Between You and Me

by Lynn Turner

  “How’d you know?”

  “Because they were getting cooking lessons and I was their teacher!”

  “Oh my God!”

  Finn and Simon exchanged amused glances, their lovers all but ignoring them.

  “I know! And this guy was such a schmuck—I’m sorry, Sy, but he was—talked about himself the entire time. He wasn’t even paying attention to the lesson which, by the way, Simon paid for and I was not cheap!”

  She laughed many times before he finished the riveting story. The poor, self-centered “schmuck” had unwittingly insulted Simon’s job, renounced marriage as a sham and, worst of all, burned the pricey steak Jamie had so expertly taught them how to make. Simon tried to make the most of the ordeal, remaining polite and charming. Little did he know how he’d captivated the young chef, after revealing how awkwardly brilliant he was when he’d explained the science behind certain cooking techniques.

  “I would’ve married him six months after we started dating,” Jamie said. “But we weren’t allowed to until 2012.”

  “Which was?”

  “Two years after we started dating. We’d been living together for a year. Here, of course. My place wasn’t nearly as nice as this.”

  “Serendipity,” Emanuela said in amazement. “What an incredible story.”

  “Not unlike yours,” Simon said.

  She looked down, knowing that Simon had no idea just how much that word described her and Finn. He squeezed her thigh, and she knew he was thinking the same thing.

  It was with some reluctance that Finn and Emanuela said goodbye to their hosts, but it was getting late and they still had a ferry to catch. She embraced Simon before turning to Jamie. “It was so nice to finally meet you.”

  “It was lovely to meet you, gorgeous!” he said, kissing her cheek. “Take care of her, Finn. I want to see her again so don’t go screwing it up, okay?”

  Finn laughed and kissed Jamie’s cheek. “I have no intention of screwing this up, Jamie, believe me. Thanks for dinner. I’ll see you Monday, Sy.”

  “Take care!”

  Chapter Nineteen

  It was after ten o’clock and the ferry to Whidbey Island at the late hour was typically short and smooth. They would be there in fifteen minutes.

  “Are you okay?” Finn asked.

  They sat snuggled up in his parked car below deck. Even during the warmer months, the evenings were chilly, and Emanuela’s cardigan was more fashionable than practical.

  “Better than okay,” she said, tipping her head back to kiss his chin. “I finally get to see where you’ve been shacking up.”

  “Well, technically it’s not shacking up until you get there, but I’m willing to let you make an honest man out of me.”

  She gasped. It’s just a joke, calm down. She watched his grin wane. Holding her gaze, he brought his hand to her chest and held it there. Her heart hammered against his palm, her hand instinctively coming up to cover his. She was sure he could feel what she was feeling at that very instant.

  “Crazy about me,” he murmured.

  She couldn’t interpret his expression right away. Even in this light, she could see there was much more there than the smile that brought fine lines to the corners of his eyes. A flicker in her mind brought her back to the lounge in Chicago all those months ago. God, it seemed like so much longer than that. She had seen past his easy smile all the way to his soul. She sensed how important his project was to him and remembered hoping it would make him happy.

  Is that what she saw in him now? No. His eyes looked too doleful for it to be mere happiness. Joy, then? She was wise enough to know the difference, but the trace of uncertainty, just a tiny puncture in his confidence that turned his smile a bit lopsided, hinted that wasn’t quite right. She frowned with the effort to place it. Optimism? What? she asked with her eyes. And then something happened, an almost imperceptible glimmer in his eyes, and she figured it out. Hope.

  She had no clue how long they sat there like that, staring at each other in breathless silence. It felt like some sort of limbo, an indeterminate space of time in a suspended reality. Frozen. And then her pulse picked up beneath his palm, faster than it was when he first placed his hand over her heart. The peace she felt in the moment was strange, considering her erratic heartbeat, but before another thought crossed her mind, her whisper permeated the silence.

  “I love you, Finn.”

  A sound escaped him like nothing she’d ever heard, something between a choke and a sob, and then she was plucked from her seat and into his arms. The tension left his body in a long, unsteady breath before he lowered his face to hers.

  She must have kissed him a million times since that first time in the restaurant, not caring that God and everyone bore witness, but it was nothing compared to this.

  It felt like the melding of their lips beckoned their souls to commune, and it was so good that they wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Their breaths were absorbed between them, their hearts begging connection, beating their joy against each other’s chests through their tight embrace.

  Emanuela knew what it was, back in their hotel room in New Orleans, when she spilled her heart to him before her mind could stop her. She never lost control that way. It was something she took pride in. Besides, admitting it to herself would mean committing to a future that was uncertain and it frightened her. In truth, it still did, but when she saw the look of hope in his eyes moments ago, she knew she could no longer hold him at arm’s length.

  It wasn’t until the captain announced their arrival at the Clinton ferry dock that they finally pulled apart, breathless and grinning like fools. Before she slid from his lap and into her own seat, she whispered in his ear. “Say it.”

  He took her chin in one hand. “I love you, Emanuela. I think I have from the moment I met you but I didn’t know what it was. And I know that I always will.”

  ****

  It was a comfortable forty-minute drive to Finn’s rented beach house in Penn Cove. They didn’t feel the need to fill every minute with conversation the way they did during their chats while they were apart. Something as ordinary as driving home together was an experience they hadn’t yet shared, and they relished the moment, making easy conversation when something came to mind.

  “This is it.” He drove through an iron farm gate and up a long, worn stretch of driveway to a beautiful timber lodge style home built of Douglas fir. It was dark, but the exterior lighting was enough to give Emanuela a decent view of the porch and an idea of its size.

  “Wow,” she said, tilting her head for a better look. “It’s bigger than I thought.”

  “Wait until you see the inside.” He leaned over for a quick kiss and got out to collect her bag.

  Once they were inside, he held her hand to guide her on the grand tour. There were exposed beams and rafters throughout the single-story home, fourteen feet high where the ceiling came to a point in the living room. Rustic married modern, and though the space was considerably large, it still felt cozy. The walls of the office and two standard bedrooms were made of logs, the shared spaces very contemporary. There were large windows throughout the house to allow for natural light and magnificent views during the day. A stunning, free-standing natural granite fireplace separated two seating areas, while recessed lighting and a classic, open kitchen tied it all together. Emanuela smiled.

  “What?” he asked, pulling her into his arms in the living room.

  She tilted her head to look up at him. “I’ve caught glimpses of this place during our chats, but it’s more vivid in person—I like it. It’s very you.”

  “You haven’t seen all of it yet.”

  She yelped, swept into his arms before she could blink again, and he led them toward the south end of the house. He carried her into the master bedroom.

  “Wow,” she said for the second time since her arrival.

  Exposed rafters imitated the ones in the living room, rising high above the spacious bedroom and meeting at a point at its c
enter. A ceiling fan hung down the middle from a beam running the length of the room, and another gorgeous granite fireplace graced the wall across from the queen-sized bed. The master bath was on one end, and double French doors leading outside were on the other, of the room.

  Finn didn’t put her down. Instead, he sat on the bed and held her in his lap. She slowly appraised the room—their room at the moment, his adoring gaze on her face. Her lids grew heavy after she took it all in.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said on a yawn, “but why are you staying in such a big house all by yourself?”

  “None taken,” he said, kissing her nose. “My staying here was supposed to be temporary. I was just crashing until I found a place in the city. Easier commute to Sy’s house. It’s easy for me to get around—no stairs. And I fell in love with the view. There’s none like it in Oak Harbor unless you live on this stretch of beach. The rent’s not much higher than a decent place in the city, so I stayed.”

  She quirked a brow.

  “Trust me,” he said, “you’ll understand in the morning.”

  “Okay.” She yawned again. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  He chuckled and lifted her again, carrying her to the bathroom so they could get ready for bed.

  “I have legs, you know.” She was being flippant, even in her exhausted state, but she secretly loved it when he tossed her around.

  “I’m painfully aware of that, Emmi.” He let her down, smacking her bottom for good measure.

  ****

  Emanuela awakened to the distant sound of waves and birds. After she came out of her groggy haze, the room was dark, but for a faint natural luminosity that allowed her to see after her eyes adjusted. The space beside her on the bed was empty, but still warm.

  “Finn?” she called softly, but there was no response.

  She sat up and reached for her phone. 5:13. She rubbed her temples and climbed out of bed, about to wander through the house in search of him when movement outside the French doors caught her eye. She grabbed the throw blanket from the foot of the bed and wrapped it around herself, walking out to the deck to join him.

  “Hey you,” she said from behind him. “What are you doing up already?” She opened the throw and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Habit, I guess.” He turned his head to grin at her. “I usually get a phone call from my girlfriend around this time, but I’ll just let it go to voicemail this one time.”

  She smacked his butt and his grin grew wider.

  “I like to watch the sunrise,” he said.

  “Mmmm,” she mumbled into his back.

  They stood together for a moment in the darkness before dawn, listening to the windy sound the waves made as they climbed ashore, then sizzled softly before receding again. Gulls flapped noisily about somewhere overhead, greeting each other with their high-pitched caws and sea lion-like barks. Emanuela narrowed her eyes, identifying the shadowy shapes of trees in the distance as far as her eye could see.

  “So when does this spectacular show start?” she asked, shivering a little at the breeze off the water hitting her bare legs.

  Finn reached for her, pulling her in front of him for a hug. “Not for twenty minutes or so.” He kissed the top of her head. “What are you doing up? You were so tired.”

  She pulled away just enough to look at his face. “I didn’t mean to pass out like that.”

  “I was surprised you lasted the car ride, honestly. We did a lot yesterday.”

  “I know, but I’m leaving tomorrow and I wanted to make the most of our time together.” She pouted. “I told you I love you.”

  “You did.”

  “Then I fell asleep.”

  His chuckle vibrated from his body to hers. “Well, we’re here now.”

  She registered his challenge with a grin and rose to her toes, touching her lips to his. Their mouths parted instantly, making way for the gentle caresses of their tongues. She sighed into his mouth. She loved this, the way he tasted, the way he smelled first thing in the morning. She enjoyed him in every way, but something about their lazy, unhurried exploration of each other during the earliest hours of the day warmed her through like nothing else.

  “Emmi,” he said against her neck, “let’s go back to bed.”

  “I—but I thought we could stay here. I want to see the sunrise with you.”

  He pulled away to look into her eyes. “You’ll freeze,” he said, giving her an out.

  “You won’t let me.”

  He groaned, taking her hand to lead her down a few short steps. He took the throw and spread it onto the cool, firm sand a ways from the deck, and pulled her to him by the waist. She shivered at the feel of his hands gliding along her legs, up the back of her thighs, and underneath her shirt to remove her panties and toss them aside. He pulled her shirt up over her head, quickly removing his own lounge clothes and leading her to the throw. She straddled his lap, carefully letting him stretch his legs behind her. Her thighs hugged his waist, their bodies pressed together, his arousal against her backside. She shivered.

  “You’re cold,” he said, moaning at the flick of her tongue in his ear.

  “I love it when you make that sound,” she said, ignoring his concern. “It’s so sexy.”

  He groaned long and low, right on cue at her seductive words wetting his ear. “Emmi…”

  She ground against him hard and slow, clinging to his shoulders. “It’s okay, I’m ready too.”

  Without another word, he lifted her by her hips and eased her onto him, dragging the most delicious moan from them both. He twitched inside of her, her own muscles contracting in response. He started to lift her by her waist, but she caught his hands, kissing each one before dropping them at his sides.

  “Let me,” she said.

  She brushed her lips over his for one long moment before pushing his chest, prompting him to lie on his back. The movement pulled him from her a bit, and he moaned again. The knowledge that she could draw such guttural responses from this strong, incredible man made Emanuela feel a kind of power in that moment, and she wanted more.

  He jerked when her thighs hugged his torso, and she brought her cool hands to his rigid stomach. “Jesus,” he whispered, lifting his head to look at her.

  She moved, her hips swirling a slow hula, and he dropped his head back helplessly at the sweet torture. His hands were wandering her body wherever he could touch her—moving along her thighs, kneading her breasts, gliding up and down her waist. He was so deep, and with every circle of her hips, she felt his stomach tighten with pleasure.

  “Ungh,” was his ragged response each time she pulled him back into her.

  She was getting more excited, watching his handsome features twist in pleasure, her slickness joining the sounds of her heavy breaths, and his soft expletives. She wanted to control the pace, to keep her movements deliberate and slow, but the pulse beating within her had grown until it was unbearable, and she lost her rhythm. Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back as she rode him, sweat breaking out on her forehead despite the cool air.

  The sensual tension gripped every muscle in Emanuela’s body, and she was about to come undone. Finn must have felt it too, because he lifted his head and watched the signs of exquisite pleasure play across her face and immediately convulsed against her, his hands gripping her waist. “Oh my God.”

  “Finn!” She was paralyzed above him, her thighs gripping his waist, her body wracked with the spasms of her denouement. He pulled her to lie on top of him, her chest heaving from her labored breaths, and peppered her face with kisses. After a moment, he tugged the corners of the blanket on each side, pulling it over them until they were covered.

  “Look,” he said, turning his head toward the water.

  She raised her head as the first shades of yellow rose from the water across the cove. It sparkled, flecks of gold dotting the surface, brilliant orange and red illuminating the patches of clouds in the sky. It was easy to make out the curve
of the beach across the water. The shadows she saw earlier became trees and beach houses dotting the land, and boats of varying sizes tied to their docks. The Olympic mountains stood majestically in the background, and she stared in awe until it hurt her eyes, squinting as she turned to look down at Finn.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” he asked smugly, squeezing her ass.

  She giggled, blissfully happy, and kissed him again. “You did. But we should probably get out of here before someone sees us.”

  He held her still when she moved to get up.

  “What?” She beamed down at him.

  “You love me.”

  She grinned. “I do.”

  ****

  They slept late, then drove ten minutes from Finn’s house to a popular stretch of beach in West Penn Cove. They arrived right at eleven, at low tide. People were scattered about, digging for oysters and clams and picking mussels. Finn stopped at the tackle shop in town to get boots to ensure his prosthesis stayed dry, and waterproof shoes for Emanuela.

  They collected enough mussels to fill their bucket in no time.

  Later, they rubbed elbows, flirting and laughing, scrubbing at the mussels in his kitchen sink. Such a normal activity may have been mundane for anyone else, but they were content, even excited, to perform domestic duties together. Although, he was the superior of the two in this respect, and eventually ordered her to a barstool to enjoy her pinot so he could continue working. Before long, he whipped up quick, Venetian style mussels sautéed with tomatoes, fresh herbs, lemon zest, garlic, and brandy. They sopped up the delicious sauce with the fresh, crusty bread they picked up on the way home. When their dishes were cleared away, they snuggled together on the patio swing, her legs across his lap.

  “So, Chef Kane,” she said, “what other talents are you hiding?”

  He looked at her, his smile wavering a bit, seeming to contemplate something for a moment.

  “Finn?”

  “Hang on a sec,” he said, lifting her legs so he could get up.

  “Wha—”

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She sat up straight. She was under the distinct impression that whatever prompted him to get up so abruptly wasn’t entirely pleasant. Before she could run the possibilities through her mind, he was back with a single piece of paper and a pen. She raised an elegant brow at him in question.