Better Luck Next Time

by Denise Grover Swank

  Although he had zero interest in actually taking a job with the robotics start-up, he was interested enough to have a conversation with the team. What little he’d been able to learn about the company through online research had sparked his imagination. He could have suggested Tuesday for the date, but Gretchen would probably want to talk through the proposal once he finished, and he’d need to get started on follow-up.

  Somewhere in there, he needed to make more arrangements for the show. Hopefully with Adalia. They’d need to select more artists, and another meeting with Jack was in order at some point to iron out ideas for the event.

  He realized belatedly that it was eleven o’clock, not really an appropriate time to text for anything but a booty call, and he immediately texted back: Sorry it’s late. I didn’t realize it was this late until I sent the message. This is NOT a booty call. I have an idea I think you’ll like, although I’ll say no more.

  Still no answer, so he decided that she maybe, probably, was asleep. And would wake to a flooded phone. Oh well, too late to withdraw the messages. So he added a good night, sorry for blowing up your phone, because why not at that point, and set down his phone.

  He turned on the TV, intending to watch something to calm his racing thoughts, and saw Pride and Prejudice was still on the screen, paused where they’d stopped it.

  His lips tipped up at the memory of Adalia’s excitement when she’d said this was her favorite scene. Which was why he found himself watching the end of the movie by himself. And he was glad he did, because Mr. Darcy’s line about being bewitched, body and soul, sent a wave of recognition through him.

  It was exactly how he felt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  River was staring straight out the windshield when Adalia got into the car.

  “I’m nearly thirty years old,” she said, irritated. “You didn’t need to go out on a search and rescue mission for me. I can take care of myself.”

  “I told her I found you,” he said, picking up his phone and handing it to Adalia. “But I think this is between the two of you.”

  He was right, and even though Adalia didn’t want to talk to her sister at that precise moment, she placed the call anyway.

  “Georgie, it’s me,” she said when her sister answered.

  “What were you thinking, Addy?” Georgie asked in an accusatory tone. “No one knew where you were!”

  It only took a millisecond for Adalia to revert to her teenage self, being mothered by her “perfect” older sister because their mother was gone. “Gee, I didn’t realize I still had a curfew. Am I grounded now?”

  River shot her a glance. Adalia was sure he didn’t appreciate her talking to his girlfriend that way, but too bad. Georgie had been her sister long before River had come onto the scene.

  “Addy,” Georgie said with a sigh. “I know you’re a grown woman used to living in New York City and answering only to yourself, but with everything else going on…”

  “What? You think I’m so upset I’ll do something stupid?”

  “Well, no…but something bad could have happened to you.”

  “It’s Asheville, Georgie. Not Gotham. I’m perfectly safe.”

  “I still worry about you, Addy. As your big sister, it’s my job.”

  Releasing a sigh, Adalia ran her hand through her hair, forgetting she’d pulled it back. “Look, I’m sorry, Georgie,” she said in a softer tone. “You’re right. I’m not used to anyone caring where I am and what I’m doing.”

  And if that didn’t sound pathetic…

  “Well, that’s changed,” Georgie said, her voice breaking. “You have people here who love you and care about you—me, most of all—and I worry. We worry.”

  Adalia suspected River hadn’t shown up because he was worried—more like he wanted Georgie to stop worrying. Still, she had to admit it was nice having someone care about her. In New York, days might have passed before someone thought to ask if something was up. Well, except at the end when Alan had become more controlling. By then her friends had grown accustomed to her disappearing.

  She pushed away the memories of him and, worse, of what she’d been like with him. “I know, and I love you too. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll try to do a better job of making sure my phone’s charged. Okay?”

  But that was easier said than done. Her phone was the worst, with an old battery that needed constant recharging.

  “Thank you.” Georgie paused. “So you spent the day with Finn?”

  Adalia heard the unspoken question in her sister’s voice, but she wasn’t taking the bait. “We had a lot of work to do for the art show.”

  She was proud of herself for not sounding defensive. Given what Georgie had said about him, it was clear she didn’t approve, but she also didn’t want to act like she was ashamed of her association with him. Or that she agreed with Georgie’s assessment of his character. Because even though her sister was often right, on this one issue she was very wrong.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you did…” Georgie said, but the way she left it hanging promised there would be more interrogations in the future.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? But not too early,” Adalia said. “I plan on sleeping in.” Or maybe seeing if Finn was interested in coming over for brunch, but she wasn’t sharing that tidbit either. She quickly hung up and handed the phone back to River.

  He shifted on his seat as he turned onto the road where her car was parked. “I know she seems overprotective,” he said tentatively. “She just cares about you.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it, but…”

  “I get it. Nothing like your sister’s boyfriend showing up to bust up your…?” He shot her an inquisitive look.

  In return, she gave him a pointed glare, but her teasing tone softened it. “Et tu, River?”

  He chuckled. “Sorry, but at least now I can tell Georgie I asked.” He pulled up next to Bessie. “For the record, I’ll be following you home, otherwise your sister will kill me. And she may have a point. Your car looks like it needs to be pushed to your house.”

  She rolled her eyes as she opened the car door. “It’s a classic.”

  But the word classic reminded her of Finn and their nearly perfect night. No man had ever offered to watch her favorite movie before.

  What if she went back to his house to finish what they started?

  The idea sent a wave of heat to her core, but River was going to follow her home. While it would be hilarious to drive to Finn’s house, taking River back to the place he’d just left, it certainly wouldn’t be covert. Besides, Finn thought they were taking this too fast, which was likely due to the whole Alan thing. The reason annoyed her—she didn’t want Alan to have any control over her life—but she kind of liked the idea of going slow. She’d never hesitated to jump into bed with a guy if she really liked him, but Finn was different. What they had felt special. If she were honest with herself, that scared her a little—okay, a lot—but she also believed in taking risks and going for what she wanted. Or at least she used to before her arrest.

  When she got home, she parked in the driveway and gave River a wave as she unlocked the door and went inside.

  Dottie had left a note that said she’d dropped by with more food, and Adalia plugged her phone into the charging cord on the counter, then opened the fridge to see if there was any dessert.

  “Ah-ha!” A plastic storage container marked “sassy” held a slice of what looked like lemon raspberry cake. She’d just grabbed a fork to eat it straight out of the container—sorry, Jack, not sorry!—when her phone dinged multiple times with all the messages she’d missed. Shaking her head, she walked over with the container to read her sister’s texts.

  Still, it wasn’t Georgie’s texts that caught her attention. It was a text from an unknown number: You seriously blocked me? I’ve tried being nice, Adalia, but if YOU can’t be nice, I’ll have to take this to the next level.

  The next level? What did that mean?

  She wasn’t
sure, but it was clearly a threat, which made her uneasy. She turned off her phone and put the cake back in the fridge, then hurried upstairs and took a shower. She hated being subjected to the stench of Alan on the heels of her night with Finn, and she was desperate to wash it away.

  Sleep was slow to come, and despite what she’d said to Georgie, she was up by nine, itching to head to Dottie’s garage—or even the shed out back—except she didn’t want to paint. The mixed media piece she’d seen the day before had stirred something in her, and she might have considered doing something about it, only the memory of Alan’s texts held her back. Not for the first time, she wondered what he’d done to her ruined pieces. They would have been released to him, right? Or maybe they’d just been thrown away.

  What did he want from her, anyway? Money? Validation? It was probably time to talk to Georgie again, tell her that he was being more persistent than expected, but she didn’t feel like having that conversation just yet.

  Needing a boost, she lay around the living room, watching half a dozen episodes of Friends, debating whether she should call Finn and invite him over for brunch…and maybe something more.

  Then she remembered she’d turned off her phone last night like a coward. She headed back into the kitchen and unplugged it, watching the percentage instantly drop from 100% to 98% when she turned it on. Multiple texts from Finn popped onto the screen.

  A warm glow filled her chest, but then she realized it was after eleven a.m. and she still hadn’t responded. Did he think she was blowing him off? She quickly sent him a text.

  I can’t wait to hear about your idea. We can hatch an elaborate plan to get me out of the brewery. I’ll tell Georgie I have to go to the bathroom and sneak out the back door to play hooky… No. That’s too simple. Maybe we can come up with something involving that trench coat. Or, you know, I could just take the day off. ;)

  Then she added:

  Sorry I’m just now responding. My phone was off.

  He didn’t respond immediately, and she worried she’d pissed him off. Alan hated being ignored—case in point, his last two messages. She hadn’t responded to his initial overtures, which he’d probably thought were sweet, so he’d started rolling out threats. She knew Finn wasn’t like that. Still, she was nervous until she saw the bubbles in the text box a couple of minutes later.

  I tried not to respond immediately so I wouldn’t look too eager, but this was as long as I could hold out.

  I suppose I shouldn’t have confessed that, huh?

  She laughed to herself, then saw he was still typing.

  Maisie wants to meet at the rescue at one to discuss the show. You up for going with me? I think you’ll like her.

  She would have been up for going to the city dump if it was with him. Finn was exactly what she needed this morning.

  As your assistant, it seems like a given that I should go with you. Plus, puppies? Can we go sooner?

  He immediately sent back: Who said you were my assistant? More like co-chair, and how about I swing by and pick you up so we can get lunch before we head over?

  She was still in her pajamas, so she started typing—Give me a half hour—but then she deleted what she’d written and sent: I’m not dressed yet, so give me time to put on some clothes. A half hour?

  He started typing, stopped, and then started typing again. For as much time as he was taking, he could have written a novella, but when he finally sent the text all it said was Okay.

  She laughed again. Before last night she would have presumed he hadn’t caught her innuendo or wasn’t interested. Now she suspected he was imagining her naked.

  She very much liked that.

  She was putting on her ankle boots when he knocked at the door. When she yelled for him to come in, he opened the door, but he stopped in the entryway when he saw her sitting on the sofa, tugging the zipper on her boot. He just stood there, staring, uncharacteristically not saying a word.

  Oh, God. Had she chosen the wrong thing to wear?

  She’d put a lot of thought into her outfit, deciding on jeans since she hoped to play with some of the dogs…and also because they hugged her butt pretty well. The ankle boots because they were cute and easy to walk in, and since the air had a chill today, she’d put on a black long-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki jacket—both washable and practical for playing with dogs. But she was starting to think Finn didn’t have a single dressed-down look in his wardrobe. He had on a pair of chinos, a pale blue button-down dress shirt, and loafers.

  She got to her feet and took a step toward him. “Should I have dressed up more?” She thumbed toward the stairs. “I can go change.”

  He seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “No, Addy. You look amazing.”

  He glanced down at his outfit, as if realizing why she’d asked, and…had Finn Hamilton just blushed? “My mother refused to buy me jeans when I was a kid. I guess it kind of stuck.”

  “You don’t have any jeans?” she asked, genuinely shocked. “Are you Amish?”

  “No, I do have some,” he said quickly. “It’s just not my default. And no, I’m not Amish, as far as I know.”

  She smiled and closed the distance between them. “Well, you’re lucky that I like your one look.”

  And, because she could, she pressed a kiss to his lips.

  She started to pull away, but he wrapped an arm around her back and tugged her closer, deepening the kiss.

  When he leaned back, he cupped the side of her face and stared down at her with gleaming eyes. “While your text this morning has been driving me crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about you naked, if we don’t go now, we might not be able to fit lunch in before we need to be at Maisie’s.”

  “I would say we should skip lunch and/or Maisie’s,” she confessed, giving him a wicked grin, “but one, I haven’t had anything to eat today, and two, puppies.”

  He laughed. “Maisie doesn’t always have puppies. Sometimes she only has older dogs she’s struggling to adopt out.… In fact, be prepared for her to try to convince you to foster a dog.” He slid his hand down to her upper arm and squeezed it. “Be strong.”

  She gasped. “Oh, my God. Those poor dogs.”

  He grinned. “Maisie can sense weakness from a mile away. You’re a goner. But you should probably wait until Jack gets home before you commit to anything.” He glanced around. “When does he get back, anyway?”

  “Late tonight, I think.” She’d thought about calling him, hoping he’d maybe open up about whatever was going on in his life, but that would have required her to do the same. Shaking it off, she said, “But we’re moving off-topic. I was promised there’d be lunch? I have to warn you that I’m not some delicate eater who picks at my food.”

  He laughed. “I went on a date with a saladatarian once. Trust me, I’m good with that.”

  “That’s not a thing,” Adalia said bluntly.

  He shrugged it off. “I don’t disagree, but the fact remains that she only ate food in salad form. Fruit salad. Chef salad. Pasta salad. I never knew there were so many types.”

  “Please tell me you left early.”

  His grin wicked, he said, “Would you have? I spent an hour and a half asking her questions about it, and she was more than happy to answer me. Turns out she was writing a book proposal on it. She was certain it would be the next health craze.”

  “Guess what I’m ordering for lunch?” Adalia teased.

  “You would,” he said, pulling her to him. He kissed her in a way that told her what she already knew—he might think the slow plan was best, but he didn’t necessarily want to follow it. Neither did she. And yet it had sounded pretty nice when Finn wasn’t in front of her. When he wasn’t kissing her with the same kind of fervor with which Mr. Darcy had taken Elizabeth Bennet’s hand. (A person didn’t watch or read Regency stories for the steam factor, although Adalia had learned that touching a person’s hand could look sexy as hell.) But something held her back, and she was the one who stepped away.

 
She reached up and caressed his cheek. “While part of me is very much on board with forgetting all about our plans, the other part of me wants to go slow.” She kissed him one last time, just because she wanted to. “Now let’s go before I change my mind.”

  She picked up her purse and flounced out the door, fully aware that Finn’s gaze had zeroed in on her butt.

  Good.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Are we seriously going to Big Catch?” Adalia asked, giving him a little shove. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  Because he still wasn’t sure it was a good idea. But he was proud of what he’d done there, and it was, ironically enough, one of the few places in town where people didn’t give him funny looks or throw rolls at him. River wasn’t the only one who’d quit, but the workers who’d stayed were happy with the deal—he’d negotiated for them all to get a nice salary bump, and Bev Corp had a much better benefits package than he’d been able to afford.

  The mural was coming along nicely outside. The artist hadn’t finished yet, but she’d covered up the STDs slogan with a rushing river. The hull of a boat had just been started within it.

  “I wanted you to see it, and I guess I wasn’t sure you’d be up for going,” he blurted out.

  “Of course I want to see it,” she said. “If only so I can lord it over River.”

  “For my health and well-being, please don’t do that,” he said. River had texted him to ask about his intentions (again), but truthfully his friend hadn’t given him a hard time. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that, he’d written. I won’t say Georgie isn’t worried, but then again, she’s worried about everything when it comes to Adalia.

  Which was maybe just the way of things with siblings. Finn had felt some of that same worry about River and Georgie getting together, so he didn’t hold it against her.