One and done.
Fin’s shoulders sagged a little and he let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. ‘Yeah,’ he conceded, his gaze trained on the road. ‘It was very good.’
Betcha ass it was!But…
‘But it’d blur the lines too much,’ Sweeney murmured. ‘Between our mothers’ fantasy and the real world.’
He sighed again. ‘I know.’
‘We would run the risk of… catching feelings, or something equally catastrophic, and we can’t do that, Fin.’
‘Iknow, Sweeney.’ He bugged his eyes at her before he turned back to concentrate on the road. ‘I get it. What happens at the lake stays at the lake. Just who are you trying to convince—me, or you?’
Sweeney ignored him, suddenly desperate to get this off her chest. To speak it out loud so she knew they were on the same page. ‘I just… with me travelling all the time, everything in my life is pretty much temporary—jobs, places,guys—except for you. Apart from my mother, you’ve been my one constant for thirty-plus years and, even though we don’t keep in super regular contact, it means a lot to know that I can message or call you and you’ll answer.’
And if it got weird between them, maybe he wouldn’t anymore…
‘Yeah.’ He nodded. ‘Same.’
‘And then there’s the long-standing friendship between our mothers. If we were to keep fooling around like this and decide we—what? Like it?—then what happens when I have to leave and we both go our separate ways again? Fake breaking up is fine, real breaking up could be messy for everyone involved, especially our mothers, because you know they’ll take sides even if there aren’t any to take, and their relationship could be really damaged.’
‘Agreed.’
Sweeney half turned in her seat, her hand sliding to the cushioned rest in the centre console as she studied his whiskery profile. Her heart filled with a rush of affection. He was so familiar and dear to her, they couldn’t let a stupid, heat-of-the-moment kiss ruin their lifetime relationship by recklessly ignoring the danger.
‘You’re my friend, Fin,’ she murmured. ‘Mybestfriend. I’ve spent most of my adult life in relationships with guys I can love and leave and not look back. You’re not that guy. In fact, you’re the one guy Ican’tlove and leave.’
‘Sweeney.’ His hand found hers on the console and gave it a squeeze. ‘It’s okay. I am one hundred per cent on board with everything you’re saying. I value what we have far too much to screw it up because of a kiss. No matter how good it was.’
He shot her an eyebrow waggle and she laughed, the release of tension welcome.
‘And besides,’ he said as his hand returned to the wheel, ‘my father would kick my ass if he knew about it. He loved you like the daughter he never had and he wouldnotapprove of me doing anything that might screw things up between us or between our mothers. And that little bit of wisdom seems particularly pertinent today.’
Sweeney nodded. The ghost of Michael Murphy had felt very close this afternoon. ‘So, that’s it then,’ she said, much relieved that he was on the same page. ‘Friends only.’
Shooting her a sideways look, he smiled. ‘Friends forever.’
And, hell, if Sweeney didn’t like the sound of that. She held out her crooked little finger. ‘Pinkie swear.’
Removing his hand from the wheel, Fin also crooked his and, glancing briefly her way, looped their fingers together. The sizzle from his touch was instantaneous, as if her skin remembered how he’d felt pressed against her, even if her brain was determined to forget.
‘Pinkie swear,’ he muttered, his eyes back on the road.
It was the briefest of holds, then they were separating and Sweeney turned back to the window, watching the headlights pick out trunks of trees in the darkened bush as they rushed past. They’d be back in Ballyshannon soon and the lake would feel like a distant memory.
Or an alternate universe, anyway.
One where they’d briefly forgotten they were fake engagedandchildhood friends and succumbed to a very strange moment, the muscle memory of which still sizzled beneath her skin. Just as a faint trace of him lingered on her tongue. And his deep, guttural groans still echoed through her brain…
*
Any hope that Sweeney and Fin could move on from theincidentat the lake died a nasty death the next morning, when they arrived at Connie’s house for pre-church Sunday pancakes. Sweeney hadn’t slept well and Fin didn’t look like he had either. Had he replayed their little tete-a-tete on the beach over and over, too?
Or maybe it had been the letter from his father that had clearly kept him up as he yawned his way through their morning coffees, which had only been slightly awkward. But they’d gone through the motions of everything being normal and it soon felt that way.
Their mothers, however, were definitely up to something, grinning at them both, practically bouncing on their toes in excitement. Sweeney side eyed Fin, who was frowning slightly.
‘Okay.’ He narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s going on?’
