Beah, from memory, fixed Finn a cup of coffee before making her own. She sipped, sighed and rolled her head, trying to work out the tension in her neck.
Finn slid onto a modern stool at the island and wrapped his big hands around his mug. He looked at her, green eyes intense. “Talking about talking, I sense you are wrestling with something, that you are trying to make a decision... Can I help?”
Beah looked down at her bare feet, her toes tipped with red. Wow, Finn paid more attention to her than she’d thought. Her first instinct was to lie, to tell him he was allowing his imagination to run riot, but that was a cop-out. He’d been honest with her; she could—to a point—be honest with him.
But she couldn’t tell him everything, not yet. She held up her hand in a silent request to give her a moment to think.
When the spring sales were over, she’d ask for a meeting with the Murphy brothers and explain her reasoning for wanting to go out on her own. Until then, she’d keep her plans under wraps. None of them needed the additional stress—the sale was too important, too once-in-a-lifetime to distract her from providing the best service to her clients...
Clients she hoped would leave with her when she left Murphy’s. And why did she feel a rush of guilt at that thought? It wasn’t like she would be telling them not to deal with Murphy’s, it just meant they would become her clients and not Murphy’s clients. She could deal with other auction houses, grow her income and her business...
Not that she needed much more than she already had. She owned her house and another she’d bought as an investment property. She had a solid, extensive portfolio of stocks and investments, a huge retirement fund. All her needs, and most of her wants, were covered by her monthly salary and the huge commission she earned from Murphy International.
Why was she doing this if it wasn’t for the money? Beah ignored Finn’s quizzical expression and walked out of the kitchen, past the dining area and down the steps into the sunken lounge, to look out Finn’s huge windows and onto the water. Why was she determined to own her own business, to set up something new?
Because, maybe, she was hoping a new venture, a new challenge, would fill the hole inside her, would quiet the nagging voice frequently reminding her something was missing. She wanted a new challenge so she didn’t have time to think of anything else, her rogue thoughts drowned by her work...
She wanted to be busy so she didn’t have time to miss her marriage, to mourn her dreams of being part of a unit, of having her own family to love and laugh with.
Beah sipped her coffee and heard Finn behind her. Instead of reaching for her, he placed his shoulder against the glass pane, sensing she needed time. And space.
“I can see you have a lot on your mind, Beah,” Finn quietly stated. “How can I help?”
He couldn’t. Because what she most wanted from him he couldn’t give her. Not back then and not now.
Beah gave him a quick shake of her head. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not wrestling with something. I am. But I can work it out myself.”
Finn opened his mouth and she expected an argument. Instead, he sent her a wry smile. “I’m here if you need a sounding board, Bee. You know that, don’t you?”
“Because we are friends with benefits?” Beah demanded, wincing at the bitterness she heard in her voice.
“Because I still care for you,” Finn quietly said.
He still cared for her. Whop, whop, whop.
She was on the edge of tumbling back into love, of handing her heart over, and he just cared for her. Well, wasn’t that a metaphorical bucket of cold water? Finn sipped his coffee, staring at the dark water beyond the deck. “How is your dad? Do you ever hear from him?”
Beah frowned, a little off-balance at his abrupt change of the subject. Beah ignored the cold hand gripping her heart. “Nope, such an action would require him making an effort and my dad never excelled at putting himself out.”
Finn walked over to the nearest chair, sat down and placed his feet on the coffee table. “You sound bitter.”
Of course she was. She had a right to be! “My father left my mom when he realized how much care and support she’d need. He left me to cope with a terminally ill parent. He moved in with his long-term mistress, a woman whose child he adopted as his own, the woman he married a few days after my mom’s funeral. Do I not have a right to be bitter?”
Finn just handed her a gentle, understanding smile. “I’m bitter, and angry, on your behalf. What a prick.”
Beah almost smiled at Finn’s matter-of-fact tone of voice. And he was right—her dad was a prick. “What about your stepsibling? Have you met her? Does she know about you?”
The grip on her heart tightened, iced up. “Nope, we were never introduced. She’ll be fifteen, sixteen this year.”
“Does she know about you?” Finn asked.
“I have no idea. Probably not,” Beah admitted. She looked at her watch, feeling uncomfortable with the depth of the conversation. They were just exes having sex. They weren’t supposed to be talking.
Sex was uncomplicated, easy. Sex didn’t require anything more than a mutual exchange of pleasure. Sex didn’t need words or emotions or conversations.
And these types of conversations made her think she might, just might, mean something more to him than a bed buddy, someone he cared about. Conversations like these gave her hope and hope was, as she knew, damn dangerous.
She had to shut this down, to reerect any emotional barriers she’d constructed between them. She had to protect herself. She would not open herself up to Finn again and find herself in the same position she did years ago, needing more from him than he could give.