by Zoe York
“All right, I think I decided on moonlight,” Rory said, stepping up next to Willow. “What’s got your attention?”
Before Willow could straighten and look in the opposite direction of where Finn and Nola stood, her sister turned and glanced down the aisle. Rory’s eyes narrowed when she saw who stood there, and she hummed low in her throat. Her gaze was calculating, which meant Willow had about three seconds to get her sister out of the store before Rory did something that would no doubt humiliate her.
“Are you about ready?” Willow asked, keeping her voice quiet as she pushed away from the counter.
“Not quite.” Rory grabbed Willow’s hand and dragged her down the aisle, closer to Finn and Nola. “Need to get some new paintbrushes too. What do you think of these, Will?” she asked, far louder than she needed to.
At the sound of Willow’s name, Finn’s head snapped up, his laughter cutting off. He looked in their direction, a slow smile spreading across his lips when he caught sight of her. Lord, why did that make her stomach flip?
And, damn, now he was coming toward them, Nola at his side, and the single tumble of Willow’s stomach turned into a series of somersaults with no end in sight.
“Rory,” Finn said with a nod. “Good to see you. How’re things?”
Finn might’ve asked the question of Rory, but his eyes strayed almost immediately to Willow. And then he did a slow sweep of her from head to toe while Rory went on about everything amazing that was going on in her life—two kids on the honor roll, heading up the PTA, the multitude of fundraisers she’d done for Havenbrook residents in need, her husband being promoted to partner in the firm. It all blurred into background noise as Willow’s body heated up simply from Finn’s gaze. The way he allowed his eyes to trace over every curve of her was as good as a caress on her naked body. Everything tightened, her nipples going stiff and the warmth in her lower belly spreading until it was all she could focus on.
“But enough about me,” Rory said, placing a hand on his forearm. “I heard y’all bought the old soda fountain. Gettin’ it all fixed up?”
Finn finally dragged his eyes away from Willow and glanced at her sister. “We’re tryin’. Between the three of us, we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t look like a flea market in there, though.”
“Oh? What’re y’all thinkin’?”
Nola shrugged. “We’re still a little fuzzy on the details. We just know we don’t want a typical honky-tonk vibe. Maybe something with an industrial flair instead?” She pulled out her phone and turned it to face Rory and Willow, showcasing a few pictures she had stored. “We were thinkin’ something like this.”
“Together?” Rory asked, her voice laced with horror. “Oh no, honey. No.” Rory shook her head as she plucked the phone from Nola’s fingers and swiped through the images. “Now I know this is y’all’s baby, but I just wouldn’t be a good neighbor if I didn’t offer a few suggestions, now would I?” Rory’s eyes were alight with excitement, no doubt over telling someone—anyone—what to do. She grabbed Nola’s wrist and led her down the aisle back toward the lighting. “What I’d suggest is—”
Willow stopped listening then, because Finn stepped closer to her, choosing to stay with her rather than listen to Rory give a play-by-play of what they needed in the bar. He leaned a shoulder against the shelves at her back, curving his body toward her and bringing him far closer than was a good idea.
“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he said.
She slid him a look out of the corner of her eye, trying not to be affected by the warmth swirling in his gaze. Trying and failing. “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re following me.”
He smiled then, the sight nearly knocking Willow on her ass. “If I were following you, we’d run into each other a helluva lot more than we have been.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Why did that tiny, innocent touch have her body lighting up? “I guess I’ve just been lucky these past few days.”
Willow swallowed, attempting to maintain the facade of calm, when inside, she felt like she was on fire. “Is that what you’d call it?”
Once again, he let his eyes drop to take in every inch of her. And those eyes? They heated until there was no doubt in her mind he was mentally undressing her, imagining what every inch of her would look like bare. “Yeah, Willowtree,” he said, his voice deep and rough, just a whisper in the space between them. “I call it damn lucky.”
She swallowed. Tried to get her breathing under control. Failed miserably. “Quit lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked with a smile.
“Like that.”
He leaned closer, dropped his voice even more. “Like I’m picturing what would’ve happened if I hadn’t walked away the other night? If I’d been able to get you out of your shirt? See what you’ve got hiding under all these layers? Can’t say I’ve stopped thinkin’ about it. This is just the first time you’ve been present for it.”
“Finn…” She tried to make it come out as an admonishment, scold him for being inappropriate, but instead, it came out breathless. Like a plea for more. Her entire body warmed, her cheeks growing hot, and there was no doubt in her mind everything was written all over her face.
She finally let herself meet his eyes, only to find his even more heated than before. Like it was taking all his strength not to grab her by the ass and hoist her up so she’d be wrapped around his hips—to hell if they were in a public place or not.
“It’s nice to see your cheeks get red for somethin’ other than you being pissed at me,” he said, running the back of a finger down her warm skin. “Though I don’t mind that either. As long as you’re talkin’ to me, I’ll take what I can get.”
His acknowledgment of her arousal only made the heat bloom more. She darted her eyes around him to where Rory and Nola stood, their attention focused on the lighting offered, paying her and Finn no mind. But all it would take was once glance in their direction, and Rory would see everything. And she would never, ever let Willow live it down.
Finn looked over his shoulder to where Willow’s eyes were fixed, then he circled her wrist with two fingers and tugged her around the corner into an empty aisle. And, dammit, but that was both better and worse. She wanted to be in a crowded store, surrounded by people, as much as she wanted it to be just the two of them, hidden and tucked away where they could do anything they wanted.
And, Lord, did she want. No more lying to herself. Which meant she didn’t trust herself around him. It was that simple. She’d proven time and time again she couldn’t be trusted in his company, and the longer she was in it, the higher the probability she’d do something totally out of character for her. Something her sister—the sister who stood only an aisle over—would have a conniption over. Something she’d hold over Willow’s head for eternity, right after sharing it with their daddy.
But Willow forgot about all that when Finn tugged her to him, sliding an arm around her to press against the small of her back. He didn’t stop until their fronts were flush, an intimate touch that was absolutely inappropriate for the middle of the hardware store…and for two people who weren’t a couple.
And yet Willow didn’t push him away. With hands resting against his chest, she stood stock-still and stared up at him. His lips curved into the tiniest smile before he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. She panted—there was no other word for it. Her breaths came shallow and fast, her fingers curling into the material of the T-shirt covering all that muscled goodness Finn hid under his clothes.
He was going to kiss her again.
And…she was going to let him. She wanted that kiss more than her next breath, wanted to feel those warm lips of his against hers, wanted the sinful slide of his tongue along her own. He was so close, she could nearly taste the sweet tang of his tongue. But instead of pressing his mouth to hers, he brushed his lips across her cheek before nuzzling her neck as he inhaled deeply. She went boneless, certain the only thing h
olding her up was his arm around her, solid and sure.
Against her ear, he whispered, “You ready to stop ignorin’ what’s between us?” He pressed a light kiss on that heavenly place behind her ear—the one he’d learned at eighteen was her weakness. “Because I am. I’m here and ready whenever you are. I’ve thought about that kiss every damn second since it happened. Played it out a hundred different ways, and they all end the same, Willowtree. With me inside you.”
The floor might as well have vanished beneath her, the aisle of decorative hardware surrounding her fading into nothing as she did the only thing she could. She clung to him. She gripped his shirt in her fingers, and he tightened his arm around her in response, holding her up and against him. They were as close as they could be in public, every hard inch of him pressing against her, and yet it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Despite knowing better, despite everything that’d happened between them, she wanted more.
“Will?” Rory called out from the other aisle, making Willow jump, the trance broken.
After another kiss behind her ear and a deep inhale, Finn stepped back. His eyes were heavy, his lips parted, and she couldn’t stop herself from dropping her gaze to the front of his jeans where his arousal was clear as day as it strained against the denim. For her.
“I have to go.”
He nodded once, just a slow dip of his chin, his eyes never leaving hers. Reaching up, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Anytime, Willowtree,” he said, his voice low and gritty as he dropped his hand and stepped back from her. “Remember that. Anytime.”
And then he turned and walked away, down the aisle and around the corner before Rory and Nola could find them together. All Willow could do was stare at his retreating form.
Stare and daydream about what it’d be like if she actually gave in.
Willow had slept like shit the night before, her body overheated and her dreams a constant reel of what’d happened yesterday in the hardware store. At three a.m., she’d been desperate, having jolted herself from yet another dream before she could climax, and slipped her fingers into her panties to get herself off. And though she had finally gotten relief, that relief had come to thoughts of Finn—something she hadn’t done in years. Worse, though, was that she’d woken for the day with him still on her mind, the images she’d used of the two of them together as she’d made herself come popping up at the most inopportune times.
Like while she was at work.
She sorted the papers on her desk, trying to get her mind on her schedule for the day instead what Finn’s body would look like now that he’d fully developed into a man. She’d gotten a glimpse of it at Ty’s house, but she wanted to see more. Wanted to feel more. She had about a hundred fifty-seven things to tend to before her daddy got back tomorrow, and not one of them was Finn’s dick, which kept flitting through her mind despite her attempts to block it.
“Hey, girl,” Avery said as she strolled into the outer office. She powered on her computer and tucked her purse away. “I’ll be right in.”
Good. Maybe having her best friend in her office would stop Willow from picturing herself tracing the willow tree tattoo on Finn’s side…with her tongue.
“Since you’re here, I’ll assume you didn’t commit a felony against Rory last night.” Avery sat in the chair across from Willow, prepared for their daily morning meeting with a pen and pad of paper in hand. “What did—” She cut off when she finally glanced up at Willow. “What’s happening? What’s going on here?”
Shit. Avery was too observant for her good. Or for Willow’s good anyway.
Willow shifted in her seat, figuring playing dumb was her safest bet. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s with your face?” Avery gestured in Willow’s general vicinity.
“Um…I tried a new blush this morning?”
Avery snorted then pointed her pen at Willow. “Bullshit. Something happened.” She gasped and leaned forward, resting her elbows on Willow’s desk. “With Finn?”
“No, not with Finn.” Willow avoided Avery’s narrowed gaze until she’d bounced her eyes onto every flat surface in her office. When Willow glanced back at her, Avery’s eyebrow was raised in silent judgment. “Okay, fine. Yes, with Finn.”
“Holy sh—”
Willow held up her hand. “But it’s not a big deal.”
“‘Not a big deal’, just like when he dry-humped you on the dance floor at Ropers? Or ‘not a big deal’ like when he kissed you within an inch of your life at Ty’s?”
Dammit, why did she keep getting into these situations with him?
“Neither, okay?” Willow said. “It was neither. It was just…” She blew out a deep breath and closed her eyes. “I don’t know what the hell is goin’ on. I’d like to say it’s all physical—”
Avery shot forward. “How physical?”
“Would you gimme a damn minute?”
“Right, sorry.” Avery made a continue gesture. “Go on.”
“I’d write it off as just this crazy physical pull between us, but then this mornin’, this got delivered.” She pulled the package from her drawer, showing it to Avery.
“Paints?” Avery furrowed her brow. “I’m not following.”
“They’re the same brand I used to use…back in high school.”
“Okay…?”
“I didn’t order them. They’re from Finn.”
Avery’s eyes widened. “Ohhhh.”
There hadn’t been a note in the box, but there hadn’t needed to be. She’d known from the second she’d opened it they’d been from him, and it’d thrown her right back to ten years prior when he’d done the same thing. He’d worked hard to help his momma pay the bills and didn’t have extra to buy a soda, let alone the expensive paints Willow had preferred. But when her daddy’d told her he was done footing the bill for her “frivolous junk,” Finn had used his hard-earned money just to make her happy, sending them to her when hers had almost been out.
Willow shook her head. “I just…I don’t know what it means. It’s not even about the paints, exactly. I’m just not sure—”
“Will!” a voice boomed from the hallway.
The two of them froze, eyes wide as they stared at each other for half a second before Willow’s eyelids slid shut, a long exhale leaving her. Because of course her daddy would come home early and unannounced. That meant one of two things. Either her momma was sick—and considering Willow had just talked to her yesterday afternoon, that wasn’t likely—or he’d heard about the Thomas boys’ plans within Havenbrook.
Richard Haven stomped into the outer office, red-faced and out of breath. Her momma hadn’t mentioned him coming home, and she definitely would have. Which meant this trip back home had been an impromptu flight. If the wrinkles in his clothes were any indication, he’d caught the red-eye in and hadn’t even bothered going home before showing up at town hall.
“Daddy!” Willow said, forcing herself to smile. “What’re you doing back early?”
“I think you know damn well why I’m back. My office. Now, young lady.”
Without waiting for a response—because he knew Willow would follow without hesitation—he turned around and stormed out of Willow’s office suite, disappearing down the hall toward his.
“Well, this should go well.” Willow pushed away from her desk and stood, smoothing a hand over her hair, then her skirt. As if having a perfect appearance would help talk her daddy off the ledge.
“I’ll be on standby to run over to The Sweet Spot,” Avery said. “She’s got triple lemon today.”
“Maybe it won’t be that bad.” Willow slipped around her desk.
“And maybe I should just go ahead and place an order now…”
With those encouraging words from her best friend, Willow made the short trek out of her office and across the hall to where her daddy spent most of his days. Normally, he’d be in his inner office, his assistant seated in the outer office. But today, he occupied the main space, pacing fr
om one end to the other.
This wasn’t going to be pleasant. Still, she plastered on a smile. She could pretend with the best of them, and as far as she was concerned, everything was just peachy around these parts. “How was your trip, Daddy?”
He stopped as soon as she spoke, spinning around to glare in her direction. “How was my trip? My trip was fine. Finding out about those Thomas boys sullying up my town, on the other hand, was like getting eaten by a wolf and shit out over a cliff.”
Internally, Willow rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Sullying was a bit strong of a word choice. Finn and Drew had been back for more than a week, and the town hadn’t imploded yet. In fact, other than the mess going on in Willow’s head—and, okay, her panties—not much had changed. Except that more Havenbrook residents now had work.
King Construction—the company Nash ran with his daddy—employed all kinds of tradespeople. Many of whom had either been traveling to nearby towns for work, or worse, had been out of it entirely. And right now, those people were earning a wage right there in Havenbrook. In a prime location on the square—the last missing piece in an almost revived downtown.
But there’d be no trying to convince her daddy of that. According to him, Finn Thomas and his brother had trouble written all over them, had from the day they’d been born. No amount of words on Willow’s part would make him change his mind, so she wasn’t going to try.
Instead, she said, “I’d hoped you’d be able to enjoy your conference before comin’ home to that news.”
