I contend, “I’m right here, you know. You two are talking around me like I’m not even here.” Rod grips my chin and turns my head towards him.
“You’ve seen the famous Finn Wilder naked? I bet that man is rock hard all over. Does he have a six-pack? How many tattoos does he have?” I petulantly push his hand off of my chin and roll my eyes at him.
“Stop teasing me.” I twist to look at Morgan. “Both of you. This is serious. My future is at stake. He wants us to find a place together somewhere in the middle of our commutes to work.” Right now, we each live on opposite sides of Richmond, so we don’t even see each other much during the week because the drive to work is long for at least one of us.
Rod champions, “Yes, but he drives that slick, red Mustang with the two white racing stripes. I’m sure he gets to work in no time from your place.”
“He does, but it’s also hard on gas and he can’t drive fast when it’s gridlock.” Rod laughs.
“What?” I probe, confused at his unanticipated merriment.
“You said hard-on.” Rod begins to giggle more than I usually do in any given situation.
I grumble, “I’m done talking to you.” I redirect my attention away from him and look out to the track.
I ask either one who will seriously answer me, “How do we overcome our issues by just moving in together? Our impasse will be glaring us in the face all the time. That’ll only make our problems even bigger. I want to live with him so much, but I don’t feel right about it at the moment. I hate only seeing him on the weekends, or for an hour here and there during the week.”
Morgan contemptuously asks, “Does he leave money on the nightstand before he leaves Sunday night or does he have a running tab?”
“Morgan, he is my boyfriend.”
“True, but the flippant way he treats your feelings, your needs, is just as bad, Hadley. He acts like you’re always going to be there, not wanting anything more than to be his adoring little girlfriend. No solid commitment. No ring on your finger, or his for that matter. Sometimes it seems like he’s only using you for sex. You know he’s a big flirt. He has nothing showing the world that he’s taken. Why would he want that, I suppose? He’s Finn Wilder, Richmond’s hottest sports guy and local daredevil. He has legions of women who’d only be too happy to take your place. Those Finnatics are crazy bitches.”
I know Morgan is right. He is friendly. Too friendly. He laughs when his Finnatics try to grab his ass, ask him to sign body parts or try to kiss him. When I’m around and see that, I try to not let it bother me, but it does. Not so much the women acting like that, but the way he almost encourages it. He loves the attention. Don’t get me wrong. I’m immensely proud of him. He’s worked so hard to get to where he is in his career. But, I have to share him with anyone who recognizes him from the News. It doesn’t help that he even has his own Friday segment, The Wild Side with Finn Wilder. He participates in dares, games and sports that many schools, professional teams, or any viewer challenges him to try. He absolutely is in love with the field part of his job. He hates when he has to sit at the desk and anchor because it’s not where the action’s at. He loves being involved with people and sports. Finn has come straight over to my apartment covered in paint, food, sweat, and one strange time, feathers. He keeps drop cloths and a change of clothes in his Mustang’s trunk for those occasions, or borrows my car ahead of time. I have to keep old bed sheets in my Toyota’s trunk as well. I do have to say that I love when he comes over to my place after his show and he’s amped from taping a segment, or has just finished a live show. He usually pulls me into the shower to help wash him clean, which is a perk.
The crowd jumps to their feet again and I snap my attention back to the race. Rod unceremoniously yanks me to my feet and we both start boisterously yelling for Finn as his bike is the first to cross the finish line. Rod and I excitedly twirl to each other and he animatedly high fives me, locking our hands above our heads.
“He won an amateur race for charity, not Olympic gold for the U.S.,” Morgan complains loudly from the bench.
Rod leans over my shoulder, still clasping my hands above our heads. “Go back to hanging from a church tower, Morticia. Oh, never mind. A church would burn down to the ground if you entered it!”
“Why don’t you go blow Finn as soon as we can go see him, Rod. We all know you want to.”
I let go of Rod’s hands and turn around. “Morgan!”
“I’m not gay! Fuck, Morgasm!” An elderly woman in a floral print dress glares at Rod and I make an apologetic face at her. I spin around and slap Rod’s stomach.
“Watch your language, Rod. Some people don’t like to hear that word.”
“Which word? Gay, fuck or Morgasm?”
“Very funny, Ass Rod.” Morgan says as she checks her cell phone.
I say to Rod, “You know which word.”
He puts his hand on his chest. “I’m sorry, Hadders. I will apologize every time I say it. Should I just apologize after I say it, or should I sign a blanket waiver now that covers me prior to even saying it?”
I giggle and poke his chest. “I don’t care that you say the word, Rod. I say it. It’s the volume you use and where you say it. You, too, Morgan.” I look down at her as she studiously ignores me, checking her phone calendar. “You both are so careless and rude sometimes.”
“Shit! Don’t forget we’re damn badasses!” Rod shouts as the same old lady he offended earlier again passes by us. She frowns at him and surprisingly, shoots him the finger.
He throws his hands up and asks me, “What the fuck did I do?”
CHAPTER 2
We wait for people around us to finish descending the bleachers, since I won’t be able to congratulate Finn right now anyway. He’ll be surrounded by his news crew and Finnatics. I tend to fall to the bottom of the pile.
From where we’re sitting, I watch as Finn removes his shielded, blue helmet while still straddling his dirt bike. He’s already surrounded by other riders, his camera crew, another sportscaster coworker who is asking him questions, and a few avid fans. I can see his arm muscles flexing underneath his blue and white leather suit. Of course, I know what’s under it. I know just how his muscles ripple without the leather hiding them or his six tattoos. I want to unzip him out of it while he stands next to my bed. Even his buckled, black boots are delicious. I gawk as he runs a black-and-white-gloved hand through his disheveled, usually-light-brown hair as it gleams with natural blonde highlights in the afternoon sun. His hair is like how some people’s eyes seem to change color in different lighting. It's brown indoors, but the brighter the light, the more his hair takes on a definite blonde hue. I’ve never seen anything like it before. His brilliant, white smile is infectious even from over here. I grin as he looks around and enthusiastically chatters to the people who are all demanding his attention.
“Wow. That is a good looking man,” Rod expresses the words that I’m thinking; only it’s disturbing to hear them come from him. I swing my head, my ponytail swishing around, and he looks back at me. On the defensive he asks, “What? He is! I’m secure enough in my manhood that I can say that! Just look at that damn son of a bitch!” I laugh in disbelief at his assertion and resume my drooling over my boyfriend from afar.
Rod suddenly elbows me in the side and I jump. “Did Finn sleep in your bed with you last night? Did he wake you up with morning sex?” He laughs and nods his head like he knows something that I don’t.
“No. He stayed at his place last night. He had to get his bike ready early this morning and had to be at work before heading out here. I haven’t seen him since Tuesday when he met me for lunch.”
“Aww. That’s so sad,” he says, his voice falling. “You didn’t even get to give him a good-luck fuck before his race? Oh, shit. I forgot to apologize before I said that.”
“Rod, what am I going to do with you?” I reach up and yank on his hair before propelling his head away.
“Certainly not that ultiwhatum th
ing. That sounds damn gross.”
Morgan suddenly snaps her phone shut and stands. “I need to get out of here soon. Go down there, congratulate Finn and show those whores that he is your man, Hadley.”
“How should I do that?”
“Come on.” Oh, no. Morgan grabs my arm and drags me behind her. I grab for Rod’s hand, trailing him after me through the crowd. We look like a ridiculous chain of fools marching down onto the track. She abruptly stops short and pivots, making me almost kiss her and for Rod to slam into my back. She yanks something out of her purse and grabs my chin. What is with everyone’s hands on my face?
I jerk away from her as she lifts something to my mouth. I gripe, “What are you doing?”
Morgan clasps my chin once more. “You need some color. Hold still.” She swipes a tube of lipstick over my lips. I have no idea what color she’s making them, which concerns me. She’s known to sport Harlot red, but the difference is that she can pull it off. Not me. I save the dark colors for my nails.
“Rub your lips together. I guess that will have to do.” She grimaces before taking my hand again and leads me forward. The crowd becomes thicker and less willing to move out of our way the closer to Finn we get. Unfortunately, it’s also obvious that some people don’t wear deodorant or brush their teeth. Morgan barges her way through as she tows us along. We approach the edge of the crowd where there are now security guards keeping people away from Finn and the news crew. I squeeze in next to Morgan as Rod stands behind me. Finn has his back to us. One hand is on his hip while his other arm is hung over his helmet, which he has against his side. He’s nodding his head at Todd Reynolds, another sports guy. Todd talks to the camera as Finn shifts on his feet and looks at Todd. Finn then takes his turn speaking to the camera. He looks almost as good from the back as he does the front…almost.
The segment comes to a close as the bright light of the camera turns off and Milo lowers it. Todd and Finn relax their stances, talking as women start whistling and yelling louder for Finn’s attention. The security people also relax a bit now that the news crew is finished filming.
“Finn!” I shout, but my voice doesn’t carry over the din around us. People begin to close in on the riders, who are all standing around with their bikes and talking to each other, as well as to the people approaching them. I look over at Finn and there are four women, who somehow, have made it through the event security and over to him. They are standing in his personal space and touching his arms. The one in the super-short skirt hooks her arm around his and leans against him. Finn doesn’t seem to be phased by it, since he still looks relaxed and doesn’t make an attempt to move away from her. The sight infuriates me.
I turn and push my way back through the crowd where it thins out, and make my way around to the other side. I think Morgan and Rod are following me, but right now, I don’t care what they're doing. It takes some effort and being slightly impolite as I re-enter the thick crowd and find myself at the inner edge. Now I can see his handsome face. He’s laughing with Todd and the women standing next to him. His chocolate brown eyes lift up and he scans the crowd as he continues to talk to someone. Is he looking for me? I doubt it. I’m most likely the last thing he’s thinking about.
“Finn!” I yell, but am again drowned out by everyone around me. Someone behind him captures his attention. His gaze falls from the crowd and he turns around, his back to me once again. Damn it! Women are all around me; most of them bigger and taller than me. I’m about to lose hope of seeing him until later on tonight. I step backward and suddenly my feet are violently swept out from underneath me. I glance up to see Rod’s grinning face.
“Need some help?”
“What are you doing?” He doesn’t answer me. Despite the Finnatics being pissed off, Rod drives us through the crowd of women and into the inner circle. I look ahead and catch a glimpse of Finn’s blue and white leather suit. My heart picks up speed and I reach up and hold onto my key charm. We brush past a few more people and are now a few feet behind Finn. I can even smell his musky cologne that I gave him for Christmas.
“Wilder!” Rod calls out. Finn cursorily looks over his shoulder, but is again called in the other direction, so he shifts away. “I think I have something that belongs to you!” Rod shouts louder. Finn finally turns around and our eyes lock. His smiling face beams brighter, if that’s possible. The slutty-looking, skirt woman grabs his arm to try to get back his attention, but he steps out of her grasp and walks towards me as Rod set me down. People start walking between us and I’m pushed away. I surge forward only to be sucked back farther. I feel like I’m stuck in a damn riptide. Without warning, a hand grips onto my arm and tugs me through the crowd and into his arms.
“Becks!” Finn stoops and puts his hands under my thighs to pick me up. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. I look right into the soulful brown eyes that I’ve been yearning for. “Baby, I’ve missed you,” he says against my ear.
“Congratulations,” I whisper as I move my hands up into his hair and lower my lips to his. I kiss him hard and a little too passionate for a public place, but that’s the point. Vaguely, I hear women screeching and yelling protests as the object of their affection is now the object of my lips. I slip my tongue into his mouth and he instantly responds with his, but then he remembers where we are and inevitably pulls away from me. I knew he wouldn’t kiss me for long in front of his fan club. His initial reaction is a mix of shock and desire which morphs into a lopsided grin that sends my heart into overdrive. He reaches up and pulls at my ponytail, forcing my head at an angle, so he can whisper in my ear, his deep voice like molten lava.
“What are you trying to do to me? I haven’t seen you in four days and haven’t had you in six.”
“I wanted to remind you of what you were missing, Finnigan.” His quick intake of air between his teeth causes my eyes to close and goosebumps to spread over my arms.
“You’re killing me. You know what it does to me when you call me that.” Oh, yes I do. He sighs. “Believe me. I know what I’ve been missing.” He grips my ass and I dig my hips into his. He groans into my ear. “Becks, I have to put you down before I make a move that will get us arrested and make the Top Story at eleven.” I gasp as he slowly slides me down his body until I’m standing on my feet again. I move my arms to his waist as he holds me close to him, his hand stroking my back. I look up at his mouth and run my thumb over his full lips to wipe off the dark pink lipstick I left. With each swipe of my thumb, I feel the sparks ignite my skin.
“Becks,” he quietly warns, his eyes are on fire as he moves his hand down from my back and tightens his hold on my hips. Does he feel it too?
“Sorry. I left lipstick on your mouth.” He leans down and brushes his lips against my ear.
“I know where else you can leave lipstick on me.”
I anxiously bite my lip as he abruptly straightens and replies to a question somebody nearby asked him, his professional face and voice firmly in place. I hope nobody heard us talking. That would be awkward. Finn moves away from me, but reaches over before I can move and grabs my hand, holding it behind him as he talks to another rider in a red leather suit. When Finn moves his head, I see he’s talking to his best friend Ricky.
“That was hot.” I spin around without breaking my hand away from Finn’s, and see Rod. How long was he standing behind me?
“What was?” I ask, avoiding his tongue-in-cheek stare and praying to God he didn’t hear anything. I look over my shoulder to see Finn’s and my clasped, outstretched hands. I notice his Finnatics are clamoring to get closer to him. I try to unlock my hand so that he can talk to people without me hanging on him; however, he grips my fingers with his, preventing me from going anywhere. My eyes glide up to his profile, but he doesn’t look at me.
“You and Finnigan,” Rod singsongs.
I return my attention to Rod. “Don’t call him that, Rod. He only likes it when I do.” He snickers.
“Call who what?�
� Morgan asks walking up to us. Now it’s Rod’s turn to fill her in on what she missed.
“Hadders calls Wilder by his real name.” Rod covers his mouth as he continues to laugh like a small child who just learned a new bad word. In between laughs, he manages to utter, “I think it gets him going, if you know what I mean.” That it does. Of course Rod had to hear me call him that. Finn was given his paternal grandmother’s maiden name as his first name. A name his mother hated, but his parents had compromised and his mother liked the name Finn. Finn had told me that she always called him Finn Robert, never Finnigan Robert. Nobody in his family refers to him as Finnigan. The first time I had called him that, we were sitting on his sofa after a high school soccer game he had to cover. We were playing around and starting to make out when I teasingly called him Finnigan. His playful kisses immediately changed and he was suddenly so hot for me that he was tearing at my clothes and begging me to make love to him. I couldn’t wait anymore. I was going to jump him if he hadn’t made a move then. We did make it to his bed, but barely.
Morgan smirks. “Huh. I didn’t know that. Kind of kinky.” I avert my head away from her to try and hide my smile.
“Why does he call you Becks?” Rod asks absently while watching Finn talking behind me. I glance over at Finn who is still talking to the same people; the women closer than before. I squeeze Finn’s hand and he squeezes mine in return, not breaking his rhythm as he speaks. I smile at him, even though he doesn’t see me. “I never got that,” Rod adds. I look back at Rod and brush my bangs off to the side.
“When we first started dating, he took me to a park and we kicked around a soccer ball. I wasn’t that great at it, so as a joke he called me Becks, as in David Beckham’s nickname, and also because of my last name. Finn thought it was perfect.”
Chasing the Wild Sparks Page 2
