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’dbeen 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 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—theirbuilding. 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…lifethat 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 shehadn’tquit 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.
