A jetted bath. At his place. She cleared her throat. “Showers are fine. I’m not here for a luxury vacation. Just need a place to sleep in between working and keeping you out of trouble.”
He ran a hand over the back of his head. “Right. Okay, well, I’m going to grab a shower and wait for the pizza while you get settled. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”
She nodded. “Sounds good.”
He stared at her for another few seconds, as if he wanted to say something else, but then nodded. “All right.”
He headed to the door.
“Finn.”
He turned. “Hmm?”
“Thank you for this.” She tucked her hands in her back pockets, feeling awkward. “I know this wasn’t your plan—to have a guest. It wasn’t mine either, but I appreciate it. I probably wouldn’t have taken the plunge otherwise.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, you would’ve. You wouldn’t have let that letter go unanswered. Not the Liv I know.” His gaze met hers. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad I get to be here to watch you do it.”
With that, he stepped outside and shut the door behind him, leaving just his scent behind—a heady combo of fresh-cut grass and man. She moved to the window on the opposite side of the room and watched him walk up the stone path that led to the back door of the main house. She sighed and rested her forehead against the glass. She was in so much damn trouble.
chapter
TWELVE
Finn watched his rock plunk into the water after one sad skip on the surface and cursed as the ripple circled out, marking his defeat. “That rock was defective.”
Liv burst into a laugh beside him, the sound drifting over the dark lake and echoing. She turned to him, her expression dancing in the flickering light from the fire pit. “You are seriously the worse rock skipper I’ve ever seen. That rock was the perfect skipping rock. I gave you the best one. It could’ve won awards for Most Awesome Rock.”
“Worst rock ever,” he said with mock severity.
She bent forward and laughed harder, her beer clutched against her waist, and he allowed himself a moment to watch her. Jubilant expression, pale-blue T-shirt clinging to full, soft breasts, and long, tan legs making khaki shorts look like lingerie. Unfairly sexy. She’d been pretty in high school. Quirky cool. But now she was just flat-out beautiful.
And successful. And hella smart.
And off-fucking-limits.
He dragged his gaze away before his brain started weaving fantasies about sweeping her off her feet and carrying her into the house, spreading her across his bed, and making up for all the hurt he’d caused her with orgasms. For every second of pain he’d brought her, he’d pay her back with pleasure—with his mouth, his tongue, his cock—until she was limp and smiling and all his.
Stop.
“Aw, don’t make that face,” she teased, taking his grimace for something else. “It’s okay to lose to a girl.”
He sniffed and sipped his beer. “This isn’t about you being a girl. This is about you stacking the deck.”
They’d eaten their pizza and wings by the shore in a set of Adirondack chairs that flanked the new fire pit, and they were now each working on their second beer. Liv had been the one to propose the rock-skipping contest—apparently, because she was some secret rock-skipping champion. She’d managed a solid four skips with her last attempt. Despite his words, Finn didn’t care that he was losing miserably. Seeing her so entertained at his ineptitude was worth it.
“If this were a fishing contest, I’d be kicking your ass, Livvy. Just wait. I’m putting that on the agenda tomorrow.”
Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and she waggled her fingers. “Oh, I’m scared now. How many fish have you caught in the last few days, Big Talker?”
“Three.”
“Ooh, three.” She sipped her beer, still smiling. “I’m sufficiently intimidated now.”
“You should be. I think all three times it was the same fish. I keep putting him back, but he has a death wish.”
She snorted. “Poor guy. Not the smartest of the school, huh? Ooh, it’s that bright, shiny thing again! Oh. Damn.”
He chuckled. “And now I won’t be able to eat him. You’ve given him a personality.”