Saved by the Bride (20 page)

“How do you figure that?”

“I thought if we spent some time together it might help make it
up to you.”

He thought of his father’s bizarre invitation the other day and
every part of him froze. “Like going fishing?”

Sean nodded. “And camping.”

He spoke slowly as pieces of a puzzle started clicking together
fast. “Stuff that fathers do with their kids?”

“Pretty much.”

The words melted the veneer of cool indifference he’d spent
years cultivating so he could deal with his father. “Fuck, Dad. I’m not
twelve.”

Sean flinched. “I’m well aware of that, Finnegan.”

Are
you
? Sean had been an absent father with a wake of
broken promises trailing behind him and Finn had covered his childhood
disappointments years ago by schooling himself to think of his father only in
terms of the business and as an entrepreneur he could learn from. Sean had no
right to try and change the rules on him now.

“Yeah? Well, your timing sucks.” He stood up, his plate falling
to the sand. “You’re twenty-one years too late.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

The consummate businessman, the legend who controlled an
empire, rose to his feet looking every minute of his fifty-seven years, and a
foreign aura of uncertainty hovered over him.

Finn’s grip on the world as he knew it slipped slightly. His
father was never uncertain about anything and a slither of alarm snuck in,
unsettling everything he understood about himself. His anger instantly scorched
it. “I don’t want you to try. You want to be a redux dad, Sean, count me out.
You’ve got Logan to get it right with now.”

Sean’s mouth that had charmed so many so often, kicked up at
the edges in a grim smile. “Being a parent is fraught with mistakes,
Finnegan.”

“And you’ve got a hell of a diploma in that. Fishing and
camping just isn’t going to do it, Dad.”

“I didn’t think it would.”

Sean met his gaze and Finn saw something in it that he didn’t
want to see and it sent out malignant tendrils that took hold like cancer. “Me
running the company this summer isn’t about gaining experience at all, is it?
You’re holding me fucking hostage so you can sleep at night.”

Sean ran his hand across the back of his neck. “The two things
are not mutually exclusive.”

Finn’s chest burned so hot and tight he could barely breathe
and all he wanted to do was get the hell away from his father. “What deluded
planet are you currently living on? Did you think getting me here and saying
sorry was going to be enough? It’s too late, Sean. Hell, it was too late years
ago. I hope you get your absolution from the great outdoors, because you’re sure
as hell not getting it from me.”

“Dad! Finn!” Logan’s excited voice hailed them from farther
down the beach.

Every part of him wanted to turn and go but Finn could see the
boy running as fast as he could toward them with sand flying, and clutching an
enormous fish. A flash of memory—him as a boy with his first big catch—stayed
his feet. In the distance, Hank pulled the canoe from the water.

His father hesitated a moment as if he wanted to say something
more but he turned toward Logan’s excited voice.

Breathless and breathing hard, Logan held his catch aloft.
“Look at the size of it, Dad.”

Sean’s face split into a quiet and proud smile and he slapped
Logan gently on the back. “That’s quite a fish. We better take a photo to show
Mom.”

“Finn, can you take the photo of me and Dad on your phone?”
Logan asked.

He’d had enough of pretending to play happy families but he
thought of the prized photo in the cabin of himself with his grandfather as he
held up his first big fish. Every boy needed a record of their first catch and
he’d do this for Logan before he left. The only thing that had been good about
last night was his little half brother’s infectious enthusiasm for everything
they’d done, and Finn had enjoyed his role in teaching him how to make a
fire.

As he framed his father and younger brother in the viewfinder,
his throat closed. Logan stared up at Sean with adoration shining in his eyes.
Sean had his absolution.

* * *

Annika had an aching wrist, gold embossing powder on her
face, sticky ink in her hair and five sample invitations for Jessica to choose
from. Working out the speed of the conveyor belt to move the paper through the
thermography machine had taken some tweaking, but she’d only had one invitation
go up in flames. She was excited to hear Jessica’s response to the samples and
she couldn’t wait to get to the post office on Monday morning to mail the
samples. The save-the-date cards had been laser-printed on pretty card stock
that Finn had suggested from the AKP catalogue.

Bridey had spent a long time browsing through the sample
invitations and as expected, she wanted something totally original. She’d given
Annika a check and had commissioned three different designs so she had choice.
She’d also chatted with Nicole and Melissa over coffee. The meeting had gone
smoothly and Bridey had complimented them on the romantic space they’d created
and the ideas they’d put together. Then she’d twisted her enormous diamond ring
on her finger and said, “The thing is, it’s absolutely necessary that Hank and I
have a big wedding. I know we had the engagement party at the lake but the
wedding is different.”

Nicole had nodded. “Rhinebeck did ‘huge’ for Chelsea Clinton.
We can do huge for you.”

“That’s very sweet but I’ve already put a deposit on four
venues including the InterContinental. It’s very important that I get married in
Chicago so everyone knows that Hank and I are taking our first step to a long
and happy life together. I have to do it right—
everything
must be done right.” Bridey’s hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that Whitetail wouldn’t do it right, it’s just
I
have
to get married in Chicago.”

“I understand,” Nicole had said, but when Bridey had leaned
forward to take a cookie from the plate, she’d thrown a worried look at
Annika.

Annika agreed with Nicole. She didn’t know Bridey well enough
to know what was going on but her words, “I have to do it right” struck her as
odd. Was there a wrong way to get married?

Still thinking about Bridey, who’d gone to the bakery for her
mother, Annika wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of iced tea. She
was just twisting the top when her shiny new smartphone blasted out the piercing
sound of an air horn.

She jumped in fright and iced tea slopped all over her hand and
down her skirt. Grabbing the phone with her dry hand, she randomly pressed
buttons—anything to silence the noise. Finn had given her the phone yesterday,
and although she’d only received two calls on it, the ringtone for those had
been quiet and classical. Was her phone blowing up? On the third jab the
horrible sound stopped and she breathed a sigh of relief. As she washed her
sticky hand a Missed Call message beeped.

She couldn’t believe that noise had been a ringtone and she
didn’t know whether to laugh or stamp her foot when she saw it was Finn’s
number. He must have programmed her phone so when he called it was impossible to
miss. She pressed Missed Call and held the phone to her ear.

Finn’s voice roared down the phone, his words peppering her
like a spray of bullets. “Where the hell are you?”

She pulled in a deep breath to steady herself and sat down. She
hadn’t heard that tone in his voice since the police station. “Finn, what’s
wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that I’ve been to the cabin, the cottage and
Kylemore, and you’re not there.”

“I’m at the studio.” She couldn’t understand why he was so
upset. “Why didn’t you just call me when you got back to the cabin?”

But his reply broke up and all she could hear was, “Dock now,”
before the line dropped out.

Five minutes later she pulled up at the dock to see Finn pacing
up and down. The moment he saw her he strode toward her, his face set and his
feet making the old wooden planks vibrate.

“Hi.”

He gave her a quick nod but not even the brim of his cap could
hide the melee of emotions in his eyes. He grabbed her backpack and then her
hand, and walked them both very quickly down the dock. An onlooker would have
seen a well-mannered man carrying a woman’s bag for her. Annika saw a man in
pain. She was about to ask him what was upsetting him so much when they arrived
at the motorboat she’d tied up earlier that morning. She noticed the rowboat
tied up next to it.

“You
rowed
here?” Her voice rose in
disbelief. The island was a quick row from Kylemore but a good distance from
Whitetail.

“Yes.” His mouth was a thin line. He handed her down into the
motorboat before untying the rope and jumping down himself. Silently, he turned
on the ignition and the large engine throbbed to life. With a deft pull on the
wheel, Finn accelerated away from the dock.

As the boat gathered speed, the bow lifted, the flag streamed
out in its full stars-and-stripes glory, and Annika fell back onto the seat,
pushed there by inertia and held firmly in place by the force of the wind
against her. The boat breached the lake’s speed limit and it hit each small wave
with a knee-jarring thud, but Finn didn’t seem to notice. He stood, ramrod-stiff
with one hand on the wheel and his gaze fixed straight ahead.

There was no point talking because the wind stole every word
the moment it was spoken. She might not know the circumstances or the reasons,
but she knew with every part of her that he was hurting. His pain radiated into
her and she felt it too. Her heart turned over. Without thinking, she reached
out and touched him, resting her hand on the small of his back, and started to
rub his spine gently with her thumb. At first he didn’t move but then his rigid
shoulders dropped and his back pressed into her hand. The boat slowed and he
pulled her to her feet as they entered a pretty little cove where the pine trees
came down to the shore.

“Take the wheel and keep her slow.” He tested the knot on the
anchor and then threw it into the navy blue water, watching it sink until it was
too deep to be seen. Then he cut the engine, pulled her to him and kissed
her.

His mouth plundered hers as if he hadn’t kissed her in weeks
and his hands gripped her arms tightly as if she’d vanish if he didn’t hold on
to her. The stubble on his cheek grazed her skin, and his lips pressed hard
against her own. She automatically leaned back to grab some breath. “Finn?”

“Please don’t talk.” He growled out the words and moved in
again, his hands dropping to her hips and pulling her into him. She swiveled
slightly so she fitted against him and he made a sound in his throat—half howl,
half moan—an animal in distress.

It tore through her, ripping and tugging like a blunt knife.
Right then she knew he needed her. For whatever reason, he needed her and she
needed to be there for him. She pressed her hands into his hair, tangling them
in his thick curls, and kissed him back. Her tongue dueled with his—thrusting
and parrying until both of them were panting for breath but neither was pulling
away. He smelled of salt, sweat and campfire smoke, and tasted of old scars and
new pain. She wanted to soothe him as well as ride with him on this
out-of-control journey, and give him what he wanted.

Keeping her mouth on his, she slipped her hand under his shirt
and, gripping the waistband of his shorts, she undid the zipper.

The boat rocked.

He ground out, “Steady” as his hand fought the material of her
skirt until he cupped her.

She trembled but somehow managed to release him from his shorts
and her hand closed around his silky thickness.

He shuddered and his finger found the edge of her panties and
slid into her wetness.

Her hand stroked him.

He stroked her back.

She gasped, “No,” knowing she’d come in a heartbeat and she
wanted this to be for him.

“Yes.”

The boat kept rocking. And tilted.

Her balance shifted and their hands fell away.

The boat tilted back.

“Ohh.” She lost her balance completely and as she fell backward
she tried clutching his shoulder for support but got his shirt instead. She
heard a rip as the edge of the boat hit the back of her knees, and then she was
airborne for a moment before being encased by water.

She kicked to the surface, gasping with surprise and the shock
of the cold water against her skin.

“Annika! Here.” She turned to see Finn’s strong arms stretched
out toward her from the boat and his face filled with relief. “Are your
okay?”

“I’m fine. But I think my sandals are forever part of the
lake.” Her skirt dragged at her legs like a lead weight so she took it off,
balled it up and tried to throw it to Finn. It fell short.

He shook his head slowly as if her miss was completely expected
and laughter creased his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes into smiling
lines. By the time she reached the side of the boat, he’d retrieved her skirt
with a fishing pole. Gripping her wrists he said, “I believe I’ve done this
before. Why am I always rescuing you from water?”

“Just lucky I guess.” She tried to smile but her teeth were
chattering. “Hurry up already. Deep water is a lot colder than close to the
shore.”

“You were bossy last time too.” But his voice was full of a
smile as he pulled her up until she could hold the side of the boat. Then he put
his arms under hers and lifted her in.

He rubbed her dry with a towel, wrapped her in another one, sat
her down on the bench seat at the back of the boat, and then pulled her close
and kissed her on the nose. His dark eyes, which had been filled with torment
half an hour ago, now sparkled with fun. “I should have known better than to try
and have sex with you on an unstable surface.”