Untold

by Shannon Richard

  “Baby Bethelda,” she said as she grabbed another album.

  “She’s probably about five years old when this one starts.” Finn tossed his on top of the sofa, too.

  “Let’s grab from the bottom then,” she said as her fingers closed on the one in question and she tugged. Opening the cover she found a photo of a Christmas tree decorated in white and red, candy canes, sparkly snowflakes, and balls covered in red glitter. She flipped to the next page to see another tree covered in plums of peacock feathers and decorations corresponding with the blue and green color scheme. She turned to a page toward the back to find an all-white tree with silver and gold ornaments.

  “Christmas,” Brie muttered as she threw the album on top of the others.

  But before she could grab another, Finn said, “Jackpot.” He moved the album so that Brie could see the first photo. A kitten Lo was sitting in front of a neutral backdrop, looking pissed as she wore a hippopotamus costume. He flipped to the next photo to show the cat just slightly bigger and wearing a lion outfit, complete with a big furry mane.

  “Oh. My. Gosh.” Brie reached over and turned to the next page to see Lo dressed as an elephant.

  “Clearly the first couple of outfits had a safari theme,” he said as they looked at a picture of Lo as a gorilla.

  “Clearly.”

  From there they moved on to a year of birds: flamingos, ostriches, owls, blue jays, cardinals. After that were flowers: rose, hydrangea, daisy, sunflower…it went on and on. And in every single one of them she looked angry.

  Brie looked over her shoulder to where Lo lay. She was on her back between Frankie’s paws, fast asleep.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t put you in anything like that again.”

  “Oh come on, this is gold,” Finn said, and Brie turned back to see him pointing to the photo of Lo in the narwhale costume.

  “OK, that one I am most definitely keeping.”

  “I really don’t think you have any other choice. You’re going to need to put this one on the wall.”

  “In a frame covered in sequins.” She pulled the book from his hands, tossing it on the sofa with the other albums.

  “What other way would there be to display it?”

  “Clearly no other.” Placing her hands on his shoulders she slowly moved farther up his lap.

  He took a sharp breath as she pressed the apex of her thighs against the erection growing behind the fabric of his boxers. “So you’re keeping her. Keeping Lo?” His hands settled on her hips. “I got the sense when you picked her up that you weren’t too sure about her. There is also the fact that you apparently think she’s gearing up to eat you.”

  “Well, you know.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I like to live dangerously.” She was quiet for a moment before she said, “You know what great mystery I can’t figure out?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Bethelda never got anything delivered here. Everything went to her PO box or the Mirabelle Information Center. She didn’t have any friends, at least not any who have made any effort to contact me. There wasn’t really anyone at the funeral, either. So I don’t see anyone coming for a visit. Yet, she had this specialized doorbell. So I wonder how often she actually heard it ring.”

  “I’d wager not all that often at all.” His hands moved from her hips, his palms at her ribs, fingers wrapping around her sides.

  “Me either.” She shifted even closer. “Finn, thank you for ringing that doorbell.” Her arms wrapped around his neck, leaning close as she pressed her mouth to his.

  “What is it with you and your thank-yous?” He slowly shook his head, his hands continuing their journey up as he pushed the shirt up her body. She lifted her arms so he could pull it over her head.

  “I’m just glad you’re here…mainly because of the body heat.”

  “I figured as much.” He reached up, tracing the chain of her necklace with his fingertip. Goose bumps broke out on her skin again, but this time they had nothing to do with being cold. “What’s the story behind this?”

  “How do you know there’s a story?”

  “Because you always wear it.”

  “The day my parents brought me home, my dad had two necklaces, one for my mother and one for me. They gave it to me on my tenth birthday.”

  “I like it…I like seeing you in only it.” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to the diamond before moving down and covering one of her breasts with his mouth.

  He sucked her nipple deep, making her moan, before laving it with his tongue. He spent ample time admiring every inch of her chest, her holding on to his shoulders while she rocked her hips against his now hard cock.

  They were both good and truly worked up by the time he pulled his mouth away, leaning back just slightly as he watched her move. She reached between their bodies, pulling him from his boxers before she started to stroke him.

  “God, you’re good at that.”

  “I want you inside of me, Finn.” Her words came out just a little bit desperate…or a lot desperate. She reached behind him, grabbing one of the remaining condoms from the stash on the end table. Ripping it open with her teeth, she pulled the latex out before slowly rolling it down his length.

  “For someone who wants me inside of them, you sure are taking your time.”

  “Just making sure I do it right.” She stroked him one more time for good measure…and to torture him a little bit.

  He groaned, lifting her hips as she positioned him at her entrance. And then she moved down, letting out a satisfied cry as he filled her. His hand came to the back of her head, hands in her hair as he pulled her mouth to his.

  The kiss was long and deep, their bodies starting a slow rhythm. Finn held on to her hips as she started to really move. “Ride me, baby,” he demanded against her mouth before he nipped at her bottom lip.

  And ride him she did, enjoying every last moment of it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Wine as Currency

  When Brie woke up on Saturday morning her first conscious thought was one of being wonderfully satisfied, the next was how incredibly warm and comfortable she was. Hard not to be when she had a solid wall of man at her back, his arm wrapped around her. His hand was under the T-shirt—his shirt—that she wore, possessively holding her breast.

  Slowly opening her eyes, it was to find the room bathed in a dim glow. She hadn’t drawn the curtains, and the sun pushed through the thin blinds on the windows as much as it could. Based off of the amount of light in the room, she’d wager it was well after eight…probably close to nine.

  It had been almost one in the morning when they’d finally gone to sleep. Understandably they’d both been exhausted with their activities of the night. Though, Brie wasn’t feeling all that exhausted at the moment. She was feeling well rested and deliciously sore.

  The only downside to the moment was that her mouth felt like a sandbox. Damn that red wine. They’d gone through two and a half bottles, and the only reason she wasn’t sporting a hangover was because she’d downed another bottle of water before they’d gone to bed.

  Which meant she really needed to use the bathroom now.

  Gently pulling Finn’s hand from her breast, she slid away from him. She was careful not to jostle him as she got off the bed. He barely stirred before he rolled over onto his back, sound asleep. She smiled as she watched him for a moment, a little impressed with herself that she’d wiped him out so thoroughly.

  A chill ran down her spine, making her entire body shiver. Though they’d left the fire burning all night—its warmth filling the air and doing a decent job of combating the cold—it wasn’t enough compared with the warmth of the bed and the man she’d just pulled away from. Her thick robe lay on a chair in the corner and she slipped it on, grabbing her yoga pants from the floor, before sliding her feet into her fox slippers by the door.

  She made quick work in the bathroom, pulling the yoga pants on, brushing her teeth, and washing her face. When she opened the door, it was
to find Frankie sitting in the hallway.

  Brie reached down to rub the dog’s head as she whispered, “Do you need to go outside, pretty girl?”

  Frankie got up at the word outside and headed for the back door off the kitchen. Brie followed, smiling as she watched the dog’s fluffy tail wag back and forth. Twisting the lock and opening the door, Brie stepped outside and onto the back porch while Frankie tore off into the backyard.

  Brie liked it out there, had spent a couple of evenings—that weren’t freezing—on the wooden porch swing, enjoying the view at sunset. It really was a beautiful view. Three massive oaks provided shade, moss hanging down from the long branches. Either Bethelda had a green thumb, or she paid someone to maintain it. There were well-cared-for flower bushes all along the paved path that led down to Whiskey River. She could just imagine those bushes bursting with flowers in the spring.

  She wondered if she’d even get to see that happen.

  Another chill ran down her spine, making her body shiver. As the sun was shining bright, and the wind wasn’t really blowing, Brie could only just handle the cold air. Her fuzzy robe and slippers were helping matters considerably. But what really helped was when Finn came out of the house about two minutes later.

  Brie turned around at the sound of the door opening to find him wearing his jeans, the fleece pullover, and socks. His hair looked thoroughly tousled and there was still the vestiges of sleepiness behind his eyes. But maybe that look was from him still not wearing his glasses.

  He moved in behind her, arms wrapping around her belly and pulling her back against his chest. His head came down and over her shoulder, and he covered her lips with his, his mouth tasting like mint.

  He must’ve gotten ahold of the mouthwash in the bathroom.

  “Morning.” That one word came out warm and raspy, and she felt it move over her skin like she was sliding into a hot bath.

  “Morning.” She repeated his greeting, her hand coming up to cup the side of his jaw, running her thumb against his beard. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Better than I have in a really long time. You?”

  “Well, as someone put me to bed thoroughly well-used, I slept fantastic.”

  “Good.” The grin that turned up his mouth was enough to make her just a little bit weak in the knees.

  Good thing his arms were around her.

  “So what are you doing today?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose across her cheek.

  “Attempting to tackle something in that house.”

  “You want help? I’m good at taking orders.”

  She leaned back so that she could look into his eyes. “You have nothing better to do today?”

  “Than spending time with you? No.”

  Brie turned in his arms, her arms moving up and wrapping around his neck. Her hands went to the back of his head, pulling down until she had his mouth again.

  “I didn’t like waking up without you next to me,” he whispered against her lips.

  His words sent a thrill of pleasurable warmth down her spine. He’d wanted her there. Wanted her next to him when he’d woken up. That little fact wasn’t so little at all. It was everything in that moment. She pulled back just enough to see his eyes, her fingers moving up and down through the hair at the back of his neck.

  “I’ve done a number of stupid things in my life, but leaving you that first night is close to the top.”

  “Finn—”

  “I’m sorry, Brie.”

  She stretched up, pressing her lips to his in a soft, slow kiss. “I forgive you. Forgave you.”

  “I still want you to forget.”

  It was at that point that Frankie came back up on the deck, clearly done with her morning business and ready to go back inside.

  Brie pulled Finn’s bottom lip between her teeth, gently nipping at it before letting go. “Well, you know how to make me forget more than anyone else. Make me forget again, Finn.”

  His hands moved down to her thighs, pulling her up to that she could wrap her legs around his waist. Turning around he carried her into the house and back to the den. He used that last condom making her forget everything except him. Making her forget everything except the way he touched her, kissed her, the way he held her while he moved inside of her.

  He made her forget everything except for how he made love to her.

  * * *

  After Finn and Brie’s morning sex session, they took a shower. The setup wasn’t nearly as large or luxurious as what he had at his house, but as he got to see Brie all wet and soapy, he wasn’t complaining one little bit.

  They’d taken their time under the hot spray, and now out of condoms, they had gotten rather creative. After that, they’d gotten dressed and had breakfast.

  What with Finn’s career, he never knew when he was going to need a change of clothes. When it came to working with animals, there was no telling when he’d get something on him that would require him to change. There was also the fact that he’d been known to crash at the farm on some nights, waking up early to go for a ride with Nigel. Not to mention there were times when he was at Shep and Hannah’s when he’d drink more than was safe to get behind the wheel.

  Because of all of these factors, he not only always had a duffel with clothes in his truck, but he also always had food for Frankie. He never left the dog by herself overnight, so if he was sleeping elsewhere, so was she.

  Both Finn and Brie had worked up an appetite that morning, and while she fried bacon and scrambled eggs, he buttered toast and made coffee. By the time everyone in the house was fed and he and Brie were good and caffeinated, it was half past ten.

  As Brie’s first goal was still cleaning out the office for her to work in, that was where they started.

  “Let’s pack up George and all of his belongings first,” Brie said as she walked into the room with two smaller boxes in her hands.

  “You donating this stuff?”

  “Nope, sold it all. I took pictures of everything and posted it on eBay Wednesday morning with a forty-eight-hour time window. It was all sold by Friday to the same person with the screen name Freedom!!!!1978.”

  “How much did you get for it all?” he asked, taking both of the boxes from her hands.

  “Close to six thousand.”

  “Holy shit.”

  “Bethelda had a lot of signed things in there, and all of them with proof of authenticity. And pretty much everything was an original. Then you have to add in the fact that Mr. Michael is no longer with us, and this stuff is worth even more.”

  “I know, but geez, that just seems like a lot to pay.”

  “It does indeed. But Freedom!!!!1978 will get way more enjoyment out of this stuff than me. I’ve learned all that I need to learn from it, Bethelda was a George Michael super-fan.”

  “She was indeed.” Finn nodded. “OK, so how do you want to tackle this?”

  “With a lot of bubble wrap.” She grabbed a role that sat on the desk, holding it in the air.

  But Finn’s eyes weren’t on the bubble wrap; they were on the cedar desk. It was the first time he’d actually looked at it, and just one glance made it clear to him where it had come from.

  “This is one of my friend Bennett’s,” he said as he reached out, running his hand along the wood of the top. “He does wood work and custom furniture.”

  “Mel told me yesterday at lunch. But I didn’t know that was one of his. It’s beautiful, one of my favorite things in the house.”

  “Everything he does is amazing. I just can’t believe she bought a piece.”

  “He another one of her victims?”

  “Brie.” Finn lifted his hand from the desk as he turned to look at her. “Over half of this town was on the receiving end of one of her blog posts at one point or another.”

  “So it would be hard for her to avoid everyone she ever wrote about. Hell, she took Lo to St. Francis.”

  “She did…it’s just…I don’t know, I can’t wrap my head around her.”

&
nbsp; A half smile pulled up the corner of Brie’s mouth. “Join the club.”

  It took them a couple of hours to get everything efficiently and safely packed in the boxes. But they worked together, figuring out the best system. There were fifteen packages in total, and by the time they got all of those packages loaded up in Finn’s truck and to the post office, it was just in time before they closed at one o’clock.

  He took her to a light lunch, prefacing that even though he drove and paid, it did not count as the date he’d requested previously. Not at all. He wanted their date to leave an impression, an evening she’d always remember. Even long after she was gone.

  That thought had an unpleasant—and unexpected—sinking sensation settling low in his gut, but he forced himself to push it away.

  After a quick stop at the drug store—to stock up on much needed latex supplies—they were driving back to the bungalow. Finn called Brendan, letting his friend know they’d be at the house for the rest of the day so he could come over to see what he could do about the HVAC unit.

  Brendan looked slightly uneasy when he first walked through the door. Probably the sense most people had when first entering Bethelda’s house, but he relaxed after a little bit. He found the problem with the unit—a blown fuse—within ten minutes, and he had it fixed ten minutes after that.

  “You’re good to go, Brie,” he told her as he walked back into the house—warm air now blowing through the vents—but he stopped in his tracks when he looked through the open door to Bethelda’s bedroom. “No shit,” he whispered, shaking his head.

  “What?” Finn asked, setting a box of musical snow globes down on the dining room table.

  Brendan looked over at them, his astonishment clear on his face. “That’s one of Paige’s paintings.” He pointed into the room. “Mirabelle Beach at sunset. I remember watching her paint that; she was seven months pregnant with the twins.”

  “She has one of Bennett’s originals in there, too. A cedar desk.” Finn pointed to the office.

  “Seriously?”

  “That isn’t all, either.” Brie leaned her hip against the door frame of the kitchen, folding her arms across her chest as she looked between the two men. “Bethelda had beer from the Sleepy Sheep in the fridge, frozen cookie dough from Café Lula in the freezer, Harper’s lotions and oils in the bathroom, along with that painting and the desk. She’s a conundrum wrapped in an enigma.”