that wasn’t how he wanted to play this. Not tonight. Not with her.

  They worked quietly for a few minutes, but Finn had been starved for her for so long, the silence didn’t last. “You may not use the same brand of paints anymore, but I’m glad to see you are still painting.”

  Willow’s eyes shot to his, her brow furrowed. “How do you know I still am?”

  He titled his head to the side as they shuffled another table closer to the building. Wasn’t it obvious to every single person who walked through the square that Willow had painted the backdrops on them? He lifted his chin in the direction of one awash in color, a single tree in a green meadow, a rainbow sunset as the backdrop. “Wasn’t too hard to figure out.”

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen anything I’ve done. How were you so sure it was mine?”

  He smiled, just a slight curve of his lips. “You think I went even a day when I didn’t think about your touch? Trust me, I can identify every single thing you’ve laid a hand on.”

  She froze for a moment, pausing with the table held a couple inches above ground. Then she shook her head and shuffled forward, her gaze locked on the ground. “That’s quite a claim when you haven’t been here in years. You don’t know me. You knew me, once. Not the real me, though. Only the person I showed to everyone else because I didn’t even know me back then.”

  “You don’t really believe that. I knew you. I saw you. Saw everything you tried so hard to hide from everyone else. I wish you’d let me in again, because then or now, nothing much has changed. You’re still my favorite.”

  She blinked at him, seeming to be at a loss for words. Good, he wanted to crack those walls she’d built up. Wanted to take a wrecking ball and knock them all over.

  She forced out a laugh as she spun around and grabbed the closest chair to move. “Favorite, huh? I don’t know about that. I seem to remember a certain stuffed monkey named Ralph who you absolutely treasured. He even had a better spot next to you on your bed than I did.”

  He didn’t know whether to fall to her feet and hug her or hoot to the heavens. Because try as she might, she hadn’t forgotten about them. About their history or the dumb little things that made them them. It gave him hope like nothing else had.

  Making a big deal of looking around, he shot a worried glance over his shoulder. “Hush now, Willowtree. That’s supposed to be just between us.”

  She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to rein in a smile, but it didn’t matter that her lips never curved. The laughter sparkled in her eyes.

  And he couldn’t stay away anymore.

  Not stopping until he was close enough to touch her, he did just that, tracing his finger from her temple down her jaw. “We had a lot of things just between us, didn’t we?”

  Her eyes connected with his, and for the first time since he’d been back, they were open and honest—like a wall had been knocked down right before his eyes. She seemed to realize it too because she turned away, freeing herself from his gaze. “I wouldn’t recall. So long ago and all. You understand.”

  Oh, he understood, all right. Understood she was fighting like hell to keep those walls up. Well too damn bad.
He’d knocked one down, and he wasn’t going to let her build it back up. Not if he had anything to say about it.

  Finn slipped his hands in his jeans pockets and sidled up to her as she walked toward her discarded suit jacket. “Were you able to grab anything to eat while you were workin’ down here all day?”

  She slid him a glance out of the corner of her eye, the apprehension he would’ve found yesterday thankfully absent. “You been watchin’ me, Finn?”

  Dipping his chin in acknowledgment, he met her stare. “Every chance I get. Don’t ever want to take my eyes off you, Willowtree.”

  The air crackled between them, and there was no doubt she felt it too. Not with how her lips parted, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Under the guise of grabbing her blazer, she dropped her gaze and draped the fabric over her arm. “Not yet. Hopefully Mac saved me some of whatever she made for dinner tonight.”

  “And if she didn’t?”

  She shrugged. “Then I guess it’s microwave popcorn to the rescue.”

  The thought of her surviving on microwave popcorn after all she’d done today didn’t sit well with him. Not at all. “Or you could come up to my place and I could whip up a couple of your favorites.”

  He could see the war going on behind her eyes, could see how much she was fighting with herself over her answer. He’d be damned if he made it easy for her to say no. “And, yes, I still remember the recipe—thin sliced bananas stacked on a generous portion of peanut butter with a drizzle of honey. And it just so happens I picked up a fresh loaf of bread today at the store.”

  She heaved out a sigh, shifting from foot to foot as if the pain had finally begun to register. “I have peanut butter and bread at home, Finn.”

  “I’m sure you do. But you don’t have a Finn at home to make it for you.” He reached out and slipped her jacket from her arm before draping it over his own. “Come on, Willowtree. After the day you had, let me make you a sandwich.”

  Glancing across the square to their new building, she bit her lip. “But Drew—”