“Absolutely not.” She sniffs.
“Didn’t think so.”
She didn’t even hesitate, and for some reason, the quick denial fills me with gratitude. I’m not sure I’ve ever met a woman quite like Finley Fox. I keep up the smooth movements up and down her back.
“What would Oliver say if he knew you offered me money?” she asks after a minute.
I chuckle. “He would not be happy.”
I hold her and think about other ways to help her. What can I do? How can I make her smile again? She does too much. More than anything, she needs a break from all of this. The stress, the worry, a way to unwind and release the tension.
Of course, the first thought that comes to mind on how to release said tension involves me, Finley, a clean bed, and that giant box of condoms, but that isn’t happening. I have to think of something else.
“I think you could use a day off.”
She tenses in my arms, pulling back to look up at me. “A day off? Have you lost your mind? I have to fix this. I have to do something. I can’t take a day off when everything is falling apart.”
“It’s exactly what you need to do. Sometimes, your brain needs a break. Your body needs a break. A problem that seems insurmountable won’t be solved in a day. Almost everything works better after you unplug it for a few minutes. Even you.”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes are uncertain when they meet mine. “Maybe.”
I set her away from me. “Go get cleaned up and dress warm. I’ll get Jacob to finish up in here. Meet me at my cabin in an hour.”
She hesitates, worrying her bottom lip. “I don’t think I can take a break. I don’t even understand what that means. It’s like a foreign language.”
“You can, and you will. Trust me?”
She regards me, expression serious and hesitant. But finally, she relents. “Okay. Fine. Yes. I’ll meet you in an hour.”
ChapterFifteen
Archer
“Where are we going?” She buckles up, tension still humming in the line of her shoulders.
A little over an hour has passed since we agreed to the day off. After running into Whitby for supplies, I meet Finley at my cabin and usher her into my still-running car.
“Not far. Just over the hill by the pond.”
She glances into the back seat. “Are those axes? What’s in the thermos?”
“Yes, those are in fact axes. The thermos has hot cocoa to keep us warm.”
“Are you going to murder me?” She sags down in the seat. “I guess that’s one way to solve all my problems. At least you want to get me warm first. You’re a considerate murderer.”
I chuckle. “You really keep your sense of humor through everything.”
“I’m really good at using humor as a coping mechanism,” she says drily. “It’s a Fox family trait.”
“Rest assured there will be no murder today. We’ll be safe. We’re going to do a little bit of axe throwing.”
Her brows lift, and she grins. “Really?”
“Yep. Sometimes you just want to throw things. And throwing and stabbing at the same time is like an added bonus.”
She laughs and claps her hands together, the taut line of her shoulders dropping an inch. “Okay. That sounds fun.”
My heart lifts at her response. I wasn’t sure how she would react to this idea. I doubt she’s taken a day off in the past ten years.