by Jill Shalvis
She wasn’t adequate, as proven by her track record of no one loving her enough to stay with her, and the terrifying thing was, she didn’t know how to be more.
“Get out!” he bellowed at her.
Paul appeared in the doorway, looking startled. “What’s going on, Marvin?”
“What’s going on is you let her in!” And in case there was any doubt of the “her” in question, her grandpa stabbed a spoon in Pru’s direction.
“Okay, now let’s just take it down a notch,” Paul said, doing his orderly thing, moving between Pru and her grandpa. “Put that utensil down, Marvin. We don’t throw stuff here, remember?”
But Marvin couldn’t be deterred. “It’s her fault! Get out,” he yelled at Pru. “Get out and don’t come back, you tramp! You son-stealer! You good for nothing free-loading hussy!”
Michelle poked her head in, her eyes wide. “Paul, you need help?”
“We’re good,” Paul said evenly. “Aren’t we, Marvin?”
“No, I’m not good! Can’t you see her? She’s standing right behind you like a coward. Get out!” he bellowed at Pru. “Get out and stay out!”
Michelle slipped into the room and put her hand in Pru’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s give him some alone time.”
Pru let herself be led out of the room, heart aching, feeling more alone than she ever had. Her grandpa had never been the best of company but he’d at least been someone who shared her blood, her history . . . and now he wasn’t remembering any of that and all she did by visiting him was upset him. She might have to stop coming entirely and then she’d be completely alone.
You already are . . .
She walked home slowly even though it was misting and she was wearing just the sundress and sandals. Her heart hurt. Rubbing it didn’t assuage the deep ache that went behind the bone to her wounded soul. She missed her mom. She missed her dad. And dammit, she’d missed feeling whole.
She missed feeling needed. Wanted. Like she was crucial, critical to someone’s life. A piece of their puzzle.
Instead she was a tumbleweed in the wind, never anchored. Never belonging to anyone.
With her head down and her thoughts even lower, she nearly ran right into someone on the street. Two someone’s, locked in an embrace, kissing as if they were never going to see each other again. The man’s arms were locked around the woman, an expression of love and longing on his face as he pulled back, still holding the woman’s hands.
Had anyone ever looked at Pru like that? If so, she’d forgotten it, and she didn’t think one could ever forget true love. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted since the day she’d lost her parents, was for someone to care enough to come into her life and stay there.
Her chest tightened and her throat burned, but she refused to give into that. Crying wouldn’t help. Crying never helped. All crying did was make the day a waste of mascara. And since she’d splurged on an expensive one this time in a useless effort to give her lashes some volume, she wasn’t about to waste it. Get it together, she ordered herself. Get it together and keep it together. You’re okay. You’re always okay . . .
But the pep talk didn’t work. The lonely still crawled up her throat and choked her.
The man smiled down at the woman in front of him, his gaze full of the love that Pru secretly dreamed of. He took his girl’s hand and off they went into the rain, shoulders bumping, bodies in sync.
It broke her heart more than it should have. They were complete strangers, for God’s sake. But watching them made her feel a little cold. Empty.
A crack of lightning lit the sky. She startled and then jumped again at the nearly immediate boom of thunder, sharp and way too close. Skipping the wroughtiron entrance to the courtyard, she instead ran directly into the pub.
She stood just inside, her eyes immediately straying to the bar.
Finn stood behind it with Sean, who was addressing everyone in the place, and all eyes were on him.
Except for Pru, who was watching Finn. He stood at Sean’s side, his blank face on. Though Pru knew him now, or was coming to anyway, and she could tell by his tight mouth and hooded eyes that he wasn’t feeling blank at all.
“So raise your glasses,” Sean concluded, lifting his. “Because today’s the day, folks, our first anniversary of O’Riley’s, which we modeled after our dear departed Da’s own pub, the original O’Riley’s. He’d have loved this place.” Sean clasped a hand to his heart. “If he were still with us—God bless his soul—he’d be sitting right here at the bar with us every night.”
The mention of this loss would normally have made Pru’s heart clutch because of her family’s part in their loss, and there was certainly some of that, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off Finn. He wasn’t sad. He was pissed. And she thought maybe she knew why.
His dad hadn’t been anything like hers. He hadn’t cuddled his sons when they’d skinned a knee. He hadn’t shown them love and adoration. He hadn’t carried them around on his shoulders, showing them off every chance he had.
But for whatever reason, Sean was telling a different story. She had no idea why, but Finn’s feelings on the matter were clear.
He hated this toast.
“We miss him every single day,” Sean went on and finished up with a “Slainte!”
“Slainte!” everyone in the place repeated and tossed back their drinks.
Sean grinned and turned toward Finn. He said something to him but Finn didn’t respond because he’d turned his head, and as if he’d felt Pru come in, he’d leveled his gaze right on her.
If she’d thought the oncoming storm outside was crazy, it was nothing compared to what happened between her and Finn every time they so much as looked at each other.
You’re trouble with a capital T.
Her grandpa’s words floated around in her brain, messing with her head, her heart.
One look into your laughing eyes and I knew. All you wanted to do was have fun and you didn’t care what fell by the wayside.
She couldn’t do this. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by helping Finn find some fun and adventure in his life but now she knew she wasn’t. Worse, she felt too fragile, way too close to a complete meltdown to be here. And yet at the same time, she was drawn, so terribly, achingly drawn to the strength in Finn’s gaze, the warmth in his eyes. She knew if he so much as touched her right now, she’d lose the tenuous grip she had on her emotions.
Go. Leave.
It was the only clear thought in her head as she whirled to do just that but Finn’s warm, strong arms slid around her, turning her to face him.
He’d caught her.
“I’m all wet,” she whispered inanely.
His eyes never left her face. “I see that.”
“I’m—” A mess, she nearly said but the ball of emotion blocked her throat, preventing her from talking. Horrified to feel her eyes well up, she shook her head and tried to pull free.
“Pru,” he said softly, his hand at the nape of her neck, threading through her drenched hair. There were tangles in it but he was apparently undeterred by the rat’s nest. Pulling her in slowly but inexorably, his lips brushed her forehead. She could feel his mouth at her hairline as he whispered soothing words she couldn’t quite make out.
She melted against him. No other words for it really. He was real. He was solid and whole. He was everything she wanted and couldn’t have, no matter how badly she ached for him. She’d already wandered way off the track she’d set for herself, a fact that was now coming back to bite her hard because . . .
Because she was falling for him.
And what made it even worse; her day, her life, this situation . . . was that she not only wanted him in her life, she was desperately afraid and increasingly certain that she needed him as well.
She almost cracked at that. Almost but not quite.
But God, she couldn’t seem to let him go.
Finn tightened his arms on her, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “I
t’s okay,” he whispered. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”
But it wasn’t. And she didn’t know if she’d ever feel okay again so she pressed her face into his throat and let herself take another minute. Or two.
Or whatever he’d give.
Chapter 20
#HowYouDoin
Finn cuddled Pru into him, alarmed by her pallor, by the way she trembled in his arms, the tiny little quivers that said she was fighting her emotions and losing. Her dress had plastered itself to her delicious curves, her long damp hair was clinging to her face and shoulders.
Pulling back, he took her hand and led her to the bar so he could grab a fresh towel. He started to dry off her wet face and realized it was tears, not rain. “Pru.”
“No, it’s nothing, really,” she said quietly, head down, his fearless fun whisperer . . .
“It’s not nothing,” he said.
“I just . . . I need to go.”
Yeah, not going to happen. At least not alone. Finn turned and jerked his chin at Sean, wordlessly telling him he was in charge of the bar.
Sean nodded and Fin took Pru’s hand, leading her down the hallway, not in the least bit sorry for leaving Sean in the lurch. After that stunt toast Sean had just given, Finn was saving his brother’s life by leaving now.
“Finn, really,” Pru said. “Really, I’m fine. Really.”
“And maybe if you say really one more time, I’ll believe you.”
She sighed. “But I am fine.”
She wasn’t but she would be. He’d damn well see to it. He took her to his office.
Thor leapt off the couch where he’d been snoozing, immediately launching into his imitation of a bunny. Bounce, bounce, bounce while bark, bark, barking at a pitch designed to shatter eardrums. “Thor,” he said. “Shut it.”
Thor promptly shut it and sat on his little butt, which shook back and forth with every tail wag that was faster than the speed of light. The result was that he looked like a battery-operated toy dog.
On steroids.
Pru choked out a laugh and scooped him up. “Why are you here, baby?”
“He got done at the beauty salon and Willa had to go before Jake could pick him up, so I said I’d take him for you.”
“It’s not a beauty salon,” she said, face pressed into Thor’s fur, doing a bang-up job at keeping up the pretense of being fine.
“Babe, it’s totally a beauty salon,” he said. “When I walked in to pick him up, Willa was presiding over a wedding between two giant poodles, one white, one black. The black one was wearing a wedding dress made of silk and crystals.”
She slid him a look. No more tears, thank God, but her eyes were haunted even though she did her best to smile. “Wow,” she said.
“Impressed by the lengths Willa’s shop goes to make money?” he asked.
“No, I’m impressed that you can recognize silk and crystals.”
“Hey, I’m secure in my manhood.” He took Thor from her and tucked the dog under an arm. The other he slipped around her waist. “Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“I’m taking you home. You look about done in.”
“I passed done in about an hour ago,” she admitted.
They didn’t speak again as they crossed the courtyard. But Thor did. He started barking at a pair of pigeons and when Finn gave him a long look, the dog switched to a low-in-the-throat growl.
“They outweigh you,” Finn told him. “Pick your battles, man.”
The dog was silent in the elevator but that was only because Max, who worked on the second floor in Archer’s office, was in it. With his Doberman pinscher Carl.
When Max and Carl got off the elevator, Thor let out a long sigh that sounded like relief, which under better circumstances would’ve made Finn laugh. “You know your particular breed of mutt was bred to kill Dobermans, right?” he asked the dog.
Thor blinked up at him.
“It’s true,” Finn said. “They get stuck right here—” He pointed to his throat.
Pru choked out a laugh. “Finn, that’s a horrible story!”
He smiled and tugged lightly on a strand of her hair. “But you laughed,” he said.
“I laughed because it was a horrible story,” she said, but was still smiling.
And because she was, he leaned in and kissed her. Softly. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” she whispered back.
He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but it’d only taken one look at her open, expressive face to know she’d somehow been devastated today.
And, given the cut on her cheekbone, also hurt.
Both infuriated him.
The elevator opened and he took Thor’s leash in one hand and used the other to guide Pru off. They were in the hallway in front of her door when Mrs. Winslow’s door opened.
“Another special delivery?” Pru asked her.
“Not for me,” Mrs. Winslow answered. “It’s for you.”
“Um, I don’t eat a lot of special brownies,” she said. “No offense.”
Mrs. Winslow smiled. “Oh, none taken, honey. I’m just passing the word that there’s a little something in the dumbwaiter for you.”
“For me? Why?”
“For your bad day,” Mrs. Winslow said.
Pru blinked. “How do you know I had a bad day?”
“Let’s just say a little birdie looks after all of us,” Mrs. Winslow said. “And he let me know to let you know that you’re not alone.”
“He who?” Pru asked.
But Mrs. Winslow had vanished back into her apartment.
Finn and Pru walked into hers. Finn crouched down and freed Thor from his leash and the dog immediately trotted to his food bowl.
Pru dumped a cup of dry food into it, patted the dog on his head and then went straight to the dumbwaiter.
Finn went to her freezer. He didn’t see an ice pack but she did have a small bag of frozen corn. Good enough.
At her gasp, Finn turned to her. She’d pulled out a basket of muffins from the coffee shop. Tina’s muffins, the best on the planet.
Finn wrapped the bag of corn in a kitchen towel and gently set the makeshift ice pack to her cheek and then brought her hand up to it. “Hold it here a few minutes,” he said.
While she did that, he carried the basket to the kitchen table and they dove into the muffins right then and there.
“Good to have friends in high places,” he said instead of asking her about her face, and when she visibly relaxed he knew he’d done the right thing.
Didn’t mean he didn’t want to kick someone’s ass, because he did. Badly.
“It’d be better to know who those friends are,” she said, clearly not reading his murderous thoughts. She met his gaze. “Do you know?”
He had an idea but didn’t know for certain so he shook his head.
She took another muffin, chocolate chip by the looks of it. “Sean’s toast at the pub upset you,” she said.
Sitting across from her at her table, with Thor in his lap while he worked his way through a most excellent blueberry/banana muffin, he didn’t want to get into Sean’s toast. He much preferred to get into whatever had happened to her. But he knew that she wasn’t going to open up.
Unless he did.
Problem was, he hated opening up. To anyone.
“I’m sorry your dad never got to see the bar and what a success you made of it,” she said quietly.
He put his muffin down. “My dad couldn’t have cared less what we did with ourselves when we were kids. He wouldn’t care what we do now either.”
“But Sean said—”
“Sean’s so full of shit that his eyes are brown,” he said. “My dad never had a pub. Hell, he never even acknowledged he was Irish. My brother perpetuates the lie because he thinks Irish pubs do well and he isn’t wrong. We have done well but it isn’t because we’re Irish, it’s because we work our asses off.”
“You mean you work your ass off,” she sa
id.
He met her knowing gaze. “I just hate the fraud.”
“It’s not a fraud if it’s true, even a little bit.” Reaching across the table, she covered her hand with his. “Stop feeling guilty about something that isn’t your fault and isn’t hurting anyone. Let it go and enjoy the success you’ve made of the place, in spite of your father.”
He stared at her. “How is it that you’re cute, sexy as hell, and smarter than anyone I know?”
She gave him a small smile. “It’s a gift.”
Leaning over the table, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled the bag of corn from her face. Gently he touched her cheekbone. “You okay?”
“I will be.”
Her resilience made him smile. “Yeah?” he asked. “And how’s that?”
She shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s raining, and I love the rain. Someone sent me a basket of muffins, and I love muffins. Thor is actually clean and going to stay that way for at least the next few minutes. I don’t have to work until midday tomorrow. And I have company.” She smiled. “The good kind.” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s all good.”
She was aiming for light and she’d succeeded. It was how she dealt, he got that. And he was getting something else too—that he could learn a hell of a lot from her.
She rose from her chair and came around the table. She lifted Thor from his lap and set the dog down. Then she climbed into Finn’s lap herself and cupped his face.
His arms closed around her and one thought settled into his brain. This feels right.
She feels right.
Chapter 21
#UpShitCreekWithoutAPaddle
Pru lifted her gaze to Finn’s, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze. It said she wasn’t alone, that she mattered, a lot.
At least you’re not the only one falling . . .
This thought was a cool tall drink of relief immediately followed by a chaser of anxiety.
Because she hadn’t meant for this to happen. She hadn’t meant for any of it; his attention, his affection, his emotional bond . . . and all of it was a secret dream come true for her.
Just as all of it was now a nightmare as well, because how was she supposed to give it up? Give him up?
