Finn

by JoAnn Ross

  “Of course I do.” She’d given her word. “Meanwhile, I think I’ll catch up on my sleep.”

  “Good idea.” Was it her imagination, or did he sound relieved? He bent and brushed his lips over hers for what she could tell was a last kiss. “See you later.”

  “Later,” she murmured. Pressing a finger against her too-soon-abandoned lips, she watched him leave the bedroom. Then heard the cabin door open and close. A chirp revealed he’d unlocked the Jeep’s door. A moment later, she heard him driving away.

  She sat there, feeling as alone as she ever had. If she’d been back in California, at least she’d have her roommate to talk with. She’d only been here a couple days and was already missing girl talk.

  “You’re in Alaska. Not the dark side of the moon,” Tori reminded herself. She retrieved her phone and texted Zoe back in L.A.

  Remember that guy I told you about in S.D.? She hit send, then waited.

  A response came flashing back. No surprise there, since the rocker was never more than seconds away from her phone. Hot Navy pilot?

  Yes. Him. She sent it, then waited a dramatic-pause moment. I slept with him.

  I know. You told me.

  No. Last night. And maybe into this morning. She still wasn’t sure what with the unrelenting sunlight and the possibility of the dialed-up-to-eleven sex having exploded her brain.

  I need deets. Calling now.

  A second later, her phone rang.

  “Did you decide to go to San Diego instead of Alaska without telling your best friend, who was supposed to be your maid of honor?”

  “No, I’m in Caribou.”

  “What the hell is he doing up there?”

  “Flying. But not for the Navy. For a local airline.”

  “Did he follow you?”

  “No. He was already here.”

  “Wow.” Tori could hear Zoe processing that. “What a coincidence.”

  “There’s more. He’s the pilot Carter hired to fly us from Anchorage to the cabin.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Truth.”

  “Okay. That’s it.”

  “What’s it?”

  “He’s obviously destined to be your soul mate.” Her former roommate and best friend definitely went against stereotype. The redhead, who had two full tattooed sleeves, multiple piercings, who played down-and-dirty goth metal rock, had the heart of an herbal-tea-drinking New Ager who’d never met an alternative belief she couldn’t embrace.

  “I think you may be reading a bit too much into it,” Tori suggested. “If we’d been destined to be soul mates, we would have connected the first time.”

  “From what you told me, you did connect. Enough that you got scared and ran away.” Tori heard the unmistakable clicking of a computer keyboard. “Obviously, your stars were totally aligned that night. What’s his name again?”

  “Finn Brannigan. And what are you doing?”

  “Googling him to see his birthdate. So I can do your charts.”

  Why hadn’t she done that? Tori asked herself. Not for the star-charting thing, which she didn’t believe in. But just to find out more about him. Because, she answered her own question, she’d committed to Carter and hadn’t planned to look back.

  “This is strange,” Zoe murmured. More clicking.

  “What?”

  “He only has a paragraph.”

  “Why would he have more? He’s not famous or anything.”

  “True. But most people have Facebook pages or are on Twitter or blog or something. All this says is that he’s a lieutenant in the Navy.”

  “Not anymore. At least not active.”

  “Wikipedia isn’t known for its instant updates unless they’re celebrities or politicians… He attended the Naval Academy.”

  “I know. He told me.”

  “Let me cross-reference that with his name.” Click, click, click. “Oh, wow.”

  “What?”

  “He’s like a god in those graduation whites.”

  “Tell me about it,” Tori said on a long sigh.

  “I cannot believe you ran out of that hotel room and left him on the market. If I liked guys, I’d have immediately scooped him up like a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel Core… So, what’s wrong with him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tori.” She could hear the familiar frustrated sigh in Zoe’s voice. “Men like this do not stay on the market at…doing the math here…twenty-seven.”

  “That’s still young.” Two years younger than she was, not that she was going to allow that small difference to matter.

  “For mortal men. Not for gods. Is he over-the-top kinky? Does he have a Red Room? Did he strip you, tie you up, and flog you?”

  “No.” They had, however, stripped each other. And she wouldn’t have minded if he’d tied her up. Just a little.

  “There’s something wrong with him. Are you sure he didn’t throw off any serial killer vibes?”

  Going against her inner Earth Mother, Zoe was also addicted to Dateline and Criminal Minds.

  “None. He flies senior citizens over Mt. Denali.”

  “There’s a lot of wilderness up there where a killer could hide bodies. You might not find them until the last glacier melts.”

  “He’s not kinky. He’s not a serial killer. He’s a very nice man from a family of seven children.”

  “Like Sister Wives?” Reality TV was another of her addictions.

  “No.” It was Tori’s turn to blow out a frustrated breath. “He had one mother. She died when he was four. He’s the youngest.”

  “Aaah.”

  “What now?”

  “He’s obviously suffering separation issues. In that respect, you’re perfectly matched. Although,” she mused, “it could be difficult for one of you to make the move to forever after.”

  “You’re jumping ahead of things,” Tori complained. “We spent one night together a year ago. This is my fourth day in Caribou. I’m not even thinking about ever afters.”

  “Good. Don’t. Because if you do, you’ll fall into running mode. And if he’s really as good as you say, he’s a keeper.”

  “It’s too early.”

  “Just saying,” Zoe said. “Think about it. Seriously.”

  “I will. Right now I have to go get ready for a parade. I got roped into riding on a float.”

  “You did not!”

  “Yeah. I did.”

  “But you don’t do floats. You don’t even do parades. I’ve never been able to get you to go to the Rose Parade with me.”

  “Because I don’t want to camp out all night on the sidewalk.”

  “No. Because Brooke Wingate, who told everyone at school that you’d tried to seduce Carter when he was home for summer vacation, was a Rose Parade Princess.”

  “There was that,” Tori admitted.

  “And thus the irony of her having turned out to be Carter’s mistress.”

  Tori so didn’t want to relive that revelation.

  “I’ve really got to go,” she said. “I’m singing and I need to warm up.”

  “Sounds as if hot pilot god has already done that,” Zoe said with a laugh. “Make sure you keep me updated.” Her tone turned serious. “I don’t want to quit you, Tori Cassidy. You may not be into forever afters. But you’ll always be my BFF.”

  And didn’t that cause a lump to rise in her throat? “Ditto,” Tori said before ending the call.

  * * *

  “Finn and Tori had dinner together last night,” Mary told Barbara Ann the next morning as the two of them sat in a corner booth at the café. “He was supposedly taste testing one of the meals she’s making for you.”

  “Oh, I could tell they had a connection. Did he stay over?”

  “I don’t know. I suspect he wouldn’t because he’d be afraid that Yazz, Jackie, or one of the other pilots might spot his Jeep.”

  “It does tend to stand out,” Barbara Ann allowed. “Like its owner. I wonder if he told her.”


  “I advised him to. But he’s awfully hardheaded.”

  “I get why he wants to keep who he is a secret,” Barbara Ann said. “For the same reason his father did. So he won’t be judged by some stereotype of a billionaire.”

  “Which Finn isn’t.”

  “You know that. And I know that. But people get ideas into their heads and will make up their own stories. There’s also the fact that while Finn’s not as tall and, well, sturdy, as Colin, he has his father’s eyes.”

  “And the identical bearing,” Mary agreed. “That I-can-handle-any-damn-thing-you-throw-at-me vibe. My Mike had it, too.” Her expression softened at the thought of her late husband.

  “Speaking of that,” Barbara Ann said, leaning forward to make sure they weren’t overheard by the server refilling coffee mugs two tables over. “Have you told him?”

  “Not yet.” Mary sighed and set the fork of salmon, cream cheese, and chive omelet back on her plate. “I was waiting for him to settle in.” She shook her head. “That’s not exactly true… You know, I shouldn’t have to be the one. Colin should have taken care of that if he was going to leave him Osprey.”

  “True. But he didn’t. And someone has to.”

  “Which leaves it to me.”

  Barbara Ann reached across the table and patted Mary’s hand. “You’ll handle it,” she assured her decades-long friend. “But, speaking as your best friend, I will warn you that both you and the boy are running out of time. Doug Green’s already figured it out. Not about Mike’s connection, but that Colin was Finn’s father.”

  Mary’s eyes widened behind the lenses of today’s red harlequin glasses. “How?”

  “Remember when that fire gutted his hardware store?”

  “Of course. I’m not senile yet and it was only five years ago.”

  “Did you ever wonder how Doug got the money to rebuild and restock when he’d forgotten to make his insurance payment since the fire happened while his wife was busy dying in the hospital down in Anchorage?”

  “He came into some money.” Having been busy organizing the wake and funeral for the grief-stricken man, Mary hadn’t really given the matter any thought, other than to experience relief when he hadn’t lost his livelihood along with his wife of forty years.

  “From Colin Brannigan’s lawyer.”

  “Really?” That wasn’t as much a surprise as it could be, since Colin had floated the loan to help Mike and her pay for one of the Cessnas several years ago when the airline was wanting to expand. Then he’d bought Osprey after Mike’s death, supporting the business financially while leaving the running of it in her hands. Which his son continued to do, which Mary could understand. Finn was like Mike. Being happiest in the air, he was only interested in the flying part of the business.

  “Really,” Barbara Ann confirmed. “The money came from out of the blue, and Doug couldn’t figure out why until his daughter showed him how to Google Colin Brannigan, and there, all over the Internet, was a picture of none other than—”

  “The man who’d come up here every year calling himself Colin Hayes.”

  “Yep.”

  “You’d think Doug would’ve been bursting to tell everyone that he’d been salmon fishing with a billionaire.”

  “He probably would’ve. But the money came with a nondisclosure agreement.”

  “Yet he disclosed it to you.”

  Barbara Ann’s bold, hearty laugh had total strangers in the café automatically smiling along with her. “Honey, everyone tells me everything. Why, if I ever write my memoirs, it’d probably be a best seller. Maybe even get a movie made on Lifetime.”

  Her expression turned serious. “And I never tell anyone anything, but I decided to make an exception in this case because you’re my best friend and it involves you. Doug needed me to notarize the form for him, which is when he told me. But last night, at the Gold Gulch, he mentioned, with this really sly look, how Finn Brannigan sure reminded him of someone.”

  “So he knows.” Mary’s heart sunk at the prospect of the truth coming out before Finn had dealt with it. And she wasn’t one to speak, having her own secret she hadn’t gotten up the nerve to share.

  “He’d have to,” Barbara Ann said.

  Mary stabbed the omelet with renewed resolve. “I’ll try to talk with him before the parade.”

  22

  While Caribou might not have fireworks, that didn’t mean the town totally ignored Independence Day. People began lining First Street for the parade an hour before the ten a.m. start time. At least two dozen street vendors, many of whom Tori suspected had come from nearby towns, were on hand selling souvenirs, knickknacks, and noisemakers. The Gold Gulch had a booth selling bison sliders; the café was pushing a heart-clogging sausage, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich between two Belgian waffles with maple syrup dipping sauce; and Mountain Munchies was offering flaky croissants and a variety of muffins.

  Tori stopped by the bakery booth to thank Kendra Graham for the mountain cake.

  “I’m so sorry about that.” The pretty blond blushed. “The timing had to be terrible.”

  “It sucked,” Tori agreed. She’d already realized that unless she wanted to spend the next two weeks hidden away in her honeymoon cabin, which wasn’t an option, she was going to have to live with others knowing about what, more and more, didn’t feel as painful as it should have. “But the cake was wonderful.”

  “Thank you.” Relief flooded over the baker’s face. “I was an art student before I turned to baking when I realized that—duh—more people buy cookies than paintings. I’ve just recently gotten into airbrushing scenic cakes.”

  “I never would have known you hadn’t been doing it for years,” Tori said honestly. “It so looked like the light and shadows on Denali. And the little marzipan hiker bride and groom were the perfect finishing touch.”

  “What did you do with the groom?”

  “Bit his head off.” Tori still couldn’t remember having done that, but the proof was right there amidst all the crumbs, confetti, and glitter on the table the next morning.

  Tori grinned, Kendra laughed with open relief, and the moment passed. If she were going to stay in Caribou, they’d probably become friends, Tori thought, as she walked away with a wax-paper-wrapped croissant. Except for Zoe, she’d never stayed anywhere long enough to make more than the most casual of friends.

  While it wasn’t the Rose Parade, Caribou had managed to pull together a dozen floats. Along with Osprey Air, the united borough school district, and other businesses, the Caribou Volunteer Fire Department, American Legion, and the national park were represented.

  Barbara Ann, not being one to miss an opportunity, had stapled a sign to the float announcing that Tori Cassidy would be appearing live at the Gold Gulch. Beneath that, she’d signed, Barbara Ann Carter, Mayor. A second line read, Don’t forget to vote in November!

  “Does campaigning start that early?” Tori asked Finn as he helped her up onto the platform where they’d be sitting side by side. Mary had been right, she decided. He looked damn sexy in his flight suit. A hot, don’t-worry-I’ve-got-this alpha male you could totally trust with your life.

  “Yazz, he’s another one of the pilots, told me there’s no need to campaign since no one’s run against her since sometime in the ’80s. I’m told she’s so good at the job no one else wants it, and by putting that sign up every year, she blocks any wannabes from thinking it might be a good idea to try to unseat her.

  “I sure wouldn’t try.”

  “Says the woman who had the balls to negotiate with her.”

  Tori liked the admiring look he slanted her when one of the parade crew miked her up. Carter had always taken her singing as more a hobby than a true career. He’d even told her that perhaps that debacle with her record company being taken over, which had put her contract in limbo, could be a good thing. Because now she’d have more time to live up to her social obligations that were part and parcel of being a Covington.

  What ha
d she been thinking?

  She obviously hadn’t been.

  Surprisingly, she enjoyed the parade. It seemed as if all the residents of the town had shown up, along with those staying at the park lodges and cabins and outlying areas. Everyone was there to have a great time, shouting out to her and cheering as the float rumbled by. The song list she’d come up with was a variety of her own songs along with popular standards like “American the Beautiful,” “It’s a Grand Old Flag,” and “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” When she ended with the Alaskan anthem, all the residents sang along, cheering loudly at the last line: “The simple flag of the Last Frontier.”

  Afterwards, people came up to meet her, many wanting her autograph. One older man, who introduced himself as the owner of the hardware store, asked, “Do you fish, missy?”

  “I’ve never tried,” she responded.

  He shot a look at Finn, who was standing next to her. “If you’re going to stick around awhile, you ought to get this guy to teach you. He’s done some fishing back in the day.”

  “I’ll think about that.” She smiled politely as she wondered if fishing involved touching worms.

  “You do that. We carry tackle and bait, even some flies, down at the store.” His gaze locked with Finn again in what seemed some sort of male contest. But a mother and daughter came out together, the adolescent girl asking for Tori to autograph her CD, and the moment was forgotten.

  “Thank you,” she said as Finn drove her back to the cabin. It was still a workday for him, since many of those who’d come to town had booked sightseeing flights. “I would’ve hated to miss that.”

  “Me, too,” he said, sounding as surprised as she’d been. “I guess that’s another thing we’ve got in common. Along with all that animal magnetism.”

  “Now you make us sound like bears or something. But I can’t argue it,” she admitted. “What else?”

  “We’re both rovers. Me in the Navy, you with your career. While those who’ve come up here and settled into the town seem to have found their place. Set down roots.”

  “Roots can tie you down.”