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Better Luck Next Time

Page 35

by Denise Grover Swank


  It had taken a few seconds for that to sink in. “You hired a private investigator to do a background check? I thought you’d just Googled him!”

  His eyes hardened. “No one’s going to hurt you and get away with it, Addy. Never again.”

  To her surprise, Finn hadn’t been offended in the least, and in fact, it had endeared her brother to him. “If I had a younger sister, I would have done exactly the same thing.”

  “You only say that because he approves of you,” she’d said, hands on her hips.

  He’d grinned. “What’s not to approve?”

  They’d been worried about the fallout of her name being in The New York Times piece about Alan, but so far, she’d mostly received support. Alan had been suspended from the Lanier School, and Lee was certain he’d be fired. Her father had sent her a letter—a literal, pop-it-in-the-mail letter, although he’d typed it rather than handwritten it—saying he wished she would have employed more restraint. And better judgment. She’d cut it into little pieces and incorporated them into a painting full of reds. This one she hadn’t attempted to destroy. Several artists were joining forces for a civil suit, but Adalia had told the others she wasn’t interested. She was ready to move on with her life.

  And it felt good. Finn and Adalia were both busy, him with launching his consulting business, her with her art, but they tried to cook dinner together several times a week, switching between their houses, especially since Finn had admitted how much homemade meals meant to him. He often went with her to the studio space in the evenings and worked on proposals and whatever wizardry he came up with for his clients while she worked on her pieces, Tyrion always with them.

  She was happy. No, it was deeper than that—she was content. So much so, she worried it was too good to be true. Finn had told her he’d always wanted to camp out in his back yard when he was a kid, but his parents wouldn’t allow it. So she’d made it happen. And that night, as they lay under the stars in the back yard, she confessed to Finn that she’d never felt like this, and she was terrified it would be snatched away.

  He’d cupped her cheek, and his blue-green eyes had searched hers. “I’m not going anywhere, Adalia. You’re the very best thing that has stormed into my life. Why would I ever risk losing you?”

  So here she was, at the end of an event that had been successful in every right. They’d sold every ticket. Maisie’s speech had tugged heartstrings, and the guests loved the puppies. The last-minute food was delicious. The artists had all sold more pieces than expected. And Dog is Love had a few thousand more dollars to keep the lights on and give love to abandoned pets.

  Finn was on the other side of the room, talking to a couple who were admiring one of Blue’s unsold pieces, a hanging octopus rendered in shades of blue and fuchsia. He looked impossibly handsome in his dark suit and tie. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned his head slightly and caught her eye. A slow smile spread across his face—the one he brought out only for her—and her stomach somersaulted.

  “Happiness looks good on you, dear,” Dottie said, bustling up to her. “Now, are you quite sure you won’t be attending the after-party? Stella was disappointed she couldn’t bring the goats, so I promised her we’d have a petting zoo in my back yard. Lurch and Josie are setting everything up as we speak.” Lurch and Josie were both ex-Buchanan Brewery staffers, and from what Adalia had seen at the couple of parties she’d attended with them, she suspected the party would rage well into the night. It was the kind of event she usually wouldn’t miss for the world, but she had other plans.

  Jack came up and hugged her. After sharing the news about his sister, Iris, with her and Georgie, he’d become much more open with them. He’d privately told her that her reaction to the news had been his favorite. She’d said, “I’d be happy to get another secret sibling every month if they all have a right hook like you do.”

  In truth, she’d been happy to learn his secret wasn’t something sordid. His obvious affection for his sister only bolstered her opinion of him.

  “Come on, Adalia,” Jack said. “Stella stopped by earlier and she said her goats had formed a taste for Finn’s clothes. She suspects he’ll be down to his boxers within minutes of stepping into Dottie’s back yard.”

  “Boxer briefs,” she corrected, grinning.

  He pulled a face.

  Maisie came up to them then. There was dog hair on her green dress, something that made Adalia smile fondly as she reached out to brush it off. One of her volunteers had already taken the puppies back to the shelter, but Maisie had stuck around to “pull more heartstrings,” as she’d put it.

  “Four adoptions,” Maisie said with a wide grin. “And I found a foster home for a senior dog too.”

  “That’s certainly something to celebrate, dear,” Dottie said with the smile of a carnival barker who knows they’ve caught someone’s interest. “Why don’t you head over to my house early for the after-party?” Her gaze shot to Jack. “Both of you. You can help finish the setup, and we can enjoy the back yard before the other guests show up.”

  Jack and Maisie exchanged a glance.

  “Sure, why not,” Jack said. “My little sister is in charge of this one.”

  Maisie’s gaze shot to River and Georgie across the room, but she nodded without asking if they’d be leaving early too. Which was good. She no longer seemed intent on avoiding Georgie.

  “Are you sure you want to miss the fun, Addy?” Jack asked one last time.

  “Yup,” she said. “I can undress my boyfriend just fine on my own. I don’t need a goat to help.”

  Another wince, but a playful one, if that were possible. “Say goodbye to the bro for me,” Maisie said with a wink. “I don’t want to interrupt his sales pitch. Blue already has a box ready.”

  Adalia glanced back at Blue’s exhibit as Jack, Maisie, and Dottie walked away, and sure enough, Blue was preparing a box with tissue paper that matched the piece, which was a sensible preparation because the couple did indeed buy it.

  After that, the event closed down quickly, and before Adalia knew it, she was giving a closing speech. She thanked the Buchanan staff for helping make the night so successful and told them to head home and come back the next morning at ten to help clear the event space. The remaining pieces would be on display—and for sale—in the tasting room until the new year. They headed off talking and laughing, bound for Dottie’s party, no doubt. Georgie and River gave her final hugs on their way out.

  Finally, it was time to leave, and Adalia tugged Finn out to his car and made him get in the passenger seat.

  “Do you trust me, Finn?” she asked once they were inside.

  He turned serious. “Endlessly.”

  She opened her small clutch and pulled out the blindfold he’d made her wear to the Biltmore.

  His breath hitched. “Is it a waste of breath to ask what that’s for?”

  Leaning over the console, she gave him a slow, provocative kiss, then pulled back a few inches and grinned. “Yes, but that’s a hint.”

  He snatched the blindfold from her and slipped it on. “Why are you still parked? ‘We talkin’ or we racin’?’ Go.”

  Laughing at the Fast Five reference—she’d “forced” him to sit through it five times, just like she had—she started his car and drove directly to her studio. After she parked, she led him to the front door and then down the hall to the space she subleased from Blue. Finn was an intelligent man, and she knew he likely realized where they were, but that wasn’t the secret. Besides, they both loved the blindfold game.

  Holding his hand, she led him to a small sculpture positioned on an overturned metal drum. She removed the tarp and tossed it to the floor.

  “Okay,” she said, “you can look.”

  He tugged the blindfold over his head and stared at the piece, his jaw dropping. “Addy. When did you find time to work on this?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” she said with a wry smile. “What with you being underfoot so often. But I did some of it on week
ends, and I’ve gone into work late a few days.” He continued to stare at it, and her chest tightened. “Do you like it?”

  His gaze shifted to her, and she saw her answer in his eyes.

  She smiled up at him, tears pressing for release. “The piece I showed you before, the first one I made since the whole Alan debacle, represented what led me to you.” She smiled. “Don’t you see? That’s my past, and this”—she gestured to the two-foot sculpture of an anatomical heart that sat on the metal drum—“is my present and my future.” A tear slid down her cheek. “With you.”

  “Oh, Addy.” Finn crushed her to his chest and kissed her so deeply it made her knees weak.

  She pulled back and took his hand. “Let me explain it to you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Obviously, the heart is made of two different halves. One is rusted tin and the other is shiny but dented aluminum. That’s us.” Barbed wire was wrapped around both sides, but it was thicker on the rusted piece. There were multiple patches on both parts, representing their pasts. A heart locket she’d found in a flea market to represent her mother and a shiny silver business card holder to represent her father. On Finn’s side, she’d embedded a metal key chain with a Duke insignia, and a few bottle caps from Big Catch, as well as small trinkets to represent the lives they’d led before they came together.

  His hand squeezed hers. “Addy.”

  She smiled up at him. “See the thin line of gold that binds them together? That’s our love. And look at the bottom of the heart.” She pointed to the tip. “The gold is spreading out from the seam, starting to cover the pain we brought with us.”

  The gold was partially covered a button with her high school logo and a piece of metal she’d embossed with the logo of the newspaper that had written the libelous piece about Finn.

  “Addy,” he said breathlessly.

  “Come see the back.” She tugged him around the drum. “Here the gold is streaking out through my interpretation of arteries, spreading through the heart, not only binding us together, but healing us as well.” She gave him a worried look. “What do you think?”

  “It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She gave him a coy smile. “And what’s the first?”

  “I’m doing this all wrong if you even have to ask. You, Adalia Elizabeth Buchanan. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I wake up every morning grateful when I find you in my bed, and go to sleep at night deeply content when you’re in my arms. Not to mention I spend fifty minutes of every hour throughout the day thinking about you.”

  She arched a brow, fighting a smile. “Only fifty minutes?”

  He grinned. “I have to work sometime.”

  Laughing, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “So you like it?”

  “It’s the thing I love second most.” Then he added, “Spoiler alert: you’re the first.”

  Her heart melted like butter. “Finn, I love you too.”

  “But you can’t sell this, Addy,” he said, an earnestness filling his eyes. “I’ll buy it. Name your price.”

  Tilting her head, she gave him a dubious look. “What if I told you it was a million dollars?”

  “Then I’ll cash in some mutual funds,” he said with a serious expression.

  “You would do that?” she asked in shock.

  A possessive look washed over his face. “If that’s what it took to get this piece. Yes.”

  She kissed him again, slow and leisurely, then said, “It’s your lucky day. I made it as a gift for you.”

  He sucked in a breath. “For me?”

  “Yes. For you.” She took the blindfold out of his hand. “And that’s not the only gift I have in store, so you need to put this on, Mr. Hamilton,” she said in her British accent.

  Love and lust shone in his eyes. “I like the sound of that.”

  * * *

  Getting Lucky

  Asheville Brewing #3

  January 2021

  Also by A.R. Casella and Denise Grover Swank

  Asheville Brewing

  Any Luck at All

  Better Luck Next Time

  Getting Lucky

  (January 2021)

  Bad Luck Club

  (March 2021)

  Also by Denise Grover Swank

  Asheville Brewing

  Any Luck at All

  Better Luck Next Time

  Getting Lucky

  (January 2021)

  Bad Luck Club

  (March 2021)

  The Wedding Pact

  (Humorous contemporary romance)

  THE SUBSTITUTE

  THE PLAYER

  THE GAMBLER

  THE VALENTINE

  (short story)

  * * *

  Bachelor Brotherhood

  Spinoff of The Wedding Pact series

  ONLY YOU

  UNTIL YOU

  ALWAYS YOU

  Bluebird Bay

  Women’s fiction

  Cowritten with Christine Gael

  Finding Tomorrow

  Finding Home

  Finding Peace

  * * *

  Young adult contemporary romance

  ONE PARIS SUMMER

  Off the Subject Series

  (New adult contemporary romance)

  AFTER MATH

  REDESIGNED

  BUSINESS AS USUAL

  About the Author

  A.R. CASELLA is a freelance developmental editor by day, writer by night. She lives in Asheville, NC with her husband, daughter, two dogs, and a variable number of fish. Her pastimes include chasing around her toddler, baking delicious treats, and occasional bouts of crocheting. Any Luck at All, co-written with New York Times bestselling author Denise Grover Swank, is her first book.

  You can find out more at www.arcasella.com

  About the Author

  Denise Grover Swank was born in Kansas City, Missouri and lived in the area until she was nineteen. Then she became a nomad, living in five cities, four states and ten houses over the course of ten years before she moved back to her roots. She speaks English and smattering of Spanish and Chinese which she learned through an intensive Nick Jr. immersion period. Her hobbies include witty Facebook comments (in own her mind) and dancing in her kitchen with her children. (Quite badly if you believe her offspring.) Hidden talents include the gift of justification and the ability to drink massive amounts of caffeine and still fall asleep within two minutes. Her lack of the sense of smell allows her to perform many unspeakable tasks. She has six children and hasn’t lost her sanity. Or so she leads you to believe.

  * * *

  For urban fantasy: dgswank.com

  For mystery and romance: denisegroverswank.com

 

 

 


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