“You want one?” Finn holds out a beer so cold I can see the sheen of moisture on the outside.
Grabbing it from his hand, I pop the top and take a long drink. Finn does the same.
“Just what the doctor ordered,” Finn says, finishing off a bag of chips.
Our phones buzz at the exact same time.Lennon.Nobody else would be texting both of us at once.
Finn is first to his phone. He reads the message and tosses the phone aside.
“She and Laine will be here in half an hour.” He glances at the unfinished floor.
I ball up the paper from my napkin and shove it in my bag, along with my empty chip bag. Finn stands, and so do I. We both drain the rest of our beer and toss the now empty cans into our bags.
Finn inclines his head to our stopping point. “We still have about an hour’s work, so let’s get to it.”
Finn helps rack the flooring, and when it’s time for him to use the flooring nailer, I keep going on my job arranging the rows of wood. In the end, it takes us a little over an hour. It’s not completely finished. There are still corners to cut, and some areas where the wood doesn’t meet the wall. Lucky for me, Finn forgot his jigsaw, whatever the hell that is. I could ask, but I’ve asked enough questions for today, and my ego is just about done feeling like I can’t hack it as a mountain man. Finn obviously can; in fact, it suits him.
It’s a new reality where Finn is the one who has something come easily to him. I should be happy for the guy, and deep down I am. It’s just that right now I’m not feeling particularly hospitable.
Finn glances at his watch. “I thought Lennon said she was going to be half an hour.”
I hadn’t realized that, but I guess he’s right. Lennon is late.
“I’m sure she’s fine, Finn.”
Finn sends a worried glance outside. “The road to this place from town is winding. What if—”
His sentence is halted by the sight of the white SUV pulling through the opening in the fence. Without a word to me, he strides across the room and through the front door.
I frown, but I’m quick to follow.At least he left it open for me.
When I get outside, I find Finn hasn’t gone any farther than the bottom step of the front porch stairs. He leans against a support beam, his arms crossed and his hands tucked into his sides. For someone who shot out of here like his ass was on fire, he sure as hell didn’t get very far. Or he stopped short when he remembered he’s still sore about how he found Lennon this morning. Probably the latter, knowing Finn.
“Sorry we’re late,” Lennon calls, leaning her face in the space between the doorframe and the open door. She glances apprehensively at Finn.
Laine hops out and shuts the door. “We stopped on the way and found the cutest bakery. Supposedly they make the world’s best blueberry muffins, but they were already sold out for today.” She makes a show of pouting, and Lennon laughs.
She rounds the front of the car and goes to stand beside Laine, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. “Blueberry muffins are this girl’s favorite thing on the planet.”
“You’re in luck,” I yell, walking down the porch steps and past Finn. “We stopped there earlier today.”
Laine claps her hands together and bounces on her toes.
I walk to the back of the car and open the trunk, grabbing both girls’ overnight bags. Lennon appears, reaching for two grocery bags.
“How is he?” she asks under her breath.
“He’s Finn. So, you know, an emotional asshole.”
Lennon laughs softly. “He’s hurt, Brady.”
I shrug, and the bags are heavy enough that it’s like doing shoulder shrugs with real weights.
“Did you two pack anvils in these bags?”
“Just clothes and armor in case you two started fighting and we needed protection.”
I turn so we’re face to face. Lennon made a joke, but her face doesn’t look like she’s joking. She looks worried.
