Sweet Little Lies: Heartbreaker Bay Book 1 (21 page)

“I passed done in about an hour ago,” she admitted.

They didn’t speak again as they crossed the courtyard. But Thor did. He started barking at a pair of pigeons and when Finn gave him a long look, the dog switched to a low-in-the-throat growl.

“They outweigh you,” Finn told him. “Pick your battles, man.”

The dog was silent in the elevator but that was only because Max, who worked on the second floor in Archer’s office, was in it. With his Doberman pinscher Carl.

When Max and Carl got off the elevator, Thor let out a long sigh that sounded like relief, which under better circumstances would’ve made Finn laugh. “You know your particular breed of mutt was bred to kill Dobermans, right?” he asked the dog.

Thor blinked up at him.

“It’s true,” Finn said. “They get stuck right here—” He pointed to his throat.

Pru choked out a laugh. “Finn, that’s a horrible story!”

He
smiled and tugged lightly on a strand of her hair. “But you laughed,” he said.

“I laughed because it was a
horrible
story,” she said, but was still smiling.

And because she was, he leaned in and kissed her. Softly. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” she whispered back.

He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but it’d only taken one look at her open, expressive face to know she’d somehow been devastated today.

And, given the cut on her cheekbone, also hurt.

Both infuriated him.

The elevator opened and he took Thor’s leash in one hand and used the other to guide Pru off. They were in the hallway in front of her door when Mrs. Winslow’s door opened.

“Another special delivery?” Pru asked her.

“Not for me,” Mrs. Winslow answered. “It’s for you.”

“Um, I don’t eat a lot of special brownies,” she said. “No offense.”

Mrs. Winslow smiled. “Oh, none taken, honey. I’m just passing the word that there’s a little something in the dumbwaiter for you.”

“For me? Why?”

“For your bad day,” Mrs. Winslow said.

Pru blinked. “How do you know I had a bad day?”

“Let’s just say a little birdie looks after all of us,” Mrs. Winslow said. “And he let me know to let you know that you’re not alone.”

“He who?” Pru asked.

But Mrs. Winslow had vanished back into her apartment.

Finn
and Pru walked into hers. Finn crouched down and freed Thor from his leash and the dog immediately trotted to his food bowl.

Pru dumped a cup of dry food into it, patted the dog on his head and then went straight to the dumbwaiter.

Finn went to her freezer. He didn’t see an ice pack but she did have a small bag of frozen corn. Good enough.

At her gasp, Finn turned to her. She’d pulled out a basket of muffins from the coffee shop. Tina’s muffins, the best on the planet.

Finn wrapped the bag of corn in a kitchen towel and gently set the makeshift ice pack to her cheek and then brought her hand up to it. “Hold it here a few minutes,” he said.

While she did that, he carried the basket to the kitchen table and they dove into the muffins right then and there.

“Good to have friends in high places,” he said instead of asking her about her face, and when she visibly relaxed he knew he’d done the right thing.

Didn’t mean he didn’t want to kick someone’s ass, because he did. Badly.

“It’d be better to know who those friends are,” she said, clearly not reading his murderous thoughts. She met his gaze. “Do you know?”

He had an idea but didn’t know for certain so he shook his head.

She took another muffin, chocolate chip by the looks of it. “Sean’s toast at the pub upset you,” she said.

Sitting across from her at her table, with Thor in his lap while he worked his way through a most excellent
blueberry/banana muffin, he didn’t want to get into Sean’s toast. He much preferred to get into whatever had happened to
her
. But he knew that she wasn’t going to open up.

Unless he did.

Problem was, he hated opening up. To anyone.

“I’m sorry your dad never got to see the bar and what a success you made of it,” she said quietly.

He put his muffin down. “My dad couldn’t have cared less what we did with ourselves when we were kids. He wouldn’t care what we do now either.”

“But Sean said—”

“Sean’s so full of shit that his eyes are brown,” he said. “My dad never had a pub. Hell, he never even acknowledged he was Irish. My brother perpetuates the lie because he thinks Irish pubs do well and he isn’t wrong. We
have
done well but it isn’t because we’re Irish, it’s because we work our asses off.”

“You mean you work
your
ass off,” she said.

He met her knowing gaze. “I just hate the fraud.”

“It’s not a fraud if it’s true, even a little bit.” Reaching across the table, she covered her hand with his. “Stop feeling guilty about something that isn’t your fault and isn’t hurting anyone. Let it go and enjoy the success you’ve made of the place, in spite of your father.”

He stared at her. “How is it that you’re cute, sexy as hell,
and
smarter than anyone I know?”

She gave him a small smile. “It’s a gift.”

Leaning over the table, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and pulled the bag of corn from her face. Gently he touched her cheekbone. “You okay?”

“I will be.”

Her
resilience made him smile. “Yeah?” he asked. “And how’s that?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Well, it’s raining, and I love the rain. Someone sent me a basket of muffins, and I love muffins. Thor is actually clean and going to stay that way for at least the next few minutes. I don’t have to work until midday tomorrow. And I have company.” She smiled. “The good kind.” She lifted a shoulder. “It’s all good.”

She was aiming for light and she’d succeeded. It was how she dealt, he got that. And he was getting something else too—that he could learn a hell of a lot from her.

She rose from her chair and came around the table. She lifted Thor from his lap and set the dog down. Then she climbed into Finn’s lap herself and cupped his face.

His arms closed around her and one thought settled into his brain. This feels right.

She
feels right.

Pru
lifted her gaze to Finn’s, startled by the sudden intensity in his gaze. It said she wasn’t alone, that she mattered, a lot.

At least you’re not the only one falling . . .

This thought was a cool tall drink of relief immediately followed by a chaser of anxiety.

Because she hadn’t meant for this to happen. She hadn’t meant for
any
of it; his attention, his affection, his emotional bond . . . and all of it was a secret dream come true for her.

Just as all of it was now a nightmare as well, because how was she supposed to give it up? Give
him
up?

Although the tough truth was, she wouldn’t have to. Telling him the truth would accomplish that because
he
would give
her
up once she did.

She’d known they’d be getting to this. She hadn’t
missed him looking at her cheek, or the temper that flashed in his eyes whenever he did. “It’s—”

“Not nothing. Don’t even think about saying it’s nothing.” His voice was gentle but inexorable steel.

“My grandfather’s in a senior home,” she said. “Has been for years. I visit him every week but he doesn’t always recognize me.”

“He hit you?” he asked, his voice still calm, his gaze anything but.

“No.” She shook her head. “Well, not exactly.”

“Then what exactly?”

“He was trying to get me to leave,” she said. “He threw the stuff on his lunch tray at me.”

His brow furrowed. “What the fuck?”

“It’s that sometimes he thinks I’m my mom,” she said. “He didn’t like her.”

Finn’s fingers slid into her hair, soothing, protective, and she felt herself relax a little into his touch.

“Why not?” he asked quietly.

“She . . .” Pru closed her eyes and pressed her face to his throat. “She was a good-time girl. She loved to have fun. My dad loved to give her that fun. We spent a lot of time out on the water and at Giants games, his two favorite things.”

He smiled. “And you’re still out on the water.”

She nodded. “It makes me feel close to them. I used to tell my dad I was going to captain a ship someday, which must have sounded ridiculous but he told me I could do anything I wanted.” She paused. “I loved them, very much, but in some ways my grandpa was right. My mom encouraged my dad. The truth is they were partyers, and big social drinkers . . .”

“Is
that why you never drink?”

“A big part of it,” she admitted for the first time in her life. “Is that weird for you, being with someone who doesn’t drink?”

He palmed her neck and waited until she looked at him. “Not even a little bit,” he said.

She smiled. “My dad used to say my mom was the light to his dark. He loved that about her. He loved her,” she said, her chest tight at the memory of her mom making him laugh. “They loved each other.”

There was empathy in Finn’s eyes and in his touch. Empathy, and affection, and a grim understanding. He’d had losses too. Far too many.

“I’m glad you have those memories of your mom and dad together,” he said. “I know it sucks having them gone, but at least when you think of them, you smile.”

Mostly. But not always. Not, for instance, when she thought of how they’d died.

And who’d they’d taken with them . . .

“I’m sorry you don’t have those memories,” she said quietly.

“Don’t be. Because I don’t know what I’m missing.” He met her gaze. “You had it worse. Your life was a complete one-eighty from mine. You know exactly what you’re missing.”

And there went the stab to her gut again. “Finn—”

“It’s not your fault, Pru. Any of it. Forget it.”

As if she could.

He tightened his grip on her. “No more going into your grandfather’s room alone. You take an orderly with you, or anyone. Me,” he said. “I’ll go with you. Or
whoever you want, but I don’t want you in there with him alone again.”

“He’s not always that bad—”

“Promise me,” he said, cupping her face, taking care with her cheek. “There’s only honesty between us, right? We have no reason for anything but. So look me in the eyes and promise me, Pru.”

She inhaled deeply, feeling like the biggest fraud on the planet. “I promise,” she whispered, hating herself a little bit. “Finn?”

“Yeah?”

Eyes on his, she leaned in close. “Do you remember when you kissed away my hurts?”

“After the first softball game,” he said and smiled. “Yeah, I remember. It was a highlight for me.” His eyes went smoldering. “Want me to do it again?”

“No, it’s your turn,” she said. “I’m going to kiss away
your
hurts.”

He stilled. “You are?”

“Yes.”
Please want me to, please need me to . . .

A rough sound escaped him then, regret and empathy, making her realize she’d spoken out loud. Closing her eyes, she tried to turn away but his arms tightened around her, his voice low and rough. “I do,” he said fiercely. “I’m going to show you just how much I need you. All night long, in fact.”

She stared into his eyes, letting the strength in the words, in his body, in his gaze convince her he meant every single word. “The whole night,” she repeated, needing the clarification.

“For as long as you need.”

Since
that was too much to think about, she had to set it aside in her head. Instead she slid her fingers into his hair as his hands caught her, rocking her against her very favorite body part of his. She oscillated her hips, thrilling to the way he groaned at the contact.

No slouch, Finn stroked up her arms, encouraging the spaghetti straps of her sundress to slip from her shoulders. The bodice was stretchy and lightweight and still damp from the rain, which meant it took very little effort for him to tug it to her waist so that her breasts spilled out.

A rough, very male sound of appreciation rumbled up from deep in his throat and his hands went under her dress to cup her ass, pulling her in tighter to him, putting his mouth right at tease-her-nipples level.

He captured one in his mouth and her brain ceased working. Just completely stopped. Probably for the best since she was about to do things with him that she’d told herself she wouldn’t do again. “Finn—”

Finn groaned again, a near growl. “Love the sound of my name on your lips,” he said and sucked hard, his hands pushing her dress up her thighs as he did.

“Oh no,” she said, and right then, with his teeth gently biting down on her nipple and his hands up her dress, he froze.

“No?” he repeated.

“No, as in I’m not going to be the first one naked this time,” she clarified. “Why am I always the first one naked?”

“Because you look amazing naked. Here, let me show you—”

“Now just hold on,” she said with a low laugh, feeling
dizzy with lust. “Good God, you’re potent.” She shoved his shirt up his chest and hummed in thrilled delight at the sight of his exposed torso. “Off,” she demanded.

He took a hand off her thigh, fisted it in his shirt between his shoulder blades and yanked it over his head, never taking his eyes from hers, immediately going back to the business of driving her right out of her ever-loving mind.

Her hands slid down his bare chest over his abs, which were rigid and taut enough that even though he was sitting, there was no fat ripple. If she didn’t want him so badly, she’d hate him for it. She popped open his button-fly jeans and a most impressive erection sprang free into her hands.

He was commando.

“Laundry day,” he said.

She stared at him and then laughed. She had him full and hard in her hands, and she was hot and achy and already wet for him, and she was laughing.

“It’s not nice to laugh at a naked man,” he said, smiling at her, not insulted in the least, the cocky bastard, and it only made her laugh harder.

“I’m sorry,” she managed on a snort.

Straightening up, causing those delicious ab muscles to crunch, he nipped her jaw. “You don’t look sorry.”