Second Chance Charmer

by Brighton Walsh

  The plan had been for the three of them to get the paperwork settled, sign his and Drew’s names where necessary—much as Nola hated it, two male names carried more weight than hers ever could, especially in the backward town of Havenbrook with a mayor like Dick himself—approve the blueprints and construction plans, and then bail again. Head back to California, back to their lives…

  Truthfully speaking, though, despite living there for the past ten years, they didn’t have much of a life on the west coast. No matter what they did, how many roots they planted there, it had never felt like home. Not like Havenbrook had.

  “Sorry ’bout that.” Willow slipped back into the office, not a chink in that armor he’d watched her put on, and settled behind her desk, fake smile spreading her lips. She straightened the stack of papers in her hand, brightly colored flags popping out along the edges. “We’ve got just a few things to take care of then y’all can be on your way. Shouldn’t take but a minute.” Yep, that armor was perfectly in place, but she wouldn’t look his way. Instead, she spoke to Drew. “If you’ll just sign right by the flag.” She pointed to a spot on the paper, handing Drew a pen. “Then go ’head and pass the stack on down so we can get everyone’s signatures.”

  She shuffled through more papers on her desk, avoiding any and all eye contact, with Finn in particular. “Looks like Nash has already filed for the proper permits to get started on construction, so y’all’re all set there.”

  Jesus, was there anything worse than listening to her small talk, go on about some nonsense like they were two random strangers? Like he didn’t know the weight of her body on his own, didn’t know the taste of her on his tongue, didn’t recall the exact tenor of her moans? He hated it, absolutely fucking hated it.

  And he had no right to. None at all.

  He’d given this up—he’d been the one who’d walked away, never mind that he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. It wasn’t fair of him now to demand things, to want to know everything that’d happened while he’d been gone. To want answers to all his questions—why was she here? Why was she working for her father? Why wasn’t she in Tennessee like they’d planned? But even knowing he didn’t have a right to those answers, it didn’t stop the burning in his gut, the suddenly overwhelming urge to know everything boiling up inside him.

  “Since the permits have—”

  “Why aren’t you in Nashville?” Shit. He hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but he couldn’t deny it was the single question that’d plagued him for far too long—years. Since Nola had let it slip about long ago that Willow’d been back in Havenbrook for a while. Had started working for her daddy. That was a far cry from her original plans of going to art school and becoming the creator he knew she was, deep in her bones. So far from the buttoned-up professional sitting in front of him in her tailored suit—which, yeah, looked hot as hell on her, but didn’t belong on her nonetheless. He wanted to pop the buttons on that fitted suit jacket just to see if she’d kept a tiny bit of her old self under this facade.

  The thought of one of her paint-stained tanks under her professional clothes had his lips tipping up at the corners. No matter where she’d been or what she’d been doing, she’d used to wear an old tank, perpetually stained with every color of the rainbow, beneath her clothes. In case the urge to paint hit her, she’d told him once. Jesus, those white slips of fabric covered with paint spatters with the tiny little straps had driven him and his teenage brain crazy. They’d fit her like a second skin, clinging to every inch of her body.

  “Why aren’t you wherever the hell you ran off to?” Willow snapped back, her temper flaring before his eyes. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashing, connecting with his and giving him that contact he craved, even if only for a second before she took out her anger on the papers in front of her.

  A not-so-discreet elbow jab and a pointed stare from Nola had him keeping his mouth shut for the rest of the meeting, scrawling his signature above the line indicated by the blue flags. As soon as his name was on the last paper, Willow snatched the pile from him and stood, making it clear in no uncertain terms it was time for them to get the hell out.

  “I’ll let y’all know if there’re any problems, but I don’t foresee anything,” she said with false cheer, not moving from behind her desk. “In the meantime, let me know if anything comes up, Nola.”

  “Thanks, Will,” Nola said.

  “’Preciate your help, Willow.” Drew gave a short nod in her direction, tipping his baseball cap up, before stepping aside to let Nola out the door ahead of him.

  Finn stood, rapping his knuckles twice on the desk. For the briefest moment, Willow’s eyes met his, and sparks went off under his skin. Just like always. “I’ll see you again soon, Willowtree.”

  She huffed out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head to break the spell. Then she dropped into her seat, twisting her chair around until her back was to him. “Goodbye, Griffin. And don’t worry, I won’t hold my breath.”

  He wasn’t going to win this battle, no matter what he said. So he stood there for another moment before turning and walking out of her office. Nola and Drew waited outside, the hot May sun beating down on them.

  “That went well,” Drew said on a laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Willow that mad. And I was there when Billy sprayed her white shirt with water in high school—you remember that?”

  Yeah, he remembered. And thinking about it now wasn’t going to do anything but get him half hard again, just like he’d been while sitting across from her.

  “Y’all, quit it. I’m serious now. Stay out of her way,” Nola all but pleaded. When Finn didn’t respond, she wrapped her hand around his forearm, digging her short nails into his skin hard enough to leave indentations. “Griffin Reilly Thomas, I mean it.”

  With a laugh, he peeled her fingers from his arm. “Shit, Xena, quit reminding me why we gave you the nickname in the first place. I’ll give her space, promise.”

  She narrowed her eyes, but Drew changed the subject, like a good twin. “Damn, never imagined I’d forget what May in Mississippi’s like, but I think California made me soft.” He lifted his baseball cap off his head and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it again, shading his eyes from the brutal rays.

  “Don’t worry. Y’all’ll be back there in no time.” Nola patted Drew on the cheek. “Though, you might want to get some sunscreen so you don’t burn all this pretty, delicate skin.”

  One second Nola was walking between Finn and Drew, and the next Drew held her planked across his shoulders, spinning round and round.

  “Oh my God! Andrew Brennan Thomas, you better put me down right this second!”

  With a laugh, Drew finally set her on her feet, chuckling as he jumped out of the way to dodge a slap to the chest. “Damn, girl, what’s with you throwin’ around middle names all willy-nilly? I can’t believe you three-named me.”

  “You’re lucky those are the only names I called you.”

  Laughter bouncing between them, the three walked across the street, striding toward the building on the corner—their building. The town square was quaint and well kept, considering how run-down it’d been the last time Finn had seen it. But he shouldn’t have been surprised at the…life that was now evident. Not since he knew Willow was responsible for it.

  He could see touches of her wherever he looked. The new streetlamps, flower baskets filled with bright pops of color hanging from the wrought-iron posts. Park benches every few feet, the back rungs decorated with paintings he immediately recognized as hers. So she hadn’t quit painting… Maybe she’d decided she hadn’t needed to go to art school to be happy? Maybe she’d found a way to do both—working on her art while staying in her hometown, a compromise of sorts. Maybe she was happy here, working for her daddy?

  That was all Finn had ever wanted, was the main reason he’d left in the first place. More than anything, he wanted her happy, living the life she deserved. He just had to trust sh
e was. And he hoped he’d be able to see even a sliver of it in the few short days he and Drew would be in Havenbrook.

  Willow stewed at her desk for long moments after Finn left her office, her heart racing like a jackrabbit, beating so forcefully she could feel it in her lips. It was like someone had lit a sparkler and set it under her skin, lighting her up from the inside out. That’d always been what it’d been like being in Finn’s presence—intense and raw and all-consuming.

  Thankfully, she was older now. Wiser. Had a hell of a lot more life experience under her belt than that naïve seventeen-year-old girl who’d fallen for him in the first place, or the equally naïve eighteen-year-old she’d been when he’d left her. She wouldn’t make the same mistake again, wouldn’t get caught up in his orbit. Wouldn’t allow herself to.

  “Holy shitballs.” Avery wasted no time hurrying into Willow’s office as soon as the trio of new business owners left. “It’s not often we get eye candy like that in here, but to get two of them at once? Damn, girl. It was like Christmas.” Her eyes sparkled, her smile huge.

  Willow feigned nonchalance, dropping her gaze to the papers on her desk. “Oh, were they good-lookin’? I didn’t notice.”

  Avery snorted so loud, she slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes dancing with laughter. Shaking her head, she dropped her hand as she fell into the chair in front of Willow’s desk. “How long have we been friends, Willow?”

  Avery knew exactly how long they’d been friends, so Willow just raised a brow. “You gettin’ at somethin’?”

  “Um, yeah,” Avery said with a sharp nod. “How about the fact that you’re lying through your teeth? There’s history there—that wasn’t the first time you’d seen those fine-ass specimens. So, spill. I need details, and I need them right-fucking-now.”

  Since Avery was a transplant to Havenbrook, having only lived in their little pocket of paradise for a bit less than three years, she hadn’t witnessed the presence of the Thomas boys. And being Willow didn’t like to talk about the boy who’d flipped her whole world upside down, ripping her heart out of her chest in the process, Avery—even as one of Willow’s best friends—had no hope of knowing who Griffin Thomas was. Least of all, who he was to Willow.

  Willow stared at her best friend, seeing the resolve on her face, and sank back into her chair. As much as she definitely didn’t want to rehash the abysmal history, she couldn’t deny it’d be nice to have another ear, besides her younger sister Mackenna, to listen. “All right. I’ll give you a condensed version right now, but all the gory details’ll have to wait until I’ve got at least three glasses of wine under my belt.”

  Avery’s eyes brightened as she rested her elbows on Willow’s desk, leaning forward. “I’ll bring the wine. And I can deal with condensed right now. Although there was nothing condensed about either of those boys, am I right?” She waggled her eyebrows, bringing a levity to the situation that Willow desperately needed.

  With a laugh, Willow shook her head. “How can you make me laugh when I’m ready to crawl out of my skin?”

  “One of my many redeeming qualities.”

  “Too true.” Willow bit her lip, then let out a long sigh. “You remember me telling you about my high school boyfriend?”

  Avery nodded. “The one who bailed after he took your virginity? Hard to forget that story. What an asshole.”

  “Yeah, well. Now you know why I called him that.”

  “Wait, what? Those guys…?” She widened her eyes and slapped a hand down on Willow’s desk. “No.”

  “’Fraid so.”

  “Which one? Baseball Hat or Gray T-shirt?”

  Willow tried and failed not to think about the gray material stretching over the broad muscles of Finn’s chest, the sleeves banding tight around thick biceps. She heaved a sigh. “Gray T-shirt.”

  Avery’s mouth dropped open. “Damn, girl, you hit the virginity jackpot. That boy is fine.”

  “What I hit was the asshole jackpot.”

  The awestruck look dropped from Avery’s face, and she frowned. Reaching over, she patted Willow’s hand. “I’m sorry, hon. We’ll save the rest for after you’re good and toasted. Wine and pizza tonight. Sound good?”

  Willow honestly couldn’t think of a better end to this truly awful day. Except maybe a chance to go back in time and avoid it entirely. “Sounds fabulous.”

  “Okay, but can we talk about how you actually called him an asshole? Is that discussion on the table? Because I have questions. Like, were you maybe having an out-of-body experience? Do I need to perform an exorcism on you?”

  “Shut up.” Willow laughed.

  “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear around…well, anyone but me and Mac.”

  Mackenna was going to have a freaking coronary when she found out Finn was back in town. Which, according to Havenbrook standards, was going to be in, oh, about seven minutes. Nothing much stayed silent in their sleepy little town, especially not gossip as juicy as the Thomas boys being back. Them being back and opening the very first bar Havenbrook had ever seen? Yeah, that was going to spread like wildfire. Her daddy was going to be madder than a hornet when he found out. He’d fought the wet county law tooth and nail, had heavily rallied against it, saying it’d sully their town. And even though it’d passed, he’d thus far somehow managed to keep any restaurants in town from carrying alcohol.

  But a brand-new bar in Havenbrook owned by Finn Thomas? Heaven save them all. Her daddy had never been Finn’s number one fan—had, in fact, done all he could to keep Willow and Finn from seeing each other. In the end, he hadn’t needed to do anything. Finn had left all on his own.

  “He definitely brings out the worst in me,” Willow finally said.

  “I don’t know about that.” Avery stood from her chair, shifting toward her desk in the outer office as the phone began to ring. “I sort of loved seeing that fire in your eyes. Rage looks good on you, Will.”

  As Avery answered the phone, Willow straightened her shoulders, arranging the paperwork on her desk into some semblance of order. Her day had been upended, and it wasn’t even noon.

  “Hey, Will?” Avery called.

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna run and grab a couple of cupcakes from The Sweet Spot.”

  Willow’s mouth immediately started to water. They had the best cupcakes in Havenbrook. The menu changed with the season and with the day. A Wednesday in May meant Triple Chocolate Raspberry. The divine chocolate concoction, topped with heavenly ganache and filled with chocolate raspberry buttercream, was her and Avery’s guilty pleasure, reserved for the very worst of days. And today definitely qualified.

  Willow smiled her first genuine smile of the day. “You’re a mind reader. I could use one. Or a dozen.”

  “You sure could. Especially when I tell you Rory’s on line one.”

  Apparently, Willow’s original guess of the gossip taking seven minutes to spread through Havenbrook had been a bit generous. She dropped her head back on her shoulders and closed her eyes, exhaustion cloaking every inch of her. After her morning, she didn’t know if she had the strength to put on a good face for her older sister. But she didn’t have much of a choice. She’d learned long ago not to let Rory see her sweat.

  “Of course she is,” Willow said to the ceiling. “Maybe later the grim reaper’ll show up to take me to lunch.”

  Avery laughed, grabbing her purse and waving as she headed out to grab the treats. “Be right back with enough sweets to keep you in a sugar coma for the rest of the day.”

  Willow took a deep breath before picking up the phone and pressing the button to connect the call to her line. Pasting a smile on her face, she answered like she had no idea what would prompt her sister’s call. “Hey, Rory. How’re you doin’ today?”

  “Will, you’re never gonna believe what I just heard,” Rory said, diving in without pleasantries. Very unlike her, which meant she deemed the gossip juicier than usual. She wasn’t wrong. “Mrs. Thompson was out w
aterin’ her flowers—honestly, she waters them fifteen times a day just so she makes sure not to miss Edna with the daily gossip.” She tsked, despite the fact that it was the same reason Rory sat in her porch swing all day, even when it was twelve thousand degrees outside. But as it was Rory, of course her hair always looked perfect, her makeup precisely applied, neither daring to step out of line despite temperatures rivaling hell. “Anyway, you’ll never guess what she heard.”

  Oh, Willow probably had a couple good ideas.

  Without waiting for Willow to say anything, Rory continued, “Rumor has it, the Thomas boys are back in town.”

  “Yep, they sure are.”

  “They got in—wait, what?”

  “I said, yep, they sure are. The Thomas boys are back in Havenbrook. You heard right.” The number of times she’d thought about saying those words… Lord, she’d dreamed about it for months after Finn had left. That it had all been just a misunderstanding, that he was coming back any day. She’d spent her time daydreaming about it. But at some point, she’d stopped dreaming about it, stopped hoping. And she could honestly say she hadn’t ever thought she’d be uttering them ten years after the fact.

  “How do you know that?” Rory asked.

  “Because they just left my office.”

  “What in heaven’s name were they doin’ in your office?”

  Willow felt every ounce of disdain Rory put into the word office, like Willow having dared to pursue a career instead of finding a nice man and popping out babies was akin to peddling drugs on the elementary school playground. She took a deep breath, knowing it was a delicate balance, playing this game with Rory. Especially when their daddy did not need to be informed of all the plans just yet. But word was going to get around to Rory one way or another, whether Willow delivered the news or not. It might as well be the truth coming straight from the source… “You know Pete’s place in the square?”