A couple days after the kiss that’d rocked Willow’s world, she was still doing her best to forget about it. Okay, she was doing her best to try to forget. So far, it wasn’t going well. Or at all, really. She’d done little but think about what it’d felt like to have Finn’s lips on hers again, to have every inch of his body pressed against hers, all that heat directed solely at her.
There was no denying it anymore. Over the years, she hadn’t inflated their chemistry in her mind. It was there, and it was real, and it was every bit as potent as it’d been when they’d been only teenagers. Maybe even more so. Which meant she was well and truly screwed.
“Will.” Rory stood in the paint section of the local hardware store, holding up two white samples. “Which one do you like better?”
Normally, Willow could debate paint colors with the best of them, but she could barely focus on her own name let alone the varying shades of dove and moonlight. “Um…that one.” She pointed to the one in Rory’s left hand.
Rory scrunched her nose, her lips pursing as she considered it. “You don’t think it’s too yellow?”
“What room is this goin’ in again?”
Rory narrowed her eyes. “Have you been listening to anythin’ I’ve been sayin’?”
Well, actually…no. No, she hadn’t been. As if Willow didn’t have enough to think about after that kiss with Finn, she also had to contend with the fact that her daddy was coming home from his conference at the end of the week. She wasn’t sure how she’d managed it, but as far as she knew, he was none the wiser about the new Havenbrook residents. And if he’d gotten wind of it, she had no doubt he would’ve called her immediately, demanding answers. Since she hadn’t received any five a.m. wake-up calls, she figured all was good. Which was nice in the present, but it only postponed the inevitable blowup when he came back and found out what had been happening in his precious Havenbrook during his absence.
“Sorry, Rory. Tell me again?”
With a huff and an eye roll, Rory held out the white and white paint samples in front of Willow’s face. “I’m repaintin’ the study.”
“Didn’t you just do that a couple months ago?”
Rory lifted a single, perfectly groomed eyebrow. “Yes, I did. But I don’t like it. It’s too dark for the space, closes it in. I want to go light this time, with pops of color in the accent pieces instead. I’m thinkin’ crimson and teal.” She waved the paint sample Willow had picked in her face. “So, do you think this one is too yellow for that?”
She shouldn’t have been surprised at Rory’s whim when it came to redecorating her house. Sean, Rory’s husband, worked as an attorney at his daddy’s firm, which meant long hours for him and even longer hours for Rory at home taking care of their two daughters all by herself. Willow didn’t know the ins and outs of their marriage—Rory wasn’t one to discuss that kind of thing, so Willow didn’t push—but it seemed to her Sean didn’t put up a fuss at the constant changes Rory made because she didn’t put up a fuss when he had to work late for the sixth night in a row.
“No, I don’t think it’s too yellow,” Willow said, though she still hadn’t more than glanced at the samples.
“Hmm…” Rory turned around, moving to the different light sources the hardware store offered to see the variances in color. “I’m just not sure.”
Willow plucked a deep blue sample from the display. The shade would be perfect if she painted an ocean scene at sunset. “So Sean’s workin’ late again?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“He seems to be doin’ that a lot lately. He workin’ on a new case?”
“You know his daddy trusts him the most, Will. Doesn’t like any of the other attorneys to help him with his cases, which means long hours for Sean.” Rory’s response came out sharper than usual, an undercurrent in her tone that had Willow glancing up. But before Willow could question her on it, Rory’s smile was back in place.
“Did you hear about what happened to Brenda Nokes?” Rory asked, her eyebrows raised.
“Can’t say I have.” Willow replaced the blue sample and grabbed something in a light orange—perfect for the glow of the sun.
“It’s a shame, just a shame. She caught Bill with Susanna Jenkins! Can you believe that? Poor thing, her husband and her best friend.” Rory tutted, shaking her head. “According to Edna, she’s not leavin’ him either. They’re gonna try to work it out.”
“That’s good, I guess.”
“Good?” Rory laughed humorlessly. “I wouldn’t say there’s anything good about the situation. Can you imagine havin’ to decide between divorcing or sticking it out with a man who wants someone else? Bless her heart, I just feel so bad for her.”
Despite being a gossipmonger, Rory’s sympathy was genuine. Without letting Willow get a word in, she continued, “At least they don’t need to worry about people talkin’ for long. All the commotion around it’ll die down in a bit. Honestly, all anyone can talk about is the Thomas boys anyway.” She looked at Willow over her shoulder. “Did you get my voice mail about them moving in to that little apartment over their building? No one’s been able to figure out if it’s permanent or temporary. But heavens, can you imagine the Thomas boys living here again?”
Rory laughed, shaking her head as if the idea were preposterous. As if Willow hadn’t been imagining that very thing since she’d been swept off her feet by a kiss that definitely shouldn’t have happened. “I haven’t had a chance to swing by yet, but I’m plannin’ to. Just to check in on them, of course. See how they’re doin’ and welcome them back into town. Maybe bring ’em some muffins.”
Uh-huh. A welcome that came with a side of spying and information mining. Willow saw right through Rory’s bullshit story, but she didn’t call her on it. What was the use? Besides, if Rory’s attention was snagged on something else, maybe she’d stay off Willow’s case for more than a day.
“Before I can do that, though, I need to figure out which of these I like better…” Rory continued comparing the stark-white and slightly less stark samples, so Willow slipped over to the unoccupied paint counter, leaned against it, and prepared for a long night. The last time she’d agreed to come with Rory, they’d spent three hours in this damn store, most of which had been spent looking at door hooks. Door hooks. Only Rory would put that much effort into perfection.
After that unforgettable experience, Willow had sworn to herself she’d never come again. And then tonight had happened. She and Mac were supposed to watch their nieces while Rory and Sean went out to dinner. Instead, he’d had to work late, which meant Rory was slated for a night of seclusion. But when she’d dropped the girls off, she’d looked a bit frustrated at her husband’s disappearing act—a crack in a perfect facade. It was so unlike Rory, Willow had taken pity on her and asked if she could come with.
And now she was bored out of her ever-loving mind, debating the merits of painting a room dove or moonlight. That was what she got for trying to be the nice one. Mac had only waved with glee as Willow and Rory had left. Never mind the fact that she was on the hook as solo caretaker for their seven- and nine-year-old nieces. Apparently, that was far superior to being stuck with their eldest sister for any amount of time.
Rory was mumbling about cyan versus cerulean throw pillows and which would look better with moonlight when a laugh drew Willow’s attention down the aisle toward a small display of lighting fixtures. Two people stood below an array of ceiling fans, and it took Willow only half a second to realize it was Finn and Nola. The same time the realization hit her, an invisible fist clenched around her stomach and squeezed.
She hadn’t seen him since their kiss—had done all she could to avoid him, to be honest. If any of them had needed help with something at the building or had questions about a regulation, she’d had Avery run interference. Maybe not her most professional move, but she hadn’t been able to face him just yet. Not when the kiss still had her all jumbled up inside.
Rory’s nonstop stream of conversation faded into the background while Willow watched Finn and Nola laugh, Finn’s head tossed back and a huge smile on his face. And, yeah, she could say the fist squeezing harder around her insides was just the shock at seeing him when it wasn’t part of her plan. But she’d done an awful lot of lying to herself since he’d come back to town, and she was tired of it.
As much as she’d tried to avoid it, as much as she’d done whatever she could to believe something else, there was no getting around it. She was attracted to Finn. Desperately. Her mouth tingled as she remembered how he’d pressed her up against the wall, had slipped his tongue between her lips and feasted on her like she was the best thing he’d tasted in years. And now? Seeing him laughing and so comfortable with another girl kicked her straight in the heart, jealousy seeping out of her pores. Which didn’t make any sense. She’d never been jealous a day in her life, so why the hell would it start now when she wasn’t even with Finn?
“All right, I think I decided on moonlight,” Rory said, stepping up next to Willow. “What’s got your attention?”
Before Willow could straighten and look in the opposite direction of where Finn and Nola stood, her sister turned and glanced down the aisle. Rory’s eyes narrowed when she saw who stood there, and she hummed low in her throat. Her gaze was calculating, which meant Willow had about three seconds to get her sister out of the store before Rory did something that would no doubt humiliate her.
“Are you about ready?” Willow asked, keeping her voice quiet as she pushed away from the counter.
“Not quite.” Rory grabbed Willow’s hand and dragged her down the aisle, closer to Finn and Nola. “Need to get some new paintbrushes too. What do you think of these, Will?” she asked, far louder than she needed to.
At the sound of Willow’s name, Finn’s head snapped up, his laughter cutting off. He looked in their direction, a slow smile spreading across his lips when he caught sight of her. Lord, why did that make her stomach flip?
And, damn, now he was coming toward them, Nola at his side, and the single tumble of Willow’s stomach turned into a series of somersaults with no end in sight.
“Rory,” Finn said with a nod. “Good to see you. How’re things?”
Finn might’ve asked the question of Rory, but his eyes strayed almost immediately to Willow. And then he did a slow sweep of her from head to toe while Rory went on about everything amazing that was going on in her life—two kids on the honor roll, heading up the PTA, the multitude of fundraisers she’d done for Havenbrook residents in need, her husband being promoted to partner in the firm. It all blurred into background noise as Willow’s body heated up simply from Finn’s gaze. The way he allowed his eyes to trace over every curve of her was as good as a caress on her naked body. Everything tightened, her nipples going stiff and the warmth in her lower belly spreading until it was all she could focus on.
“But enough about me,” Rory said, placing a hand on his forearm. “I heard y’all bought the old soda fountain. Gettin’ it all fixed up?”
Finn finally dragged his eyes away from Willow and glanced at her sister. “We’re tryin’. Between the three of us, we’ll be lucky if it doesn’t look like a flea market in there, though.”
“Oh? What’re y’all thinkin’?”
Nola shrugged. “We’re still a little fuzzy on the details. We just know we don’t want a typical honky-tonk vibe. Maybe something with an industrial flair instead?” She pulled out her phone and turned it to face Rory and Willow, showcasing a few pictures she had stored. “We were thinkin’ something like this.”
“Together?” Rory asked, her voice laced with horror. “Oh no, honey. No.” Rory shook her head as she plucked the phone from Nola’s fingers and swiped through the images. “Now I know this is y’all’s baby, but I just wouldn’t be a good neighbor if I didn’t offer a few suggestions, now would I?” Rory’s eyes were alight with excitement, no doubt over telling someone—anyone—what to do. She grabbed Nola’s wrist and led her down the aisle back toward the lighting. “What I’d suggest is—”
Willow stopped listening then, because Finn stepped closer to her, choosing to stay with her rather than listen to Rory give a play-by-play of what they needed in the bar. He leaned a shoulder against the shelves at her back, curving his body toward her and bringing him far closer than was a good idea.
“Fancy meetin’ you here,” he said.
She slid him a look out of the corner of her eye, trying not to be affected by the warmth swirling in his gaze. Trying and failing. “If you’re not careful, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re following me.”
He smiled then, the sight nearly knocking Willow on her ass. “If I were following you, we’d run into each other a helluva lot more than we have been.” He reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Why did that tiny, innocent touch have her body lighting up? “I guess I’ve just been lucky these past few days.”
Willow swallowed, attempting to maintain the facade of calm, when inside, she felt like she was on fire. “Is that what you’d call it?”
Once again, he let his eyes drop to take in every inch of her. And those eyes? They heated until there was no doubt in her mind he was mentally undressing her, imagining what every inch of her would look like bare. “Yeah, Willowtree,” he said, his voice deep and rough, just a whisper in the space between them. “I call it damn lucky.”
She swallowed. Tried to get her breathing under control. Failed miserably. “Quit lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?” he asked with a smile.
“Like that.”
He leaned closer, dropped his voice even more. “Like I’m picturing what would’ve happened if I hadn’t walked away the other night? If I’d been able to get you out of your shirt? See what you’ve got hiding under all these layers? Can’t say I’ve stopped thinkin’ about it. This is just the first time you’ve been present for it.”
“Finn…” She tried to make it come out as an admonishment, scold him for being inappropriate, but instead, it came out breathless. Like a plea for more. Her entire body warmed, her cheeks growing hot, and there was no doubt in her mind everything was written all over her face.
She finally let herself meet his eyes, only to find his even more heated than before. Like it was taking all his strength not to grab her by the ass and hoist her up so she’d be wrapped around his hips—to hell if they were in a public place or not.
“It’s nice to see your cheeks get red for somethin’ other than you being pissed at me,” he said, running the back of a finger down her warm skin. “Though I don’t mind that either. As long as you’re talkin’ to me, I’ll take what I can get.”
His acknowledgment of her arousal only made the heat bloom more. She darted her eyes around him to where Rory and Nola stood, their attention focused on the lighting offered, paying her and Finn no mind. But all it would take was once glance in their direction, and Rory would see everything. And she would never, ever let Willow live it down.
Finn looked over his shoulder to where Willow’s eyes were fixed, then he circled her wrist with two fingers and tugged her around the corner into an empty aisle. And, dammit, but that was both better and worse. She wanted to be in a crowded store, surrounded by people, as much as she wanted it to be just the two of them, hidden and tucked away where they could do anything they wanted.
And, Lord, did she want. No more lying to herself. Which meant she didn’t trust herself around him. It was that simple. She’d proven time and time again she couldn’t be trusted in his company, and the longer she was in it, the higher the probability she’d do something totally out of character for her. Something her sister—the sister who stood only an aisle over—would have a conniption over. Something she’d hold over Willow’s head for eternity, right after sharing it with their daddy.
But Willow forgot about all that when Finn tugged her to him, sliding an arm around her to press against the small of her back. He didn’t stop until their fronts were flush, an intimate touch that was absolutely inappropriate for the middle of the hardware store…and for two people who weren’t a couple.
And yet Willow didn’t push him away. With hands resting against his chest, she stood stock-still and stared up at him. His lips curved into the tiniest smile before he leaned down, bringing his face closer to hers. She panted—there was no other word for it. Her breaths came shallow and fast, her fingers curling into the material of the T-shirt covering all that muscled goodness Finn hid under his clothes.
He was going to kiss her again.
And…she was going to let him. She wanted that kiss more than her next breath, wanted to feel those warm lips of his against hers, wanted the sinful slide of his tongue along her own. He was so close, she could nearly taste the sweet tang of his tongue. But instead of pressing his mouth to hers, he brushed his lips across her cheek before nuzzling her neck as he inhaled deeply. She went boneless, certain the only thing holding her up was his arm around her, solid and sure.
Against her ear, he whispered, “You ready to stop ignorin’ what’s between us?” He pressed a light kiss on that heavenly place behind her ear—the one he’d learned at eighteen was her weakness. “Because I am. I’m here and ready whenever you are. I’ve thought about that kiss every damn second since it happened. Played it out a hundred different ways, and they all end the same, Willowtree. With me inside you.”
The floor might as well have vanished beneath her, the aisle of decorative hardware surrounding her fading into nothing as she did the only thing she could. She clung to him. She gripped his shirt in her fingers, and he tightened his arm around her in response, holding her up and against him. They were as close as they could be in public, every hard inch of him pressing against her, and yet it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Despite knowing better, despite everything that’d happened between them, she wanted more.
“Will?” Rory called out from the other aisle, making Willow jump, the trance broken.
After another kiss behind her ear and a deep inhale, Finn stepped back. His eyes were heavy, his lips parted, and she couldn’t stop herself from dropping her gaze to the front of his jeans where his arousal was clear as day as it strained against the denim. For her.
“I have to go.”
He nodded once, just a slow dip of his chin, his eyes never leaving hers. Reaching up, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip. “Anytime, Willowtree,” he said, his voice low and gritty as he dropped his hand and stepped back from her. “Remember that. Anytime.”
And then he turned and walked away, down the aisle and around the corner before Rory and Nola could find them together. All Willow could do was stare at his retreating form.
Stare and daydream about what it’d be like if she actually gave in.