Untold

by Shannon Richard

  “It just so happens that I do.”

  She grabbed the opened bottle—she’d had some the night before—on the counter. The aerator sat on the sideboard by the sink and she fitted that into the top before pouring two glasses. Taking a deep, somewhat calming, breath, she grabbed both glasses and headed for the living room.

  Her eyes landed on the fireplace, where a healthy flame was already going around the logs.

  She stopped in her tracks, staring. “How the hell?”

  The smile on Finn’s face was more than slightly cocky, but she was so grateful she chose to ignore it.

  He walked over to her, now bootless, his sock-clad feet moving across the floor. “There was a key hole off to the side, one that I knew about only because the one at my house is exactly the same. It just needed an Allen wrench that you had in the toolbox. I got both of them going now.”

  “You know”—she shook her head handing him one of the glasses of wine—“I don’t even care that I couldn’t figure it out after an hour and you did it in three minutes. Cheers.” She held her glass in the air, and Finn raised his, clinking them together.

  “Cheers,” he said before they both took a sip. “This is pretty good.” Lifting the glass to his nose he took a deep breath. “What is it?”

  “An Argentinian blackberry Malbec. It was in the wine cabinet. She had a stock of it, but she has a stock of a lot of things, so that isn’t saying much.”

  “No kidding.” He took another sip as he looked around, his focus landing on the dining room table. “Are those more packages?” he asked, turning back to her.

  “Yup. I picked the majority of them up at the Mirabelle Information Center today. When I showed up, Winnie Lanore looked like she’d been sucking on a pickle all day her expression was so sour. Just another person that Bethelda left an impression on.”

  Finn’s eyebrows narrowed. “Was she rude to you?”

  “She barely spoke to me. Just pointed to the pile of boxes and made sure I didn’t take anything I wasn’t supposed to.”

  “That sounds about right. I wouldn’t take that one personally…she’s like that with everyone.”

  “Well, that’s a small comfort. Why is it that the least friendliest people in Mirabelle work at the welcome center?”

  “A mystery we will never know the answer to. So what is it that she’s getting delivered? You’d think the packages would be slowing down considering the fact that she’s been…” he trailed off, looking uncertain.

  “Dead for two weeks?” Brie finished for him. “You don’t need to tiptoe around it…or her…or anything. I don’t know what I am, but I’m not overly sensitive. And the packages are slowing down, kind of. I think the ones that keep coming in are the whatever-of-the-month subscriptions. I need to figure all of them out and cancel. It’s on the list of things to do this weekend.”

  “What did she subscribe to?”

  “The Fairfield Farms fruit and vegetable of the month—luckily both were in jars when I opened that box. Pickled beets and roasted pumpkin puree. There is also Chester’s Cat Costume Emporium. If you felt the desire, we could dress Lo up as a manatee tonight.”

  “I’ll pass on that one.”

  “You sure? It could be fun. There’s a whole box of cat costumes in the closet.”

  “I’m good.” He laughed, shaking his head. “You didn’t donate those?”

  “To the Triple C? I really don’t think people who need charitable items are looking for cat costumes. I was going to try to sell them all on eBay. Anyway, you want to help me open those?” She nodded to the packages on the table. “We can see what other ridiculous things Bethelda gets delivered. Besides, we have about thirty minutes to kill before the pie is done.”

  “Absolutely.” Finn nodded, taking another sip of wine as they both headed to the dining room. He was a few steps in front of her and her eyes moved down, admiring how his jeans cupped his ass.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  “Which one first?” he asked, setting the glass on the table before pulling a pocketknife from his pocket.

  “That one is a cooler from Cheeses and Crackers.” She pointed to a medium-size one. “Winnie was at least nice enough to tell me that it had been delivered this afternoon.”

  “Talk about timing,” Finn said as he slid the blade under the tape and popped the seal. When he pulled the cardboard flaps back it was to reveal a white Styrofoam box. It squeaked noisily as he pulled it free from the cardboard.

  “Let’s see.” He lifted the lid. “Still cold so that’s a good sign. Now you’ve got goat, Irish cheddar, butterkäse, gouda, and”—he looked up at her grinning as he pulled a small round package out—“Brie for Brie.”

  “Well, look how that turned out. Open whichever box you want,” she told him as she grabbed all of the cheese and headed for the kitchen to put them in the fridge.

  She could just hear the sound of him slicing through more tape before his deep voice filled her ear. “Oh, I like what’s in this box.”

  “What’s that?” she called out.

  “More wine. Well, this most certainly wasn’t a dry house. That’s for damn sure.”

  When Brie walked back into the dining room, Finn was pulling each bottle out one by one, looking at the labels. “It’s an assortment of reds and whites. I think you’re set for a good long while.”

  “Clearly.” She nodded, moving around him to the Bluetooth speaker—Bethelda had one in every room of the house—pulling up a playlist of random music for them to listen to while they worked.

  They spent the next half hour opening each and every box. Bethelda had some pepper jelly from JPJ (Jams, Preserves, and Jellies), a box of assorted chocolates, three scarves (because the woman had needed more of those), a collection of Valentine’s-themed bear outfits (appropriate as Valentine’s Day was the following Tuesday), artichoke and sun-dried tomato pasta, a box that contained five envelopes of different spices, a bag of honey-roasted macadamia nuts, a spiced orange–scented candle, a can of loose-leaf green tea infused with pomegranate, and two different kinds of hard salami.

  “Geez,” Brie said as she looked over everything laid out on the table. “It’s no wonder the woman’s pantry is full with the amount of food she subscribes to. This is ridiculous.”

  “Yeah, but that pepper jelly would probably pair really well with the goat cheese.”

  Brie turned to look at Finn, slightly incredulous.

  “What, I’m hungry.” He shrugged.

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, a loud beep sounded from the kitchen. “You and your timing.” She shook her head as she grabbed both empty wineglasses. “You want me to open another bottle of this? Or do you want to try one of those?” She nodded to the selection on the table.

  “How do you feel about merlot?” he asked, grabbing the bottle and holding it in the air.

  “I feel good about it. Want to play part-time bartender?”

  “Lead the way.”

  Brie did just that, turning toward the kitchen, Finn following behind her.

  She was feeling that glass of wine just a little bit, making her comfortable…at ease…good. She liked Finn being there. Liked talking to him. Liked flirting with him. Liked that it wasn’t weird or awkward with him anymore. She liked him.

  Good Lord did she like him. She’d liked him even when she hadn’t liked him. That didn’t exactly make a lot of sense, but nothing had made sense since she’d been in that town. But she was done trying to make sense of things for the evening.

  She was just going to enjoy it, come what may.

  * * *

  Lo left Frankie just long enough to eat her dinner. She took her spot on the bench, digging in when Finn and Brie sat down. As soon as the cat was done eating, she was back at the dog’s side. They were now both sleeping in front of the fire in the living room.

  As for Finn and Brie’s dinner, it was a relaxed affair, both of them talking as they ate their meal. He wanted to know more about he
r PhD in history, which led to her telling him the focus of her thesis.

  “Post-World War II. How it changed the country. How it changed the people…those who fought in it and those who stayed behind.”

  “You have a lot more stuff you can talk to Ella about. She and Owen met after the war.”

  “He fought?”

  “Yup.”

  Recognition flashed in her eyes. “Are those his dog tags? The ones tattooed on your chest?” She made a motion to her own chest, putting her hand close to her heart.

  “They are. Shep has a tattoo that’s identical.”

  “Tell me about him,” she said before she speared a piece of crust and chicken on her fork.

  “Shep?” He asked jokingly. “He’s obnoxiously right most of the time, which makes him think that he’s annoyingly superior, and—”

  “No.” Brie laughed. “Owen. Tell me about your grandfather. Unless you don’t want to,” she amended.

  “I don’t mind talking about Owen, not at all.” He shook his head. “If anything, talking about him makes his memory live on in a way. If that makes any sense.”

  “To me it makes perfect sense. It’s one of the reasons I love history so much. When did he join?”

  “About two years before America got involved. His family had been hit hard by the Great Depression. For him, the military was his only way out…”

  Finn told Brie about how Owen had met Nathanial Franklin, Ella’s older brother. The two had become the best of friends, and soon they were more like brothers. Their bond was so strong that Nathanial died saving Owen’s life. Once the war was over, Owen had gone to find Ella, the girl he’d heard Nathanial talk about more than anyone.

  Ella and Nathanial hadn’t had the easiest of lives growing up. Their parents had married young—they’d had to. They were seventeen and sixteen years old when they got pregnant with Nathanial. Ella had come along two years later, and their parents still had no idea what they were doing. Ella and Nathanial’s father died in a factory explosion shortly after she was born. Four months after that, their mother ran off with a man ten years older than her.

  Apparently the new guy had given her the perfect get-out-of-jail-free card, because she totally looked at the two kids she’d never wanted as jail. Ella and Nathanial had been left in the care of their grandmother, and though she didn’t abuse them, her three sons had.

  “When the war ended, Owen knew exactly where his first stop was going to be. And that was Ella. When he showed up, he took one look at her and knew he was going to marry her.”

  “And what did she think?”

  “She made him work for it. It wasn’t the easiest for her to let anyone in again. Nathanial had been her family, and when he died it almost destroyed her. But he won her over in the end.”

  “Clearly. Otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here.” She gestured to him with a wave of her hand.

  “No I wouldn’t.” He shook his head.

  “So Owen built the bar, and it became a family business.”

  “It did.”

  “And yet you became a veterinarian.”

  “I always had a love for animals. But I think it was getting my horse that really tipped the scale.”

  “You have a horse?”

  “Yup, a bay named Nigel…”

  He told her all about growing up with him; his pride and joy in the animal clear. It was apparent when he talked about animals—his and any others—where his passion was. Brie found herself drawn to each and every word that he spoke, fascinated with him.

  Before she knew it, she realized they’d been sitting there talking for a good long while. They had to have finished eating almost an hour ago, but neither of them had moved from the table. They just sat there—Brie with her chin in her hand as she leaned close. Finn turned toward her, his posture open—continuing to talk as they worked through the bottle of merlot.

  The house had warmed up significantly by that point…or maybe Brie had just warmed up significantly. She was pretty sure it had less to do with the alcohol and fire and more to do with the man in front of her.

  “So, what did you do today?” he asked as he leaned back in his seat, at ease.

  She raised her glass to her lips, taking another sip of the lush, full-bodied wine before answering. “Worked on my thesis for a while, and then lunch at Café Lula turned into an afternoon with the girls.”

  “Oh really now?” His eyebrows rose high.

  “I ran into Harper, Grace, Mel, and Paige. They were lovely.”

  His eyes were on her face, looking for something she wasn’t sure of. “You had a good time with them.”

  “I did. I told them the truth about Bethelda and they just accepted it. Didn’t question me at all. Said if I wanted to talk the door was open. It was nice. I’ve also been invited to Girls’ Night Out next Saturday.”

  “Oh, that’s bound to be entertaining.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it’s always entertaining when that group of girls gets together to drink.”

  “Well, entertaining will be nice.” She nodded. “And anyway, you were right, it’s good to have a friend—or friends—every once in a while.”

  “If for nothing more than to get the fireplace going.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Well, you might get even more friends. I called Brendan on the way over here and asked if he could come by tomorrow to look at your system. It isn’t just cars that he knows how to fix.”

  “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but I really appreciate it.”

  He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s going to be pretty cold the next couple of days. For you to get someone out here to fix the heater on the weekend would be ridiculously expensive.”

  “Well, I could just pay in canned goods or dish sets. You think that would be acceptable?”

  “Probably not.” He shook his head.

  “What about chicken potpie and wine?”

  “No. That’s my payment. That along with one of those cupcakes in the kitchen.”

  “Oh really now? I don’t remember offering those in the negotiations.” She tried to fight the smile playing at her lips. She failed. Miserably.

  “Dessert is a hidden fee. If you read the fine print you’ll see the surcharge.”

  “Are there any other hidden fees?”

  “Nope, just that one.”

  “Good to know.” She shook her head, a small laugh on her lips as she lifted her wineglass and took a sip.

  Finn’s focus lingered on her eyes, something she noticed him do often.

  She lowered the glass. “What? Why do you keep looking at me like I’m a math problem you’re figuring out?”

  “Not a math problem,” he said as he shook his head. “More like a science experiment.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I’ve noticed something about your eyes.”

  “What?”

  “They change colors based off of your mood. When you’re upset they’re more brown than gold. When you’re happy, they’re more gold than brown. Well, happy or—” He stopped himself, shaking his head as a sly grin took over his mouth.

  “Happy or what?” she pressed.

  He cleared his throat, but when he spoke his words were more than slightly amused. “Your eyes turn really gold when you’re turned on.”

  A slight blush crept into her cheeks, though it was less about embarrassment and more about the pleasure in that observation. Not very many people had figured that fact out about her eyes, that they changed color based on her mood. And yet he had.

  “You would know that from experience.” She nodded before she lifted her glass to her lips and finished off the last of her wine. Probably not the best idea as she was just adding fuel to the fire…her fire.

  “You want more?”

  For just a second she thought he was referring to more sex, but then he nodded to the empty glass in her hand.

  “As your part-time bartender for the even
ing, I’m going to need to open another bottle.”

  “Yeah, let me…uh…clean up while you do that.” She was still a little flustered from where her mind had gone initially at his question. Mainly because she’d wanted to say yes to that, too.

  “But you cooked.”

  “I stuck a pie in the oven. It was hardly a complicated task.” Besides, she needed a second to think without his focus on her. She pushed her chair back to stand, leaning over the table and grabbing his empty plate.

  “Find one that pairs well with chocolate.” She nodded to the wine cabinet/liquor bar that took up almost the entire wall behind him. It might take him a bit to look through the supply as there were close to three hundred bottles. And that wasn’t counting what they’d just opened.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She turned around and knew his eyes were on her back, watching as she left the room. As she entered the kitchen she took a deep breath and let it out. It did very little in the realm of steadying her. Turning the water on and letting it heat up, she grabbed on to the edge of the sink and bowed her head.

  Your eyes turn really gold when you’re turned on.

  She had no doubt her eyes were way more golden than brown at that moment.

  The music that had been playing softly in the dining room got loud enough for her to hear in the kitchen, Finn apparently turning the volume up. She pulled herself back to the present, trying to focus on cleaning up. It was a lost cause. As there was very little to clean up—and it was a fairly mindless activity—her mind stayed on the man in the other room…and his offer from the night before. She’d thought about it a lot in the last twenty-four hours…especially that evening. It was hard not to when he was that close.

  And why was it that just talking to this man was foreplay? Not just the last part of their conversation, but the whole thing. Just listening to him speak, the sound of his voice, the way his mouth moved, how he’d reach up and rub his palm against his jaw, his smile when he talked about something or someone he loved.

  She wanted that mouth on her again. Wanted his lips moving over hers. Wanted to feel his scruff on her skin…between her thighs.