Or had they noticed too much and were pretending to be oblivious for politeness’s sake? Crappity crap. Lucky they couldn’t see the bite mark on his shoulder or the scratches on his back…
I looked back down at Harvey’s nails and tried to ooze I Haven’t Had Sex With Finn vibes. Nope, nothing to see here. Just two friends who happen to be in the same room at the same time, not thinking about sex.
Finn moved closer, I could feel him, but I didn’t look up. I was too busy pretending to not have had sex with him.
“You know this dog is not a toy, right?” he said.
Amelia glanced over at me with a puzzled expression, reflecting the one that was probably on my face, then looked up at her brother. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not normal to paint a dog’s nails.”
I shrugged. “Normal is relative. Harvey doesn’t mind.”
“Harvey is doing whatever it takes so you don’t throw him outside.”
At that, Harvey got up and limped around me to stand beside Finn, then raised his sore paw. He was such a sweet dog—even when his paw was hurting, he was willing to shake hands and be pleasant.
Finn frowned down at the Border Collie. “You’re not tricking me. The vet said there was nothing wrong with your foot.”
My mother tsked from the sofa. “Vets don’t know everything, and dogs have pure souls. They don’t lie.”
Finn snorted. “This one does. He has plans and schemes.”
Harvey whined at Finn, clearly desperate to be liked. I scooted over on my knees and wrapped my arms around Harvey’s warm, furry body. “Don’t worry, boy. We all love you.” Harvey licked my cheek, knocking my purple glasses off. I giggled as I replaced them and looked up to see Finn watching me with eyes that were an even darker blue than usual…and filled with scorching heat. All the air was sucked out of the room.
Amelia began to gather the nail polish bottles and put them back in the basket. “We were talking about your birthday,” she said over her shoulder. “Is there something special you want to do?”
Finn blinked hard then looked at his little sister. “Uh, something low key. Maybe grab some pizzas.”
“Not enough.” Amelia sat back on her haunches. “Billie’s coming home all the way from Melbourne for this, so we have to do something.”
“She’s right,” my mother said. “Birthdays are important rites of passage. We should mark it with an appropriate event. I know you’ve been the man of the house for a while now, but have you ever had an initiation into manhood? We could do something to pay you back for having us here.”
Finn turned panicked eyes back to me, clearly imploring my help, but it was way too much fun. I couldn’t resist teasing just a little. “Hmm. Twenty-four. Isn’t that an important year for men? Maybe we could—”
His eyes narrowed on me, then he interrupted, his voice calm. “Has Scarlett told you about her promotion at work?”
“Promotion?” my father echoed. “I thought this was a temporary job?”
Finn’s eyes lit with amusement and he took off down the hall for a shower, leaving me to a lecture about not getting settled in the temporary job, especially now I’d managed to extricate myself from accounting. The Universe had given me a gift with my artistic talents, and I wasn’t honoring that gift by ignoring it. Amelia and Harvey made themselves scarce, and I couldn’t blame them. I smiled and nodded in all the right places, but inside, I was planning payback.
Finn
It had been three days and twenty-two hours since I’d made love to Scarlett. And, even though we still hadn’t discussed it, not one of those hours had passed without me thinking about it. In detail.
Even now, sitting in the silversmithing workshop, where I was supposed to be learning how to work with silver so I could make my own replica of the pipes of Ur, all I could think about was that she was sitting beside me at the bench. Only inches away. Close enough to touch.
I reached across the bench to grab another sheet of silver, brushing her arm, the touch a little too lingering to be accidental. God, I loved her skin. Loved the way it felt, loved the way it smelled, loved the way it tasted…
She stilled and whispered, “Not while I have a sharp pointy thing near my fingers, Finn.”
Sensible. Besides, in the three days and twenty-two hours since she’d blown my mind, the only time we’d been alone was the drive to this workshop, and that had only been about five minutes, so we hadn’t discussed where things stood between us. How our friendship had fared. We were in some kind of limbo.
Sure, I’d caught her shooting me heated looks, but I’d seen her avoiding my eyes even more, and that made my gut squirm with nerves. If a temporary loss of sanity had ruined our friendship, I’d never forgive myself. Getting us back on track was a priority, and this class was a good start. Two friends, attending an art workshop together. Nothing unusual about that. As long as I could stop imagining myself kissing every bit of skin I could see. Which I had to stop doing. Pronto.
So I sat back and watched her technique again. There were nine people in the workshop and we were each supposed to be making a project. A couple of students were making rings, one person was making a clumpy thing—though, in fairness, I think it was also supposed to be a ring—and Scarlett was making a star shaped pendant. I was making a flute. It wouldn’t be a proper one on my first go. Tonight was more about learning to work with silver and getting the general idea of flute construction.
Noela, the teacher, had at first encouraged me to make something simpler to start, but I wouldn’t be deterred. She’d given me the option of using a sheet of silver and warming it so I could roll it into a flute shape, or of making a wax mold first then working with molten silver. Scarlett had suggested the sheet method since the wax and mold process would take more than one night, so I’d gone that way.
I wasn’t getting a whole lot achieved, however, thanks to being spellbound by Scarlett. The way her hands worked was mesmerizing. So agile and quick. Everything she did looked incredible. She’d put the silver through a roller to flatten it, and had cut the shape according to the pattern she’d made on paper first, making the entire process look simple. I’d never get the hang of this. Although, anything artistic seemed to come easily to Scarlett, so I should be comparing myself to the guy making the clumpy ring rather than her.
“I don’t think this is going to work,” I said, laying down my sheet. “I’d be better off paying you to make me a set of pipes.”
She cast me a quick glance then focused back on her pendant. “I thought the point of you making the reed flutes and silver pipes was to help your understanding of the challenges the ancient musicians faced, and what was involved in their roles. If I make it for you, how is that different from you buying a replica off the net?”
“Because I can watch you do it. I’d just get my understanding second hand.” I sighed. “I think we need to admit I’m not as good with my hands as you are.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her voice dropping a few notes. “When you’re motivated, your hands are like magic.”
And just like that, my body was on fire. Granted it had been on the brink since Bookshelf-splosion Night, so it didn’t take much to set me off. But I’d been hoping this class would get our friendship back on track. I was just a guy, sitting next to a girl, who was only a friend. Yeah, though all the evidence in my jeans right now was to the contrary.
Noela came past and looked at my sheet of silver sitting forlornly on the bench with marks where I wanted the air holes to be. “Finn, isn’t it?” I nodded and she picked up the product of my two hours of work. “Perhaps we should try something simpler?”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ve decided to pay Scarlett to make it for me. She has the knack for anything artistic.”
Noela’s gaze moved across to Scarlett’s side of the bench. “He’s right. Your work is very sophisticated for a beginner. Are you sure you’ve never done any silversmithing before?”
“No,”
she said, not quite meeting Noela’s eyes. “But I’ve been painting all my life. And I’ve done lots of courses on sculpting and drawing and stuff.”
“I’d love to see some of your work.” Noela’s voice was interested and genuine, and I smiled on the inside.
“I don’t normally show it.” Scarlett fiddled with the little electric instrument she was using to decorate the pendant. “It’s just a hobby, really.”
The teacher smiled knowingly. “I’ve only known you for two hours, so I could be off base, but it doesn’t feel to me that it’s only a hobby.”
Scarlett didn’t say anything, so I stepped in. “Her work is amazing.”
Noela smiled at me before turning back to Scarlett. “I’m here Mondays and Wednesdays if you ever want to drop in. You know,” she said casually, “with a painting, or whatever.” Then she moved on to the next bench.
Scarlett’s hands fluttered up to her throat.
“Hey,” I said, taking her hands in mine. “Are you okay?”
She blinked. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess she just surprised me.”
“You should do it. Bring one of your paintings up.”
“No reason to,” she said, in the same dismissive tone she used when she refused to watch football on the TV, so I let it drop.
At the end of the workshop, we were filing out the door when I noticed a poster on the wall in the corridor for an art contest.
“Hey,” I said to Scarlett. “You should enter that. The prize is two hundred dollars and a chance for your painting to be hung in one of the galleries downtown.”
“No,” she said without looking over.
I’d never understood her attitude to her art. If you were good at something, you followed it. What would it hurt to bring a painting down to show Noela, or to enter a contest?
“I can see your mind ticking over, Finn. Do not enter one of my paintings on my behalf.”
“Why would you think I’d do that?” I hadn’t thought of it, but it was a good plan…
She sighed and pushed her blue glasses further up her nose. “Because you think you’re helping but I’m not one of your sisters. We’ve already had this conversation.”
We reached my car and I clicked the keyless lock. Once we were in, I turned to her. “But you’re not making decisions about your art or your career. You’re standing in one spot.”
She shrugged one shoulder as she dumped her bag on the backseat. “It’s my life to stand in one spot if I choose.”
I rubbed a finger over my forehead. She was right. Maybe I was treating her like one of my sisters and trying to get her to do what I thought was best, instead of letting her make her own decisions. The realization was sour in my stomach.
“I guess,” I started, but didn’t know what words came next. I tried again. “It’s just that I care about you and want to see you achieve great things.”
“Maybe I don’t want to achieve great things. Maybe I’ll be happy with a nice, average life.” The streetlights that lit the parking lot showed the slope of her cheekbones, the curve of her lush mouth. She was so beautiful, she made my chest ache.
“You’ll never be average, Scarlett,” I said, my voice raspy. “Even if you tried, you’d never be average.”
Her eyes softened, and the sight made the ache in my chest grow until it damn near floored me.
Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She hadn’t moved back after kissing my cheek and the air in the car changed, grew heavier. My heart picked up speed and her lips parted a little. It would be so easy to lean in the short distance and kiss her. Not the polite peck on the cheek she’d just given me, but a deep, messy, hungry kiss.
And now that I knew what sex with Scarlett was like, we probably wouldn’t stop at a kiss.
Which was the problem.
“Scarlett,” I whispered.
“Yeah?”
I swallowed, wondering if I could bring myself to say it. “We shouldn’t.”
She nodded and gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, then sat back in her seat. “I know.”
We both looked out the windshield for a couple of minutes, neither of us talking or moving. Silence had never been a problem with Scarlett—we’d spent heaps of time in the past, driving somewhere or eating dinner, both lost in our own thoughts. No big deal.
This was different. This was a loaded silence, filled with more words than an average conversation held.
Finally, I cleared my throat. “It’s not that I don’t want to.”
“Yeah, me too,” she said, still not looking at me. “But once is an accident. Twice is a pattern.”
Yep, exactly. And patterns of having sex turned into relationships. And the idea of a relationship with Scarlett scared the crap out of me.
When I dated other people, things would follow a standard formula—time together would start out fun, then turn into a bit of a chore, then I’d feel claustrophobic and leave. Assuming they hadn’t broken up with me by that point, which was more common.
Every time I thought about a relationship with Scarlett, I jumped straight into the claustrophobic stage. It was too much. She was my best friend and my roommate—dating her as well would suffocate me.
Even just imagining us dating started the panic in my blood. The walls were closing in on me.
“Hey, your eyes are looking a little wild. Whatever is going on in your head, just stop it.” She reached over and squeezed my hand. “This is just you and me. We’re fine. We’ll always be fine.”
The pressure inside me eased until I could breathe again. Smile, even. Scarlett had a way of reaching me, of centering me, like no one else. Her hand on my back at Amelia’s school principal’s office. Late night mojitos and patient listening when I’d been tearing my hair out over my thesis. She could make my world return to its axis with a glance. A word. A touch.
Something shifted inside me and I looked at her with new eyes. She was so beautiful, she shone from within. I didn’t just want to have sex with her again, I wanted all of her. More than I’d ever had from her. More than I’d ever had from anyone.
“Scarlett,” I said, my voice cracking on her name.
“Yeah?” She sounded wary, as if she could tell something had changed.
“We’ve explained our connection away as being best friends, but what if there is more?”
Her lips parted, but didn’t form words for a long moment. “Like what?”
I leaned closer again and wound my fingers through her soft blond hair. “Maybe we should give a relationship a go.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Dating?”
“Yeah, like dating.” I traced my hand from her hair around to cup the side of her face. “But that word doesn’t feel right for people who are as involved as we are in each other’s lives.”
“Are you saying you should be my boyfriend?” She didn’t sound as keen as I hoped she would, and I started to get nervous. The more I thought about it, though, the more it felt right.
I nodded. “And you’d be my girlfriend.”
She adjusted her position in the seat. “Didn’t we just discuss this? About three minutes ago?”
“Forget everything I said then. I was young and immature.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And now you’re three minutes older and understand life, the universe, and everything?”
“Yeah.” I grinned and waited for her to return the smile, but she didn’t, so mine eventually faded. We were usually in sync, but now, when I could suddenly see clearly, our thinking seemed to be out of step.
“Finn,” she said, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I’d rather be your lifetime best friend than a short-term girlfriend. Sex with you is awesome, but you…” She laid a hand over my heart. “You are more important in my life.”
The heart she was feeling missed a beat. “You don’t want to?”
“I really w
ant to.” Her tongue darted out and moistened her lips. “Really. I just want your friendship more.”
“But what if it could work? What if we throw away the chance at something amazing just because we’re afraid of losing something else?”
She squeezed her eyes shut as if she was in pain. “There are so many potential downsides.”
“Yeah, but on the plus side”—I leaned in and kissed her—“we could do that wherever we wanted. No more talking ourselves out of it.”
“That’s a very big plus.” Her eyes met mine and held for endless moments. “Okay,” she said finally, giving me a shy smile. “Let’s do this.”
“I knew you’d see it my way eventually.” I kissed her again, more deeply this time. Suddenly, the world seemed brighter. Full of promise.
After an eternity, we eased apart and Scarlett clicked her seat belt into place. I knew there was a goofy smile on my face, but I was powerless to do much about it. Besides, she had a matching one.
“How do you think we should tell Amelia and your parents?” I asked, thinking about the effect of walking in the door with an arm around Scarlett’s waist.
She chewed on her lip before replying. “What if we didn’t?”
“Didn’t tell them?”
“New couples don’t normally have one person’s parents and the other person’s sister living in the same house. Most new couples get to slowly introduce the person they’re dating to their friends and family. Ease into it.”
“Are you worried about how they’ll react? That they won’t approve?”
“I’m thinking more about the pressure on us. We’d be finding our feet in a new relationship with a captive audience watching our every move. That’s a whole lotta pressure.”
I thought about her parents. They’d probably go to great pains to make sure Scarlett and I always sat beside each other, and wink whenever I spoke to her alone.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “That could get awkward fast. So you think we should keep it a secret?”
“Just until we feel comfortable about it ourselves.”
There was another unspoken reason hanging in the air—I could see it in her eyes. If this didn’t work out between us and we tried to go back to being friends, the last thing we’d want would be prying eyes and well-meaning interference that could throw us off balance again.
The Finn Factor Page 13