by Tina Leonard
“We still have a long way to go before we’re done,” she pointed out.
Despite everything he had said to her at the outset, he noted that the woman just did not know how to relax or even coast along for a minute. He was just going to have to keep at her, Finn decided.
“But not as long as when we first got started,” Finn countered.
“No, of course not. The double shifts have gotten us ahead of schedule—but all it’ll take is a few rain days and we’ll backslide.”
It had to be really taxing, he thought, anticipating the worst all the time. She needed to break that habit—or he had to do it for her.
“Weatherman says no rain for the next week,” he told her mildly.
Connie stated what she felt was the obvious. “Weathermen have been wrong.”
“Look on the positive side,” he coaxed.
Easy for him to say, she thought. He didn’t have everything riding on this the way she had. Connie glared at him, debating just murmuring some noncommittal thing, then decided that after the way he’d gotten the crew to operate like a well-oiled machine, maybe she owed him the truth.
So, in a rare unguarded moment, she admitted, “I’m afraid to.”
“Nothing to be afraid of,” he told Connie. “As a matter of fact, I was going to suggest that maybe, for once, we could keep it down to a single shift and even have everyone knock off early.”
“Early?” she echoed. “Why?” Her voice instantly filled with concern as she assumed the worst. “Is something wrong?” she asked again.
“No, nothing’s wrong,” he assured her again in a soothing voice.
“Then why would they want to stop early?” she asked. The crew was being paid, and paid well, to work. She didn’t understand the problem.
He crossed to her, gaining a little ground. He glanced at the papers she had spread out over the large drawing board. It was a wonder she didn’t have a constant headache, he marveled. He got one just glancing at it.
The scent that he was beginning to identify with her—lilacs and vanilla—began to slowly seep into his consciousness. He assumed that it was a cologne, but maybe it was her shampoo. Whatever it was, he found it both pleasing and arousing—a little like the woman herself, he couldn’t help thinking.
He’d come here with an ultimate goal in mind, and he forced himself to get back to it.
“Maybe because all work and no play...you know the old saying.”
Connie laughed softly to herself. “In my house, we weren’t allowed to mention that old saying,” she told Finn. “My father did not believe in ‘playing.’ Or smelling the roses, or anything that didn’t have goals and work attached to it.”
He’d thought he and his brothers had had it rough as orphans. Despite certain financial hardships, their life seemed like a positive picnic in comparison to the one she must have had.
“Your father’s not here,” he tactfully reminded her, then quickly added, “and Brett and Alisha are having their engagement party at Murphy’s tonight, so, if it’s okay with you, everything’s temporarily on hold until tomorrow morning.”
She looked at him for a long moment. He wasn’t challenging her, she realized. If he was, then her reaction would have been completely different. Still, she wanted to push the imaginary envelope just a little to see what would happen.
“And if I say that the work has to go on?”
He didn’t look away but continued to meet her gaze head-on. “You’ll generate a lot of ill will, and you don’t want to do that,” he said quietly.
Connie suppressed a sigh. No, she didn’t. While she wanted to continue meeting and even surpassing her deadlines, the way her father’s crews all did on their construction sites, she really did not want to maintain the kind of tense atmosphere that always existed on one of those work sites.
So, after another moment’s debate, Connie nodded and gave her approval. “Fine, tell the men they have the rest of the evening off—but I’ll expect them in on time tomorrow,” she added, wanting to make sure that Finn didn’t lose sight of the fact that she and not he was the one in charge.
“They will be. By the way, you’re invited, you know.”
She’d already turned her attention back to the schedules, which, in light of the lost shift, now had to be revised.
“To what?” she asked absently.
“To the engagement party.”
That had her looking up at him again. “Oh. Well, thank you.” She reached for a fresh piece of paper. Instead of using a laptop, she always liked to write her first draft of anything in pencil. “But I think I’ll pass.” She expected that to be the end of it.
It wasn’t.
“Mind if I ask why?”
She indicated the drawing board before her. “If I’m losing an entire eight to ten hours of work, I’ve got to find somewhere to make it up.”
To her surprise, rather than just go along with what she was saying, the way he had been since they had begun working together on the site, Finn took her hands in his and drew her away from the drawing board, saying, “No, you don’t.”
Stunned at the apparent mutiny, she blinked and stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he told her amicably. “No, you don’t,” he repeated, then added, “you don’t have to do it tonight. Connie.” He went on patiently. “It can’t always be all about work.”
Somewhere in the past few weeks, they had gone from his calling her Ms. Carmichael to using her first name. She wasn’t sure exactly when, only that it had evolved rather naturally. She supposed that should have concerned her, but it hadn’t.
However, she didn’t appreciate being lectured to—especially when she knew in her heart that he was right. “Is this the look up at the stars speech again?”
“Think of it as the let me take you to a party because life is more than just one big work schedule speech,” Finn told her, an amused smile playing along his lips.
She didn’t want to be rude, but she couldn’t go—for more than one reason. “Finn, I appreciate what you’re trying to do—” she began.
“Good, that makes two of us,” he replied. “Now, you’re coming with me to this thing, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Connie stared at her foreman in utter wonder. “You’re actually going to give me a hard time about this?” she questioned.
“I’m going to hog-tie you if I have to,” he corrected, “but you are definitely coming to the party.”
She didn’t understand what difference it made. “Why is it so important to you?”
He never hesitated. “Because you’re important to me.”
Her mouth dropped open. Did he just say what she thought he said? “What?”
Finn had no doubt that she had heard him the first time. Nonetheless, he went through it again.
“You heard me—and I am prepared to hog-tie you if I have to,” he said with finality. “Now, are you going to sacrifice your dignity, or will you come along with me quietly?”
She looked into his eyes and had her answer. He wasn’t kidding. She definitely didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to carry out his threat.
“I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter,” she said.
“No,” he agreed. “You don’t. Besides, seeing you join the party will make the men respect you even more.”
She was certain that if her work ethic didn’t do it, it would take more than just joining in a toast to make her become one of the crew.
“I really doubt that,” Connie told him.
She meant that, he realized. Finn shook his head, feeling genuinely sorry for her. “Then you have a few things to learn about the men who you have working for you.”
But as he drew her over to the trailer’s door, Connie suddenly looked do
wn at what she was wearing. Jeans and a work shirt. She definitely wasn’t dressed for any kind of a party.
“I can’t go like this,” she protested, digging in her heels.
He gave her a quick once-over. She looked fine to him. Better than fine, actually, though he didn’t say so out loud.
“Why?”
“Because I’m not dressed for a party.”
“You might not be dressed for one of those fancy parties your father throws in Houston,” he told her, “but trust me, you’ll fit right in here.”
Connie looked at him, surprised at his assurance. “How do you know about my father’s parties?” she asked.
Rather than take offense, Finn merely grinned at the woman’s question. “Oh, it’s amazing what you can find on the internet when you know where to look. We’re not nearly as backward here as you seem to think.”
Color flashed across her cheeks. She hadn’t meant to insult him. It was just that Forever seemed so self-contained and removed from the world she was familiar with.
“I never thought you were backward,” Connie protested.
“Sure you did. But that’s okay. You can make it up to me by coming to my brother’s engagement party,” Finn told her. “C’mon, let’s go, boss lady. We’re wasting time here.”
To emphasize his point, he pulled the trailer door closed firmly behind him then immediately turned around and took her arm. Smiling, Finn guided her over to his truck. As he did so, he waved to the men, who appeared as if they were all looking in his direction, and called out, “She says it’s okay!”
Instantly, a cheer went up.
Finn grinned in satisfaction. “See? You’re responsible for instant happiness. Feels good, doesn’t it?”
She had to admit that it did.
* * *
THE ENTICING SOUND of laughter coming from Murphy’s reached them even before they ever pulled up before the saloon.
There were only a few vehicles, trucks like Finn’s for the most part, that were actually parked near the saloon. It appeared that most of the people attending the engagement party that Finn and Liam were throwing for their older brother and his fiancée had walked to the saloon. That way, driving home would not be a problem or hazardous to anyone in the vicinity. The town jail was not built large enough to accommodate more than four offenders at a time.
Connie wasn’t sure exactly what she expected to find once she walked into the saloon—maybe seeing the patrons line dancing—but what she did see wasn’t all that different from other parties she’d attended. The clothes were definitely not as fancy, but there was live music, thanks to Liam and his band, and appetizing food arranged on side tables, buffet style, courtesy of Angel, Gabe Rodriguez’s wife and Miss Joan’s resident chef.
It was, all in all, a combined effort with everyone, first and foremost, wanting the future bride and groom to have a good time.
The warmth within the saloon was unmistakable.
Connie fully expected to feel awkward and more than a little out of place at such a gathering. She was afraid she’d be regarded in much the same light as a parent who was looking over their child’s shoulder on the playground during recess.
But to her surprise, she wasn’t. She was not only greeted by everyone she walked past, but she was also swiftly made to feel welcomed, as if she belonged here with the others, celebrating the fact that two very special people had managed to find one another against all odds.
Connie would have been content to sit on the sidelines, quietly nibbling on the fried chicken that Angel had painstakingly prepared and listening to people talk.
But she quickly realized that Finn apparently had other ideas for her. He waited until she’d had a beer to toast the happy couple—who she confided looked absolutely radiant—and had finished the piece of chicken he’d gotten for her.
Once she had put the denuded bone down on her plate, Finn took the plate from her and put it down on the closest flat surface. She looked at him in confusion. Had she done something wrong without realizing it?
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“You can’t dance with a plate in your hands,” he told her simply.
Dance? He couldn’t be serious. “I can’t dance without one, either,” she informed him.
Finn was already drawing her to her feet, away from the table where she’d left her near empty bottle of beer. “Sure you can.”
Connie shook her head. “I’m serious, Finn. I don’t dance.” She had two left feet, and she knew it.
But Finn obviously wasn’t accepting excuses. “Don’t? Or won’t?”
“I won’t because I don’t,” she insisted. With every word, he was drawing her further away from any small comfort zone she’d hoped to stake out and closer to the dance floor.
He laughed at the sentence she’d just uttered. “Practice saying that three times fast,” he told her, all the while drawing her closer and closer to the area in the saloon that had been cleared for dancing.
She did not want to make a fool of herself in front of him.
“Finn, no, really. I’m going to wind up stepping all over your feet,” she warned him.
Her excuse made no impression on him whatsoever. “They can take it. Besides, you’re light, how much damage can you do? Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a few steps. You’ll look like a natural,” he promised.
Famous last words, she couldn’t help thinking. Finn had no idea what he was getting into—but she did, and it was up to her to stop him before it was too late.
“Others have tried and failed miserably,” she warned him.
“‘Others’ weren’t me,” he told her with a confidence that was neither cocky nor self-indulgent; it merely was. He took one of her hands in his and pressed his other hand against the small of her back.
“It’s a slow song,” he said, bringing her attention to it. “All you have to do is sway with the music and follow my lead.”
All. Ha! The man had no idea what he was asking of her.
“I have no rhythm,” Connie protested. She wasn’t proud of it, but there it was. Connie Carmichael had less rhythm in her body than the average rock.
But Finn was obviously not accepting excuses tonight. “Everyone has rhythm, Connie,” he countered easily. “You just have to not be afraid to let it come out. Now, c’mon,” he coaxed, “let yourself feel the music. Close your eyes,” he urged, “and just feel it,” he stressed, gently guiding her movements.
This was an experiment that was doomed to fail from the very start, didn’t he realize that? “You’re going to be sorry,” Connie warned him, even as she allowed herself to rest her head against his shoulder.
“I really doubt that,” he assured her, his voice low, a whisper only she could hear despite the general din in the room.
A moment later, her eyes flew open.
She could actually feel it. Not just the rhythm, the way Finn had promised her that she would, but she slowly felt the effects of the music as it seemed to seep into her.
Or was that her reaction to the way his body was pressed ever so gently—and incredibly seductively—against hers?
Connie wasn’t quite sure, but she could definitely feel herself reacting to the music—as well as to the man.
Her heart got into the act, revving up its pace.
When the music stopped, Connie was almost sorry to hear the notes fade away.
Raising her head from his shoulder, she realized that Finn was still swaying, still moving his feet to a beat that was no longer there.
“Song’s over,” she told him, whispering the words into his ear.
“Shh,” he responded, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “There’ll be another one to take its place in a second.”
And then Liam, looking his way, struck up anot
her slow song with his band. Couples around them began dancing again.
“See?” Finn said. “What did I tell you?”
“I should have never doubted you,” she told him with a laugh.
“No,” Finn agreed, looking far more serious than she would have thought the moment warranted, “you shouldn’t have.”
* * *
SHE WASN’T SURE just how long she and Finn danced like that. Three, four songs came and went, all surprisingly slow in tempo. For her, it felt like just one long, timeless melody that went on.
“I haven’t stepped on your foot yet,” she marveled when she finally realized that she was really dancing and not just keeping time with her hips.
His laughter, soft and warm, ruffled her hair ever so slightly. Ruffled her soul a great deal more.
“The evening’s still young,” Finn told her. “You’ll have more opportunities to live up to that threat if you really want to.”
She liked what was happening now. It couldn’t continue and she knew it, but just for now, she was content to pretend that it would.
“Actually, I kind of like the fact that I haven’t yet,” she told him. “How do you do it?” she marveled quietly.
“Do what?” he asked as he whirled her around ever so gently. The movement was so subtle, he had a feeling she didn’t even know she executed it.
“How do you get me to move this way?” she asked, mimicking him step for step. “I’m usually completely uncoordinated.”
“Magic,” he said, whispering the word into her ear. “I do it with magic.”
A warm, tantalizing shiver shimmied up and down her spine, instantly spreading out to all parts of her. Claiming her.
Just the same way that the man did.
She knew that Finn was just putting her on with that answer. The funny thing was, though, just for a moment or two there, she could have sworn that it actually felt like magic.
Or, at the very least, she was more than willing to pretend that it was magic.
Chapter Thirteen