by Zoe York
“Drew,” she said, nodding to his brother. Of all the things to get worked up about, her saying his brother’s name before his should not have been one of them, and yet there they were. “Griffin.” She spat his full name like it was a piece of gristle and she couldn’t stand the feel of it in her mouth. “If y’all’ll give me just a minute, I’ll get the correct paperwork drawn up so we can get this done as quickly as possible.” Her so you can get out the hell of my sight just as quick went unsaid, but Finn didn’t have any problem reading between those lines.
As soon as Willow left the room, it was clear Drew hadn’t had a problem picking up the not so subtle tension either, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as he looked at the now closed door to Willow’s office.
Nola let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Damn, Finn. Can’t believe you made sweet Willow Haven cuss. I’m not entirely certain, but I don’t think she’s forgiven you quite yet.”
“You don’t think?” he asked, scratching his chin. “Went better than I expected, to be honest.”
“What the hell did you expect?” Nola cocked an eyebrow. “A kick to the nuts?”
He shrugged. That very scenario might have crossed his mind a time or two.
“Maybe it was a front,” Drew said, settling in the chair to the right of Nola. “She’s probably out there now planning a welcome home party for you.”
Finn didn’t bother responding as he glanced around Willow’s office, just lifted a certain finger in his brother’s direction, letting it drop once Drew rumbled out a laugh.
Willow’s office was devoid of anything personal—no art on the walls, no vase of flowers on the side table, no framed photo of her with friends or her sisters on her desk…nothing. To anyone else, it probably looked like she preferred to keep it professional, sleek. No clutter, no mess. But Finn knew better. Knew her deepest fears and her greatest insecurities—or he had at one time. And he’d bet his left nut she kept her office sparkling and pristine, lacking any personal touches, so her father couldn’t use it as a weapon against her while she tried to perform this job under his command. So he couldn’t turn it into some kind of weakness on her behalf, as he’d been known to do a time or twenty.
Jesus, what had made her come back here? Not just here to Havenbrook, but here to town hall, to an office twenty feet away from her daddy. To a career working for a man she’d constantly butted heads with. A man who’d made it his mission to make her feel less-than. One who never, ever saw her worth.
Nola cleared her throat, drawing his attention. She stared at him with expectation, eyebrows raised.
“What’s up, Xena?” he asked, settling in the chair on her other side.
“Look, I don’t know all the details of whatever went on between y’all”—Over Nola’s head, Finn met Drew’s eyes and exchanged a look loaded with gravity. No, she didn’t. Not many did—“but this is my life here. I don’t want y’all’s history messin’ with things. It’s already gonna be hard as hell runnin’ this by myself after y’all leave, ’specially in this town filled with good ol’ boys. The business—”
“Is ours too,” Drew cut in.
“No, I know that.” She divided a look between him and Drew. “Of course I do. Keepin’ in touch while y’all’ve been gone is one thing, but for y’all to come back and do this with me… Well, I appreciate it, ’cause you both know I didn’t have the capital by myself.”
Nola’s proposition for them to go into business together couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Finn had been itching to do more for a while, and though it’d been logical to move toward ownership of the bar he managed in California, it hadn’t felt right. Not like this did. “You know we were happy to—goin’ back to diapers, we’ve been a team,” Finn said. “Always had your back. Always will.”
She elbowed him—her version of a hug. “Same goes. But that doesn’t change that y’all’ll be leavin’ soon, and I have to stay here, you know? Just…” She sighed and shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Just go along to get along, okay? Don’t make waves for me where you ain’t droppin’ your anchor.”
With a nod, Finn agreed, because he couldn’t do much else. He and Drew had flown back to Havenbrook with plans to stay only long enough to help settle things with the new space. Nola, Drew, and Finn had purchased it together in a 20-40-40 split respectively, going into a partnership with Nola when she’d presented them with an offer too good to pass up. Of course he loved that he and Drew were able to help out one of their oldest and closest friends, but this bar in this town meant so much more than that. After all, it wasn’t every day he got to stick it to someone he despised. First bar in a town Richard Haven had spent his life working tooth and nail to keep pure? The poetic justice was too good to resist, especially considering his and the mayor’s history.
The plan had been for the three of them to get the paperwork settled, sign his and Drew’s names where necessary—much as Nola hated it, two male names carried more weight than hers ever could, especially in the backward town of Havenbrook with a mayor like Dick himself—approve the blueprints and construction plans, and then bail again. Head back to California, back to their lives…
Truthfully speaking, though, despite living there for the past ten years, they didn’t have much of a life on the west coast. No matter what they did, how many roots they planted there, it had never felt like home. Not like Havenbrook had.
“Sorry ’bout that.” Willow slipped back into the office, not a chink in that armor he’d watched her put on, and settled behind her desk, fake smile spreading her lips. She straightened the stack of papers in her hand, brightly colored flags popping out along the edges. “We’ve got just a few things to take care of then y’all can be on your way. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” Yep, that armor was perfectly in place, but she wouldn’t look his way. Instead, she spoke to Drew. “If you’ll just sign right by the flag.” She pointed to a spot on the paper, handing Drew a pen. “Then go ’head and pass the stack on down so we can get everyone’s signatures.”
She shuffled through more papers on her desk, avoiding any and all eye contact, with Finn in particular. “Looks like Nash has already filed for the proper permits to get started on construction, so y’all’re all set there.”
Jesus, was there anything worse than listening to her small talk, go on about some nonsense like they were two random strangers? Like he didn’t know the weight of her body on his own, didn’t know the taste of her on his tongue, didn’t recall the exact tenor of her moans? He hated it, absolutely fucking hated it.
And he had no right to. None at all.
He’d given this up—he’d been the one who’d walked away, never mind that he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn’t fair of him now to demand things, to want to know everything that’d happened while he’d been gone. To want answers to all his questions—why was she here? Why was she working for her father? Why wasn’t she in Tennessee like they’d planned? But even knowing he didn’t have a right to those answers, it didn’t stop the burning in his gut, the suddenly overwhelming urge to know everything boiling up inside him.
“Since the permits have—”
“Why aren’t you in Nashville?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but he couldn’t deny it was the single question that’d plagued him for far too long—years. Since Nola had let it slip about long ago that Willow’d been back in Havenbrook for a while. Had started working for her daddy. That was a far cry from her original plans of going to art school and becoming the creator he knew she was, deep in her bones. So far from the buttoned-up professional sitting in front of him in her tailored suit—which, yeah, looked hot as hell on her, but didn’t belong on her nonetheless. He wanted to pop the buttons on that fitted suit jacket just to see if she’d kept a tiny bit of her old self under this facade.
The thought of one of her paint-stained tanks under her professional clothes had his lips tipping up at the corners. No matter where she’d been
or what she’d been doing, she’d used to wear an old tank, perpetually stained with every color of the rainbow, beneath her clothes. In case the urge to paint hit her, she’d told him once. Jesus, those white slips of fabric covered with paint spatters with the tiny little straps had driven him and his teenage brain crazy. They’d fit her like a second skin, clinging to every inch of her body.
“Why aren’t you wherever the hell you ran off to?” Willow snapped back, her temper flaring before his eyes. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, connecting with his and giving him that contact he craved, even if only for a second before she took out her anger on the papers in front of her.
A not-so-discreet elbow jab and a pointed stare from Nola had him keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the meeting, scrawling his signature above the line indicated by the blue flags. As soon as his name was on the last paper, Willow snatched the pile from him and stood, making it clear in no uncertain terms it was time for them to get the hell out.
“I’ll let y’all know if there’re any problems, but I don’t foresee anything,” she said with false cheer, not moving from behind her desk. “In the meantime, let me know if anything comes up, Nola.”
“Thanks, Will,” Nola said.
“’Preciate your help, Willow.” Drew gave a short nod in her direction, tipping his baseball cap up, before stepping aside to let Nola out the door ahead of him.
Finn stood, rapping his knuckles twice on the desk. For the briefest moment, Willow’s eyes met his, and sparks went off under his skin. Just like always. “I’ll see you again soon, Willowtree.”
She huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head to break the spell. Then she dropped into her seat, twisting her chair around until her back was to him. “Goodbye, Griffin. And don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath.”
He wasn’t going to win this battle, no matter what he said. So he stood there for another moment before turning and walking out of her office. Nola and Drew waited outside, the hot May sun beating down on them.
“That went well,” Drew said on a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Willow that mad. And I was there when Billy sprayed her white shirt with water in high school—you remember that?”
Yeah, he remembered. And thinking about it now wasn’t going to do anything but get him half hard again, just like he’d been while sitting across from her.
“Y’all, quit it. I’m serious now. Stay out of her way,” Nola all but pleaded. When Finn didn’t respond, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, digging her short nails into his skin hard enough to leave indentations. “Griffin Reilly Thomas, I mean it.”
With a laugh, he peeled her fingers from his arm. “Shit, Xena, quit reminding me why we gave you the nickname in the first place. I’ll give her space, promise.”
She narrowed her eyes, but Drew changed the subject, like a good twin. “Damn, never imagined I’d forget what May in Mississippi’s like, but I think California made me soft.” He lifted his baseball cap off his head and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it again, shading his eyes from the brutal rays.
“Don’t worry. Y’all’ll be back there in no time.” Nola patted Drew on the cheek. “Though, you might want to get some sunscreen so you don’t burn all this pretty, delicate skin.”
One second Nola was walking between Finn and Drew, and the next Drew held her planked across his shoulders, spinning round and round.
“Oh my God! Andrew Brennan Thomas, you better put me down right this second!”
With a laugh, Drew finally set her on her feet, chuckling as he jumped out of the way to dodge a slap to the chest. “Damn, girl, what’s with you throwin’ around middle names all willy-nilly? I can’t believe you three-named me.”
“You’re lucky those are the only names I called you.”
Laughter bouncing between them, the three walked across the street, striding toward the building on the corner—their building. The town square was quaint and well kept, considering how run-down it’d been the last time Finn had seen it. But he shouldn’t have been surprised at the…life that was now evident. Not since he knew Willow was responsible for it.
He could see touches of her wherever he looked. The new streetlamps, flower baskets filled with bright pops of color hanging from the wrought-iron posts. Park benches every few feet, the back rungs decorated with paintings he immediately recognized as hers. So she hadn’t quit painting… Maybe she’d decided she hadn’t needed to go to art school to be happy? Maybe she’d found a way to do both—working on her art while staying in her hometown, a compromise of sorts. Maybe she was happy here, working for her daddy?
That was all Finn had ever wanted, was the main reason he’d left in the first place. More than anything, he wanted her happy, living the life she deserved. He just had to trust she was. And he hoped he’d be able to see even a sliver of it in the few short days he and Drew would be in Havenbrook.
Willow stewed at her desk for long moments after Finn left her office, her heart racing like a jackrabbit, beating so forcefully she could feel it in her lips. It was like someone had lit a sparkler and set it under her skin, lighting her up from the inside out. That’d always been what it’d been like being in Finn’s presence—intense and raw and all-consuming.
Thankfully, she was older now. Wiser. Had a hell of a lot more life experience under her belt than that naïve seventeen-year-old girl who’d fallen for him in the first place, or the equally naïve eighteen-year-old she’d been when he’d left her. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again, wouldn’t get caught up in his orbit. Wouldn’t allow herself to.
“Holy shitballs.” Avery wasted no time hurrying into Willow’s office as soon as the trio of new business owners left. “It’s not often we get eye candy like that in here, but to get two of them at once? Damn, girl. It was like Christmas.” Her eyes sparkled, her smile huge.
Willow feigned nonchalance, dropping her gaze to the papers on her desk. “Oh, were they good-lookin’? I didn’t notice.”
Avery snorted so loud, she slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing with laughter. Shaking her head, she dropped her hand as she fell into the chair in front of Willow’s desk. “How long have we been friends, Willow?”
Avery knew exactly how long they’d been friends, so Willow just raised a brow. “You gettin’ at somethin’?”
“Um, yeah,” Avery said with a sharp nod. “How about the fact that you’re lying through your teeth? There’s history there—that wasn’t the first time you’d seen those fine-ass specimens. So, spill. I need details, and I need them right-fucking-now.”
Since Avery was a transplant to Havenbrook, having only lived in their little pocket of paradise for a bit less than three years, she hadn’t witnessed the presence of the Thomas boys. And being Willow didn’t like to talk about the boy who’d flipped her whole world upside down, ripping her heart out of her chest in the process, Avery—even as one of Willow’s best friends—had no hope of knowing who Griffin Thomas was. Least of all, who he was to Willow.
Willow stared at her best friend, seeing the resolve on her face, and sank back into her chair. As much as she definitely didn’t want to rehash the abysmal history, she couldn’t deny it’d be nice to have another ear, besides her younger sister Mackenna, to listen. “All right. I’ll give you a condensed version right now, but all the gory details’ll have to wait until I’ve got at least three glasses of wine under my belt.”
Avery’s eyes brightened as she rested her elbows on Willow’s desk, leaning forward. “I’ll bring the wine. And I can deal with condensed right now. Although there was nothing condensed about either of those boys, am I right?” She waggled her eyebrows, bringing a levity to the situation that Willow desperately needed.
With a laugh, Willow shook her head. “How can you make me laugh when I’m ready to crawl out of my skin?”
“One of my many redeeming qualities.”
“Too true.” Willow bit her lip, then let out a long sigh. “
You remember me telling you about my high school boyfriend?”
Avery nodded. “The one who bailed after he took your virginity? Hard to forget that story. What an asshole.”
“Yeah, well. Now you know why I called him that.”
“Wait, what? Those guys…?” She widened her eyes and slapped a hand down on Willow’s desk. “No.”
“’Fraid so.”
“Which one? Baseball Hat or Gray T-shirt?”
Willow tried and failed not to think about the gray material stretching over the broad muscles of Finn’s chest, the sleeves banding tight around thick biceps. She heaved a sigh. “Gray T-shirt.”
Avery’s mouth dropped open. “Damn, girl, you hit the virginity jackpot. That boy is fine.”
“What I hit was the asshole jackpot.”
The awestruck look dropped from Avery’s face, and she frowned. Reaching over, she patted Willow’s hand. “I’m sorry, hon. We’ll save the rest for after you’re good and toasted. Wine and pizza tonight. Sound good?”
Willow honestly couldn’t think of a better end to this truly awful day. Except maybe a chance to go back in time and avoid it entirely. “Sounds fabulous.”
“Okay, but can we talk about how you actually called him an asshole? Is that discussion on the table? Because I have questions. Like, were you maybe having an out-of-body experience? Do I need to perform an exorcism on you?”
“Shut up.” Willow laughed.
“Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear around…well, anyone but me and Mac.”
Mackenna was going to have a freaking coronary when she found out Finn was back in town. Which, according to Havenbrook standards, was going to be in, oh, about seven minutes. Nothing much stayed silent in their sleepy little town, especially not gossip as juicy as the Thomas boys being back. Them being back and opening the very first bar Havenbrook had ever seen? Yeah, that was going to spread like wildfire. Her daddy was going to be madder than a hornet when he found out. He’d fought the wet county law tooth and nail, had heavily rallied against it, saying it’d sully their town. And even though it’d passed, he’d thus far somehow managed to keep any restaurants in town from carrying alcohol.
