CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THEY HAD DECIDED on hers. Mostly because Lane hadn’t wanted to deal with the various reactions his brothers might have if they discovered she had spent the night. Sure, the cat was a little bit out of the bag, but that didn’t mean she wanted to parade around the house with the cat, so to speak.
Day two. It was day two of her new relationship with Finn. After a second night of making love. It had been... Well, it had been no less amazing on the second night than on the first.
Now she was trying to work without drooling in front of the customers as she reflected on everything that had happened between them underneath the covers. Trying to make it through the day without calling him and asking for something stupid and desperate like a quickie in her back room.
She was thinking about him a lot. Which wasn’t all that weird. It was the way she was thinking about him that was weird. The quantity of Finn thinking time was about like it always had been. For some reason, she was more aware of it now than she had been before. That she thought about him a lot. Almost all the time, really.
She was still thinking about that when the door opened and Alison walked in. She had asked Alison to meet her at the shop around noon, so that she could get introduced to Violet and consider hiring her on for the rest of the summer, and maybe even into the school year.
“Hi,” she said to her friend, hoping that her illicit thoughts weren’t written all over her face.
“Sorry,” Alison said, “I’m early, but I was hoping to steal some of your pistachio cream. I have evil plans for it.”
“Well,” Lane said, grateful for the distraction. “You know I support that.”
“So this is Finn’s niece that I’m meeting today?”
“Yes,” Lane said, “and I warn you, she is a little bit prickly. But I’m hoping that she can hold it together and make this work. If not, you know you’re not under any obligation to hire her.”
“Come on, Lane. You’re my friend. And it’s important to you, obviously. Which means I’m definitely going to hire her.”
“No,” Lane said, waving a hand. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.”
Alison had made it her mission to not just earn a living from her bakery, but to use it to help women who found themselves in dire straits. Women who, like her, had put their lives on hold for controlling men and lacked support and job skills when they finally came out the other side.
Alison laughed. “I do. But in a good way. Anyway, you know the strays are irresistible to me. You said she needed this job, and that’s a huge part of why my bakery exists. Sure, traditionally it’s to help women who haven’t been in the workforce for a long time, but, a woman making her first foray into the workforce works for me too.”
Lane smiled. “I’m sure this job could work wonders for her. She’s had a rough go of it. And she’s not happy to be living here. Her mom left,” she said, figuring it was best to try and explain Violet’s moodiness before Alison actually met the teenager.
“That has to be rough. Fortunately, handling tough cases is also my specialty. Seeing as I was one for a while.” Lane knew that was true. She also knew that her friend would strike the right balance between being gentle with Violet due to her situation, and encouraging her to suck it up.
Alison didn’t allow wallowing.
“I have a feeling you’re exactly what she needs,” Lane said.
Saying that made her wonder if Alison was what Lane needed too. She was tempted to confide in her friend. About Finn. About Cord. About everything.
But the words stuck in her throat, and a moment later it didn’t matter, because the door opened again and Finn and Violet walked in.
“Cain didn’t come with you?” she asked.
“No,” Violet said, looking horrified at the suggestion. “I told him I didn’t need him to hold my hand.”
“She did need a ride, though,” Finn said. “Mostly because she didn’t know where she was going.”
“Are you able to get to work?” Alison asked. Skipping right to the practicalities.
“Yeah, my dad said he’d help with that,” Violet said. Lane had a feeling Cain had put the fear of God in her, considering she wasn’t being her usual dour self. The change looked forced, Lane thought. But it didn’t really matter if it was genuine or not. As long as the girl knew how to turn it on. “He’s really into me getting out of the house and learning...responsibility and things.”
“Well, I am also a fan of responsibility,” Alison said. “Do you have any experience baking?”
“Not really,” Violet said. “My mom didn’t cook. My dad hired someone.”
“That’s fine,” Alison responded. “As long as you don’t mind mostly handling the register until I can train you to do the harder stuff. Everybody that works in my bakery learns how to make all of the goodies, so you have to be willing to get up to your elbows in flour. Which I guess is the next question. Any serious food allergies? Because that makes things tricky.”
“No,” Violet said. “And, while I’m not educated on how to make baked goods, I eat them pretty proficiently.”
“That helps. I like some enthusiasm for the product.” Alison looked her over thoughtfully. “I think you should have a chance. Can you start next week?”
Violet cracked the closest thing Lane had ever seen to a smile. “Yeah,” she said. “I don’t have a life here at all. So I don’t really have any schedule rearranging to do.”
“Even better. I most especially like hiring people who don’t have lives. All the better to monopolize their every waking moment.”
Violet laughed, somewhat uneasily, clearly uncertain as to whether or not Alison was being sincere.
“She’s joking,” Lane said, except she had a feeling her friend was only joking a little bit. Alison’s bakery was her life. Her lifeline. The representation of the new life she had built for herself.
Another way that she and her friend were very alike.
“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m not. I just have some shopping to do here at Lane’s if you want to look around for a second. And then I can take you over to the bakery.”
Violet immediately backed away from the three adults, pulling her phone out of her pocket and wandering to a deserted corner of the store.
“That pistachio cream would be good,” Alison said. “And if you have anything else you think I should fill a pastry with, let me know.”
“I got hazelnut cream from the same company. I think that would be great.”
“Definitely. Get that too.”
The door to the store opened again, and this time it was Rebecca who walked in. Lane hadn’t been expecting her, but it wasn’t totally unusual for her friends to come by and pick up ingredients for dinner.
As far as she knew, Rebecca didn’t cook, but Gage did.
For some reason, the tension in the room began to ramp up slightly when Rebecca walked closer, and it took Lane a moment to realize why. And to realize that it was coming from her.
That whole thing with Rebecca and Finn—as much nothing as it was—was suddenly at the forefront of her mind. But, more than that was the discussion they’d had after. When Rebecca had grilled her on whether or not she and Finn were just friends and Lane had insisted they were. It made her feel horrifically transparent, and also a little bit like a liar. Even though at the time, even under cruel and unusual forms of torture, she would have sworn that she and Finn were only friends.
She hadn’t meant to lie to Rebecca. She really hadn’t.
Or maybe she had. Because she had certainly been lying to herself. So all the lies were certainly born of self-protection. And were maybe not entirely unintentional as far as her subconscious went.
“Hi,” she said, far too brightly.
“I didn’t know there was a meeting,” Rebecca said.
“A job interview,” Alison said, “I’m hiring Finn’s niece to work at my bakery for the summer. And maybe even for the school year if we can work it out.”
Rebecca’s gaze slid to Finn. “Great. That’s good.”
She could sense Rebecca’s awkwardness, and that made Lane feel even weirder. Because if Rebecca still felt tension, didn’t that mean she was still attracted to Finn? Yes, she knew that Rebecca was happy with Gage, but Finn was sexy. Undeniably so.
A strange heat surge through her veins, and she recognized it as the exact feeling she had felt months ago when Rebecca had confessed to her that she had nearly picked Finn up at Ace’s with the intention of going home with him.
She had been jealous then. She was jealous now.
And it occurred to her that she was standing there scowling, and everybody in the room—with the exception of Violet, whose attention was focused solely on her phone—was aware of it.
“Yeah,” she said, keeping her tone that same false level of bright, “a job interview. Not a meeting that you were excluded from. What did you need?”
“I wanted to pick up some blackberries. You texted the other day and said you had them. I thought I would get some to take home for shortbread tonight.”
“Yes,” she said, trying to clear her brain of all the ridiculous, extraneous things that were rattling around in there and focus on the food. “I do. So I’ll get that and the creams for Alison, and then everyone will be set.”
She turned, running into Finn and scampering backward like a startled animal. Her skin burned where she brushed against him, and she knew that her reaction had been both totally obvious and wholly visible.
She put her head down, walking quickly to the back of the store, where she had stashed the berries in a mini fridge.
“Is everything okay?”
She lurched backward, hitting her head on the top of the fridge. “Ow,” she said, turning to see Rebecca standing right behind her.
“You’re acting weird,” her friend continued.
“Because I just sustained a head injury,” she growled.
“I meant before that.”
“I’m not being weird,” Lane said, digging in. Even though she was being weird, and knew she was being weird, and felt weird.
“Are we talking about how Lane is being weird?” Alison came up and joined the group.
“Well,” Lane said, rolling her eyes. “Now we’re all being weird. Because we’ve left Finn and Violet across the store by themselves.”
“You’re being weird about Finn,” Rebecca said.
“I am not being weird about Finn.” She was totally being weird about Finn.
“She is,” Alison confirmed. “And she got weirder when you got here. Which I think is because of the thing.”
“Alison knows?” Lane asked, shooting Rebecca a deadly glare.
“Well, I talked to her about it at some point,” Rebecca said. “But the thing is there isn’t anything to know. And you know that. Like six months ago I saw Finn at the bar. We danced. He kissed me. And then I left with Gage.”
“I know,” Lane said, curling her fingers into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “And it’s not a thing.”
“Jealous,” Alison said.
“No. I’m a relationship Scrooge, as you well know. I’m not in one right now, I’m perfectly happy to not be in one.” She looked over at Finn, unintentionally, and both Rebecca and Alison noticed.
The two of them exchanged conspiratorial glances and Lane frowned. “I am,” she insisted. “I’m part of the She Woman Man Haters Club.”
“Nothing happened between me and Finn, and nothing will,” Rebecca said, her voice overly placating. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“I’m not worried.”
“I’m getting married to Gage,” Rebecca said. “I am in love with him. My heart beats only for him. And we talked about that right after all this happened.”
Lane felt irritated. Mostly because she was not going to make a big deal out of this, until everybody started making a big deal out of it. She hadn’t said anything. And she hadn’t done anything. Except probably look a little bit uncomfortable. Having friends was overrated.
“I’m not worried about it,” she said.
Well, she hadn’t worried about it, or thought about it much until recently. Until things had started to change between Finn and herself. Until it had forced her to think about the way other women saw him, which had brought that whole incident with Rebecca back into her mind.
“Is something going on with him?” Alison asked.
Everything inside her recoiled, scampered away and hid behind an internal wall that she needed right now. Needed, so that she could use it as insulation while she figured everything out.
“No,” she said, “nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“No. Nothing is going on with myself and Finn.” Good Lord. If she denied him the full three times she would be in a situation of biblical proportions.
“Well,” Alison said. “If you ever want to talk about it...”
“There isn’t anything to talk about.” She grabbed hold of a carton of blackberries and shoved them at Rebecca. “I’ll just get your stuff, and then you and Violet can head over to the bakery.”
She stomped back and grabbed the jars of cream and brought them out, aware of the fact that her face was probably red, since it was warm. She didn’t know why she was reacting like this. Why it was freaking her out to this degree.
If she couldn’t get a handle on herself then it wasn’t going to be up to her whether or not the relationship became public. She was going to let everybody know with her completely uncontrolled mannerisms.
She asked herself, yet again, if that would be the worst thing. Right now, it felt a little like it might be.
Just because the whole thing was new. And she still felt a bit raw and fragile because of it. Giving other people permission to weigh in on it, to look at it, sounded like her worst nightmare right about now. She was still examining it all cautiously. She did not want anyone else’s opinion.
That made her feel isolated, though. It made her so very aware of the fact that she didn’t share anything with these women that she considered her very best friends. And here she was, continuing that pattern.
Well, she was going to sort it out. Except, she had never had any plans to sort that out. She had told Finn about her past as a kind of defense mechanism, not because she wanted to let him in, not because she wanted him to understand anything more about herself.
She took a deep breath. “At least,” she said slowly, “there’s nothing I want to talk about right now.”
Just that simple admission made her feel exposed. She immediately regretted it. She just wanted to hide again.
Understanding softened Rebecca’s face. “Well, I can definitely understand that.”
“Anyway, here you go. Neither of you pay me for them. Just take them. Alison, you can pay me in pastry if the experiment works out. And you’ll owe me double if Violet ends up being a great employee.”
“I would very much like to owe you,” Alison said.
Alison turned and walked back toward Violet, gesturing for the girl to exit the store with her.
Rebecca held her berries close, then looked at Finn, and back at Lane. “Anytime you want to talk,” she muttered. “I’m a judgment-free zone. I mean, look who I ended up with.”
Yes, Rebecca had ended up with the most unlikely man imaginable. The thing about Finn was, as far as the entire town was concerned, Lane imagined he seemed like the most likely man for her to end up with.
He fit. They fit. He filled all of these spaces in her life—had for years—and that was its own kind of terrifying.
“I promise if there’s ever anything to talk about, we’ll talk.”
Rebecca nodded, then turned to go. But she stopped right in front of Finn. “Don’t give me a reason to come after you, Donnelly,” she said, “because I will.” Then she smiled and continued on out the door and down the street.
“So,” Finn said, his voice breaking some of the tension in the air. “I think it’s safe to say everybody knows.”
“I denied pretty heavily.” She let out a harsh breath. “I’m sorry. I’m just kind of crazy. I’m trying not to be. I really am. But when Rebecca came in I kept thinking about how you two almost...”
He reached out, wrapping his hand around her wrist and drawing her against him. She was breathing hard and she could feel his heart beating against her palm. “Do you know how long I’ve been celibate?”
“Like, twelve hours,” she said, trying to shift some of the heavy weight in her chest.
“No. I mean before you and me. Do you know how long it had been since I was with another woman?”
“No.” She had started turning a very blind eye to all of Finn’s exploits with women early on in their friendship. Yes, she was vaguely aware that he hooked up a lot. At least, a whole lot more than she did. But she had done a lot of not thinking about it. Because he was her friend, and she really hadn’t wanted to think about him getting it on.
Or, in truth, she hadn’t wanted to think about him having sex with anybody because it would force her to think about him as sexual. And at the time, that had been about the most important thing to be avoided.
Right now, feeling so warm, and out of control in his arms, she was having trouble remembering why that had been.
“A year. And when the thing happened with Rebecca, it had been a few months. I just wasn’t interested in anyone. Not anyone but you. It was getting worse and worse. And she was there looking for a chance to forget. So was I. It seemed like we could help each other out.” Lane shivered, moving closer to him. “It was about you,” he continued, his voice rough. “All of it. There’s no reason to be jealous, because I never would have asked her to dance if I wasn’t trying to forget the woman I wanted. The one I was sure I couldn’t have. It was you even then.”
She swallowed hard, resting her head against his chest. She just wanted to stand like this, because this felt good. He felt good. She didn’t know what was going to happen tomorrow; she didn’t know what her jumbled-up heartbeat meant, what that vague shaking in her limbs was. She just knew that being with him like this felt right.
After so many years of wrong, she felt like she was due.
“So,” she said finally, “we’re both a little bit jealous, I guess.”
“We spent a long time being close with each other, but not being this. And in that time we both dated other people. I imagine that...makes it tricky.”
“Yes,” she said. “Tricky.”
She curled her hand into a fist, clutching his T-shirt, burying her face deeper into his chest. It didn’t feel tricky right now. Not right in this moment.
“Spend the night again tonight?” she asked, trying not to sound too needy. But she was needy. And that kind of neediness opened up a whole well of questions that she couldn’t see the bottom of.
If they slept together every night, would they eventually be better off living together? If they lived together, what did that mean? Or would the intensity of their connection burn off? Would they end up just being convenient sex friends? Sleeping together on the weekends? Would he end up wanting other people instead of her eventually?
That made her feel a little bit dire. So she closed the lid on those questions.
“Sure,” he said, lifting his hand and stroking her hair. If she were a cat she would purr. “That sounds good.”
“I’ll cook,” she said, feeling suddenly decisive. One thing she wanted to make sure they didn’t do was lose their friendship in the middle of all this sex stuff. And it was normal for him to come for dinner every so often.
If they were going to be friends with benefits, they had to take care of the friendship part, right?
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“Steak,” she said. “And, if you want to bring some blue cheese from your stores that would be much appreciated. I’ll barbecue, and we can eat down by the lake.”
A strange smile curved the edge of his lips. “Okay.”
“I am offering you my prime steak,” she said. “I deserve more than okay.”
“Is that a euphemism?”
“It won’t be if you don’t show some appreciation.”
He laughed, dipping his head and kissing her deep, long, not bothering with any kind of teasing. It was full-on from the moment his lips touched hers, his tongue plunging deep, the swirling pattern he traced on the inside of her mouth leaving her dizzy and hollow feeling.
It occurred to her then that they were standing in the middle of her store in broad daylight, and anybody could come in at any moment.
She took a step back, smoothing her hair. “That will do.”
“How is the mouse, by the way?”
She blinked, not understanding for a moment. Then she remembered. The last time they had kissed in the store, the first time they had kissed. “Oh. Robert. He’s great.”
“You named him?”
“I told you I was going to.” She hadn’t really named the mouse until this exact moment, but she enjoyed the look of surprise and vague disgust on Finn’s handsome face.
“I will not be edged out by a mouse,” he said. “My friendship is superior.”
“I can tell you I’m much more likely to kiss you that I am to kiss the mouse. Though once you get past the fact he’s a vile, disgusting rodent, he’s pretty great. A very quiet tenant. Then again, he never brings me cheese, he just eats the cheese.”
“Unacceptable.” He reached out, touching her chin, as if he almost couldn’t bear to be out of physical contact with her. That did something to her insides. Made them turn over, shifted them around. “I’ll see you tonight.”
For the first time in a while, as she watched Finn walk out of the store, she felt like a weight had been lifted. In spite of all the questions that she had, maybe this could all work out.