Sweet Little Lies: Heartbreaker Bay Book 1 (26 page)

Oh for God’s sake!

How did everyone know about that
?

Not that she could ask.

Hell, no. Instead, she stopped and pawed through her purse for her keys before dropping it to scratch and claw at the door like she was being kidnapped and tortured.

Finn crouched down at her feet to pick up her purse and scoop the contests back in. He had a tampon in one hand and Willa’s book—
Orgasms For One
—in the other. He should’ve looked utterly ridiculous. Instead he looked utterly perfect.

“Pru, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“I think she’s having a seizure,” Mrs. Winslow said helpfully. “Honey, you look a little bit constipated. I suggest a good fart. That always works for me.”

Pru didn’t know how to tell her she was about to let loose but it wouldn’t be nearly as neat as a fart. By some miracle, she made it inside. She was sweating through her clothes by the time she stumbled along without even taking her keys out of the lock, racing to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

She had barely hit her knees before she got sick.

From
what felt like a narrow, long tunnel, through the thick fog in her head and her own misery, she heard him.

“Pru,” he said, his voice low with worry.

From right.

Outside.

Her.

Bathroom.

Door.

“I’m coming in,” he said and she couldn’t stop throwing up to tell him to run, to save himself.

Pru
felt one of Finn’s hands pull her hair back and hold it for her, the other encircling her, fingers spread wide on her stomach. He was kneeling behind her, his big body supporting hers.

“I’ve got you,” he said.

No one had ever said such a thing to her before and she would have loved to absorb that and maybe obsess over why it meant so much, but her stomach had other ideas. So she closed her eyes and pretended she was alone on a deserted island with her charged Kindle. And maybe Netflix. When she could catch her breath, she brought a shaky hand to her head, which was pounding like the devil himself was in there operating a jackhammer, whittling away at what was left of her brains.

Finn kept her from sliding to the floor by wrapping both arms around her and bringing her gently back, propping her up against him.

“I’m
sorry,” she managed, horrified that she’d thrown up in front of the hottest man she’d ever had the privilege of sleeping with by accident.

“Breathe, Pru. It’s going to be okay.”

“Please just leave me here to die,” she croaked out when she could, pulling free. “Just walk out of this room and pretend it never happened. We’ll never speak of it again.”

And then, giving up trying to be strong, she slid bonelessly to the bathroom floor. Her body was hot and she was slick with perspiration. Unable to garner the energy to hold herself up anymore, she pressed her hot cheek to the cool tile and closed her eyes.

She heard water running and squeezed her eyes tight, but that only made her all the dizzier. A deliciously cool, wet washcloth was pressed to her forehead. She cracked an eye and found Finn. “Dammit, you never listen.”

“I always listen,” he said. “I just don’t always agree.”

His hand was rubbing her back in soothing circles and she thought she might never move again if he kept on doing that until the end of time. “Why won’t you go away?”

When he didn’t say anything, she again opened an eye. He was still looking at her with concern but not like she was at death’s door. Except if she wasn’t dying, that meant she was going to have to live with this, with him seeing her flat on the floor looking like roadkill.

“Do you think you can move?” he asked.

“Negative.” She wasn’t moving.
Ever
. She heard him on his phone, telling someone he needed something liquid with electrolytes in it.

“Not
drinking anything either,” she warned him, her stomach turning over at the thought.

He got up and left her, and she was grateful. When he came back in a moment later, she was back to worshipping the porcelain god, trying to catch her breath.

“Any better?” he asked when she was done.

She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t anything.

He peeled her away from the seat and gathered her in his lap. He laid her head against his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her. “Take a few deep breaths. Slowly.”

She tried but she was shaking so hard she thought maybe her teeth were going to rattle right out of her head. Finn wiped the sweat-matted hair from her face and then pressed the cool washcloth to the back of her neck.

It was heaven.

He cracked a bottle of lime-flavored water with electrolytes.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“Willa. She has it in her shop. Says she gives it to the nervous dogs after they throw up.”

“You told Willa I was throwing up?”

“She’s in the kitchen making you soup for tomorrow when you feel better. Elle’s bringing her a few ingredients she didn’t have.”

Pru managed a moan. “I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

“You do realize that friends don’t actually care what you look like,” he said. “Take a sip, Pru.”

She shook her head. She couldn’t possibly swallow anything.

“Just
a sip. Trust me, it’ll help.”

She did trust him. But drinking anything was going to be a disaster of major proportions.

He was moving her, using his shoulder to hold her head forward. It was take a sip or drown.

She took a sip.

“Good girl,” he whispered and let her settle back against him. They sat there, silent, for what seemed like days. Her stomach slowly stopped doing backflips.

“How do you feel?” he asked after a while.

She had no idea.

When she didn’t enlighten him, he took the washcloth from her neck, refolded it, and put it against her forehead.

“Eddie,” she croaked. “He might be sick too—”

“I’ve got him covered. Spence is with him but the old guy’s got a stomach of iron and doesn’t appear to be affected.

She managed a nod, eyes still closed. She must have drifted off then because when she opened her eyes again the light was different in the bathroom, like some time had gone by.

Finn was still on the floor with her, only he was shirtless now, wearing just his jeans.

Oh yeah. She remembered now. She’d thrown up a bunch more times. She had her hands curled around his neck, clutching him like he was her only lifeline.

And he was. She stared at his chest. She couldn’t stop herself. No matter how many times she saw his stomach, she wanted to lick it each time.

Not that she wanted to stop there either.

Nope, she wanted to lick upward to his neck and
then trail back down. She wanted to drop to her knees and slowly ease his jeans over his hips and—

“You okay?” he asked. “You just moaned.”

Huh. Maybe she really was going to live. She dragged her back to his. His hair was tousled, his jaw beyond a five o’clock shadow, but he still looked hot.

She hated him. “You should go,” she said knowing he either had to work or sleep.

He shook his head and brushed his lips over her forehead at the hairline. “It’s been a couple of hours since you last got sick,” he said. “Sip some more water.”

Her stomach was much calmer now, but her head was beating to its own drum. She could feel it pulsating.

“You’re dehydrated,” he said. “You need the water to get rid of the fever and headache.”

Too achy to argue, she nodded. She managed to take a few sips and then her body took over, demanding more.

“Careful,” Finn warned, pulling it away when she started to gulp it. “Let’s see how that settles first.”

“Thor?”

“He’s right here, sleeping on my feet. You want him?”

Yes. But she was in bad enough shape to hug him too tight and the last time she’d done that, he’d gotten scared and bit her. She’d stick with just Finn for now. She was pretty sure Finn only bit when naked. Or on really special occasions.

She fell asleep on him again and woke up much later in her own bed. Willa was helping her change.

“That man is gone over you,” Willa murmured, tucking Pru into bed.

“It’s the damn fountain.” Pru had to hold her head
on, keeping her eyes shut even when Willa had paused.

“Fountain?” she asked.

Maybe if Pru hadn’t been dying, she wouldn’t have answered. “I wished,” she said. “I wished for Finn to find love, but the fountain got it all wrong and gave
me
love instead. Stupid fountain. He’s the one who deserves it.”

“Honey,” Willa said softly. “We all deserve love.”

Pru wanted that to be true. God, how she wanted that . . .

“And how do you know the fountain didn’t get it right?” Willa asked. “Maybe
you’re
his true love.”

Pru drifted off on that terrifying thought.

“You’re going to want to sip some of this.”

It was Elle. She sat on the bed at Pru’s hip and offered a mug.

“What is it?” Pru asked.

“Only the best tea on the planet. Try it.”

“I’m not thirsty—”

“Try it,” Elle said again finally. “You’re nearly translucent, you need fluids.”

So Pru sipped.

“Now,” Ella said calmly. “What’s this I hear about the fountain and some wish going astray?”

Pru choked on her sip.

Elle rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and pounded Pru on the back.

“Willa told you,” Pru said on a sigh.

“Yeah. She’s cute but she can’t keep a secret. She doesn’t mean any harm, I promise. She doesn’t have a
mean bone in her body. Mostly she’s worried about you and thought I could beat some sense into you.”

Pru blinked.

“Metaphorically,” Elle said. “And plus she wanted to borrow some change so she could go make a wish, seeing how it worked out so good for you.”

“The wish was for Finn!”

“Uh huh.”

“It was!”

“Well then, I’d say you got a two-fer.”

The
next time Pru opened her eyes, the hallway light allowed her to see that someone was sprawled in the chair by her bed. That someone rose when she stirred and sat at her hip.

“How you doing?” Finn asked.

She blinked at the crack of dawn’s early light creeping in through the slats of her blinds, casting everything in a hazy gold glow. From outside the window came the early chatter of birds, obnoxiously loud and chipper. She moaned. “I’ve never figured out if they’re happy that it’s morning or objecting to its arrival.”

Finn smiled. “I vote for objecting.”

Her too. He’d changed, she couldn’t help but notice. Different jeans, a rumpled black T-shirt. Hair still tousled. Jaw still stubbled. Eyes heavy-lidded. He was without a doubt the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Which told her one thing at least.

She
hadn’t died.

He propped her up in her bed, tied her crazy-ass hair back and brought her toast. Cut diagonally. She just stared up at him. Was he a fevered dream? “Tell me the truth,” she murmured, her voice rough and haggard. “You’re a fevered mirage, right?”

He frowned and leaned over her, one hand planted on the mattress, the other going to her forehead. His frown deepened and he leaned in even closer so that she caught a whiff of him.

He smelled like heaven on earth.

She did
not
smell like heaven on earth, and worse, she felt like roadkill. Like roadkill that had been run over, back upped on, and run over again. Twice.

But not Finn. She pressed in close and plastered her face to his throat at the same moment he pressed his mouth to her forehead.

“You don’t feel fevered,” he muttered.

“No, that’s what happens when things are a mirage. In fact, last night never even really happened.”

Pulling back, he met her gaze. “So I suppose you remember nothing.”

“Nothing,” she agreed quickly. “How could I? Nothing happened.”

His lips twitched. “Nicely done.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled. And then dropped the bomb. “Tell me about the fountain.”

“On second thought,” she said. “Maybe I actually died. I’m gone and buried . . .”

“Try again.”

She looked into his eyes, trying to decide if he knew
the truth about her wish—in which case she might have to strangle Willa and Elle—or if he was just fishing. “Well,” she said lightly. “It was built back in the days when Cow Hollow was filled with cows. And—”

“Not the fountain’s history, smartass,” he said. “I mean why you were muttering about it in your feverish haze.”

Huh. So maybe Elle and Willa didn’t have to be strangled after all. “I was feverish and delusional,” she said. “You need to forget everything you heard. And saw,” she added.

“You wished for love on the fountain?” he asked with a whisper of disbelief.

“What does it matter, you don’t believe in the myth anyway, remember?”

“That’s not an answer,” he said.

“I don’t believe in the myth either,” she said, and he fell quiet, letting her get away with that.

Instead of pushing, he nudged the toast her way. “Eat. And drink. You need to hydrate.”

“You sound like a mom.”

“Just don’t call me grandpa.” He got up to go, but she caught his hand.

“Hey,” she said. “You went over and above last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

It was hard to hold his gaze. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

He just looked at her for a long beat. “Anytime.”

By the next day, Pru was completely over the food poisoning and back to work, which was a good thing for several reasons. One, Jake desperately needed her.

And
two, she needed to get over throwing up in front of Finn, and short of a memory scrub, working her ass off was the only way to do it. So she buried herself, banning thoughts of Finn, needing to build up her immunity to his sexy charisma.

This worked for two days but then her efforts to lay low failed when he showed up at the warehouse.

He was waiting for her between two tours, propping up a pillar in the holding area where passengers hung out before and after boarding the ships.