“Thank God for that last one. And you were totally handsome, you goof.” Her quicksilver smile appeared and vanished again just as quickly. “At first I was glad my boyfriend’s best friend liked me. And then I started spending more time with you, and you actually listened to me when I talked, way better than he did. You came to my show choir concerts. You sat with me in the ER when my brother broke his arm...”
He tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, awash in the memory of the love and the helpless longing he used to feel for her. With effort, he wrestled those old emotions under control. “It’s an old story. They write songs about it: ‘my best friend’s girl’ and all that.” He forced himself to sound flippant and indulged in another slide of his fingers along her scalp. “I tried like hell not to let you know how I felt back then.”
“I couldn’t imagine you’d be interested in me like that. I just thought you liked spending time with me even when Dylan was off doing two-a-days or whatever.”
“Ididlike spending time with you.”
“But you were so busy with other girls,” she said, closing her eyes.
He gave a rueful laugh. “They were supposed to keep my mind off you, not that it worked. None of them measured up.”
Her eyes fluttered open to stare at the ceiling, but she said nothing. Meanwhile, his mind churned. What if he hadn’t dated around? What if he’d been honest with her? Would she actually have broken up with Dylan to be with him? It was impossible to know, so he kept stroking her hair and imagined a world where this was how they’d spent every Saturday for the past decade.
The soft lighting and the heat of her body next to him made honesty easy. “I grew out of dating everything that moves a long time ago, just so you know.”
“Oh, so you’re a monk now?”
Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but he offered a mild defense anyway. “I’m far more monkish than anything else these days.”
Wow, Castle, way to impress her with your prowess.But what was the point of pretending? He stillhadn’t found anyone who made him feel like Finn had.
She interrupted his wayward thoughts by tipping her head back to smile up at him. “Okay, mister monk. The power doesn’t seem to magically be coming back on, and you left off on a cliffhanger. Better start the next chapter.”
Nine
Finn’s leg was asleep, she was freezing, and her left sock had twisted around until the heel was on top of her foot, but none of that mattered. She didn’t want to move from this spot, ever, because Tom Castle was running his fingers through her hair and reading out loud to her in a charmingly earnest manner that filled her with such joy she didn’t know how flowers weren’t bursting into bloom on her skin.
“Is this a good stopping point?” Tom asked. He set his e-reader down but didn’t still the movements of his fingers.
“No. Never stop.” The words came out closer to a moan, and to her chagrin, hedidstop playing with her hair. Wondering why she sounded like a wounded animal probably.
As her senses slowly returned, she became aware of the temperature in the apartment. She sat up regretfully and pulled the afghan more tightly around her. “I didn’t realize how cold it got in here.”
“No power, no heat. The temperature’s been dropping all afternoon.” He gave a little shiver.
“You may freeze to death yet. I pulled you off the streets for nothing.”
“Not for nothing. I made you an omelet.” He yawned and stretched. “Please tell me this mysterious ‘Richard’ left behind some fleece-lined sweatshirts or long johns or something.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’ll have to check, but it’s probably all workout gear. And what’s with the air quotes?”
He shot her an innocent look. “What, you mean ‘Richard’?” He busted out the air quotes again. “I mean, heisreal, right? You don’t actually keep clothes on hand to dress your male guests like a Ken doll?”
Ha. Their last male guest had been… well, Richard.
“What could you possibly know about Ken?” she teased.
“I know he’s unfortunately smooth in important places.” Tom flashed his dimples, which naturally made her think about his nonsmooth places and—
Nope.No more lecherous thoughts for the night.
“I’ll have you know that Richard is very real,” she said primly, bending down to adjust her damn sock.
Tom opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I mean, is ‘Richard’”—air quotes again—“a boyfriend? Your personal trainer? Your bodyguard? Not that it’s my business. It’s just, Iamwearing his clothes.” He traced his finger around the rim of his wineglass, the corners of his mouth twisting downward. Was he asking because he was curious? Could he be… was he maybe…jealous?
Finn snatched the opportunity to stretch this out a bit and see what would happen. “Oh, Richard’s great. I met him through Josie. He works for one of the big event-planning companies in town, which means he always gets me into the coolest fund-raisers and galas as his date. Although we always have to wear the big credential lanyards, which totally spoil the lines of my gowns.”
Tom grimaced. “Okay, so Richard’s tall and in decent shape, I assume, since I can wear his clothes. And he likes camping, which probably makes him a guy’s guy. And he takes the ladies to all the nice events in the city, so he’s an in-demand date. I… I think I might hate him a little,” he concluded glumly.
