Finn Thomas could’ve spent every day of the past ten years preparing for this reunion, and it still would’ve knocked him on his proverbial ass. From the day all those years ago when he’d walked into the animal shelter they’d both worked at as teens and saw Willow Haven standing there, something had sparked between them. She’d been everything good and pure in his dismal life—sunshine and light, happiness and home-cooked meals, porch swings and a dip in the lake on a hot summer afternoon. It was a wonder she’d ever given him the time of day, never mind actually letting him get close enough to taste all that heaven.
But he’d gone ahead and fucked it up, hadn’t he? He’d blown it all to hell when he’d left all those years ago. Forget the reasons he’d bailed—they didn’t mean shit, not in the grand scheme of things. They could’ve been the noblest of reasons, and it would’ve meant fuck-all if Willow hadn’t benefitted from it—if his leaving hadn’t made her happy, made her life better in some way.
Truth was, though, his reasons hadn’t been noble at all. Not really. He’d run, plain and simple. When faced with reality—with what it’d mean to him and her if he stayed—he’d turned tail and gotten the hell out of dodge. Not stopping until he was all the way in California, as far away from Havenbrook, Mississippi as he could get.
He’d have been lying to himself if he said he’d thought his and Willow’s first introduction after this long would’ve gone any smoother than the reality. Honestly, he was damn lucky she’d only tossed that handful of words in his direction instead of the coffee currently clutched in her hand. And she wanted to, too. Wanted to toss that hot liquid right in his face. It was written all over hers. Probably wouldn’t have second thoughts about it, either. Not with how she white-knuckled the travel mug, her restraint evident in every rigid inch of her body.
And even though it made him every bit the asshole she’d called him, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming over that body. From taking in each detail of her, starved for her when he’d been denied her presence for so long. Where she’d once had a fresh-faced innocence about her, a bombshell now sat in front of him. She’d done some growing up in the time he’d been gone, her curves filling out so much his fingers begged for a test drive. No longer were they the ones he’d once had memorized with his hands. And his tongue.
Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail exposing her long, slender neck, her cheeks flushed and alive, her eyes bright with…okay, yeah, that was definitely fury lighting those green irises. Couldn’t say he blamed her.
Her words rang in his ears, the first ones he’d heard from her lips in far too long. And he couldn’t even find fault in them.
“Always did have a mouth on you, didn’t ya, Willowtree? Least, around me you did.” His lips kicked up on the side, unable to keep the taunt to himself. Christ, he was a jackass.
His gut twisted when she narrowed her eyes, clenching her fists against her desktop. But then she took a deep breath, and he could practically see her armor clinking into place, piece by piece. Something he’d forgotten she’d even done—how could he have forgotten something like that? He’d thankfully never been on the receiving end of it, though. No, she’d put up that shield for one person and one person only—her father.
Finn had watched it more times than he could count, each instance she’d felt the need to do it, to cover up the real Willow in deference to what her daddy expected her to be, making Finn hate him a little more. Which had been a damn hard feat, considering Finn held the devil himself in higher regard than Richard Haven.
Finn watched as a false calm settled over Willow. It no doubt fooled Nola and his brother—would have probably fooled most. But not Finn. He could still see the anger humming beneath her surface. He’d always been able to read her, as long as he could remember. Looked like no amount of time had changed that.
And it seemed she knew it, too, if the narrowing of her eyes was any indication, the tick of her jaw as she clenched her teeth. No, she definitely wasn’t greeting him with open arms—not that he’d expected any different.
“Drew,” she said, nodding to his brother. Of all the things to get worked up about, her saying his brother’s name before his should not have been one of them, and yet there they were. “Griffin.” She spat his full name like it was a piece of gristle and she couldn’t stand the feel of it in her mouth. “If y’all’ll give me just a minute, I’ll get the correct paperwork drawn up so we can get this done as quickly as possible.” Her so you can get out the hell of my sight just as quick went unsaid, but Finn didn’t have any problem reading between those lines.
As soon as Willow left the room, it was clear Drew hadn’t had a problem picking up the not so subtle tension either, his eyebrows hitting his hairline as he looked at the now closed door to Willow’s office.
Nola let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Damn, Finn. Can’t believe you made sweet Willow Haven cuss. I’m not entirely certain, but I don’t think she’s forgiven you quite yet.”
“You don’t think?” he asked, scratching his chin. “Went better than I expected, to be honest.”
“What the hell did you expect?” Nola cocked an eyebrow. “A kick to the nuts?”
He shrugged. That very scenario might have crossed his mind a time or two.
“Maybe it was a front,” Drew said, settling in the chair to the right of Nola. “She’s probably out there now planning a welcome home party for you.”
Finn didn’t bother responding as he glanced around Willow’s office, just lifted a certain finger in his brother’s direction, letting it drop once Drew rumbled out a laugh.
Willow’s office was devoid of anything personal—no art on the walls, no vase of flowers on the side table, no framed photo of her with friends or her sisters on her desk…nothing. To anyone else, it probably looked like she preferred to keep it professional, sleek. No clutter, no mess. But Finn knew better. Knew her deepest fears and her greatest insecurities—or he had at one time. And he’d bet his left nut she kept her office sparkling and pristine, lacking any personal touches, so her father couldn’t use it as a weapon against her while she tried to perform this job under his command. So he couldn’t turn it into some kind of weakness on her behalf, as he’d been known to do a time or twenty.
Jesus, what had made her come back here? Not just here to Havenbrook, but here to town hall, to an office twenty feet away from her daddy. To a career working for a man she’d constantly butted heads with. A man who’d made it his mission to make her feel less-than. One who never, ever saw her worth.
Nola cleared her throat, drawing his attention. She stared at him with expectation, eyebrows raised.
“What’s up, Xena?” he asked, settling in the chair on her other side.
“Look, I don’t know all the details of whatever went on between y’all”—Over Nola’s head, Finn met Drew’s eyes and exchanged a look loaded with gravity. No, she didn’t. Not many did—“but this is my life here. I don’t want y’all’s history messin’ with things. It’s already gonna be hard as hell runnin’ this by myself after y’all leave, ’specially in this town filled with good ol’ boys. The business—”
“Is ours too,” Drew cut in.
“No, I know that.” She divided a look between him and Drew. “Of course I do. Keepin’ in touch while y’all’ve been gone is one thing, but for y’all to come back and do this with me… Well, I appreciate it, ’cause you both know I didn’t have the capital by myself.”
Nola’s proposition for them to go into business together couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Finn had been itching to do more for a while, and though it’d been logical to move toward ownership of the bar he managed in California, it hadn’t felt right. Not like this did. “You know we were happy to—goin’ back to diapers, we’ve been a team,” Finn said. “Always had your back. Always will.”
She elbowed him—her version of a hug. “Same goes. But that doesn’t change that y’all’ll be leavin’ soon, and I have to stay here, you know? Just…” She sighed and shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. “Just go along to get along, okay? Don’t make waves for me where you ain’t droppin’ your anchor.”
With a nod, Finn agreed, because he couldn’t do much else. He and Drew had flown back to Havenbrook with plans to stay only long enough to help settle things with the new space. Nola, Drew, and Finn had purchased it together in a 20-40-40 split respectively, going into a partnership with Nola when she’d presented them with an offer too good to pass up. Of course he loved that he and Drew were able to help out one of their oldest and closest friends, but this bar in this town meant so much more than that. After all, it wasn’t every day he got to stick it to someone he despised. First bar in a town Richard Haven had spent his life working tooth and nail to keep pure? The poetic justice was too good to resist, especially considering his and the mayor’s history.
The plan had been for the three of them to get the paperwork settled, sign his and Drew’s names where necessary—much as Nola hated it, two male names carried more weight than hers ever could, especially in the backward town of Havenbrook with a mayor like Dick himself—approve the blueprints and construction plans, and then bail again. Head back to California, back to their lives…
Truthfully speaking, though, despite living there for the past ten years, they didn’t have much of a life on the west coast. No matter what they did, how many roots they planted there, it had never felt like home. Not like Havenbrook had.
“Sorry ’bout that.” Willow slipped back into the office, not a chink in that armor he’d watched her put on, and settled behind her desk, fake smile spreading her lips. She straightened the stack of papers in her hand, brightly colored flags popping out along the edges. “We’ve got just a few things to take care of then y’all can be on your way. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” Yep, that armor was perfectly in place, but she wouldn’t look his way. Instead, she spoke to Drew. “If you’ll just sign right by the flag.” She pointed to a spot on the paper, handing Drew a pen. “Then go ’head and pass the stack on down so we can get everyone’s signatures.”
She shuffled through more papers on her desk, avoiding any and all eye contact, with Finn in particular. “Looks like Nash has already filed for the proper permits to get started on construction, so y’all’re all set there.”
Jesus, was there anything worse than listening to her small talk, go on about some nonsense like they were two random strangers? Like he didn’t know the weight of her body on his own, didn’t know the taste of her on his tongue, didn’t recall the exact tenor of her moans? He hated it, absolutely fucking hated it.
And he had no right to. None at all.
He’d given this up—he’d been the one who’d walked away, never mind that he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn’t fair of him now to demand things, to want to know everything that’d happened while he’d been gone. To want answers to all his questions—why was she here? Why was she working for her father? Why wasn’t she in Tennessee like they’d planned? But even knowing he didn’t have a right to those answers, it didn’t stop the burning in his gut, the suddenly overwhelming urge to know everything boiling up inside him.
“Since the permits have—”
“Why aren’t you in Nashville?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but he couldn’t deny it was the single question that’d plagued him for far too long—years. Since Nola had let it slip about long ago that Willow’d been back in Havenbrook for a while. Had started working for her daddy. That was a far cry from her original plans of going to art school and becoming the creator he knew she was, deep in her bones. So far from the buttoned-up professional sitting in front of him in her tailored suit—which, yeah, looked hot as hell on her, but didn’t belong on her nonetheless. He wanted to pop the buttons on that fitted suit jacket just to see if she’d kept a tiny bit of her old self under this facade.
The thought of one of her paint-stained tanks under her professional clothes had his lips tipping up at the corners. No matter where she’d been or what she’d been doing, she’d used to wear an old tank, perpetually stained with every color of the rainbow, beneath her clothes. In case the urge to paint hit her, she’d told him once. Jesus, those white slips of fabric covered with paint spatters with the tiny little straps had driven him and his teenage brain crazy. They’d fit her like a second skin, clinging to every inch of her body.
“Why aren’t you wherever the hell you ran off to?” Willow snapped back, her temper flaring before his eyes. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, connecting with his and giving him that contact he craved, even if only for a second before she took out her anger on the papers in front of her.
A not-so-discreet elbow jab and a pointed stare from Nola had him keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the meeting, scrawling his signature above the line indicated by the blue flags. As soon as his name was on the last paper, Willow snatched the pile from him and stood, making it clear in no uncertain terms it was time for them to get the hell out.
“I’ll let y’all know if there’re any problems, but I don’t foresee anything,” she said with false cheer, not moving from behind her desk. “In the meantime, let me know if anything comes up, Nola.”
“Thanks, Will,” Nola said.
“’Preciate your help, Willow.” Drew gave a short nod in her direction, tipping his baseball cap up, before stepping aside to let Nola out the door ahead of him.
Finn stood, rapping his knuckles twice on the desk. For the briefest moment, Willow’s eyes met his, and sparks went off under his skin. Just like always. “I’ll see you again soon, Willowtree.”
She huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head to break the spell. Then she dropped into her seat, twisting her chair around until her back was to him. “Goodbye, Griffin. And don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath.”
He wasn’t going to win this battle, no matter what he said. So he stood there for another moment before turning and walking out of her office. Nola and Drew waited outside, the hot May sun beating down on them.
“That went well,” Drew said on a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Willow that mad. And I was there when Billy sprayed her white shirt with water in high school—you remember that?”
Yeah, he remembered. And thinking about it now wasn’t going to do anything but get him half hard again, just like he’d been while sitting across from her.
“Y’all, quit it. I’m serious now. Stay out of her way,” Nola all but pleaded. When Finn didn’t respond, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, digging her short nails into his skin hard enough to leave indentations. “Griffin Reilly Thomas, I mean it.”
With a laugh, he peeled her fingers from his arm. “Shit, Xena, quit reminding me why we gave you the nickname in the first place. I’ll give her space, promise.”
She narrowed her eyes, but Drew changed the subject, like a good twin. “Damn, never imagined I’d forget what May in Mississippi’s like, but I think California made me soft.” He lifted his baseball cap off his head and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it again, shading his eyes from the brutal rays.
“Don’t worry. Y’all’ll be back there in no time.” Nola patted Drew on the cheek. “Though, you might want to get some sunscreen so you don’t burn all this pretty, delicate skin.”
One second Nola was walking between Finn and Drew, and the next Drew held her planked across his shoulders, spinning round and round.
“Oh my God! Andrew Brennan Thomas, you better put me down right this second!”
With a laugh, Drew finally set her on her feet, chuckling as he jumped out of the way to dodge a slap to the chest. “Damn, girl, what’s with you throwin’ around middle names all willy-nilly? I can’t believe you three-named me.”
“You’re lucky those are the only names I called you.”
Laughter bouncing between them, the three walked across the street, striding toward the building on the corner—their building. The town square was quaint and well kept, considering how run-down it’d been the last time Finn had seen it. But he shouldn’t have been surprised at the…life that was now evident. Not since he knew Willow was responsible for it.
He could see touches of her wherever he looked. The new streetlamps, flower baskets filled with bright pops of color hanging from the wrought-iron posts. Park benches every few feet, the back rungs decorated with paintings he immediately recognized as hers. So she hadn’t quit painting… Maybe she’d decided she hadn’t needed to go to art school to be happy? Maybe she’d found a way to do both—working on her art while staying in her hometown, a compromise of sorts. Maybe she was happy here, working for her daddy?
That was all Finn had ever wanted, was the main reason he’d left in the first place. More than anything, he wanted her happy, living the life she deserved. He just had to trust she was. And he hoped he’d be able to see even a sliver of it in the few short days he and Drew would be in Havenbrook.