Page 69 of Hard to Love

“KELLEN,” I GROAN AS I plop down on the bench, exhausted, and drenched with sweat. “You’re relentless.”

“And that’s how you like me,” Kellen says. The smile he throws my way is smug as he picks up some of the balls on the court.

“Huh.”

“Enjoy this weather here—this California sunshine and cool coastal breeze—because when we get to New York in a few weeks, it’s going to be miserable. Muggy and hot to the point that it smothers you.”

“Don’t remind me.” I wipe my face with the towel. “And the crappy part? The crappy part is I haven’t even gotten to explore anywhere here because I’ve been locked up tight.”

“Should we start calling you Rapunzel?”

I whip my head over to see Finn standing on the side of the court, his arms crossed over his chest, his sunglasses on. Is it ridiculous that my heart jumps at the sound of his voice and the sight of him even though I see him every day?

Kellen laughs. “I could think of a lot of things to call her, but Rapunzel ain’t one of them.”

“Funny.” I raise my middle finger at him but laugh while doing it before standing and moving toward Finn. “What are you doing here?”

It’s been two days since the sex on the floor. He’s been busy. I’ve been busy. Or maybe if I’m honest with myself, I’ve been kind of lying low because I was uncertain how this dynamic between us would go.

But he’s here when I know he’s knee-deep in a serious contract negotiation as well as fixing some problems a client got himself in. Problems that I have a feeling he normally would tend to in person but has chosen to do remotely instead.

Because of me.

Finn shrugs and his smile widens. “I figured you’ve been training here for a few weeks and I’ve yet to see how it’s going for myself, so . . .”

“So as a good agent would, you decided to mosey the quarter of a mile from your house and come see me.”

“Something like that,” he murmurs and I stare at him from beneath my visor, my own smile wide, wishing I could see his eyes.

“So did you like what you saw?”

“I did.” He nods. “I do.”

I mock curtsy and laugh. “And?”

“And, Rapunzel, after seeing the crude art you left on the kitchen table with the silverware,” he says, “I realized you might be getting a little stir-crazy.”

“Just a little.” I hold my thumb and index finger about an inch apart, a small thrill shooting through me at the prospect of getting out of the house. Not to mention I love that he saw my message and understood its meaning. “Was the SOS I created too obvious?”

“Perhaps.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use silverware to spell?”

He laughs. “Maybe I was feeling slightly the same.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“I’m rescuing you from the tower, Rapunzel. It’s time to let your hair down.”

FINN

“I’M MORE THAN IMPRESSED THAT you even knew the story of Rapunzel to begin with,” Stevie says, the warm glow of the candlelight reflecting off her tan skin and dancing in her eyes.

The second-story outdoor patio is quiet tonight. A frequent favorite when I’m in town, I asked the owner if I could have the private balcony to myself tonight, and luckily it was available. The small area sits above the main restaurant, so that we can see other diners but they can’t see us.

Lights are strung back and forth over the terracotta tiled floor adding warmth to the atmosphere. Dishes clink and glasses clank while a mariachi band plays quietly in the corner of the main floor.

“It’s my favorite of the Disney movies.”