by Brea Viragh
I tugged on my bottom lip with my thumb and index finger, then looked away. I could offer him nothing without sounding trite. Cliché. “It’s better if you leave now.”
I expected him to try a different approach, maybe give me an “aww, Ros, come on.” He must have heard something in my tone. Something strange enough to have him donning the rest of his clothes without a word.
Eternity stretched on between us and the room became richly marinated in uncomfortable friction. Finn slipped his feet into his boots, waiting, waiting for me to ask him to stay.
Then he said, “I want to say something.”
I jutted my chin and faced the table. “We’ve made our peace with each other.”
“Damn, you’re hell on an afterglow. I want to know one thing.”
“Which is?”
“What would you do if I told you I loved you?” he said slowly. “Real, gut-wrenching, I’d-take-a-bullet-for-you love?”
I took a deep breath and allowed terror to build in my chest until it gushed from every pore. Remaining upright despite the overpowering sensation of falling, I gripped the table and screwed my eyes shut against his words. No. Later, when Finn was gone and I was safe, I’d give myself permission to slip into madness.
“Ros? Answer me,” he demanded.
Pain cut through my temples and I could almost feel the whip-like crack of his voice across my skin. “I would say I don’t believe in love,” I answered. “You’re not capable.”
He nodded once. “Yeah, I figured. Well. Good thing I’m not, and good thing you realized this was a mistake.” Drawing in a deep breath, he turned to the door. “Help me find my underwear and I’ll be on my way.”
“Finn, I didn’t mean… Christ, I’m not good at this.”
The situation had spiraled out of control.
“You don’t have to say anything to me. You want to keep a professional distance and I totally understand,” he growled. “After all, your reputation has already been dragged through the mud. It wouldn’t do for the town to see you with a jerkoff.”
“I never said you were a jerkoff,” I reminded him. “Difficult at times, but I’ve been grateful for your help.”
“I hope today helped you out, then. A good fuck to clean your pipes.”
“Will you stop saying that?” I burst out, hands fisted at my sides.
“At least you can see how a real man does it. Compare me to your little goody-two-shoes ex-boyfriend, stack us side-by-side, and see who comes out the winner. You got your revenge on Weston by having sex with me.” He inclined his head. “Cold.”
“This has nothing to do with Weston.” I whirled around to the counter and grabbed a bottle of water, needing something to hold before I tore each fingernail apart. “It’s about me. I made a mistake letting you get this close, and now I’m correcting it.”
“Wow. You sure know how to cut a man to pieces.”
I needed to be strong. My grip tightened and I took a big sip, draining the bottle. “The sex has to be enough. Maybe it’s too much, I don’t know. Either way, we don’t work.”
Finn clucked his tongue, hands in pockets. “I know. What would the neighbors think if they saw you hooking up with me?”
“Please, go before there are hard feelings.”
Finn finished gathering his belongings. “I can’t be your friend. Not when I want more than you’re willing to give.”
I’d taken whatever swipes he parried with restraint and dignity. I should get used to it. The fact that it bothered me so much was a personal problem. Just as finding a way to move on and make the most of my life had become my mission.
Before I recognized my regret, before I gave in to the tears, I moved past him. “I’m going to take a shower. When I get out, don’t be here.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I wrapped both hands around a mug of tepid tea. I’d been sitting at the kitchen table for the last half hour unable to drink it, watching the moon cross the sky and disappear behind a mountain of clouds. The cup shook, liquid sloshing over the sides. I kept hold of it more for comfort than anything. The warmth seeped through my fingers and soothed the abrasion in my heart.
It took too long for me to be able to think again. My brain told me I’d made the proper call kicking Finn out. It was done, and I was alone, but my heart couldn’t understand why. My memory cycled again and again to his face the moment he understood.
The moment he understood I was serious.
A laugh erupted from my lungs and I leaned back in the chair, boneless, too numb to cry and too lucid to do anything else. My thoughts were like razors, slicing into my psyche again and again until I was bruised and bloodied and forced to acknowledge them.
In the silence, I could almost see Finn, standing in the darkness while I admitted I’d made a mistake.
Sleep was denied me. The clock told me in no uncertain terms that it was after four in the morning. The cocktail of sleeping pills and lavender essential oil, a present from my aunt, were not enough to give me more than three hours of no dreams and little relief. I was awake, and found I couldn’t chase the pain away.
Might as well try to be productive.
I was sitting at the kitchen table putting flyers together for an open house when my mother came home. She took one look at me, at the dark half-moons under my eyes, and recognized the obvious signs of distress.
“What happened?” The question was sharp. She dropped her purse and shrugged out of the orange safety vest. Tiny woodchips scattered across the floor.
“Nothing I want to talk about.”
“I thought I made it clear I’m here for you when you need to talk.” She gestured toward the couch. “Come on and sit with me.”
“I still have to—”
“I said sit.”
Neither of us knew how these moments worked, I thought, grimly making my way toward the worn cushions.
Trista lifted a brow when I sat. Within seconds she plopped down next to me, close enough to touch. I stared adamantly down at my bare feet.
“Something happened today. You’re up before the sun and look like you never went to bed.”
I rubbed my eyes until stars appeared behind my closed lids. “It’s nothing, okay?”
“You want me to leave you alone?”
“That would be nice.”
She smelled of burnt wood and varnish. “Well, I can’t. For better or worse I’m your mother, and I want to be here for you.”
“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”
“Isn’t it time for yours?”
I didn’t want to tell her the details. My lips tightened and I rose to face the window.
Trista wanted to ask me what had happened. I heard the intake of breath, the words she wanted to say, before she snapped her lips closed.
“It’s none of your concern,” I said. The night outside was black. This was home, had been since I was born, despite my long absence. Why couldn’t I seem to do the right thing? I was supposed to be comfortable at home, like any normal person. Instead I was a string of fuck-ups.
Being with Finn would only hold me back from my plan, and it took sleeping with him to make me realize it. Being with him was madness. I expected—I needed—to move forward without hang-ups. Without using a man, a relationship, to make me feel complete.
And it was what I’d do.
My mother scooted closer. “I want you to know you can rely on me. Whatever you need, whatever is going on in your life, I’m here.”
“Let’s not pretend to have a good relationship when we clearly don’t.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Trista insisted. “I’m extending the olive branch.”
“I’m appreciative. But this is something I have to work on. On my own.”
“Is it boy trouble? You’re still upset about Weston leaving,” she said, like she’d figured me out.
I hadn’t given Weston a second thought past the first two days. Guilt crashed down and had my eyes burning. “Sure,” I garbled out.
“I’m upset about Weston.”
One man managed to occupy my mind. The one person I should have never gotten involved with. The one person I still wanted despite the blunder we’d made.
Trista reached out to pat the top of my knee. “Aw, honey, I understand. I’ve had my fair share of breakups over the years, and they’re heart-wrenching. It will take a while to get over him.”
“I know.”
“You take as much time as you need. When you’re feeling better, we can go out and scout.”
I sucked back tears. “I’m not up for another relationship.”
“I just wish I knew what went wrong with Weston. You deserve a good man to make you happy.”
There it was again, the good man comment. It was a slap in the face. A reminder of my torrid night and the kisses burned into my soul. If anyone ever found out what I’d done…
“Yes, Mom, I know,” I answered dully.
“Just remember I’m here when you need to talk.”
For some reason, her assertions had my insecurities rising to the surface all over again. I allowed her to pat my knee until there was nothing left to say, and I was an empty husk.
***
Two weeks later, I was prepared for my first open house. It gave me the time I’d needed to settle my emotions and to think over what had happened. Plan on how to proceed. I knew I’d made the right choice. A relationship between Finn and I wouldn’t work. He was an arrogant prick with an ego the size of Texas. He was too…
He was just wrong. All wrong. For a number of reasons. Number one, he had intimacy issues. How could I tell what was real and what was a game with him? Finn would always check out other women. I’d always prided myself on my ability to see through the bullshit. Now I doubted myself.
Number two, he had the singular knack of knowing what I was thinking before I voiced the thought. It was disconcerting and uncomfortable.
I didn’t want to go any farther down the list, otherwise I’d be there all day. And the worst part? I still wanted him. The two of us as lovers had been a delicious—albeit bad—idea.
A blush colored my cheeks. There was no room even for friendship now. I’d blown my opportunity.
Flyers in hand, I pushed out the front door into the dazzling midday light. The sun hung at the right angle to nearly blind me on my drive to the quaint two-story home a mile outside of town.
It had been on the market for more than a month and the sellers were motivated. Motivated enough to take a chance on me when I hadn’t yet made a sale in Virginia.
This was going to be a riot.
My palms were sweaty on the steering wheel and I fought to keep my grip. Everything will go well, I mused, it has to. And if this sale went through, then not only would I make a good commission—enough to get me out of my mother’s house and into my own apartment—but it would be a big step in keeping my hard-won reputation polished.
I’d fought for my place in Heartwood, fought for good standing with my neighbors and the people I’d come to know.
Yes, I could do this. I needed to do this.
Fifteen minutes later, I pulled into the circle drive and parked next to the open house sign. The sellers had gone out of town for the weekend, entrusting the future of their home and its safekeeping to me. I sat in the car staring up at the brick, the gleaming windows, the new roof they’d had installed to encourage buyers.
Thoughts of Finn crept into my mind like a cancer. Tainting the cells and all my good intentions. I slammed my hand down on my thigh to banish those thoughts. No time for distractions. This was important to me. To my future.
Inside the house, I busied myself with lighting candles for ambience and setting the oven to 350 degrees for the cookie dough I’d brought. Soon the house was filled with the delicious scent of baking chocolate chip cookies.
My mouth watered as I straightened several pillows on the artfully staged couch. Yes, this would work. It was the first thing I’d done by myself, by my choice. I’d pursued real estate and put in the time and effort and upfront cash to get my license. There was validation in this sale. Which meant I needed it to go through without a hitch.
I glanced down at my wristwatch, noting the time. People should be arriving at any minute.
After twenty minutes of anxious waiting, I was surprised when the only car I saw in the driveway was my own. Another thirty minutes and I’d eaten a quarter of the cookies, peering out the front door and wondering if any of the traffic on the road would make the turn toward the house.
Then there he was. The plague of my imagination and composure.
The sleek black motorcycle purred to a halt in the driveway, with a cloud of dust trailing behind like a scorned lover. I caught the echo of my reflection in his helmet visor.
My control shuddered and threatened to collapse.
I had enough presence of mind to run back inside and turn off the oven. Stomping off the front porch, I met him halfway in the driveway.
“What are you doing here?” A chill seeped through the thin sweater I wore.
“We need to talk.” Finn snapped the kickstand into place and leaned back. “Now.”
“You’re stalking me.”
“Garth told me where you were.”
“I thought I’d made it clear. I don’t want to see you anymore. I think it’s best if we maintain our distance.” I waved a hand in the air. “Nothing personal.”
“Yeah, you told me once before. Right after you let me bend you over the couch.”
The sting of his words was tempered by the flip in my belly. I glanced around to make sure we were alone. Who knew what eavesdroppers lurked around the corner in the quiet cul-de-sac.
“Based on all the women you’ve screwed in your life? Yes, I think it qualifies as nothing personal. You’re the type to have girlfriends strewn across three counties and a string of broken hearts in your wake. You should be ready to move on by now, if you weren’t in the first five minutes.”
He slowly removed the helmet, shaking out the golden strands of hair stuck to his head. My mouth went dry. “And you’re the one who screwed me to get back at your old boyfriend. As long as we’re both being honest.”
I wanted to pull my hair out. “I told you already. I wasn’t doing it for Weston. He wasn’t on my mind at all.”
Finn mimicked knocking his hand against the side of his head. “If that’s not the case, then what is it? Public opinion of me has been wreaking havoc with you, I bet. You’d rather believe I’m some asshole who’s going to crash and burn your reputation than a flesh and blood man who might…might make you happier than you’ve ever been in your life.”
“Absolutely not true,” I countered.
“You can lie to yourself, Ros. You can’t lie to me. I know you. I know how you feel, inside and out, and let me tell you, the woman I fell for wouldn’t do something like this.”
“The woman you fell for?” My eyes bulged. “Don’t make me laugh. You got what you wanted out of me and you’re sore because I left first. This isn’t a game, Finn.”
“No, it’s not, which is why I’m here. If it were a game, I’d brush you off like I do everyone else. But I’m standing in front of you and I want honesty.”
“You want honesty? Nothing about you has been honest. You put on a show of false vulnerability to lure me into bed.”
“You think so?”
“I know you did. There’s a difference. You played me like you do everyone else. I’m done letting it get to me. I have to protect myself.”
There was honor in retreat. I’d been the one to break off any budding romance. I deserved a damn award.
I wrapped my arms across my chest and tried not to think about the way he smelled.
“I guess it’s easier to keep thinking about me the way everyone else does,” he answered. “Instead of trying to reconcile the fact that I’m not a sex maniac who uses and discards.”
“You’ve never denied it,” I pointed out.
“It’s a part of me,
I admit it. A part from the past. I didn’t deny it because there’s no point in hiding what you can see.” He propped his helmet on the handlebars and swung a leg over the bike, keeping his rear on the seat. “I’m not embarrassed by my past. Are you?”
Was I? “No, I’m not. That’s your business and it had nothing to do with me. Until it did. Until you tried to—”
“To lure you into bed. Yeah, I wanted to. Then something happened. And here I thought we’d shared a special moment…”
“Stop it.” Silence fell between us and dragged me down with it. With tension riding me harder than a seasoned jockey on a racehorse, I cleared my throat. “How are your legs?”
Finn leaned against the motorcycle and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Better than ever. How are yours?”
“The same as they were the last time we spoke.”
“The last time we spoke they were wrapped around my waist.”
“Oh God, stop.”
“Open house, huh? You’re trying to keep busy.”
“Someone has to. I haven’t seen you around.” The words slipped out before the logical side of my brain thought to censor them.
Finn’s face dropped. “I’ve been busy, too. I’m getting my life back on track, in case you haven’t noticed. You look good.”
Somewhere along the way I’d stepped closer. Close enough for him to touch. His fingers trailed a line down the sleeve of my blouse and I yanked my arm out of his reach.
“Stop it. We’re in public.”
His tone remained mild when he unfolded to his true height, peering down at me. “So let’s go inside, away from prying eyes.”
I huffed. “As if. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have urgent business to attend to across the lawn.” I pointed at a line of hedges along the porch and turned to walk away.
I’d managed two whole strides when I sensed him following me and heard his soft chuckle. “You’re not half bad when you’re flustered. Irritation looks good on you.”
I swung around to face him, sobered. “Why do you have to make this difficult?”
