My phone rang and I grabbed it. God, I loved my phone.

“Hello?” I said as I waved good-bye to Olivia, who was wafting out of the room and house, floating gracefully to her very expensive car to do something willowy, no doubt.

It was the caterer on the phone. As she reviewed her numerous and very valid concerns, I turned and gazed out the window, nodding. Mrs. Lovey stood in conversation with a construction worker at the edge of their lawn, near the circular drive. She turned, pointing back toward the house, and I saw who she was talking to.

Finn.

My heart almost stopped.

Faded jeans sat low on his hips. He wore a loose cotton shirt and exuded Big Bad, from the dusty work boots to the backward-facing ball cap, to his scruffy black hair and the way sex emanated off him like waves of heat, even at a hundred yards through a big bay window.

Also, he was pissed. Yep, ‘pissed off’ emanated too.

What was he doing here?

My knees actually wobbled.

I thought about all the things Finn had done in his life, all the lines he’d crossed, all the trouble he’d concocted simply by going his own way. I thought of the look in his eye down by the river when he toyed with outing me eleven years ago. I thought of last night, and the way he said he didn’t want to talk about his time in the military.

Finn didn’t play with toys anymore.

What would a man who didn’t care much for rules do, if a woman had walked out on him without saying good-bye?

I felt fear.

Minimize the damage. The mantra kicked through my fear.

I could still hear the caterer talking on the phone as I bolted for the door. Flinging the door open, I eyed the expanse of lawn between them and me, then kicked off my shoes and hurried barefoot across the lawn.

Only a true emergency could have made me do it.

I sprinted over the cool green softness. Finn’s head lifted slightly and his sunglasses looked over Mrs. Lovey’s shoulder at me.

I made a stern face at him. He didn’t move. I pointed a warning finger. He was like a brick, no reply. Then his face tipped back down and he said something to Mrs. Lovey.

I hurried faster. I could hear the wind whipping past my ears. Or maybe that was my inner voice screaming horror stories at me.

I drew up just behind Mrs. Lovey, breathless, tucking loose hair back in place and tugging down on my skirt. She turned and raised her plucked eyebrows high on her forehead.

“Jane, I’m surprised. Mr. Dante here says—”

“I can explain,” I said, breathless.

She stopped. “You can?”

“Yes,” I said hurriedly, pushing hair off my face. “We used to know each other, when we were kids.”

She nodded slowly. She didn’t seem convinced. She seemed confused.

“I’m sorry you were disturbed, Mrs.— Lovey.” I glanced at Finn. His sunglasses regarded me in silence. “This is a bad time, Mr. Dante,” I told him briskly. “I’m kind of busy. Maybe you could call me later? Or text me?” I added hopefully. Send a letter, put up smoke signals, anything that would keep him a safe distance from my body.

I felt rather than saw his look harden.

I turned back to Mrs. Lovey, who stared at me. “I’m so sorry you were disturbed.”

“Jane, what is going on?” she demanded.

“Can you please move?” I said to Finn, my teeth sort of gritted as I wrapped a hand around his bicep and tried to drag him off. It was like trying to move a boulder. “It’s all my fault, Mrs. Sandler-Ross.”

“What is your fault?”

The first glimmer of confusion threaded through me, and I had the thought I might not actually be minimizing damage here. I stopped, my hand still on Finn’s arm. “That I…that he….”

“That he what?”

“That he’s here. That you were disturbed.” I dropped my hand. “I’m sorry. He’s sorry.” I turned to Finn and hissed, “Say something.”

He looked at Lovey and nodded gravely. “It’s all her fault.”

Mrs. Lovey shook her head, exasperated. “Jane, I have no idea what you are talking about.”

My face flushed to my eyelids.

“I simply want him to—”

I nodded. “He’s leaving right now.”

“—look at the circuit breakers.”

I blinked. “What?”

She made a faint sound of impatience. “My husband mentioned we might need additional circuitry, so I called Mr. Dante.”

“Why did you do that?” I asked wildly.

“Why, Jane, he built us the pavilion,” she exclaimed.

“Right,” I breathed, nodding, trying to regroup. “Of course. The pavilion. Finn built you the pavilion. That’s why he’s here.” I turned and studied him and his stupid sunglasses. “You didn’t mention you built the Sandler-Ross’s pavilion.”

“We were busy with other stuff.”

I feared he was going to elaborate.

Mrs. Lovey squinted at me. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.”

“Yes,” I admitted miserably.

“Well, this might be quite serendipitous.”

What did serendipitous mean again, exactly? ’Cause as I looked at my reflection in Finn Dante’s sunglasses, I wasn’t feeling ‘good fortune’ coming from him. More, ‘Don’t fuck with me.’

Or maybe, ‘Fuck me.’

Mrs. Lovey’s voice filtered in. “…because I know nothing about circuit boards. Who is that, Jane?”

I snapped my gaze away from Finn. “Pardon?”

She pointed at my hand, which was still clutching the phone. “On the phone?”

“Oh! Yes. The caterer. For you.” As I held it out, I pressed my thumb on the End button. “Whoops,” I said in bright, false dismay. “Battery just died. You better go inside and call her right back. She really wants to talk to you.”

She frowned at the phone. “I will call her later. Peter and I have to go out,” she said in her precise way, nodding toward the driveway, far in the distance, where Mr. Peter J. sat idling. “We will be back in an hour or so. In the meantime, perhaps you can show Mr. Dante the breakers, and see if he is willing to work on them?”

“Of course.” I smiled brilliantly.

Mrs. Lovey tottered off, heels daggering into the electric-green lawn while I stood in my bare feet, staring at the pavilion in need of electricity. Finn stood at my side, pissed off and completely silent, no doubt waiting for me to make the next move. Say the next thing. Make the next mistake.

It’s just what I did when it came to relationship.

“So you’re not here for me?” I mumbled. This should make me happy, right?

“Oh, I’m here for you.”

A shiver zipped through me. “And the circuit breakers.”

“I don’t do circuit breakers.”

“Are you angry?”

“What do you think?”

“Maybe we should talk,” I said.

“You read my fucking mind.”

The breath jackknifed in my chest. I lifted my chin and led him off behind the long, manicured hedge of yews that bordered the lawn, creating a narrow strip of renegade brown grass that tumbled into the ravine to the west.

Updrafts from the river valley lifted strands of hair off my neck as I led him silently down the secret corridor of lawn, to an old picnic table I’d found yesterday when I was searching for a place to store the items we were going to need to clear out of the house to make room for a hundred and thirty guests.

It was a private little enclave between us and the world, and when we reached the table, I turned and gave Finn a look, eyebrows up.

He returned it with a long, silent one of his own, which went on. And on. And on.

“I’m sorry,” I finally said.

“Really?”

“I left a note,” I explained weakly.

“I’m not a note person, Jane. And I do not like to be fucked around with.”

All the breath whooshed out of me. Two fucks from Finn in as many minutes were about par for the course. Two fucks coming out of his mouth in anger in that span of time? Not so good. I felt scared. Wait, I should feel scared. But Finn didn’t scare me. So this wasn’t fear, this electric cord snapping down my belly, deep into my pussy.

This was excitement. Red-hot and fired up.

Uh-oh.