But the theater. That was a whole other thing. There Angie not only could be dramatic—it was required. And Sophia seemed to be a very positive influence. And, if nothing else, it gave Angie a place to be and something to do. The theater specialized in unknown plays by amateur playwrights and novice actors and actresses. At least that was Finn’s impression from what his mother had told him. But Angie loved it, and she hadn’t come up with her own community help project in almost a year. Finn was a fan of the place for that, if nothing else.
“Ma, Sophia isn’t going to literally repair the theater with her own two hands,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll hire help. And I’m sure the insurance company gave her what she needs. They’ll at least make sure the walls are rebuilt and things are cleaned up.”
But Angie was already shaking her head. “They won’t. She told me she needs ten thousand dollars. She has friends who can help, but they all work full-time so the work at the theater will have to be on the side and will take some time. She’s going to have to close for a while.”
Finn looked at his mother. She was sincerely distraught.
“But I was thinking I can help Sophia with the drywall. I was watching some videos online,” she said.
Finn resisted sighing. The last time Angie had used YouTube, she’d attempted to build a coffee table out of old wooden pallets. It hadn’t gone well. And she’d needed stitches.
“I know how to do drywall,” Finn said. Exactly as he knew she’d expected him to. She knew him. And she knew that he would never let her near drywall paste. But she didn’t have to talk him into this. That theater mattered to her, so it mattered to him. And she’d written a play that was actually going to be performed onstage. He was still amazed by that. “You know you can just ask me,” he added.
She was frowning, though. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a problem.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Angie said. “We’ll work it out. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
He looked at her. Okay, what the hell was going on? She always wanted—or at least accepted—his help.
“Well, I’m involved now,” he said resolutely. “Tell Sophia she’s got two more big strong guys coming to her rescue.”
“Finn, I really don’t—”
“No worries, Ma,” he said. “I’m on it.”
He heard her heavy sigh as he headed for the front door. Now he was really curious about this theater and the people there.
He pulled his phone out and dialed his brother as he strode to his truck. Angie didn’t like to bother them at work, so she wouldn’t call Colin right away. Probably. But Finn wasn’t taking the risk.
“What’s up?” Colin answered a moment later.
“Whatever Mom says, your answer is, ‘I’m with Finn.’”
Colin chuckled. “Always.”
“I’m serious.”
“Okay. What happened?”
“Well, how do you feel about doing some manual labor for a good cause?” Finn asked. “And I should inform you, your answer is, ‘Sure.’”
* * *
The front door of the Birch Playhouse was unlocked, but there were no people in the lobby when Finn stepped inside.
“Hello?” It was pretty quiet, but he heard the sounds of…birds chirping. He frowned and headed deeper into the theater. As he drew closer to the office door where he’d seen the computers and safe last night, he also heard the sound of a rushing stream. What the hell?
He stepped through the doorway. “Hello?”
No answer, but the birds and water were much louder now, and he also heard crickets. Really loud crickets. He turned the corner to an inner room and came up short. There was a woman sitting on a pink yoga mat next to the desk, her back to the door.
She was dressed in a sports bra and shorts, her blond hair piled on top of her head in a knot. And she was not at all the older, grandmotherly type he’d been expecting to find at the theater.
Not that he was complaining.
She had her legs crisscrossed, her hands resting on her knees. He’d seen the pose before and knew it had something to do with meditation.
He didn’t want to interrupt or startle her, so he decided to wait.
He knew he should go out in the lobby. Or that he should leave and come back. Or leave and call later. But he hesitated in the doorway. It might have been that he didn’t want to risk his mother getting to Sophia first and convincing her friend not to let him and Colin pitch in. Or it might have been that there was a lot of creamy skin on display and he was, after all, a guy.
But he only lingered for another thirty seconds. Or so. He was just turning away when he heard, “Just fucking breathe, for God’s sake.”
For a moment Finn thought she was talking to him. It was good advice. But then he realized that she was self-coaching. Or something. She was talking to herself, anyway.
He propped a shoulder against the door frame. Yeah, he was going to wait. Right here.
She pulled in a deep breath, her shoulders rising, and rolled her head. Tendrils of long blond hair escaped the bun on top of her head and brushed against the smooth skin of her neck. Her hips flared below the curve of her waist, and the muscles that bracketed her spine were taut. And Finn wanted to run his hand over them.
That was a very strange and out-of-character urge. But out-of-character urges were becoming uncomfortably common in the past few hours. He’d been thinking about the woman from last night and all her gloriously smooth, bare skin far too much. And now he wanted to touch this woman too? He wanted to feel her muscles flexing, the warmth of her body, and the satiny texture of her skin. That was really creepy and stalkerish. He straightened. It was one thing to notice a woman was beautiful…and not wearing many clothes. It was another to watch her without her knowing it. And imagine touching her. A lot. Yeah, he was going to go now. And quite possibly not come back after all.
“Dammit.” Suddenly the woman slumped forward, her forehead to her mat.
He paused midturn. Was she okay? Should he…
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She bumped her forehead against the mat as she said each fuck.
Finn couldn’t help but smile slightly. Clearly the meditation wasn’t going that well.
“Screw this,” she said, pushing herself up from the mat. She stomped to the stereo system and hit a button. The gentle, if loud, nature sounds were instantly replaced by the pounding sound of good old hard rock. AC/DC to be exact.
Finn felt his eyes widen as she turned toward a freestanding punching bag in the corner of the room. He hadn’t noticed it before now. Of course he hadn’t had his eyes off the woman and her back—which was still weird—so he hadn’t noticed much about the office. She pulled on boxing gloves and began to punch and kick at the bag with impressive form. This was obviously not a new activity. Her punches and jabs were perfect, and her kicks were spot-on.
And if he’d liked her firm, smooth back muscles in a sitting position, watching them stretch and tighten as she kickboxed was so much better. The punches showed defined shoulder and upper back muscles as well. The kicks drew his attention to her hips, which were curvy but firm. And her footwork brought his attention to her calves and thighs and ass, and yeah, he wanted to touch those too. It didn’t help that Brian Johnson was singing about American thighs just then.
He was going to wait in the lobby. Because even though he wasn’t as creepy as he seemed at the moment, if she saw him, she’d not only assume he was weird, she’d probably also kick his ass.
Just then she pivoted to the other side of the bag, punched twice, and then lifted her leg for a roundhouse kick. But as she balanced, she must have caught him out of the corner of her eye. She gasped, and her leg completely missed the bag. She stumbled, her momentum making her pitch forward. She caught herself with her hands flat on the floor, but Finn had already taken a first instinctual step toward her. Before he could say or do anything, however, she righted herself and pushed her hair back
from her face. She stared at him for a moment.
And he knew instantly who she was.
The crazy woman from last night.
This was the woman who’d gone back into a burning building and then ditched him in the crowd after he’d saved her ass.
And she was a blonde. The rest, however, was exactly as he remembered it. Curvy, firm, with smooth, creamy, pale skin. The skin he’d just been obsessing over was the same skin he’d been obsessing over since last night. And the memory of it was seemingly seared into his palm and his mind. And damned if that didn’t sound creepy as hell too.
He frowned. She frowned. And then she turned and jabbed a finger at the stereo, cutting AC/DC off midwail.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I knocked but you didn’t hear me over the…crickets.” Which was kind of funny, actually, considering crickets generally signified peace and quiet.
When the corner of her mouth curled slightly as well, Finn relaxed a little. He remembered her feistiness from the night before, the way she’d given him a hard time and had then gone all soft. He was, of course, suspicious of the soft side, as he’d told her, but he couldn’t help but like it.
“I was…” She looked around. “You heard the crickets too?”
He nodded.
“How long have you been standing there?”
Downplay the creep factor, Kelly. “Just long enough to know that the deep breaths weren’t doing the job.”
She sighed. “Yeah. There’s something wrong with me. Kicking the crap out of a punching bag relaxes me, and chirping birds are like fingernails on a chalkboard.”
He laughed. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t think I could get my legs crossed into that position on the floor if there was a million bucks riding on it. Not everyone is made to meditate.”
She studied him for a moment. Then said, “You don’t seem too irritated.”
“Irritated?” He was horribly distracted, actually. He was having a hard time not staring at her stomach. And wondering just what in the hell was wrong with him. He wanted to run his hand over her abs too.
He was a perv. He’d always thought he was a nice guy who respected women and considered physical attraction natural and normal. And he’d always thought he was an ass man. Now, with this woman, he was weird and into backs and abs.
“You’re not here because I dodged you last night after the fire?”
Right. The giving-her-wig-and-robe-to-someone-else-to-throw-him-off thing. “I didn’t love that, but I can take a hint. I didn’t know you’d be here today,” he told her.
He had briefly thought about the fact that, if she was a regular at the theater, he might run into her over the days it would take to do the cleanup and repairs. But then he’d reminded himself that she had gone to great lengths to be sure he didn’t find her after the fire was out. So he’d written her off. Or tried to, anyway. Apparently her skin, for fuck’s sake, had made a deeper impression than he’d realized.
“You didn’t come to talk to me?” she asked.
“I came to talk to Sophia, actually,” he told her. “Or maybe to warn her.” He gave her a little smile.
She frowned in return. “Warn her? About what?”
“I’ve mobilized a group of volunteers to come help with the cleanup and repair,” he said. “They’ll do great work. But they’re kind of rowdy. Just thought she should be prepared. And I realize I should have asked her, but things tend to kind of snowball with these people.”
That was an understatement. Not only was Colin a firefighter, but three of their cousins were as well. Michael, Ian, and Matthew had agreed to help, as had five other guys on the crew. Not to be outdone, Finn had called Tripp, and they’d recruited six more cops. As soon as his uncles and other cousins heard about the situation, they’d easily have five more guys.
“You mobilized a group of volunteers?” she asked with a frown. “Why would you do that?”
“This place is really important to my mom, and she has a lot of people who care about her and who owe her favors of one kind or another.” Angie cooked, sewed buttons back on, visited people in the hospital, gave advice about everything from birthday gifts to girlfriends, and generally just made everyone feel better. “So they want to help get things fixed up so that the next play can go on as planned.”
She was staring at him now. “When you say a group of volunteers, what are we talking here?”
“Probably twenty guys, give or take.”
Her eyebrows rose. “And they know what they’re doing? Tools and construction and stuff?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
With that she gave him a big, stunning smile. And Finn felt like she’d punched him in the gut. Holy crap. That was the kind of smile that made a man want to keep doing whatever caused it, over and over and over again.
“That’s amazing,” she said. “Honestly. I don’t know who your mom is or why you have so many friends with hammers, but I’m so grateful. I don’t know what to say.”
She didn’t have to say anything. If she kept looking at him like he’d just saved the day, he was going to be very happy he’d come down here.
“You might know my mom,” he said. “She’s here a lot. Angela Kelly.”
The huge, bright smile dropped away instantly. “Angie is your mom?”
He nodded. Uh-oh. She didn’t look thrilled anymore. What was the problem here? It was rare that someone didn’t like Angie. But Finn could imagine that her propensity for meddling and butting in could rub someone the wrong way. And not all of her advice was solicited. “You do know her then?”
“Well, yeah, of course I know her,” the woman said. “But you’re her son?”
“Finn,” he said.
“You’re Finn?” she asked, looking even more alarmed now.
“Yes.” He frowned. “Is everything okay?”
“But you’re…”
He waited for her to finish that thought, but instead she just started shaking her head.
“No way,” she finally said. “No way.”
“Sorry.” He shrugged. “It’s true.”
“But the way she talks about you…” The woman trailed off again.
But she was not getting away with that. “What does she say about me?” He didn’t like this a bit. First his mom had acted strange about him coming down here to help out, and now this woman, who clearly knew Angie well enough for her to have been talking about her sons, was obviously flabbergasted by his offer to help. What the hell?
She finally seemed to really look at him and notice that he was scowling.
“She just said that theater isn’t really your thing and that you weren’t interested in coming to any of the plays,” she said. “She told me she doesn’t share much about all of this with you, so I’m surprised you’d be here to help us get back on our feet.”
He was insulted. “Well, apparently it’s true that she doesn’t share much about it because I had no idea that she would be so broken up about you having to cancel some shows, but she was. So here I am. Now can you please help me find Sophia so I can clear all of this with her?”
The woman crossed her arms. “I’m Sophia.”
He frowned at her. “Seriously? Come on.”
Her eyes widened. “Excuse me?”
“Look, I can tell that you’re feeling protective of my mom and maybe you feel that way about Sophia too, but I promise you, I’m here to help.”
She shook her head. “I am Sophia, Finn. Everyone calls me Sophie. But I’m the Sophia you want to talk to.”
He stared at her. “But…” What? That made no sense.
Except…why didn’t it? She’d been here last night. She’d known her way around the theater. She was here now. She knew his mom. Oh yeah, because in his head she was supposed to be seventy-plus years old.
“You’re the Sophia Birch that owns this theater?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“But I…looked you up,” he
finished, realizing he might sound like an idiot.
One of her eyebrows arched. “You looked me up?”
“I looked up Sophia Birch. After my mom started spending so much time here,” he said. “I wanted to know who she was hanging out with all the time.”
“And what did you find?” she asked.
“A sweet woman with white hair and a big smile and…eyes just like yours.” There, now he officially sounded like an idiot.
She gave him a small smile. “That was my grandmother, Sophia Birch. She owned this theater for almost forty years.”
“And then passed it on to you.”
“Yes,” Sophie said with a nod.
“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I’ve been thinking about Sophia, my mother’s friend, as a much older woman.”
Sophie nodded, but she looked as if she was fighting a smile. He had to ask. “What?”
“Just that…you’re a cop, right?”
“Yes.”
“And you did some research on someone to make sure your mom was safe.”
“Yes.”
“But the research didn’t include the fact that the woman you were looking for has been dead for three years?”
“I—” But he had nothing to say. She was right. “I looked up the theater, saw her name was associated, figured it was all legit, and yeah, I guess I didn’t dig very deep.”
“I’m not saying you should have,” she told him. “Your mother is a grown woman, capable of making decisions about her activities and relationships, right?”
“You would think,” he said, almost to himself.
But she heard. “You don’t think she’s capable?”
“Well, now that I’m talking to one of her best friends, I should probably watch what I say.”
Sophie nodded. “Probably.”
“Because your loyalty is definitely with her,” he said, watching her face.
“Definitely.”
She said it firmly, her eyes meeting his directly, and Finn decided he really liked her. She was a loyal friend to his mother. Even if she was forty-some years younger than he’d thought. “So I’ll just say that my mother lets her heart lead her more often than her brain,” he said.
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