Chapter 6
Friday morning, Nina finished transferring her clothes from her suitcase to the dresser in her bedroom and shut the lid. She’d waited a few days before unpacking to make sure the arrangement with Finn worked out. As far as the schedule went, everything had been fine. He kept his word and stuck to working on the house during his set times in the afternoon, which gave her plenty of time to write in the mornings and the evenings.
As far as her writing went, though, everything was not fine. The story wasn’t flowing as well as she’d hoped.
Finn and his dog were too much of an added distraction. Yet, she couldn’t really blame either of them. Kismet couldn’t help how cute she was with her permanent dog grin and adorable habit of carrying things around in her mouth that she wasn’t supposed to have. A shoe. A wooden spoon. One of her owner’s empty beer bottles from the recycling bin.
And Finn couldn’t help how sexy he was as he threw a ball for the shepherd while Nina daydreamed out the window instead of writing. Or when he’d brought her a plate of pancakes and bacon the second morning with an apron tied around his lean hips. His T-shirt had fit like a soft, cotton second skin, and she’d gotten another good look at the intriguing tattoo she wanted to explore with her fingertips.
On top of all that, he’d shaved and gotten a haircut, and the whole package was enough to make her pulse trip whenever he came near. But he’d also been a perfect gentleman, with two equally appealing sides of charm and wit for the past three days. All of which was her problem, not his.
She lifted her suitcase and bent to stow it under the bed when she heard a soft thud inside. Pausing, she knelt down to lift the lid again. In the corner was a small, dark wine bottle with a cork.
Memory flooded back—it was her message in a bottle from the book club Caribbean trip back in June.
She hadn’t truly forgotten about it, not after Meg’s unexpected stint on the reality show One True Love this past fall, and Tara’s Happy New Year email announcing her own engagement. That made Tara and Meg who’d had their bottle messages found and fallen in love as a result. It almost made her wish she’d tossed hers into the ocean with the rest of the ladies.
Almost, but not quite.
Odds were the rest would be lost at sea and the two out of twelve were just dumb luck. No, eleven, since she’d only pretended to throw hers eight months ago.
No one knew she’d faked. She’d managed to hide the bottle until she got back to her room, and then she’d almost gotten caught later when Clair stopped by for a midnight chat. Nina had stuffed the evidence underneath the bottom panel of her suitcase and not really thought about it until now.
I should’ve just tossed it with the rest of them. What could it have hurt?
She sat on the floor, tugged the cork free, and shook the cylinder of paper out into her hand. A quick skim reminded her exactly why she hadn’t given it the heave-ho into the Caribbean waves. She’d been especially down on men during that trip. Her pseudo personal ad was snarky and way over the top.
Even her contact email bemyhero (at) priley… was absurd.
If someone had found her bottle, she could just image the mean responses from men whose egos would take offense to her sarcasm. Or the crazies. As the one who read through Peyton’s fan mail first, she knew there was a level of weird out there in the world most people were luckily oblivious to.
Staring at requirement number three again, she realized she was considering how many Finn might match.
No! Don’t go there.
And yet, she kept checking.
1. Must be one year older than me.
2. Must speak French.
3. ‘super sexy’
4. Must be humble and kind.
5. Must be rich
6. No tattoos
7. Must have a sense of humor.
8. Must have one blue eye and one brown.
9. Must be a prince. No country required.
10. Must be willing to hand over your whole heart to my tender, loving care for the rest of your life.
Number three for sure. Maybe number four, definitely not six, but yes on seven. Three out of ten. Not looking good—which is fine, right? Because even if she was looking—which I’m not—they didn’t live in the same state, so what would be the point? If she got her hopes up, she’d leave Wisconsin with a broken heart instead of a completed screenplay.
The telltale sound of nails on the wood floor gave her a three second warning before Kismet nosed the door open and scrambled over to greet her.
“Hey, sweet girl. Good morning.” She ruffled the shepherd’s scruff on her neck, noting again her one blue eye and one brown.
Hmmm. His dog matched requirement number eight. Did that count?
Kismet tried to lick her face just then, and her, “No,” was as much for the dog as herself.
When Nina let her go, she went right to nosing around, her quivering nostrils working overtime as she located the bottle and attempted to take the slim part of the neck into her mouth. Nina gently pushed her away. Then she heard boots on the stairs and quickly rolled up the note and stuffed it back inside. After corking the top, she dropped the bottle into her suitcase, leaned to flip the lid closed, and shoved everything under the bed.
Once on her feet, she injected some enthusiasm into her voice while hurrying for the door. “Come on, girl, let’s go.”
She glanced back to make sure Kismet was coming, then turned around and slammed right into Finn. Hitting his chest was like running into a wall. She stumbled back a step, but he caught her by the arms.
“Whoa—you okay?”
“Yes, sorry,” she muttered, completely flustered by his fresh alpine scent from a recent shower. She’d snuck a sniff of his invigorating body wash yesterday. Mixed with the scent of pine and intensified by his body heat, the combination was heavenly—and tempting beyond belief.
“Kismet wasn’t bothering you, was she?”
“She’s fine. We were just on our way downstairs for breakfast. Well, me anyway. I don’t know if you fed her yet since I haven’t been downstairs.”
She was babbling because he still hadn’t let go of her arms, and his warm, firm grip was creating chaos for her already stimulated senses. She swallowed hard, staring at the shadow of stubble on his chin as she fought the urge to flatten her palms against his broad chest to feel the muscles beneath his black turtleneck.
Once again, the dark color made his blue eyes all the more vibrant. An upward glance made her breath catch when she noticed his irises had become more of a steely gray color. And his gaze was focused lower—on her mouth.
She instinctively wet her lips and heard his audible swallow. What was left of her breath squeezed from her chest. Drawing more oxygen inside proved impossible. In that instant, she wanted him to kiss her more than anything.
Finn suddenly jerked his gaze up and cleared his throat as he released her arms. “I, ah, I did feed her already. I was going to make an omelet for myself. Would you like one?”
“You don’t have to keep cooking for me.” Because, a girl could definitely get used to that.
“I’m already making one, so adding a second just means breaking a couple more eggs. It’s no bother.”
The initial token protest was the best she could do with her stomach rumbling. “Then yes, thank you.”
He stepped aside for her to go first. She knew it was as much to be a gentleman as to keep from holding her up as he navigated the steps more slowly because of his injured leg. Kismet scrambled down ahead of both of them, and Finn let her outside once they reached the kitchen.
“How long have you had her?” Nina asked as she poured a cup of coffee from the fresh pot he brewed each morning.
“I adopted her when I came back to the States almost six months ago. She’s about a year old, and was too much for some friends of mine who had a new baby.” As he spoke, he pulled eggs, milk, cheese, green onions, tomatoes, mushrooms, and leftover bacon from the fridge to pile on the center butcher block island. “Anything here you don’t like?”
“Nope.”
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, glinting off his dark hair as he chopped the ingredients. He paused for a drink from his own mug, his now-blue-again gaze meeting hers over the rim before he set it down again and got back to work. That one glance heated her insides and made her want to find out what it would be like to kiss Finn Regan.
Geez—now you sound like Peyton.
Pushing away from the block island, she set her cup on the breakfast table, then went back for silverware, and napkins. She placed two plates next to the stove as he poured the whipped eggs into a hot pan and sprinkled in the other ingredients. She asked more questions about his dog, and he told her about Kismet’s training and the motivation she’d provided for his rehab over the past months.
“She’s scary smart,” he said a few minutes later when he carried their plated food to the table and they sat to eat. “It’s cool, but man, I have to keep her occupied and challenged. She’d tear this place apart otherwise.”
“It’s no wonder your friends had a hard time with a new baby in the house.”
“Yeah. It worked out for me, though. I can’t imagine life without her anymore.”
“She’s a character,” Nina agreed. “I still can’t believe how she tattles on herself when she’s got something she knows she’s not supposed to have. Those puppy-dog eyes are so cute.”
“Gets you right in the heart, doesn’t it?”
“Definitely.”
“Be warned though—the little klepto doesn’t always tattle on herself. Every once in a while I find a stash of stuff that’s gone missing, so keep an eye on anything you don’t want to lose.”
“I will.”
Conversation easily moved to pets they’d each had in the past, and about the time they were finished eating, she admitted she’d always been more of a cat person.
Finn gave her a slight frown as she stood to take his empty plate to the sink. “If Kismet ever bothers you, please let me know.”
“Oh, no, she’s fine. I mean, she’s a lot to take in when I wasn’t used to it, but you’ve done great with her training. The couple times I had to tell her to go lie down, she went right to her dog bed. Well, except for yesterday when she plopped down on my feet, but I didn’t mind the company.”
Her explanation seemed to ease his concern, and he joined her in the kitchen as she rinsed their plates.
“I’ll do the dishes when I get back from town,” he said. “You should get to your writing.”
“I will, but leave the dishes. I’ll do them while you’re working this afternoon.” She paused, thinking of Peyton’s final text to her yesterday when they’d gone back and forth about Finn. Her best friend had urged her to have some fun.
Stop expecting the worst from every man you meet and just go for it. When she’d sent back one last token protest, Peyton has signed off with: Promise me you’ll at least be open to the possibilities.
The idea made her pulse speed up as she glanced sideways at Finn. Was it possible she projected her fears onto her relationships and never gave them a chance to become something more?
Maybe on some, but definitely not on all. Dylan using her to get close to Peyton last spring was all due to his duplicity, not her insecurities.
But maybe with Finn, her fears were getting in the way more than the way he used to be ten years ago. After all, he’d shown her a much different person these past couple days than the egotistical jock she remembered back in high school. Back then, she’d dreamed about him despite that. Now, he was downright irresistible.
Be open to the possibilities.
Oh, did he seem full of possibilities.
Have some fun.
What could it hurt to get to know him a little better?
After a fortifying breath, she said, “If you don’t have plans tonight, I can take a turn with dinner.”
When he didn’t answer right away, her stomach flipped over and nervous heat spread through her body.
“I don’t know…” he finally hedged. “Can you cook?”
Slightly miffed, Nina made a half-turn and braced her hand on the sink.
“Of course I can cook. I wouldn’t have offered if—” She broke off at the sight of his smirk and the laugh lines around his eyes. “You’re not funny.”
“I am a little. And no, I don’t have plans.”