Spin

by Bella Love

  We looked at each other.

  “You’re too smart to think you’re dumb,” he said slowly, and examined me for a long time, like you would if you were considering buying a used car. I felt like he was going to kick my tires. I was drunk and flabby and my eyes were red-raw and I looked like I’d been run over by a tank, so I hoped he wouldn’t.

  To the good, I wasn’t thinking about the Sandler-Rosses anymore. I was thinking of half-whispered, long-discarded dreams that Finn had just put back on the goddamned table.

  I was angry.

  I just wasn’t sure what I was angry at.

  His face cleared as if he’d suddenly reached some inner decision.

  “What?” I said suspiciously. “What?”

  “You don’t think you’re stupid, Janey. You’re just scared.”

  I gasped.

  “Yup.” He nodded. “It’s easier to be stupid than scared.”

  I glared. “You’ve got that all wrong, Bucko. It was never easy being stupid.”

  He nodded like I’d just answered a question. “You’re not stupid,” he said again. “You’re scared.”

  I got real close to his face, cupped his face between my palms. “Finn, listen to me. I might actually be defective. I don’t think you’ve considered that possibility. My mother went crazy. For real crazy, in the hospital, batshit crazy. Pop did too, only he ended up in jail. They’re all nuts. I’m all that’s left. And I think I have some something inside me too,” I whispered. “I feel it in there, inside of me. You don’t think I’ve thought about a restaurant before? Or another business where I don’t have to work every weekend of my life making someone else’s life look pretty? I want to make my life pretty. I have ideas. I have them all the time. Why, just the other day I thought of starting an all-girls valet service.”

  He looked startled. I plunged onward.

  “And it’s like I’m being bounced back, like there’s a magnet there, pushing me away. Like I have to run away from even the thought of it. I get all confused. I start to panic.”

  He looked me right in the eye. “That’s not being unable to do something, Janey. That’s being scared to try.”

  We stared at each other.

  “I’m drawing a blank,” I said.

  He sort of smiled. “Babe, you can try to salvage what you’ve got, or you can start over.”

  Surely it was best to salvage. I was built for salvage missions. Or I could start over. Which terrified me. And excited me. Beyond belief.

  I felt like a high-pressure front had just moved through my life, and I could breathe again. That was so insane I was almost breathless again from the power of it.

  Maybe this was the rarefied air, not the Sandler-Rosses’ DC air. Maybe the reason I’d felt breathless before was because I’d been smothering.

  “I think you can do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “Anything.”

  He believes in me.

  My body trembled.

  Finn had seen through to the center of me, and he believed in me. Finn had been in a war and seen the worst that people could do, and he believed in me. He knew where I came from, and he believed in me.

  The floaty, weightless feeling came back, a wave of Finn believing in me. It did just what I’d predicted it was going to do, smash me up on the shore. I felt rocked to my core. But as it came, it split apart all those little fissures across the surface of my shell and split the whole thing wide open. I was crying and didn’t even realize. I was kissing Finn, hard—I did realize that—and pushing him down on the couch, crawling on top of him.

  His hands gripped my shoulders, trying to slow me down. Possibly the tears were throwing him.

  “Whoa, babe, what—”

  “You believe in me?”

  He started smiling. “Yeah.”

  “Yeah?” “A hundred percent.”

  Actually, it was probably more like 99.9%. Because he’d doubted me. Thought I’d bail on him if I knew the truth. But he wasn’t the only one; I doubted me too, so he had good reason to doubt. And truthfully, ninety-nine percent was a whole lot higher than the percentage of how much I believed in myself. For now, it was enough. He was doing better than I was. I’d aspire.

  I put my mouth directly over his and whispered, “Fuck yeah,” and started tugging up my dress.

  “Fuck yeah,” he agreed and started helping. He picked me up and sort of carry-dragged me into the bedroom.

  “So, anything at all?” I asked, panting as we tore each other’s clothes off, because I wanted to hear him say it, over and over and over again. “I could do anything?”

  “Anything,” he agreed as I pulled down on the waistband of his jeans. “What you really like is food.”

  “I’ve thought of it sometimes,” I admitted as we tugged my dress off together. In the darkness of the past, alone, unseen, I’d thought about it. Dreamed about it. Discarded it.

  “So do it,” he urged, tearing the dress over my head. He paused when he looked down. “Where are your shoes?”

  “On the Sandler-Rosses’ front yard. I threw them out the window when I drove away.”

  He started laughing and pushed me back on the bed. “Do it, Janey.” It sounded sexual and possessive and freeing, and it made me hotter than anything else he’d ever done or said. “Do whatever you want.”

  “I can do that,” I whispered as I pulled him down on top of me.

  “You can do anything,” he said back, pushing my knees apart. “I’m right here if you need me.”

  His smile came down to kiss my smile, and it was the best kiss I ever was a part of, bar none.

  Nineteen

  I WOKE THE next morning with a wavy, surreal feeling, a combination of spring-like hope, belly-deep fear, and a mild hangover.

  I’d texted Savannah last night, told her to hold on and I’d call her in the morning. So that’s what I did.

  Finn stayed home with me too. As I hit 3 to speed-dial Savannah, I watched him through the window, down in the meadow, Max at his side, doing something with the fences.

  “Are you okay? What should I do?” was the first thing Savannah said, before she knew anything.

  I explained the whole story, and she cursed Peter J. up one county and down another. I was impressed. Then, after this highly validating experience, we talked cold, hard decisions, starting with the clients who’d fired us. Savannah was all in favor of hunting them down and trapping them like the prey they were, but I shook my head.

  “Let them go,” I told her.

  “Let them go! You worked to get these clients. You sacrificed hours of good conversation and sanity to get these clients, Mac. You’re just giving them up?”

  “Yeah.” I looked out the window at Finn, who was whacking away at brambles along the tree line where he wanted a paddock. He wanted horses. I was scared of horses. This was kind of exciting.

  Savannah said, “They don’t know what they’re missing,” and I sat up straight.

  “Listen, Savannah. I think I’m out. For good.”

  “What?”

  “I think I’m done driving other people’s cars.”

  Smart Savannah was quiet for a long minute. I waited. I was learning. Then she sighed. “Okay. I think I knew that was coming.” She drank a sip of something. “I need to meet this Finn guy. He must be something.”

  “Oh, he’s something.”

  We were quiet together a minute. It was a weird moment, because until now I hadn’t really realized this meant I wouldn’t be working with Savannah anymore. But then, she was so good, I hardly worked with her at all anymore anyhow. We each had our own clients; I brought them in, farmed out a lot of them to her, and kept the big ones for myself.

  It was time for her to have the big ones.

  “So, you want to buy me out?” I said.

  I heard a tiny sound, like a noisy sip. Or a gulp. Or a sob. “Sure.”

  I leaned back and closed my eyes. “A buck.”

  “Jane.”

&nbs
p; “Two.”

  “Can I come see you?”

  “Please.”

  “Make me one of your drinks. I’m on my way.”

  Savannah flew into Reno, and we picked her up. We were back at Finn’s place by evening, and I got her drunk as a skunk. Finn got a little drunk too. He liked Savannah. She liked him, a lot. It was a little scary. And we talked. A lot. We agreed on a price for the buyout. We tweaked some of my drink recipes for fun; Savannah had the tongue and nose to detect the subtle differences I was going for when I tried one mint leaf versus two, or papaya instead of prickly pear. And, as always with Savannah, whatever I was working on got ever so slightly and ever so much better.

  We hugged for about an hour when she left the next morning. She didn’t want a ride to the airport; neither of us did long good-byes. So we said good-bye in the doorway, and Finn called a cab and paid for it. I have no idea how much it cost, but we were out in bum-truck-nowhere, so I knew it was a lot.

  I hugged him afterward, partly in gratitude, partly because I was crying and didn’t want him to see.

  “We handled over a thousand events together,” I said as he guided me inside. “And now I’ll never see her again.”

  “Janey,” he said, calmly reinjecting sanity, “you’ll see her in a week. She’s coming back to handle the Sandler job next weekend.”

  Well, that was true. Less dramatic, but true. I’d called Olivia and given her Savannah’s number, and explained Savannah was still available to them and would handle all the outstanding problems and chaos that still had to be herded into submission.

  Olivia accepted on behalf of her parents. I’m pretty sure they hadn’t preapproved that message, but no way was I going to stop Olivia from taking a stand. Especially when it benefitted Savannah. I was just disappointed I couldn’t hide in the bushes and watch when she told them.

  Also, I was greatly looking forward to the moment when Savannah met Mr. Peter J.

  Olivia cried a little before we hung up. I didn’t mention anything about what her dad had done, but maybe she knew. I cried a little too, because I felt so good, and Olivia was so steamrollable, and there was nothing I could do about it. Not in her life, anyhow. Only my own.

  Afterwards, I let Finn sit me at the counter and get me a lemon water. “Now what?” I said, sort of rhetorically. Sort of not.

  Morning sun poured through the open windows. The air smelled good, like river and grass and bright new wood from the construction site. The sky was crushingly blue.

  “Now you have some decisions to make,” Finn said.

  “Right. I mean, things are pretty wide open,” I said. Wide open in a wide-open scary way. “If DC’s out….”

  He watched me. “DC is out, right?”

  I nodded slowly, and said even more slowly, “It is a good place to be if you’re an event planner.”

  He nodded too, then said, “I heard snakes drop out of the trees in DC.”

  I stared. “What?”

  “Yep. Black rat snakes, right out of the trees. I don’t think they’re poisonous or anything.” He looked at me like he wasn’t sure on that.

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s a terrible rumor designed to prevent women from entering our capitol.”

  He shook his head solemnly. “Nope.”

  I leaned forward. “Right out of the trees?”

  He mimed something coming down from the sky, plop onto the kitchen counter.

  I reared back and shivered. “Okay, well, now that I know about the snakes, DC is most definitely out.”

  A side of his mouth went up. He came a step closer and leaned his hip against the counter. “I thought you might want to know.”

  I reached for him. “I won’t go there, ever, not even if I get elected to something.”

  “You’d have to run first.” He put his arm around my waist, then paused and looked down at me. “You’re not considering running for office, are you?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I’ve considered it so much as I haven’t ruled it out yet.”

  He shook his head. “They’ll never know what hit them.”

  I hadn’t ruled anything out, except ever leaving Finn again. But he didn’t know that yet. “So, I guess I have to give up the hotel,” I said slyly.

  He interlaced his fingers at the small of my back. “I hate that hotel.”

  I laughed.

  His blue eyes were clear on mine. “Come here, Janey. Be with me.”

  “How long do you want me?”

  “You don’t want me to answer that.”

  A fresh, cool wave rose up in me. A stupid smile pulled at my mouth. I cleared my throat in a businesslike manner. “I have to go back, of course, to clean up my affairs, and I have a few clients outstanding that I’d like to see in person.”

  “Sure. But you’re coming back.” He didn’t phrase it like a question. I didn’t answer it like one.

  “I’m coming back.”

  “Your apartment?” he asked.

  “Oh.” I thought of my glossy apartment. “The lease is up at the end of next month.”

  That made us both pause.

  I cleared my throat. “Well, I guess I better book a flight.”

  “I can drive you. It’s only a little over three hours.”

  “And back.”

  “And back.” His eyes never left mine.

  “I have the rental car,” I reminded him.

  “I’ll find someone take it for you.”

  I laughed a little. “Finn, the airport is an hour away.”

  “We go to Reno all the time, to ship and receive. I’ll send two guys, and one can drive your car. Or,” he added, smiling like he’d just had a good idea, “maybe Beck can just grab the Express shuttle back.”

  I lifted my eyebrows. “Poor Beck.”

  “He deserves it.”

  “Don’t you like him?”

  “Love him like a brother. When you do want to leave?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, sort of stupidly. I wasn’t used to being taken care of. “I guess we could skip the heat of the day and traffic, and drive out tonight?”

  He nodded. “Okay. Tonight. That leaves us the whole day here.”

  “The whole day,” I echoed. I was feeling a little feverish at this point. Hot and fluttery and light-headed, with little flushes running over my body. “Okay,” I said, exhaling. “Yeah.”

  He grinned. “Fuck yeah.”

  So that’s what I would do, for now. Come here. Be with Finn. Breathe. Figure it out. If I just kept following this feeling, who knows where it would lead me?

  “Okay,” I said firmly, standing up to sling my arms over his shoulders. “If you can handle a struggling, unemployed event planner, I can handle a struggling pawnshop owner.”

  “Co-owner,” he corrected, sliding one hand up my ribs until his fingers brushed the underside of my breast.

  “Co-owner,” I agreed, kissing his neck. I shifted to let him get at my body better.

  “And we’re not struggling,” he said.

  I stopped the kissing. “Hm?”

  “We netted two million dollars last year.” He slid his other hand down to my ass and pulled me up against him hard.

  I stared. “You what?”

  “Netted two mil.”

  I felt absolutely stunned by this piece of information. My jaw sagged. He grinned, but because he was a good man, he didn’t gloat. He just said, “Want to go see my river, babe?”

  So he took me down to his river. We walked through the meadow, Max at our side. The drying grasses in the meadow were hot and fragrant, and in a fit of romantic frenzy, I asked Finn to lay me down beside his river and make love to me.

  He pointed out there were a lot of sticks and pinecones and a general expanse of dirt, and that maybe I should have thought of this while we were back at the house and could have brought a blanket with us instead of a towel.

  Nevertheless, he was ready to fight the good fight, but I declined.

  Instead, I sat on
the boulder on the river side of the little spit of earth between the swimming area and the main river, while Max romped from swimming hole to river to bank and back again. I dabbled my feet in the water and watched Finn bypass the log bridge to swim across, then haul himself out on the far shore, which gave me a great opportunity to enjoy his wet, hard body, glistening with wetness. Then he clambered up the cliff and swung off a rope tied there, and splashed down into the river like a crazy person.

  He swam over to me, his body moving powerfully through the water. I could see his feet kick under the surface of the slow-moving river. “You should come in.”

  I had no intention of going in. “Is it cold?”

  “Yep.”

  I shook my head.

  “You scared of cold water too?”

  My jaw dropped. “Scared of cold water?” That was ridiculous. I wasn’t scared of cold water. I was scared of rivers.

  He came a little closer and his feet touched bottom. He shook his head and drops of water sprayed through the sunlight; then he leaned his stomach against the boulder and looked up at me. His eyes were startlingly blue in the bright sun. “It means we’d need to make a list of all the things you’re scared of to keep them straight.”

  I arched my eyebrows. “Is that so?”

  “Yep,” he said, very breezily.

  I made a snorting sound. “Such as? Besides a new career, because that is a perfectly reasonable thing to be scared about,” I told him.

  He eyed me a moment, then said “Spiders.”

  “Ha.”

  “Snakes.”

  “Well—”

  “Horses. Bars, taverns, and watering holes.”

  I was silent.

  “Bullies.”

  Then I added, “Spreadsheets,” in a quiet voice. “Accounting. History lessons. Things that take a long time to wrap up. Food used as foreplay.”

  “That wasn’t foreplay, babe.”

  “Any of that ‘back door’ action,” I continued.

  He laughed. “You didn’t seem scared.”

  “Missing a plane. Catching a plane. Running out of gas. The cost of gas. Second chances.” I looked down at the river glinting sunlight back up at me in a blinding way. “Rivers.”