Finn

by KB Winters

  “I’ve met a few ladies recently,” I replied cagily. I sipped at my water and quickly set it down. “But nothing worth mentioning.”

  I wasn’t a womanizing fuck, but sure, there’d been a couple hook-ups since the last time I saw Kait, nearly a month ago at Christmas. There was a curvy brunette on New Year’s Eve. Then a blonde bartender a few weeks back when I’d gone out with Miles, Colton, and Lucas. They all went home to their wives and I took home the leggy bartender in the skin-tight jeans and cowboy boots. I diverted from my playboy brethren by always making sure my companion for the night knew that was all she was getting. One night. No strings attached. And so far, my strategy had worked well. I hadn’t had anything more serious than a long weekend since…well…since Alyssa.

  Kait propped her elbow on the table and dropped her chin into her palm. “When are you going to find a nice girl, Finny? I want to be an auntie.”

  I laughed. “Hate to break it to you, Lollipop, but you’re three years older than me. If anyone is going to give Mom and Dad a couple of grandbabies, it’s going to be you.”

  “I had my eggs frozen.”

  I choked on my soup. “What?”

  She pushed off her hand and set it in her lap. “I had my eggs harvested and frozen. I’m too busy with my career right now. Marco is pushing me to get engaged and do the whole mommy thing. But I’m not there yet. So, I decided to freeze my eggs for when I’m ready.”

  Kait wasn’t even thirty-five yet. Not for another six months. Why on earth would she feel the need to freeze her eggs? I nearly asked, but then decided that conversation could lead down a road I didn’t want to traverse.

  “Why don’t you want to get engaged? I’m sure the wedding planning will take at least a year,” I said, before teasingly adding, “knowing you.”

  Kait wrinkled her nose at me. “It’s not Marco. He’s great. But his family is crazier than a pack of squirrels in a nuthouse. I’m just not sure I’m ready to commit to that for the rest of my life.”

  I chuckled. “Smart.”

  Our conversation lulled when the server came back to the table with our entrees. Kait scarfed hers down like she hadn’t eaten in a week, and considering how busy she sounded, it might have been true. She tended to forget things like eating and sleeping when she was in the zone.

  As the meal wound down, we drifted through the usual small talk and after splitting a piece of tiramisu, Kait started talking about her car. She drove an older model Range Rover and wanted to trade it out for something sportier. I gave her a list of my recommendations as we polished off the last crumbs of the decadent dessert.

  “If you wanna come to the shop sometime, I can show you some of the cars we’re working on now. A few of them will be available for sale coming up in the next couple of months.”

  “That would be great!” She reached into her pocket and came back with a sleek phone. She tapped at the screen and I knew she was consulting her calendar. It was likely booked solid. After a moment, she paused and glanced up at me. “How about the twenty-ninth?”

  “Sure.”

  Wait. Alarm bells rang as I realized a moment too late why that date was stuck in my head. “Ya know, actually, no. I don’t think that’ll work. Let’s find something else. Give me your next date.”

  She cocked her head. “Why not? It’s a Tuesday. Surely you guys are open.”

  “Um. Yes, we are. But…”

  “But what?”

  Damn it. I heaved a sigh. There was no escaping it.

  “Finn, what’s going on? Don’t you work that day or something?”

  It would make a good lie, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell it.

  I shook my head. “No. Someone else is coming in that day. I don’t know the exact time.” I’d deliberately been avoiding the appointment book. I was dreading it enough without being able to obsess over the time.

  “Who? Someone I know?”

  I nodded. “Alyssa.”

  Kait’s eyes widened and her voice hit a new high when she snapped, “What?”

  I told her the nutshell version of the story, leaving out the part about finding Alyssa walking on the sidewalk and the shared cup of joe. And I definitely left out the part where I’d been dreaming and fantasizing about her every damn day since. The memory of her legs wrapped around me and her hands clinging to my waist was more than I could deal with and haunted me day and night.

  Kait gestured at the folio containing the bill for the meal. “And you’re waiting until now to bring this up? I have like a zillion questions.”

  I gave her a small smile. “There’s your answer.”

  She huffed. “But, Finn, come on, give me something here! What was it like to see her again? Did you guys talk or was it awkward silence the whole time? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe this actually happened!”

  “It was fine, Kait. Nothing happened and nothing is going to happen.”

  She eyed me the entire time I paid the check, but didn’t say another word about it as we made plans for our next lunch and said our goodbyes.

  Which was a good thing, because I wasn’t sure how convincing I could continue to sound.

  Chapter Eight

  Alyssa

  Time was wildly careening toward the twenty-ninth, and I hadn’t figured out a way to wiggle my way out of going to the appointment at Finn’s garage. Nor had I figured out a way to stop thinking about him. The idea of seeing him again filled me with an uncomfortable combination of anxiety, frustration, and longing. Since we’d seen each other over a week ago, it felt as though I’d barely had an hour without some inkling of him popping into my head. I dreamed about him every night and woke up in a cold sweat. I’d halfway expected Rafe to ask me if I was coming down with something. Then again, that would require him paying attention. Something he wasn’t particularly good at. At least when it came to anything that didn’t directly impact his bottom line.

  Since the disastrous night at the charity event, Rafe had been a little more attentive, but his efforts were fading fast and the past two days he’d been snarkier than usual as we prepared to host a dinner party with some of his business partners and their spouses prior to a huge meeting they were all flying to in Toronto the following week.

  “Alyssa, do you have those appetizers ready?” he asked as he strut into the kitchen. His reading glasses were perched at the edge of his nose and he glanced over the rims as he waited for my answer.

  “The spinach puffs are in the oven. Everything else is already in the living room. It’s going to be fine, babe, just breathe.”

  He nodded but still looked frustrated. “I wish you’d let me hire my normal caterer.”

  I frowned at him. “Please, Rafe, I don’t want to get into that again. This is my home too now and I’d rather the food came from my own two hands. Besides, cooking is a nice change of pace from being bent over the computer the last two days.”

  Rafe sighed and took of his glasses. Dark circles were evident under his eyes and I felt a stab of guilt. I’d been annoyed that he hadn’t noticed my tossing and turning, but apparently, I’d missed his as well. My heart softened and I rounded the island to wrap my arms around him. I ran my fingers through his ruffled hair and then planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’ve got it under control. Why don’t you go shower and change? Sasha and Jackson are coming a little early with the wine.”

  He nodded and kissed me. “All right.”

  We separated and I went back to check on the oven.

  “Alyssa?”

  I craned around. “Hmm?”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He smiled and then headed out of the kitchen and moments later I heard his footsteps on the hardwood staircase that led to the second level of the penthouse apartment. The space was modern and bright with floor-to-ceiling windows in every room. When I’d first seen it, I thought it odd to live in a literal glass house. I feared it would feel like living in a fishbowl, but the windows were mirrored on the outs
ide, giving us the best of both worlds: privacy and bright, natural light. Not to mention killer views of the downtown Atlanta cityscape.

  The security buzzer chirped and I hustled across the kitchen and slipped into the butler’s pantry. A large screen displayed the hallway outside our door for security purposes. I picked up the phone. “Hello Amir,” I said with a wide smile.

  “Evening, Ms. Archer. You have a couple of guests on the way up.”

  “Thank you. We’re having a large party tonight, so send anyone up. I don’t need a call for each one.”

  “Very good, Ms. Archer. Enjoy your evening.”

  “You too, Amir. Thank you.”

  I hung up the phone and hurried out of the pantry. I checked the mirror in the powder room and applied another coat of lipstick. My long wavy hair was down tonight, floating around my shoulders. The emerald green dress I’d selected was form fitting but not to the point where I wouldn’t be able to breath after the meal. After all, if I was going through all the trouble of cooking all day, I was damn sure going to enjoy the fruits of my labor. Gluten and all!

  The doorbell chimed a sing-song tune and I went to answer it, stepping into my stiletto heels along the way. Sasha and Jackson were there, laden down with fancy gold wine gift bags, each one containing a pricey bottle. Sasha held up the ones in her hands. “Can we come in?”

  I laughed and ushered them in. “You know wine always works.”

  “The golden ticket,” Jackson added, following his petite wife into the living room.

  “Come on,” I said, leading the way to the kitchen.

  “Oh my gawd, Alyssa! It smells heavenly. Who did the catering? And more importantly, would you kill me if I stole them from you?”

  I smiled. “I cooked.”

  Jackson and Sasha exchanged a look. Sasha looked back at me, her brows knitted together. “You cooked?”

  I laughed. She said it like I’d just told her I made a solo trip to the moon.

  Sasha came from money—a lot of money—and was the kind of person who would need a Wikipedia article to tell her how to boil water. And even then—it would get dicey.

  “Yes. Now, hand over those babies and I’ll get them on ice.”

  Jackson smiled and handed over the bags he’d carried inside. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sasha was still marveling when I turned back from stashing the wine in the built-in wine fridge in the kitchen island. The fancy appliance had a built-in setting that would chill full bottles of wine in less than ten minutes. A modern miracle.

  “What possessed you to cook? Rafe isn’t the cheap type.”

  I shrugged. “I thought it would be fun.”

  Now she was looking at me like I’d sprouted alien antennas.

  “Speak of that old devil, where is he?” Jackson asked, obviously looking for a way out of the estrogen zone.

  “He’s getting ready. He shouldn’t be long. If you want to go to the den, he had the game on.”

  Jackson gave me a grateful smile and hightailed it out of the kitchen.

  As soon as he was gone, Sasha rolled her eyes. “Good.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I had the humiliating experience of being informed by our maid that he’s having an affair. She said his laundry has been marked with lipstick and a different perfume than the one I wear. Apparently, she thinks she’s some kind of super sleuth.”

  I smiled. “She doesn’t know?”

  “No.” Sasha shook her head. “Frankly, it’s none of her business.”

  The oven timer chirped and I hurried to retrieve the delicate pastry puffs before they got too brown. “Any idea who it is this time?” I asked over my shoulder.

  Sasha frowned. “It’s his secretary. I mean, for fuck’s sake, if you’re going to screw around, at least be original about it.”

  I stifled a laugh. Sasha and Jackson lived in an open marriage and were each constantly having affairs with other people. At first, when she told me about their arrangement, I was confused. But over time, I learned that it wasn’t the fact that he was sleeping with other women that bothered her, it was the type of women he screwed around with. The whole thing mystified me but I tried not to pass judgment and chose to view it as a real-life soap opera.

  “Well it was thoughtful of her to be looking out for you, wasn’t it? The maid, I mean.”

  Sasha huffed. “Thoughtful? Well you can ask her. I fired her on the spot.”

  “Sasha…” We knew each other well enough that I could scold her and she wouldn’t mind. “She was trying to help.”

  She made a noncommittal noise.

  “How’s Paul?” I asked, setting down the tray on a trivet.

  Sasha shrugged. “He’s fine. We see each other two times a week now, so that’s a nice change of pace.”

  Paul was her piano teacher, but from the sound of it, spent more time recreating the infamous scene from Pretty Woman than actually studying the notes and keys.

  Sasha leaned forward and stole one of the spinach puffs as I moved them to a serving platter. “What about you and Rafe? Any progress on the engagement front?” She popped the bite into her mouth and promptly yelped. “Hot!”

  Yeah, see that thing behind me? It’s called an oven. It’s hot.

  I made a sympathetic face and rushed to get her a glass of ice water, keeping my thoughts to myself. Maybe she truly didn’t know.

  “We’re making progress,” I lied when she stopped sputtering. “He wants me to make some adjustments to my schedule and then we can start making plans.”

  “You should just get knocked up.”

  I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d made the suggestion.

  “I’m telling you, it would work like that,” she said before snapping her fingers.

  “Not an option,” I replied flatly.

  “He’s an idiot for making you wait. I mean look at you, you’re this gorgeous, Amazonian woman with her own business. He knows you’re not with him for the money.” She flashed a dark grin. “Well, at least not entirely, am I right?”

  I smiled but the truth was, Rafe’s wealth and power were a big selling point. Not in a gold-digger way. I didn’t want to take his ring, then his money, and run off into the sunset with my piano instructor. But the money was tied to the security I needed.

  I knew what free-falling felt like and had long ago decided that I liked working with a net.

  “Although, to tell you the truth, it’s a lot harder when you’re in love. Jackson and I were once upon a time.” She paused, staring at the path her husband had taken minutes before. After a moment, she turned back and snagged another puff. “Now, it’s just business. I get my fun money, he has a built-in date for functions and events, and we both get to play around and have as much hot sex as we want. Just not with each other!” She burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, but I couldn’t muster even a courtesy laugh of my own. Not that she noticed.

  The doorbell chimed again and I jumped. “Oh! That’ll be Winston and Mary. Please, excuse me,” I said, although I wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave the spinach puffs unsupervised with Sasha.

  I went to the door and plastered on my smile. As I was about to reach for it, a pair of hands slipped around my waist and Rafe leaned down to kiss the side of my neck. “I’ll get it,” he whispered. “Why don’t you go finish getting ready.”

  I pulled out of his embrace and turned to look at him. “I am ready.”

  “Oh.” He cocked his head. “I figured you’d put your hair up. I always like it up. Especially for a dinner.”

  My jaw locked into place and I gave a slight nod. “Right.”

  He slipped past me and grabbed the handle. He glanced over his shoulder and then his eyes drifted beyond me toward the staircase. I hurried up the stairs and heard him open the door as soon as my high heels clicked on the landing at the top.

  I paused at the top of the stairs and glanced over
the railing to the foyer below. Rafe ushered our next batch of guests inside with a sweeping gesture and a rich, warm laugh at something Winston Meyers said to him upon entry. The room swirled and blended together for a moment, and a moment of clarity broke through. As much as I silently admonished Sasha and Jackson’s strange relationship, I hadn’t fully realized just how twisted my own was becoming. Or maybe it had been that way all along and I was only just starting to see it.

  Chapter Nine

  Finn

  “You sure you wanna sit in?” Miles asked, leaning over the computer monitor on the front desk.

  “Of course, I’m sure.”

  Miles smiled. “All right. Just giving you one last chance to bail.”

  Somewhere between seeing my sister and the twenty-ninth, the day of Rafe and Alyssa’s appointment, I’d decided I needed to man the fuck up and deal with it head on instead of calling in sick or refusing to work on the project. I was ready. Or at least as close to ready as I was going to get.

  “I’m fine, Warren. Drop it.”

  Miles held up a hand, still smiling. He epitomized a duck in water. Nothing phased or ruffled him. For coming from a wealthy family, he was the most non-judgmental guy I’d ever met. I could throw anything his way and he’d brush it off. A valuable quality when working in relatively small quarters, for long hours, with frustrating problems, demanding clients, and tight deadlines.

  “Two o’clock,” he said as he pushed away from the desk.

  “Got it.”

  He went to his office and I went the opposite direction to the bay area. I had a few hours to clear my head, but as I worked on my problem child of the week—a Corvette Stingray with a fucked-up carburetor—my thoughts only became more engrossed in Alyssa. It didn’t help that my truck was parked in the bay next to the one I was working in. I’d brought it inside to change the oil in between other jobs. A decision I regretted more and more as the hours ticked by. Every time I looked up, there it was. Taunting me. Calling to me. Reminding me. It was the same truck I had when Alyssa and I were together and held a shit load of happy memories. We had some sinful nights in the bed of the truck more times than I could count. Lyss had a thing for wide open fields, stars, and hot summer breezes. It was a surefire recipe to get her wet in a hurry.