Could Be Forever: (Finn and Juliet) (A Back to Jetty Beach Romance Book 1)

by Claire Kingsley

  “You wouldn’t mind?” she asks.

  “Not at all.”

  I walk her to my car, since it will be easier to get the groceries back to her vacation house that way. We swing through Charlie’s Grocery and pick up soup, Gatorade, popsicles, and a few other things. Juliet chats about her friends, telling me a bit about them. I ask a lot of questions, mostly because I like hearing her talk.

  She tells me where her vacation house is and I drive us there. There’s a red car parked out front.

  “So, do you want me to wait here?” I ask. “Or should I come in?”

  “That’s kind of up to you,” she says. “They’re not contagious or anything. But it’s likely Madison will say something inappropriate.”

  “I think I can handle that.”

  We go inside and find Juliet’s friends lying on the couch, both wrapped in blankets. Their eyes widen when they see me. I put the groceries down on the kitchen counter and wave, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

  “Hi,” I say. “I’m Finn.”

  “Finn, this is Madison.” She points to the one with curly dark hair. “And Becca.” A petite blond gives me a little wave.

  “Wow,” Madison says.

  “We brought you guys some groceries,” Juliet says. “Do you need anything? Can I make you something to eat?”

  “Nope,” Madison says. She’s talking to Juliet, but her eyes don’t leave me. “No, you go have fun. It’s your birthday. We’re fine.”

  “Yeah, what else do you guys have planned?” Becca asks.

  Juliet glances at me, then back at her friends. “Actually, I don’t know. We don’t really have a plan.”

  Becca’s mouth drops open. “No plan?” She looks at me. “I hope she hasn’t been driving you crazy all day, begging you for a detailed itinerary.”

  “No, she’s been lovely,” I say.

  Juliet smiles a little and looks away.

  “We don’t have a plan, but I haven’t taken her to the beach yet,” I say. “Since the weather is holding out, I thought we’d do that. I got someone to cover for me at the pub tonight, so then we’ll probably grab dinner. If you two approve, of course.”

  “Oh, we approve,” Madison says.

  I grin at them. “Perfect.”

  “Yeah, you are,” Becca says. “I mean, yeah, that’s great. Have fun, Jules.”

  Juliet laughs and gives me a shy glance. Man, I like her. This day has been amazing, and I’m relieved her friends are doing well enough that I can still take her out. I’m definitely not ready for this day to end.

  “Should I change or anything?” Juliet asks as we head for the front door.

  “Nope,” I say. “You’re perfect just as you are.”

  7

  Juliet

  Number of times I’ve had to stop myself from swooning today: nine and counting.

  Finn is so different from any guy I’ve spent time with before. I usually go for a business type—a man who wears button-down shirts, even on weekends. With a standing appointment at a salon for a haircut every three weeks, a nice car, and a solid retirement plan. Finn? He’s wearing a navy-blue waffle knit shirt and faded jeans. His hair is kind of messy and he has stubble on his jaw. He has a psych degree, but he took over an Irish Pub when his dad died. He lives in this quirky little town and seems to love it.

  I really don’t know what to think. I’m so curious about him, and not just about what he likes to do, or his favorite food, or what it was like to grow up here. I’m curious about the way the stubble on his jaw would feel against my face if he kissed me. What those hands would feel like fisted through my hair. What he looks like under those clothes.

  I’ve never felt like this about someone I just met. I’m a take my time kind of girl. I don’t rush into things. But the more time I spend with Finn, the more I want to go completely against my nature and rush into a lot of things.

  But I don’t want to assume he’s into me like that. He’s casual and friendly, but I bet he acts like this with a lot of people. Maybe a lot of women, I don’t really know. In fact, I haven’t confirmed that he’s actually single. I assume he is—I don’t think he’d be spending the day with me if he had a girlfriend. I kind of want to ask, just to be sure, but this far into the day, it feels awkward.

  I really, really hope he’s single.

  I get in Finn’s car and we head out. The beach is literally right there, but he drives back into town.

  “I thought we were going to the beach?” I ask.

  “I want to take you to a better beach,” he says.

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Yeah. Trust me.” He gives me a little smile and my tummy does a belly flop.

  We take a windy road up the coast. After about fifteen minutes, we turn, and he drives down a gravel road. At the end, he pulls over to the side and we both get out.

  The wind whips my hair around my face and I cross my arms. It’s colder here, but the beach stretches out in front of us and the waves crash in a steady rhythm. Instead of just an expanse of sand, this beach has several big rock formations. They’re a mix of dark gray stone and green plants, with knobby windswept trees growing out the top.

  “This is beautiful,” I say.

  Finn pulls on a dark jacket and puts his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it’s nice out here. Are you going to be warm enough? I have an extra coat.”

  My trench coat is cute, but it’s thin. “The wind is pretty cold. I wouldn’t mind another coat if you have one.”

  He smiles and gets a dark wool coat out of the back seat. “Here.” He helps me into it, holding it up so I can put my arms through the sleeves. It’s a little big, but it’ll work. He steps in front of me and runs his hands down my arms. The way he touches me is so familiar, it feels like I’ve known him for a lot longer than a day.

  “Thanks.”

  “Is that better?” he asks.

  He’s standing so close. I almost tilt my face up, giving him a clear path to my lips, but I chicken out at the last second.

  “Yeah, this is great,” I say. “Thanks.”

  We walk out closer to the waves, our feet leaving little depressions in the sand.

  “So, this is probably a weird thing to ask at this point,” I say. “But, you don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

  He looks over at me, his mouth turned up in a little smile. “Do you think I’d be hanging out with a woman like you all day if I had a girlfriend?”

  A woman like me? What does that mean? “I’m just asking. You know I’m single, but we haven’t talked about you in that way.”

  “No, I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “So, speaking of, can I ask what happened? Why you’re single?”

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” I say. “I dated this guy for a couple years, and sort of figured he was going to be it, you know? We’re at that age. But he didn’t feel the same way, and he broke up with me.”

  “Shit,” he says. “What age?”

  “You know, the age when people tend to get married.”

  “Is there an age?” he asks.

  “No, I guess not,” I say. “I suppose I did see it that way, though. It seems like so many people I know are getting married. I’ve been to a lot of weddings the last couple of years. My friend Madison is engaged, and I’m pretty sure Becca isn’t far behind. But in reality, he did me a favor. I was upset at first, but now that I have a little distance from the whole thing, I can see it’s for the best.”

  “You guys weren’t compatible, or what?”

  “You’re very interested in this, aren’t you?” I ask, nudging him with my arm.

  “Actually, I kind of hate hearing you talk about him,” he says. “And yet, I have an odd desire to know.”

  I laugh. “You are so weird. His name is Jacob. And let’s just say he is nothing like you.”

  “No?” Finn asks, looking at me. “How so?”

  “Well, he’s very set in his ways,” I say. “He has a routine, and he hates it when somethi
ng messes with it. At first, that was comforting. I like my routine too. But I don’t like everything to be the same every single time. You know? Because everything was always the same.”

  “Yikes,” Finn says. “Everything?”

  “Yes. Everything.”

  “That’s no fun,” he says. “I guess, I’m sorry you got hurt. But I’m glad he did what he did.”

  “Me too.”

  I glance at Finn out of the corner of my eye. His dimples pucker a little, like he’s trying to hide his smile.

  “So, what about you?” I ask. “Have you had a serious relationship?”

  He shrugs. “Yeah. There was a woman I dated for a few years. It didn’t work out, though.”

  A few years? That’s a long time. I wonder when it ended, and why.

  “That’s too bad,” I say. “Is that a recent thing?”

  “No,” he says. “It’s been a little over a year since we broke up for good.”

  That’s kind of comforting. Unlike Finn, I have no curiosity about this woman. I’m getting jealous at the very thought of her existence—which is a little bit crazy. I have no claim on him, and besides, we’re grown-ups. It’s not like I haven’t been with other men. I’m sure Finn doesn’t care who I’ve slept with in the past, so why am I even thinking about his sexual history?

  Probably because I keep thinking about what it would be like to have sex with him.

  “So, have you had a nice birthday so far?” he asks. “I feel like I’m not doing a very good job.”

  “Why would you say that?” I ask. “This has been great.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks. “I didn’t even get you a present.”

  Seriously, this guy. “You don’t have to get me a present. This day has been my present.”

  “Sure, but it would be fun to have a gift for you to open. Did your friends get you anything?”

  “Well, this weekend is their present to me,” I say. “Plus, the photo session, and, um… the thing I wore in the photos was a present from them.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, the thing you didn’t look at.”

  “I told you, I only saw the first one.”

  I laugh. “I can’t believe I posed for those. It’s so unlike me.”

  “Was it fun?” he asks.

  “Yeah, it was a lot of fun,” I say. “It felt good.”

  “Sometimes it feels good to get out of our comfort zone,” he says.

  “I guess I can admit you’re right about that.” I’m so tempted to tuck my hand in his arm, but I’m worried that might be too much. “It doesn’t come naturally to me, though.”

  “Right, you’re a planner,” he says.

  “I’m organized,” I say. “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “No, of course not,” he says. “But today hasn’t been very organized. Has it still been fun?”

  “Yes,” I say, without hesitating. “It’s been really fun.”

  “Good.” He nudges me with his arm. Is he being flirty? I wish I was sure.

  “So, are you tired of me yet?” I ask.

  “Not at all.” He stops and turns toward me. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d go out to dinner with me tonight.”

  “I thought that was already the plan.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he says. “I guess I mean I’d like to take you out to a nice dinner.”

  Oh my god, is he asking me out on a date? Like, a real date? Does he mean this is going to be different from the rest of our day? Does this mean he’s attracted to me? Or is he just trying to make up for the fact that I don’t have presents to open? Fuck, my brain is tumbling down the overthinking spiral again. Say something, Juliet.

  “I’d love to.”

  He grins at me. “Awesome. I need to make a phone call and see if I can get us a table. I know the chef at the restaurant I want to take you to, so even if they’re booked tonight, I’m pretty sure I can get us in.”

  “Do you know everyone in this town?”

  “It’s a bartender thing,” he says. “But Gabe is an old friend.”

  “Is this a dress-up kind of restaurant?” I ask.

  “It’s a nice place,” he says. “But you can dress however you want.”

  I pause for a beat, hit by a sudden case of butterflies in my tummy. “Would you like me to dress up?”

  His eyes meet mine and I wish I knew him well enough to read him. His dimples stand out and he holds my gaze. “Yes. I would love it if you dress up.”

  I did not expect the seriousness in his voice when he answered my question. In my mind, I hear him say two more words at the end of that sentence: I would love it if you dress up for me. My heart flutters and I feel my cheeks warm.

  “Okay,” I say, glancing away so I can get my bearings. I’m so flustered, and I’m literally going to need to change my panties, because suddenly I’m really turned on. Holy shit. “My friends actually packed a dress, but I’ll need to go back and change.”

  “Sure,” he says. “How about this. I’ll take you back to your place so you can get ready. I’ll make sure we have a table, and come back to get you after about an hour. Does that work?”

  “Yeah, that works.”

  “Great.”

  He smiles again and we head back to his car. I’m filled with little pings of excitement. This birthday is turning out better than I could have imagined.

  8

  Finn

  There are a few too many ideas knocking around my head as I walk back to my car after dropping Juliet off. I need to see if I can get a table at the Ocean Mark. Gabe should have my back, but I hope the timing works out. I really want to get her a gift to open, but I need to figure out what. Changing clothes should probably be on the agenda. I did tell her I’d like her to dress up, so I can’t very well pick her up wearing this old shirt and jeans.

  And while I’m at home, maybe I should make sure the place is picked up a little. Not that I actually think I’m going to bring her home with me tonight. But I could take a page from Juliet’s playbook and be prepared.

  First, I need to stop at my pub. I was supposed to work today. I got my shift covered, but I should at least swing by and make sure the place hasn’t burned down.

  Most of the tables are full, which I like to see. I head behind the bar and nod to Jesse, who’s bartending for me tonight.

  “Hey, man, how’s it going?” I ask.

  “It’s been busy,” he says. “But everything’s fine.”

  “Good.” I check in with the kitchen staff, and things seem to be humming along like they should. I pause to check my phone. I left it on silent all day so I wouldn’t have to worry about interruptions. I have a text from Lucas, asking what I’m doing tonight. I text back. Date.

  Because hell yeah, it’s a date. It was such a turn on when she asked me if I wanted her to dress up for dinner. I can’t wait to see what she looks like. I kind of hope she wears that sheer black thing underneath. But there I go, getting ahead of myself again. Juliet doesn’t strike me as a sleep with a guy on the first date kind of girl. Not at all. And I honestly don’t mind. I’m not taking her out in the hopes of getting her into bed. Although, fuck, if she wants to, I’m all in. She’s sexy as hell, and I’ve had an awesome time with her today. I really like this girl, and it’s been a long time since I felt this way about someone.

  Lucas texts back. Date? Who?

  She’s from out of town. Came into the bar last night after you left.

  Cool, man. Taking her to Gabe’s?

  Of course.

  I also have a voicemail from my mother. I rub the back of my neck, wondering if I should call her back now or wait until tomorrow. She’ll probably get annoyed with me if I don’t return her call. I bring up her number and hit send.

  “There you are,” she says when she answers. My mom has the funniest accent—mostly Italian with a weird Irish lilt to it. No matter how many years we live in the states, she never loses it.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

&
nbsp; “I just wanted to remind you about the wedding next weekend,” she says.

  “Wedding?” I ask, searching my memory.

  “Yes, your cousin?” she says. “Tell me you didn’t forget.”

  I definitely forgot. Shit. “No, I didn’t forget. Cousin Mary. Right.”

  “So, you’re coming?”

  I do not want to go to this wedding, for about a hundred different reasons. “Mom, I don’t know if I can get away for an entire weekend. It’s like a four-hour drive from here, and weekends are busy at the pub.”

  She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “That pub. I told you it was going to get in the way.”

  “It’s not in the way,” I say. God, why won’t she let this go? “It’s my business. This is what I do.”

  “It was your father’s business, and he never should have burdened you with it,” she says.

  “Mom, can we not do this right now? I’m really busy.”

  “Fine, but you need to come to the wedding,” she says. “Your aunt Carina will be so upset if you don’t make it. They have a room reserved for you at the lodge. And besides, it will be good for you.”

  I’d rather stab out my own eyeballs than go, but my mother has a PhD in family guilt. “Fine, Mom. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Good,” she says. “See, aren’t you glad I called to remind you?”

  I try not to groan. “Of course.”

  “All right,” she says. “I’ll see you Friday.”

  I hang up, wishing I hadn’t called her. I pocket my phone and push thoughts of my mother out of my mind. My cousin’s wedding is a week away. I don’t need to worry about it right now. I have more pressing concerns. Like what sort of birthday present to get a woman I barely know on short notice.

  But I have a couple of ideas, and I figure I can swing by a store on my way home to get changed. And I need to see about dinner reservations. Instead of calling the restaurant, I call Gabe’s cell. He might be too busy to answer, but I figure I’ll try him first.

  “You have ninety seconds,” he says.

  “I have a date tonight and I want a table.”