I pat his knee. “I am.” It’s strange. It doesn’t make sense. But I am.
“Which means I have more responsibility in this than I realized,” he says softly.
“What does that mean?”
Finn turns his knee in to face me. He tucks a loose hair behind my ear as he speaks, “When I left you in the hot tub, I got a call.”
“I know.” I’m worried about why he’s grimacing. “Who called?”
“Someone who really pissed me off.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He releases something between a laugh and a grunt. I’m not sure exactly. I just know it means hell no. “I was upset, so I came over thinking we could have some fun and comfort each other, but I want tonight to stay just for you. Can I take you out before we go any further?”
Out? Like into the world? Where people would see us together? “Finn…you told me you weren’t ready for a relationship, and I heard you loud and clear. Mason and I just broke up as well. I have no expectations from you. I’m not trying to trick you into dating me. I really just needed a safe space to explore this side of myself.” A secret, safe place. Because if people knew what we were up to, Finn might be the one embarrassed for a change.
“I wasn’t thinking that.” He cocks his head to the side. “I meant, let’s go to dinner as friends. Just because I’m not your boyfriend, doesn’t mean I don’t respect you. You told me you want me to teach you how to have good sex. No matter how you look at it, it gives me the upper hand and puts you in a vulnerable position.”
“True.” I’m impressed with his intuitiveness here. Really impressed. It’s strange, almost.
“I think we’re going to have fun doing this, but let me be a good guy about it. Okay? So have dinner with me tomorrow night, and then I’ll fuck you senseless right after.”
Why the hell are you single? How is this possible? Now I need to see his penis immediately because there must be something horrendously wrong with it. Maybe he murdered someone? Maybe he tortures puppies? What’s wrong with this man?
“Okay, thank you. That is incredibly nice.”
Finn smiles. “I have a client tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be done well before six. Do you have a nice dress?”
Literally one. It’s the same dress I wore to my thirtieth birthday dinner. I don’t even know why I packed it. It’s the only dress I feel good in, and I didn’t want to leave it behind with Mason.
“Yeah.”
“Okay, good. The place I want to take you to has a dress code.” He kisses my forehead. “Get changed and comfortable. I’ll lock up on my way out then go through the back gate.”
He stands, but I stop him, my hand clenching his forearm.
“Hey, Finn?”
“Yeah?” He blinks at me expectantly with his baby blue eyes. His light eyes in contrast with his jet-black hair are so striking. Finn’s an interesting combination of sexy, yet beautiful. I don’t know whether I want to fuck him or paint him.
“Do you read women’s magazines or something? Or, like…follow Oprah. It’s weird. You told me to fuck your face, and yet you also want to be a gentleman and take me to dinner before sex?”
Finn chuckles. “You just haven’t seen my dark side. Yet. I’m taking you to a really nice restaurant and I’m going to pick up the tab. Then, when we get home, I’m going to make you earn your meal.”
I cross my legs as the stirring between my thighs kicks up again. “All right then, Finn. Keep your secrets. Good night.”
I stand up, intent on grabbing a clean pair of underwear, but Finn pauses in the bedroom doorway. He spins around to look at me across the room. “Avery, my dad is a womanizer.”
“What?” I’m caught off guard by his odd declaration.
“My dad treats women like shit. And I swear, I’m his spitting image. My entire life is basically my apology to the world for his behavior and a desperate attempt to prove that even though I look just like him, I’m nothing like him.” Finn’s eyes are on the hardwood floor, one of the rare moments he’s not making eye contact with me. “That’s why I’m nice.”
“Oh my God…I, um…shit, Finn. I’m not usually lost for words…”
“It’s okay, don’t say anything. I just wanted you to know I’m not playing you.” He looks up and his smile returns. “I’m for real. I’m a good guy.”
I nod, because I believe him. Finn is for real. “Okay,” I whisper.
“All right, Queen. Get some rest. You’re going to need it.” He winks. “Dream of me tonight.”
13
Finn
“That was fucking grueling,” Lennox says as she pulls the pig puppet off her right hand. She proceeds to help me load my equipment into the back seat of my truck. I didn’t need to bring much. The sky was perfect today for family photos at the town park. It’s bright out, but a little overcast, so we had no issues with a glare. It went much better than last year.
We learned. When you’re photographing an extended family that has eighteen members, eight of which are under the age of four, bring puppets, balloons, and snacks.
“That little kid, Jaxon, has a shocking resemblance to the Chucky doll.” I shoot her a look. “What?” she asks defensively. “I mean, like before the scar…but still with the evil eyes.”
I don’t say anything because she’s right. Jaxon is terrifying looking. The kid was mean mugging me through the entire photo shoot, and I have the pictures to prove it.
I love the Richmond family. I’ve been photographing them for six years now. Their extended family is huge and it’s the patriarch, Grandpa Jack, who always pays the bill. He tips me as much as my services cost. I think he pities me, but I’m currently in no position to decline. He’s the main reason Finn Harvey photography is still in business. It’s always why when he calls, I bend over backward to accommodate him.
I don’t normally do weddings, but I made a special exception for his favorite granddaughter, Katie. They hire me for everything—back-to-school photos, newborn pictures, engagement photos, and annual family photos. I even talked Katie into a boudoir photo shoot as a wedding present for her now husband, Bryce. She told me he loved them, but it’s been three years and the dude still won’t look me in the eyes. He’ll just shake my hand and smile at my shoes like he’s intimidated.
Believe me, Katie doesn’t turn my crank. Nothing turns me off more than the idea of cheating. I hated cheaters because of my dad, and Nora’s antics put the final nail in that coffin.
“Thanks for your help today,” I say. “Also, what the hell are you wearing?”
Lennox has swapped her normally dark, gothic look for a beige, floral dress. Come to think of it, her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail and I think she’s wearing pink lipstick.
“I have a lot of looks,” she says noncommittally.
“True. But I’ve never seen this one.”
She shrugs. “It’s summer.”
“You’re seeing someone new, aren’t you?”