The brain fog clears, and all I see is her, looking up at me, strands of red hair clinging to her forehead.
I gently rest her weight fully on the table and caress her face, pushing the hair out of her eyes.
I look her over and ask, “Everything good?”
She smiles. “Fantastic,” she says weakly.
She’s seconds away from pulling back emotionally. She doesn’t need me to whisper sweet nothings or declare my undying love for her.
I have to rein it in and be really careful with what happens next.
Slowly, I help her stand up, then give her a moment to get dressed as I pull my jeans and shirt back on.
That’s when I hear her stomach growl.
“Finish putting yourself back together, then we’re going to get some real food.”
Skylar bats her lashes as she ties up her hair back into a bun on top of her head. “Man of my dreams.”
She winks.
That’s the plan.
Thirteen
Skylar
I stare down the street, chagrined at all the people streaming into the cafe. “Alas, we’re not getting in at the Bluejay today,” I say. “We’re late for the lunch rush.”
Finn says nothing, and I turn to find him holding the door to his truck open.
“Get in. I have a better idea.”
I climb in, and he watches me buckle my seatbelt before closing the passenger door.
When Finn slides behind the wheel, I ask where we’re going. “The bakery doesn’t sell anything other than sweets,” I tell him. As we head out of the main business district, we pass Canary Crepes, and my stomach rumbles at the thought of their Nutella and banana crepes, or the bacon and melted bleu cheese one. But we roll on by.
That leaves The Magpie—the swanky restaurant and bar up at the ski lodges, nestled on the road among the million-dollarcabins. A fun bar at night during the off-season, but for meals, it’s a bit high-end for how I look at the moment.
“I don’t think I’m dressed for linen tablecloths and flowers on the table,” I tell him.
“That’s why I’m dropping you off at your house, where you’ll get a shower first, and you can dress for lunch on the train.”
The train? The ski lodge attached to The Magpie has an additional feature involving an authentic steam engine that circles the mountain.
“But that takes advance reservations,” I point out. “And how do you know where I live?”
“Lease agreement has your home address on it. As for the train, you don’t have to know all my tricks,” he tells me as he pulls up to my house.
“You’re right. I think I learned enough for one day. How did you hold me up like that without giving yourself a hernia?”
He laughs and then reaches for me. I don’t resist.
“May Day magic,” he says, nibbling my bottom lip.
I want to talk, but I’d rather sit here and let him eat my face a little longer. Unfortunately, he hears my stomach growl again. Pulling back, he orders me inside and assures me he’ll be back in 20 minutes.
Twenty minutes later, I’m not ready yet. So, of course, Finn shows up like clockwork.
