scratching, “‘I’m a genie in a bottle.’ And Finn Hartley just rubbed me the right way.”
* * *
Finn was driving too fast on I-75, white-knuckling the steering wheel, going over and over what had just happened with Stephanie. How could he have so totally misread her? She’d been a little cool at first, but after that bit with the dog hair she’d seemed to relax, and was downright fun during dinner and afterward. It wasn’t his imagination that she enjoyed kissing him every bit as much as he did her; he’d stake his life on it. Her smiles, her softening eyes, the incidental touches that conveyed affection…they all added up to a genuine feeling. She did care for him. He hadn’t misread her, damn it.
The sight of red and blue flashing lights on the shoulder ahead brought him back to the present, and he took his foot off the gas to slow down as he passed the traffic stop. That break in his thinking soon allowed him to approach the situation more clearly from another angle. She’d talked about her dog and her company, her sisters and their broods…avoiding all talk of her social life. Was that because she didn’t have one, as she’d said? Or was there something more? What caused that vulnerable look she wore when she thought no one was watching? What had happened to her?
He was going to find out. He had plenty of flaws, God knew, but he was nobody’s fool when it came to fishing. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to let it keep him from a second chance with the one who got away.
Chapter Seven
Sunday morning found Steph in her sister Beth’s big country kitchen, turning pancakes as all seven of her nieces and nephews and their four parents groaned with pleasure and professed undying love for her. When the kids were suitably stuffed and pushed out into the backyard, and the husbands were shuffled out to the garage for a look at Griff’s new lawn mower, Laurie and Beth cornered her with their arms crossed.
“So you have a hot date and don’t bother to tell anyone?” tall, lanky, second-born Laurie chided. “I have to hear it from Suki Greenfield?”
“Who the heck is Suki Greenfield?” Steph snatched up her plate of pancakes and strawberries and pushed a forkful into her mouth to buy time.
“Suki-the-former-model-Greenfield.” Laurie leaned in. “Who has gourmet taste in men and says you were with a major hunk at McKendrick’s last night…all cozy and handsy and clearly romantic . She called me on her cell the minute she left the restaurant.”
“Holding out on us,” curvy, blonde Beth accused. “That’s low. So, who is he? And why haven’t you come clean about him before now?”
“He’s just an old friend,” Steph said, filling her mouth again.
“Yeah? You don’t get all handsy with old friends, Steph. You don’t get handsy with anybody. Spill!” When Steph reached for the can of whipping cream to top her strawberries, Laurie snatched it away and held it hostage. “You don’t get whipped cream until we get a name.”
Steph reached for her coffee mug on the counter, and when Beth would have taken it from her she smacked her youngest sister’s hand.
“Back off, buttercup,” she snarled for effect. “You want a name, I have to have my coffee.” When Beth relented, she took a drink and told herself that revealing this was probably a bad idea. “Finn Hartley.”
“Finn who?” Laurie looked to Beth, confused.
“Phoenix Finn?” Beth giggled and pulled Steph to a seat at the island counter. “I knew it! I knew something had happened when you came back from that wedding all moody. You saw him out there, didn’t you!”
It would all come out, one way or another.
“Yes, I saw him there.” She tiptoed through the facts. “He was at the resort volunteering for some kind of fishing retreat. We talked briefly, and when he came to Atlanta for Damon’s fishing clinic, he called. We went out for dinner. That’s all there is to it.”
Laurie examined her with an
* * *
Finn was driving too fast on I-75, white-knuckling the steering wheel, going over and over what had just happened with Stephanie. How could he have so totally misread her? She’d been a little cool at first, but after that bit with the dog hair she’d seemed to relax, and was downright fun during dinner and afterward. It wasn’t his imagination that she enjoyed kissing him every bit as much as he did her; he’d stake his life on it. Her smiles, her softening eyes, the incidental touches that conveyed affection…they all added up to a genuine feeling. She did care for him. He hadn’t misread her, damn it.
The sight of red and blue flashing lights on the shoulder ahead brought him back to the present, and he took his foot off the gas to slow down as he passed the traffic stop. That break in his thinking soon allowed him to approach the situation more clearly from another angle. She’d talked about her dog and her company, her sisters and their broods…avoiding all talk of her social life. Was that because she didn’t have one, as she’d said? Or was there something more? What caused that vulnerable look she wore when she thought no one was watching? What had happened to her?
He was going to find out. He had plenty of flaws, God knew, but he was nobody’s fool when it came to fishing. Whatever was going on, he wasn’t going to let it keep him from a second chance with the one who got away.
Chapter Seven
Sunday morning found Steph in her sister Beth’s big country kitchen, turning pancakes as all seven of her nieces and nephews and their four parents groaned with pleasure and professed undying love for her. When the kids were suitably stuffed and pushed out into the backyard, and the husbands were shuffled out to the garage for a look at Griff’s new lawn mower, Laurie and Beth cornered her with their arms crossed.
“So you have a hot date and don’t bother to tell anyone?” tall, lanky, second-born Laurie chided. “I have to hear it from Suki Greenfield?”
“Who the heck is Suki Greenfield?” Steph snatched up her plate of pancakes and strawberries and pushed a forkful into her mouth to buy time.
“Suki-the-former-model-Greenfield.” Laurie leaned in. “Who has gourmet taste in men and says you were with a major hunk at McKendrick’s last night…all cozy and handsy and clearly romantic . She called me on her cell the minute she left the restaurant.”
“Holding out on us,” curvy, blonde Beth accused. “That’s low. So, who is he? And why haven’t you come clean about him before now?”
“He’s just an old friend,” Steph said, filling her mouth again.
“Yeah? You don’t get all handsy with old friends, Steph. You don’t get handsy with anybody. Spill!” When Steph reached for the can of whipping cream to top her strawberries, Laurie snatched it away and held it hostage. “You don’t get whipped cream until we get a name.”
Steph reached for her coffee mug on the counter, and when Beth would have taken it from her she smacked her youngest sister’s hand.
“Back off, buttercup,” she snarled for effect. “You want a name, I have to have my coffee.” When Beth relented, she took a drink and told herself that revealing this was probably a bad idea. “Finn Hartley.”
“Finn who?” Laurie looked to Beth, confused.
“Phoenix Finn?” Beth giggled and pulled Steph to a seat at the island counter. “I knew it! I knew something had happened when you came back from that wedding all moody. You saw him out there, didn’t you!”
It would all come out, one way or another.
“Yes, I saw him there.” She tiptoed through the facts. “He was at the resort volunteering for some kind of fishing retreat. We talked briefly, and when he came to Atlanta for Damon’s fishing clinic, he called. We went out for dinner. That’s all there is to it.”
Laurie examined her with an
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