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  “I have to go to work,” he finally said.

  My head jerked up. “Right. Work.” I slid off his lap.

  He rose, tugging the waistband of his jeans back up. His short hair slid forward as he looked down to button them, and I felt a wave of tenderness, followed by a jerking riptide of something biting and complicated and deep in my chest. It snapped through me so hard and so fast I almost lost my breath.

  He tipped his face up. “When are you leaving, Janey?”

  Bam. He always caught me off guard and hard, like a lightning storm.

  I took a shaky breath. “I’m supposed to fly out in six hours.”

  He stopped buttoning. For a long time, we just looked at each other. I felt every breath of his. I waited for him to say, What do you mean, six hours? or When were you going to tell me? or What the fuck, Janey?

  Instead, he said, “What’s that mean, ‘supposed to’ fly out?”

  Oh, clever, clever Finn.

  “Well,” I said. “I was just thinking, there’s so many things still to do.” I noticed my fingers were twisting around the hem of my shirt. I forced them down.

  “There’s a lot to do,” he agreed, having no idea what I had to do. But then, he wasn’t talking about my job. And neither was I.

  “The caterer is this close to quitting”—I pinched my fingers in the air—“and then there’s the tents, and I have to find some night-of help, and there’s the chair covers, and…just so much.”

  None of which couldn’t be handled from a distance, unless there was a problem. But what if there’s a problem, I asked myself. A problem leaving Finn, for instance.

  He put his arm around my back and hauled me slowly closer while I prattled on.

  “And we only have one other event this week, because the Harris party was moved to last weekend, and old Mr. Hinemann died, so that cancelled our Thursday event, and Savannah’s got the Griffin party this weekend covered pretty well, so she really doesn’t even need me.”

  “Savannah’s going to rock that party. You’ll just be in the way.” He started kissing my neck.

  I laughed as he slid his hands up my ribs. The heat of his hands burned through my shirt. “So I was thinking maybe—”

  “Definitely.”

  “It means I’d have to keep to rental car, Finn,” I told him the hard truth.

  “We can handle that, Janey.”

  “And the hotel.”

  “You don’t have to keep the hotel.”

  We looked at each other. I knew what he was saying. He knew what he was saying. But no one was saying it, because I think we both knew it might make me bolt. “I better keep it,” I said swiftly.

  “You better keep the hotel,” he agreed. He kept seeing through me but never said a word.

  I took a breath, then let it out. “I don’t know how long it’ll be for—”

  “Just stay.”

  A tiny plume of white light rose up through my chest. Clean, cool, bright. “Okay,” I said, and so it was decided. And really, what harm could come from being here an extra few days?

  He slid his hand around to the nape of my neck. “Stay away from Pete Sandler,” he murmured.

  “I will. He’s flying back to DC for a few days.”

  “Good. I’ll be home by midday. You?”

  “Same.” Then I sobered, because, well, it had to be discussed. “But I’m probably not going to be able to… You know.” I gestured to my girlie regions. “I mean, if that’s what you’re thinking….”

  He grinned. “We’ll watch a movie. I’ll get pizza.”

  I grinned back stupidly. “Pizza. And a movie. That sounds good.”

  “Very good.” He kissed me. And I kissed him back. And I did not run away.

  Twelve

  ~ Jane ~

  I CANCELLED MY flight. Then I worked until midday. Hard. Mrs. Lovey was delighted that I was staying longer, and much as I indicated that the reason was her mania for last-minute changes and that it would cost her, I don’t know that I convinced her I was truly disappointed.

  Then I came home, and Max drooled on me and Finn kissed me, and we barbequed, and I made Finn hellaciously good alcoholic drinks that I had him taste-test for me. Then I fell asleep on his couch again, with my knees hooked over his, so comfortable and tired I was probably drooling like Max.

  Wait. Did I say I came home?

  WE DIDN’T USE any produce that night either. Just Finn’s hands and mouth and words, whispering scary, amazing, dirty things, telling me how to please him, asking how he should please me—I was getting more ideas the longer I was with Finn—and every time he tried to slow things down, I sped them back up.

  I felt hungry for Finn. Like I was devouring these moments, because this was just a wave, and one day it was going to crash me into the shore real hard. But I’d made the choice, and now I was riding it for all it was worth.

  I felt like I was in a race. Against myself.

  ~ Finn ~

  I AWOKE IN bed alone. Janey wasn’t there.

  I sat up, then pushed out of bed and, on a feeling, went first to the window and looked out. She was standing on the deck, in the moonlight, looking up at my half-done masterpiece.

  I tugged on a pair of jeans and went out to stand beside her. She didn’t look over, just took a couple of steps closer, up to my side. I threw my arm over her shoulder.

  For a long time we just stood just there in silence, the zebra-stripe wash of moonlight and shadow falling across the dirt of the site. An owl hooted, and far away, a coyote yipped. The air smelled of dark green pine and clean dirt and freshly sawed boards. Wind rustled the tall treetops, then faded, a faint hushing sound, moving away.

  “How’d you get away?” she asked. Her voice was quiet.

  I didn’t need to ask what she meant. It’s what she’d been asking about for the past thirty years of her life, as far as I could see.

  So I told her again. “College, army, good friends. Money helps.” But not a lot.

  She listened, then shook her head. “No, I think it’s this.” She pointed at my half-done masterpiece. “This, and your music. I think that’s how you got away. You just went your own way.”

  We looked at it again together in silence, a graceful skeleton made from cut wood, cold iron, and old dreams. She had a point.

  “Maybe so,” I admitted.

  But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore. I needed more than hard things and old dreams, no matter how much money they seemed to be bringing me.

  That was thing about chips. Carrying them around on your shoulder distracted you. But if you ever set them down, you found out you still had a ragged-edged hole screaming inside you.

  Janey shifted against my side, turned to snuggle the front of her body against the side of mine, warm and soft, as we looked up at my home together.

  “What are you doing after the Sandler’s party?” I said.

  She tilted her head back to look up at me. “You mean that night?”

  “I mean ever.”

  She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. For a long time, we just looked at each other. Her eyes were bright in the moonlight. Not in a good way.

  “Right,” I said slowly, nodding. I reached down for her fingers. “Come here.”

  “I can visit,” she said as I took her inside.

  “You should definitely visit,” I said. “So can I.”

  “It’s a long way.”

  “It’s not so long.”

  Her eyes were getting bright. “Finn, I just…. I might be moving to DC.”

  I pulled her to me and made her forget about DC, at least for a while.

  ~ Jane ~

  “I’VE GOT FRIENDS coming over in the morning,” Finn murmured as we fell into his bed after the moon had begun to set. We lay in the dark, the moon splashing across the far wall, with Max snuffling in his dreams on the floor beside the bed. “We’ll be hammering,” he told me. “And sawing. And probably cursing.”

  “Mm,” I murmured, burying my h
ead in his pillows. I really liked his pillows.

  “I hope we don’t wake you.” He put his arm over my belly and dragged me backward, and pressed my spine into his chest, my bottom into his groin. He was warm.

  “I’m always up early.” I snuggled in, slipping into sleep. “I’ll make you guys breakfast.”

  He slid his hand down between my legs and just rested there. “You’re my superhero,” he said softly.

  “Believe it,” I murmured back.

  WHEN I WOKE up, there were men there, as promised. Hammering and sawing and occasionally cursing, just as Finn had promised.

  Also, they were laughing and talking and listening to music.

  I showered and ran out to pick up a couple of things from town. Men who hammered and sawed and cursed needed serious carbs for a late breakfast, and I’d seen a bakery in town the other day that looked worth checking into.

  It was. When I returned, the sun was higher, the day was hotter, and Finn’s friends all had their shirts off.

  I smiled.

  The wooden skeleton of the house was clear cut against the hard blue sky. The sounds of hammering and a radio wafted down. Finn saw my dust, and when I circled the house and came out in front where they were working, he was there, waiting for me. Without his shirt on.

  What a great Sunday.

  “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi,” I said back, grinning like an idiot, holding two loaves of artisan bread in my hands.

  His hard, lean body was pretty amazing, tanned and slick. And even his loose jeans and the tool belt hanging off his hips couldn’t hide the rest of him, which I happened to know first-hand was equally amazing.

  He planted a kiss on my mouth and took my hand.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  I felt nervous and bright. Four half-naked men were visible against the brilliant sky in various poses of workmanship—one was measuring something, two were lifting a beam, and, high up in the rafters, one man was hammering.

  They all looked over, and cries came wafting down to us of, “Hi,” and “Hey, Janey,” and one long, loud, “Janey Ma-a-a-ac!” like I was a long-lost friend.

  “That’s Jason,” said Finn of the last. “He’s friendly.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Stay away from him.”

  I smiled. We watched them work for a minute. I really enjoyed watching them work, and it had almost nothing to do with the fact that they were all shirtless and tanned and did what they did really well.

  Finn gently clamped his fingers around the top of my head and turned me to face him. “All done?”

  I nodded, feeling happy. “Can I help you guys?”

  “Sure. Murph could probably use some help.” He pointed to the guy up on the roof rafters.

  “I was thinking something down low.” I pointed at the ground, then examined his smile. “But you knew that, huh?” His grin grew. I glanced back at his friends.

  He put his palm on the doorframe beside my head. “Stop looking at them.”

  I slid my arms around his neck. “The only one I’m interested in has a dog with three legs, a tat on his back, and knows his way around ginger.”

  One dark eyebrow notched up. “You really want that ginger.”

  “Not at all,” I answered primly. “I just appreciate spices.”

  He tipped his head toward the construction. “Babe, we’re going to be at this all day.”

  My smile brightened. “Oh good.”

  “You should go somewhere. Far away. Out of eyesight.”

  And that’s when I realized I was in uncharted waters here. I had nothing to do today. Nothing pressing, no must-dos or hurry-ups. I felt confused. What did you do with a wide-open day?

  “I could take Max for a walk,” I suggested.

  “Good idea. There’s a trail down by the river.”

  I nodded skeptically. “I was thinking maybe a mall.”

  Now he looked at me skeptically. “Dogs aren’t allowed in malls. Anyhow, the river’s better.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s a river. Also”—he leaned in closer—“I can meet you there later.”

  “Yeah?” I said, real casual, as if the words didn’t get me hot.

  “Yeah. Have your pants off. I’ll only have a minute.”

  “Mm.” I pondered this. “Well, that does sound like fun, especially the part about one minute, but then, there’s the showerhead, and it doesn’t involve sticks and dirt, so…”

  “You love dirty, Janey Mac,” he said, pulling me up against him, and I got a little more hot down there. “I can make you come just by talking dirty. But I can handle a showerhead if that’s what you want.”

  “Hm.” I sniffed. “Well, you’ll be down at the river, and the shower’s up here, so I don’t see how it’ll work.” I flashed a perky smile. “Anyhow, gotta go. Men need food.” And I went inside to make breakfast.

  I loved breakfast. Loved making it, loved eating it, loved impressing people with my own special recipe omelets.

  I laid everything out on the counter when it was ready, the omelets and a whole mess of fried onions and potatoes, thick rashers of turkey bacon and, of course, the bread.

  They inhaled everything in approximately five minutes and raved between bites, sometimes during them. It was extremely satisfying.

  Then they poured coffee and stood around drinking it before heading back out to work, and even though they were all now completely clothed, it was still nice. Really nice.

  Nice to sip my mocktail and listen in. Nice to lean my elbows on the countertop and talk with Nick (who everyone called Murph) about the benefits of coconut oil, and with friendly, soul-patch Jason about fishing reels (Finn stayed by side during that one), and handsome, high-strung Beck about investments. Nice to smell their maleness and hear their friendliness and stand around with these people who were in Finn’s life. Nice to be part of something.

  It struck me that it had been a while.

  Such as, my whole life.

  Maybe that’s what you did with a wide-open day. You filled it with people and things to be part of.

  Murph’s phone rang, and somehow that signaled the end of the party. He went out front with his phone and everyone else rinsed their dishes and tromped outside, smiling at me as they went by, thanking me for breakfast.

  Finn watched me as they passed. Meet you at the river? he mouthed.

  I shrugged and held up my palms like I couldn’t understand.

  But inside, I knew. Of course I’d meet him at the river. Even though rivers scared me. Anything could happen when a river’s rushing by you. But right now, all I felt was excited, by the meet-up, by the unfamiliar wide-openness of the day before me.

  Murph came back in. “That was Banyon, Dante,” he said as he dropped his phone into his tool belt.

  Finn was taking a last drink of water at the sink. He swallowed and looked over. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It looks like it’ll be Monday morning, bright and early. Bright this time, brother.” He clapped Finn on the shoulder as he went toward the side door that led to the construction zone. “It’s going to be a long day.”

  “Don’t you guys ever get tired of doing construction?” I asked, squeezing a lemon into a glass of ice water. “It must be tiring, doing it all week long, then here on the weekend.”

  Even though there were only three of us left in the kitchen, the room fell sort of quiet at that. Very sort of quiet.

  Murph looked at Finn. “It’s not too bad,” he said vaguely.

  Finn looked at Murph. Murph was still looking at Finn.

  I didn’t like all this looking.

  My phone buzzed.

  I turned to it. I didn’t think, I just reached. When your phone buzzes or beeps or rings, you reach. It meant someone needed you, some problem needing solving. And I’d always been distracted by a problem to solve.

  I should have seen there was a much larger problem brewing right in front of me.

 
It was Katie the Caterer, with an offer. She was working an outdoor wedding reception this morning similar to the Peter J.’s and thought I could meet some of the local vendors, see how they worked.

  So much for my wide-open day.

  She also wanted to try out one of my drink recipes.

  How could I refuse?

  ~ Finn ~

  “SHE DOESN’T KNOW what you do?”

  Murph and I lugged an ice-filled cooler down the soft dirt path that led to the river, one of us on each side, gripping a handle. We always broke work when the heat of midday hit hard, climbing down off the rafters and heading to the river for a dunk and a beer before everyone took off. Just relaxing.

  Or would have been, if it weren’t for Murph.

  Murph was my best friend, for a lot of reasons we don’t talk about. He was sharp and loyal and upbeat and usually had a shitload of good ideas both for business, which made him useful as well as good. And he was a pain in the ass a lot of the time too.

  “No,” I replied shortly, ducking beneath a low-hanging branch. The soft dirt path wound under trees down to the river. “She does not know.”

  “Why the hell not?” Murph said.

  “Because she doesn’t like pawn.”

  “She might not like pawn, but she likes you.”

  “That might not be enough,” I said curtly.

  We reached our spot. A small oxbow cut out here, around a spit of earth and a large boulder, creating a calm, deep riverbed separate from the rest of the river, a perfect swimming hole. The river was good too, if sometimes swift and cold. A rope was tied to a tree on the opposite shore. Beck and Jason were already crossing the log to it. The sun dappled the river bank through the trees here, but upstream a ways and on the river itself, it blazed out in full, hot force.

  Murph dropped his cooler and started unlacing his shoes. “So, what’s wrong with pawn?”

  “She grew up knowing everything that was wrong with it,” I told him, stripping off my shirt.