Finn wasn’t sure he’d ever hated another human being as much as he hated Richard Haven. The man was everything Finn despised in a person—arrogant, pushy, narrow-minded, rude. And he’d been that way as long as Finn could remember. It’d been different then, though. Back when he’d been just a teenager, someone good ol’ Dick could use his powers to intimidate and persuade and push exactly where he wanted.
It’d been a long time since anyone had been able to do that to Finn. Come to think of it, it’d been since the day he’d left Havenbrook behind. When Dick had made sure Finn had no choice but to leave, he’d sworn he’d never allow someone to do that to him again.
He only wished Willow could say the same.
It’d about killed him to hear her daddy talk to her like that. Finn had stood in the hallway, fists clenched, body nearly vibrating with the urge to do something. To step in and intervene. To tell Dick to fuck off once and for all. But if he knew Willow at all, he was certain she’d hate that.
His original intention had simply been to stop by and see if she wanted to grab lunch. See if his little talk at the hardware store had had any effect on her at all. Because it sure as hell had on him. Truth was, since he’d put it all out there, hoping she’d see things his way, he couldn’t stop the runaway train known as his desires. He wanted her, with a single-minded focus. What he should’ve been spending his hours concentrating on was getting the bar up and running, not on the probability of getting another kiss from Willow.
But knowing with complete certainty she felt this pull too, that there was a possibility she’d give him another chance? Well, he couldn’t think about anything else. And he’d be damned if he left again without giving this everything he had. Without giving them another shot. He couldn’t live with the what-ifs for the rest of his life if he didn’t.
“You gonna stand by the window all night like a goddamn creeper, or what?” Drew asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, tossing his keys in the air before catching them.
“She’s been out there all damn day.”
“Just doin’ her job.”
“I can almost guarantee planting fresh flowers isn’t in her job description.” Finn looked out the window again, finding Willow across the square at the cafe, attempting to shuffle the heavy wrought-iron furniture into some semblance of order. No doubt on her daddy’s command.
“Yeah, well, her daddy’s an asshole,” Drew said. “Never did think a woman was good for much else than cookin’ and makin’ babies. He’s probably made Willow sorry every single day that she took that job.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Drew clapped Finn on the shoulder, then turned to leave. “Gonna meet Nola at Rudy’s. You wanna come?”
Go and have a drink while Willow busted her ass for someone who wouldn’t even give her a grunt in thanks? Not if you paid him. “Nah. I’ll see you later.”
“All right then.”
The door shut behind Drew, but Finn didn’t take his focus from Willow. She still wore her favored business attire—a slim skirt and sleeveless top, the suit jacket she’d had on that morning tossed over one of the cafe chairs. Those siren red heels she still wore called his name. Her feet must’ve been killing her.
All day, he’d watched her from inside the bar. Watched as she’d flitted around like a hummingbird, her legs carrying her as fast as they could go. First posting flyers around the square for the annual Fourth of July parade she’d no doubt she worked her ass off to make sure was amazing, then filling all three dozen planters with fresh flowers. As much as he’d wanted to go out there and help with her duties, he knew her well enough to realize she wouldn’t want it—would, in fact, bite off his head for even offering.
But now, long after he and the rest of the crew had closed shop for the day, she still worked. It was past eight in the evening, which meant she’d been working for nearly twelve hours. Not to mention, she was attempting to heft the heavy, wrought-iron cafe tables where they needed to go, in between wrangling the child-sized playhouses and toys strewn all about from the day care.
Well, he’d had about enough of that.
She’d probably give him a piece of her mind for helping, but he couldn’t stand around and watch her bust her ass for another hour when he was perfectly capable of assisting her so she could get it done in fifteen minutes.
It was quiet on the square when he stepped outside. That was something he’d forgotten about, living in California for so long. At this time of night out there, many people were just starting their evenings. Getting ready to go to supper or out with friends. In Havenbrook? The entire town had been shut down for more than an hour already. If you wanted to go out after seven p.m., you did so in Parkersville. Of course, that’d all change once they opened their doors.
Willow was completely oblivious to Finn as he strolled across the square. Actually, she was completely oblivious to most everything but the table currently giving her grief. She mumbled under her breath, agitation and frustration etched in every clenched inch of her body.
Without a word, he went to the other side of the table and hefted his end off the ground. She stumbled a little now that the resistance wasn’t there and stared at him, mouth agape. Jesus, even after a day of manual labor, after running around for twelve hours with barely more than a water break, she was still so gorgeous. Her hair was mussed, strands falling this way and that around her face. Her cheeks were flushed the same gorgeous shade of pink they’d been when he’d told her he’d thought of nothing but being inside her again.
And now there he stood, lifting one side of an iron table high enough to hide his hard as steel cock.
“Should I go ahead and move this myself?”
Willow shook her head then stepped into action, lifting her side of the table. “I didn’t need your help, you know.”
“I know.” And he did. She’d spent so much of her life proving herself to people it was ingrained now. The thing was, though, she didn’t have to prove anything to Finn. Never had. “Now, where are we movin’ these to?”
She paused for only the slightest moment before lifting her chin to indicate an area behind Finn. “Daddy wants them out of the pathway, so they need to stay close to the building.”
He had a hundred different things he wanted to say in regard to what her daddy wanted and exactly how few fucks Finn gave about what Dick desired, but that would only start up a shitstorm between him and Willow, and that wasn’t how he wanted to play this. Not tonight. Not with her.
They worked quietly for a few minutes, but Finn had been starved for her for so long, the silence didn’t last. “You may not use the same brand of paints anymore, but I’m glad to see you are still painting.”
Willow’s eyes shot to his, her brow furrowed. “How do you know I still am?”
He titled his head to the side as they shuffled another table closer to the building. Wasn’t it obvious to every single person who walked through the square that Willow had painted the backdrops on them? He lifted his chin in the direction of one awash in color, a single tree in a green meadow, a rainbow sunset as the backdrop. “Wasn’t too hard to figure out.”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen anything I’ve done. How were you so sure it was mine?”
He smiled, just a slight curve of his lips. “You think I went even a day when I didn’t think about your touch? Trust me, I can identify every single thing you’ve laid a hand on.”
She froze for a moment, pausing with the table held a couple inches above ground. Then she shook her head and shuffled forward, her gaze locked on the ground. “That’s quite a claim when you haven’t been here in years. You don’t know me. You knew me, once. Not the real me, though. Only the person I showed to everyone else because I didn’t even know me back then.”
“You don’t really believe that. I knew you. I saw you. Saw everything you tried so hard to hide from everyone else. I wish you’d let me in again, because then or now, nothing much has changed. You’re still my favorite.”
She blinked at him, seeming to be at a loss for words. Good, he wanted to crack those walls she’d built up. Wanted to take a wrecking ball and knock them all over.
She forced out a laugh as she spun around and grabbed the closest chair to move. “Favorite, huh? I don’t know about that. I seem to remember a certain stuffed monkey named Ralph who you absolutely treasured. He even had a better spot next to you on your bed than I did.”
He didn’t know whether to fall to her feet and hug her or hoot to the heavens. Because try as she might, she hadn’t forgotten about them. About their history or the dumb little things that made them them. It gave him hope like nothing else had.
Making a big deal of looking around, he shot a worried glance over his shoulder. “Hush now, Willowtree. That’s supposed to be just between us.”
She pressed her lips together, clearly trying to rein in a smile, but it didn’t matter that her lips never curved. The laughter sparkled in her eyes.
And he couldn’t stay away anymore.
Not stopping until he was close enough to touch her, he did just that, tracing his finger from her temple down her jaw. “We had a lot of things just between us, didn’t we?”
Her eyes connected with his, and for the first time since he’d been back, they were open and honest—like a wall had been knocked down right before his eyes. She seemed to realize it too because she turned away, freeing herself from his gaze. “I wouldn’t recall. So long ago and all. You understand.”
Oh, he understood, all right. Understood she was fighting like hell to keep those walls up. Well too damn bad. He’d knocked one down, and he wasn’t going to let her build it back up. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Finn slipped his hands in his jeans pockets and sidled up to her as she walked toward her discarded suit jacket. “Were you able to grab anything to eat while you were workin’ down here all day?”
She slid him a glance out of the corner of her eye, the apprehension he would’ve found yesterday thankfully absent. “You been watchin’ me, Finn?”
Dipping his chin in acknowledgment, he met her stare. “Every chance I get. Don’t ever want to take my eyes off you, Willowtree.”
The air crackled between them, and there was no doubt she felt it too. Not with how her lips parted, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Under the guise of grabbing her blazer, she dropped her gaze and draped the fabric over her arm. “Not yet. Hopefully Mac saved me some of whatever she made for dinner tonight.”
“And if she didn’t?”
She shrugged. “Then I guess it’s microwave popcorn to the rescue.”
The thought of her surviving on microwave popcorn after all she’d done today didn’t sit well with him. Not at all. “Or you could come up to my place and I could whip up a couple of your favorites.”
He could see the war going on behind her eyes, could see how much she was fighting with herself over her answer. He’d be damned if he made it easy for her to say no. “And, yes, I still remember the recipe—thin sliced bananas stacked on a generous portion of peanut butter with a drizzle of honey. And it just so happens I picked up a fresh loaf of bread today at the store.”
She heaved out a sigh, shifting from foot to foot as if the pain had finally begun to register. “I have peanut butter and bread at home, Finn.”
“I’m sure you do. But you don’t have a Finn at home to make it for you.” He reached out and slipped her jacket from her arm before draping it over his own. “Come on, Willowtree. After the day you had, let me make you a sandwich.”
Glancing across the square to their new building, she bit her lip. “But Drew—”
“Is out with Nola. He’ll be gone for hours.”
“I don’t know…”
“It’s just a sandwich.” The look she gave him said he wasn’t pulling off that lie. It wasn’t
just a sandwich, and they both knew. “Okay, it’s just a sandwich if that’s all you want it to be.”
She stared at him for the longest minute of his life until finally she dipped her chin in acquiescence. He couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across his face, so fucking thankful he was making progress with her. He didn’t know if it was because she was too tired to argue, if the thought of trekking home was too much to take, or if it was him…them. Honestly, he didn’t care as long as it bought him more time with her.
He put his back to her and bent into a crouch. “Hop on.” Glancing back in time to see her horrified expression, he laughed. “Hurry up, I wanna get you fed.”
“I am not getting on your back, Finn. For one thing, I’m in a skirt. For another, I’m not twelve.”
He raised an eyebrow as he stared at her over his shoulder. “Pretty sure we used to do this when you were eighteen, not twelve.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not eighteen, either.”
“No, you’re not. But what you are is tired.” He stood and tossed her jacket over his shoulder, then bent and scooped her right off the ground and into his arms.
Willow gasped, her hand flying to the back of his neck to hold on. “Griffin Reilly, you put me down right this second!”
“What the hell is with everyone middle-naming me lately?” he asked as he took off toward his building. He tried not to think about how amazing she felt, how even after all this time, she still fit him like they were meant to join together. Like they were pieces of the same puzzle. And puzzle pieces, no matter how long had passed since they’d been put together, still linked seamlessly.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t act like a Neanderthal and you wouldn’t get middle-named.”
“How is me wanting to save you from how much pain you’re in being a Neanderthal?”
By degrees, she began relaxing in his arms the closer he got to his building until she was nearly boneless, her fingers tracing small, subtle patterns on the back of his neck. He wasn’t even sure she was aware she was doing it, but he was. And his cock definitely was.
“Who said anything about being in pain?”
“Don’t insult me, Willowtree. Even though it’s been a while, I still know you better than most. And I know those two lines between your brows mean you’re in some kind of pain. With how you were shifting on your feet, I assumed it was those god-awful—but really damn hot—shoes.”
She lifted one leg and glanced down at her red heels with a sigh. “They’re my favorite, but they certainly aren’t conducive to ten hours of manual labor.”
“Why didn’t you go home and change?” He shifted her enough to open the front door, then strode toward the back stairs.
“Honestly, Finn, I can walk.” She clamped her mouth shut at the look he shot her. “And I didn’t go home and change because you know Daddy. No sense in giving him any more ammunition than he already has.”
Ammunition, his ass. Anyone else in Willow’s job wouldn’t have been able to pull off half of what she had. He was absolutely certain of it. He had to clench his teeth and force himself not to say anything about what, exactly, he thought of her asshole daddy. Finn wasn’t going to open that can of worms, not now that he actually had Willow in his arms. Now that she was talking to him and not biting his head off.
Once inside his apartment, he strode straight to the couch and sat down with her in his lap.
“What—” Before she could finish her question, he slipped off her shoes, then pressed his thumb into the arch of one foot, rubbing in soft circles as he kneaded the tension away. “Oh Lord…” The words left her on a sigh. She tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering closed as she let out a moan.
And just like that, he went from half-mast to hard as fucking granite beneath her. She was perched directly on top of his cock, and there was no way she couldn’t feel it. No way she didn’t know exactly how much he wanted her. Though, that wasn’t anything new. He’d made that clear at Ty’s house and then at the hardware store. And now, if she gave him the chance, he’d make it crystal clear to her right there on his couch.
“Feel good?” His voice came out gravelly, the sound just a rough whisper between them.
There must’ve been something in his tone, because she lifted her head, her eyelids fluttering open so she could look at him. She met his gaze. And, Jesus, she was the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen. He wanted to spend an hour just reacquainting himself with her lips. Wanted to spend an hour on every inch of her body, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything new. Just to make sure he was as well acquainted with her now as he’d once been.
“We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” But her hands didn’t listen to her mouth as she reached out and traced his lips, scraped her nails through the scruff covering his jaw.
“I disagree. We should absolutely be doin’ this.”
“Everyone—”
“I don’t give a single shit about everyone. I only care about you and me. You already know where I’m at with this. What I’m feeling.” He slid his hand up from her foot, trailing his fingers along the curve of her calf muscle, kneading along the way. “Now I just need to know how you feel about it, Willowtree. So tell me what you want. You wanna try this thing with me? See if we’ve still got that spark?”
They didn’t need to see anything. The truth was there, glaring as bright as a flashing neon sign. He knew it. She knew it. He just had to wait for her to admit it.
And then the fun could start.