Finn

by Jessie Cooke

  “He was a complete stranger who started out our...encounter...with a lie.”

  “Which...again...prompted you to follow him around and put up hundreds of dollars that you might not ever see again. Come on, Cait, it’s me. You can admit that you wanted to fuck him.”

  Her face was burning up. Caitlin didn’t have a problem talking about anything...except sex. Maybe it was because she had very little practice. But Joy was so comfortable with it. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

  Joy laughed. “If it had been my friend Michael, or as you described him, ‘Buddy Holly in the mustard skinny pants,’ would you have done the same?”

  Caitlin frowned at her cousin. “You set me up with Michael, and please don’t tell him I said he looked like Buddy Holly.”

  “I’m not going to tell him,” she laughed.

  “And yes, I would have done the same.” She said it like she meant it. She hoped she did. She never wanted to be the type of person who treated people differently on the basis of their looks.

  Joy laughed again, like she didn’t believe it, and said, “You know, honestly, the only reason I set you up with him and not someone a hell of a lot hotter is because you’re so self-conscious that if figured you’d cut and run if you walked in and saw a hot guy. You have no idea how cute you are.”

  “I just know what league I’m in,” Caitlin said. “And hot biker guy is not it. I mean, if he hadn’t turned out to be a big fibber anyway. He should have told me he wasn’t Michael.”

  “He wanted to get to know you. Says to me, he thinks you’re in his league.”

  She rolled her eyes and the sound of the bells ringing on the front door as it opened caught both of their attention. They were sitting in the back room and they both stood up. “I’ll let you get back to work. If you do hear from Michael, please tell him I’m sorry.”

  Joy smiled softly at her. “I will.” They walked out front together and found a man in a gray polo shirt with a likeness of the god Apollo on the front of it. He was holding a large bouquet of fresh flowers. Caitlin breathed in their beautiful scent and said:

  “Nice, which one of your admirers sent those?”

  Looking excited, Joy said, “I have no idea.” The man with the flowers handed them to her and then took out a little clipboard and handed that to her as well. Joy picked up the pen to sign and Caitlin noticed as the smile dropped off her face.

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “What?”

  “They’re not for me. They’re for you.”

  “What?” Caitlin couldn’t imagine who would be sending her flowers. Her mother and brother both had sent her houseplants as her housewarming gift when she first moved in with Joy. There really was no one else. “Who are they from?”

  “Sorry, miss, I don’t know. There’s a card.” Caitlin took the clipboard and signed it and after burying her nose in the flowers and inhaling one last time, she pulled the card off the plastic holder and opened it. When she saw the name, her jaw dropped.

  “Well, who are they from?” Joy asked.

  “Him...the hot biker. Finn McGregor.”

  Joy clapped her hands together and rubbed them back and forth. “My little cousin is going to get shifted!”

  “Oh hush! I am not,” Caitlin snapped. But, she was struggling to keep from smiling. No one had ever sent her flowers before.

  “What does it say?”

  Caitlin was still staring at the card in her hands. “What does what say?”

  Joy made an exasperated sound and grabbed the card out of Caitlin’s hands. “Hey!”

  “Danforth Inn Restaurant, Tomorrow night 8 pm. Please come. He wants to take you to dinner.”

  “I already told him no about dinner.”

  “Oh! You can wear my new green blouse, it’ll look great with your eyes.”

  “I’m not having dinner with him.”

  “Do you have any other jeans?”

  “I’m not having dinner with him.”

  “I’ll have my friend Bonnie come over and do your hair and makeup, she’s amazing!”

  “Joy!”

  “What?”

  Caitlin sighed. Joy’s face showed the kind of excitement that she felt inside. But hers was tinged with the fear of being disappointed. She still felt embarrassed about rattling on in that coffee shop, thinking he was Michael. How long would it have been before he told her the truth if the real Michael hadn’t shown up? “Starting out with a lie is hardly the foundation to build a relationship on.”

  Joy growled and rolled her eyes. “Can you just, this once, live for the moment? Every guy you date does not have to be ‘the basis’ of a relationship. Sometimes, dating is just pure fun!”

  Caitlin knew Joy was right. Living for the moment had never been her strong suit. Even when she was a little girl she was much too serious. A guy she’d really liked in high school had told her she would be the perfect woman if she just knew how to “chill.” Chill wasn’t the norm in her household...maybe it was something she could learn from her cousin, though...and the hot biker.

  She looked down at her pants and back up at her cousin and said, “Where can I buy a decent pair of jeans?”

  Joy squealed and picked up the phone on her desk. “Daddy, can I leave early today?” Caitlin raised an eyebrow and after a few seconds Joy said, “You’re the best! I’m going to the mall. Do you want some of that candy Mom won’t let you have?” Another pause, then a laugh and, “I’ll get you a whole pound, Mom will never know. Love you.” She put the phone down, grabbed her purse, squealed again, like she was the one going on the date, and said, “Let’s go shopping!”

  Jace had his head in his hands and Beck was glaring at Finn like this whole thing was his fault. Streak and Punk, two of Beck’s old Navy friends who joined the club after Finn did and now wore SA patches, were both there too. They both wore neutral expressions. Finn liked them both, but sometimes it was hard for him to hide the resentment he felt toward them. He knew it wasn’t their fault. Somehow, everyone that had come along after him wore officer patches, while he felt lucky to not still be a prospect. He got the feeling that Beck didn’t like or trust him and because of that, he was being held back. Jace wore the president patch, but Finn felt like it was Jace’s old lady that wore the pants most of the time.

  “You have no idea who this guy was?” Beck asked, in disbelief.

  “None. I swear, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Unless you were wasted, in which case you wouldn’t remember, right?”

  Finn sighed. “Maybe. I’ll go and get a copy of the police report...”

  “No. We’ll send the attorney,” Beck said. The club had recently acquired the services of a local law firm. Finn was responsible for that as well. He’d gotten in another fight, at the bar, with a couple of college boys that thought they were badass enough to take on a biker. He hadn’t thrown the first punch in that one either, and he wasn’t drunk. The attorney convinced a judge that he was clearly only defending himself in a two-against-one fight and the charges were dropped. That was three months ago, and even though he wasn’t convicted, he was sure it would count against him when this charge went to court. Other than that, in America anyway, all he had were a couple of drunk-and-disorderlies. His old man stayed onto him all the time about drinking. Finn tried to explain to him that alcohol wasn’t his drug of choice, but Granite worried...almost constantly...that it would be a gateway for him back to heroin. It had been six years since Finn put a needle in his arm. He was done with that life, for good.

  “Okay. Well, when I see his name maybe I’ll recognize it.”

  “Who posted your bail?” Beck asked. Finn was hoping not to involve Caitlin any more than she already had been, but if he didn’t tell her, he was sure Rebekah would do her own research.

  “A girl I was having coffee with.”

  “Is she who you were there to meet?” Finn hesitated. He didn’t want to tell Beck or Jace who he was actually there to meet.
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  “Yeah. We had a coffee date,” he lied.

  “What’s her name?”

  Finn frowned. “Why do you need her name?”

  “Because there’s a good chance that this dude on the street didn’t just happen up on someone he knew in Dublin over six years ago.”

  Finn laughed. “Oh! You think my date set me up? No way. I can assure you that wasn’t the case.”

  “Oh, really? How exactly can you assure us of that?” Beck asked, sarcastically. Jace was looking at him now too, as well as Streak and Punk.

  “I just can, okay? Please, leave her out of this.”

  “Finn,” Jace said. “If someone knows you’re here it could bring all kinds of shit down on this club. When you ‘died,’ you owed these guys hundreds of thousands of dollars. Plus, you know enough about their operation that if you wanted to, you could give the authorities in Dublin enough information to take them down. If they don’t believe you’re dead, and they sent someone here looking for you...we have to know that. We have to get ahead of this before it gets ahead of us. This club is six months old with less than a dozen members. Everything Beck and I have is tied up in it. We’re not ready to survive any major shakeups.” Unfortunately, Finn was one of the few people who knew that Jace and Beck had already survived a major shakeup of their own since coming to Arizona. Beck had been pregnant and lost the baby early on. Jace kept his feelings close to his chest and Beck sure as hell wasn’t going to open up to Finn...but it was obvious on both fronts to see how it had affected them emotionally. The last thing he wanted to do was bring any more shit down on them, or the club. For once in his life he’d like to just live it like everyone else around him seemed to. He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

  He took a deep breath and tried to watch his tone as he said, “I get that, Jace. I really do. But this girl, she had nothing to do with any of this. I’m asking you to trust me that I know that, for a fact.”

  Beck started to say something and Finn saw Jace move his big hand over to cover hers. That silenced her. Sometimes, as tough as Beck was on him, he envied Jace. At least he envied the relationship they had. It was like they were on the same wavelength, at least most of the time. “We trust you, Finn,” he said. Finn wasn’t sure in this case that he was speaking for his old lady. But then again, there were very few people that Beck did trust. “But we need to know who everyone involved here is. We won’t approach this girl, unless it becomes absolutely necessary. But we have to know who she is, Finn.”

  Finn knew they were right. He didn’t worry that Jace or any of them would hurt her. What he worried was that they’d find out he wasn’t really there to meet her...and then they’d know he was lying. They’d find out anyway once they had a copy of the police report. If she hung around, the police had her information and even if they didn’t get it there, they got it when she bailed him out. With a sigh he said, “Her name is Caitlin Brooks. Our coffee ‘date’ was a spur of the moment thing, though, and there’s no way she would have had time to call anyone or plan anything.”

  Jace nodded. “Okay, Finn, I appreciate your honesty.” Finn felt a pang of guilt. He really liked and respected Jace...but he had to protect his old man. One thing Finn finally figured out after a lifetime of feeling alone, and pushing people away, was that no matter how much you might love or respect your friends, there are some things that only family could understand.

  4

  Finn sat in the restaurant...waiting. It was 8:15 and he was sure that Caitlin wasn’t going to show, but he kept telling himself to give her five more minutes. He didn’t blame her if she didn’t show up. First, he hadn’t been honest with her, and then she’d had to bail him out of jail. What a mess. He might not know much about women and dating, but even a twelve-year-old would know that this wasn’t the way you went about it. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to go about it. He’d made it twenty-six years without a real date and hadn’t even been thinking about it...and then boom! Some mousy little thing walks into a coffee shop and he’s sending flowers and writing notes like he’s in middle school.

  All of a sudden he needed a smoke. He stood up and then thought about her finding him outside smoking after he’d tried to wipe the image of bailing him out of jail and him smelling like piss and vomit out of her mind. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea. He sat back down, cursed, and wondered once again what the fuck he was trying to accomplish. Sex was so easy to come by, he didn’t have to work for it, buy dinners, or send flowers...so what the fuck was he doing? Caitlin didn’t seem like the kind of girl you’d take into a back room and fuck. But usually, he just avoided those girls. What was it about her that made him want to act...normal? He wasn’t normal. He was a walking dead man in more ways than one. How would he ever explain that one? He sighed and took a drink of his beer. He really wanted a smoke.

  He had actually told himself he was going to stop smoking just a few days before. But in his defense, it had been a shitty week. First, his old man had asked him to meet with this guy at the coffee shop. He told him he couldn’t tell anyone, not even Jace and Beck. That was strange because ever since they all came to Phoenix to get this chapter of the Skulls off the ground, Granite had been so grateful to their prez and his old lady that he’d told Finn more than once to do whatever they told him to do. But Finn and Granite had become close over the past few years. He’d spent so much of his life pissed off at the old man and blaming him for all of his problems that he would do just about anything now not to ever go back to that place.

  He just hoped that Granite knew what the hell he was doing. Finn was a little suspicious of this whole deal to begin with. Granite had gotten a call from the president of the MC in Ireland who had helped him out, Coyote’s friend. He needed a “favor,” Granite said, but he wouldn’t say what it was on the phone. After all they did for Finn...and all they knew about who he really was...Granite couldn’t exactly say no. So he’d sent Finn to meet with some mystery Irishman named Colin something or other...who coincidentally never showed up, although some other guy did who pretended to recognize him as Ian Parker. It all smelled of bullshit and since Granite hadn’t heard from or been able to get a hold of the club president since, the smell was growing stronger. The old man had even started talking about having him go back into hiding. Finn wasn’t willing to even consider that; however, he did promise to keep a low profile. And yet here he sat, waiting for a “normal” woman in a semi-decent restaurant, right out in public.

  “Excuse me, sir? Are you ready to order?” There was pity in the waiter’s eyes. He knew Finn had been stood up. Finn was about to either tell him to fuck off or make up some story about his date having an emergency, he wasn’t sure which, when the beautiful sight of Caitlin walking in the front door stopped him. He’d thought that she was cute with the potential to be sexy the day before at the coffee shop. But tonight...she was just plain hot. She had on a burnt-orange-colored dress, that flowed down her body, and a pair of dark brown strappy sandals on her feet. Her hair had been straight the day before, but tonight it was curled in soft waves that hung down her back and across her shoulders. The dress had a round neckline and didn’t show off much of her body, but he did get a hint of cleavage and there was enough swell that he knew he wanted to see more. She had on makeup too, which she hadn’t worn the day before. Without it, she looked softer, but with it, she looked sexy. He decided he’d take her either way.

  She was looking at him, but she didn’t look like she’d fully committed to coming all the way into the dining room. He wasn’t about to let her get away, though. He stood up and smiled and waved her over. She frowned but came toward him. He wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe she was just there to tell him to fuck off and not send her any more notes or flowers. When she got to the table, the waiter pulled out her chair. He looked almost as relieved to see her as Finn was.

  “Can I get you something to drink, miss?”

  “An iced tea please, thank you.” Finn thought that was a good sign. Surely
she wasn’t going to order a drink just to tell him off. When the waiter was gone he said:

  “Wow.”

  “Wow, what?” She genuinely looked like she had no idea what he was talking about.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “Why wouldn’t I say it? It’s true.”

  She looked like she was fighting the urge to roll her eyes, but she said, “Thanks. I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “I was, actually. I thought you weren’t coming.”

  She frowned again and said, “I almost didn’t come, but I didn’t have your phone number and didn’t want to stand you up.”

  “Well, I’m glad I didn’t give you my number then,” he said with a smile and a wink.

  His smile obviously wasn’t working on her the way it usually did on the wannabe club girls he met in bars. “Why did you let me sit there at the coffee shop and talk for fifteen minutes? You had to know by that time that I had mistaken you for someone else.”

  “Because I thought you were hot and I wanted to get to know you.”

  She did roll her eyes then. She was really bad at taking a complement. Finn wondered who had been fucking with her head. She was beautiful, but she had no idea. She wasn’t being falsely modest either. She truly had no idea. If she knew him she would know that Finn didn’t go around handing out compliments that he didn’t think people deserved. “Okay,” she said, with a little chuckle. “At least you felt remorse about it, that’s a good thing. Thanks for the flowers, by the way.”

  “You’re welcome. I do feel really bad about the whole thing. I should have told you I wasn’t the guy you were looking for, and I’m still embarrassed about you having to bail me out of jail. I want to make it up to you. Can we back up twenty-four hours and start over?”

  She looked at him for a long time, her pretty green eyes locked into his. He could tell she was thinking it over, but her face didn’t give any indication of which direction she was going. Finally she held out her right hand and said, “Caitlin Brooks.” Finn smiled and took her hand. It was soft and she had real fingernails, not those god-awful acrylic things that most women he’d seen since he got to the States had. He liked that. He pictured them scratching down his back and almost shuddered at the thought.