Page 39 of Work and Play
He inhales slowly and I wait patiently. Whatever he’s going to say doesn’t scare me. If anything, I feel a sense of relief that he’s finally going to open up to me.
“Her name was Cassandra. She was a server at the winery I worked at down in Napa a few years ago.” He names some fancy-sounding place I’ve never heard of, but I nod all the same. “Little did I know, her uncle owned the damn place. We hooked up; I thought we were on the same page.”
Finn turns away from me, running his fingers through his hair. He seems nervous, ashamed even when he looks back at me. “I knew I didn’t want to stay in California forever, so I didn’t want anything serious. But I guess she didn’t believe me. When I tried to clarify that with her, she got upset. Said I had led her on, fooled her. I didn’t, I swear.” His eyes are pleading with me to believe him, so I place my hand on his arm and slide it down so I can take his hand. He squeezes mine tightly. “Anyway, to make a long story short, she complained to her uncle, who sided with her and let me go. His reasoning was that he didn’t want any tension or awkward feelings amongst staff.” His gaze drops down to our hands, then back up to meet mine, and the worry I see there makes me want to wrap him in my arms. “After that, I swore to never date someone I worked with. Losing that job wasn’t a huge deal, but the realization that it could have been so much worse was sobering. Making wine is my passion, it’s the one thing I’ve always known I want to do. And now, this winery, this is the culmination of all my work, all my dreams come true. And I’m fucking terrified to do anything that might jeopardize that. You’re important to Pierre, and I don’t know how he’ll feel about us sleeping together.”
I want to ask why the heck Pierre has to know, and even if he did know, why that needs to matter in the slightest, but I don’t. Because the dejected tone in his voice tells me he’s expecting my rejection, my anger. And truthfully, it’s still there. The fact is, it hurts that he equates what we shared to some fling with a server in his past. Then again, I guess maybe to him, that’s all it was. A fling. Two people giving in to chemistry. The possibility that he’s worried I would do or say anything that could harm his future, his career, is insane. But I guess he doesn’t know that. I guess he doesn’t know me well enough to know I would never do something so cruel. One thing bothers me more than anything else. It’s the one question I need to ask, no matter how painful the answer may be.
“Do you regret sleeping with me?”
His eyes widen in horror. “God, no, Ash.” His hands find my hips and he pulls me closer. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. I know I’m screwing things up, the truth is, I have no clue how to handle things between us. But I definitely do not regret a single second of what we did. How could I, when every second with you was absolute perfection.” His words ring with honesty, and when I lift my eyes to his face, the worry that was there before is intensified. I bring one hand up to cup his cheek and give him a small smile.
“Good.”
One word is all it takes for the tension to leave his body. His head sags forward to meet mine.
“The truth is, you’re making me feel things I’ve never felt. Want things I never thought I would want. These…feelings…they confuse the fuck out of me. But they also excite me, Ash. Sleeping with you, waking up with you in my arms, hell, watching you drown perfectly good pizza in hot sauce made me so damn happy. I’m almost grateful I injured my knee because apparently half-stoned-on-painkillers Finn is brave enough to do things sober Finn isn’t.” He grins, and I choke back a laugh, feeling wetness pool in my eyes. I don’t know what I was expecting when I came to confront Finn about his behaviour, but it wasn’t this romantic, heartfelt, outpouring of words. Truthfully, they scare me a bit. Because I don’t know if I’m ready for this, whatever this is.
He leans in to kiss me and my eyes flutter closed in anticipation. “I want this, Ashley. I want you. I want us. Never doubt that.”
“There you two are!”
Pierre’s voice pierces the moment and I startle, pulling back in surprise and no small amount of disappointment. But Finn keeps a hold of me as we turn to face his partner, my father’s friend. This is Finn’s worst nightmare, I’m guessing. He’s so worried about what Pierre would think that I was ready to tell him I was okay with keeping things a secret for now. But that ship has clearly sailed, so instead, my stomach churns with dread, waiting to hear Pierre’s reaction to finding us lip-locked in the field.
“I was looking for you two, I wanted to make sure all was well, but I can see it is.” He smiles, and his eyes drop down to our joined hands. “I’m heading home for tonight. Finn, that part you want should be here tomorrow. I paid for express shipping.”
“Thank you,” Finn manages to get out the words, but his voice is strained, and judging from the vice grip he has on me, he’s nervous to see if Pierre says anything else about catching us in an obviously intimate moment. But he’s not letting go, and that has to mean something, right?
Pierre makes to leave, but pauses and turns back to face us. He waves his hands at us in an encompassing gesture. “This is good.”
That’s all he says before he pivots on his foot and walks back to the parking lot.
“I…did he just…I’m confused,” I stammer out, tilting my head to one side. Finn’s low chuckle envelops me at the same time his arms wrap around my waist.
“That was Pierre taking care of any concerns or worries either of us might have about how he feels. Apparently, our mixing business with pleasure isn’t an issue with him.”
I can hear the relief in his words, and I let it seep into me. I slowly twist around so that I’m facing him and grab the ends of his scarf. “Does that mean no more distant Finn?”
He bends down and kisses my neck in response. “Babe, I’m going to stay so close to you, you’ll get sick of me.”
Not likely. I’m starting to think I’ll never have enough of Finn McNeil.
Chapter nineteen
Finn
Spending the first week of this new stage of our relationship with me limping around, unable to bear weight directly on my knee, is not exactly how I would choose to build a connection with Ashley. I’ve been in a few somewhat serious relationships before, and the best part about the beginning is the passion.
Don’t get me wrong, lazing around in bed is fucking awesome, and our compatibility in the bedroom is incredible. But I want to take her out on dates where she doesn’t have to drive, I want to sweep her off her feet, hell, I want to be able to go down on her in the shower like she did to me yesterday. God, just thinking about it has me hard again. It’s becoming a permanent issue. All it takes is one whiff of her perfume, delicate and bright, like a spring morning mixed with a hint of citrus, and I’m weak. Her smile makes me feel warm inside, her touch makes me want to go caveman and trap her in bed for a week.
But she deserves more than just a horny guy who can’t even put in his best effort in bed. Which is why I coughed up the money for a hotel tonight, told her to pack an overnight bag, and had her drive us to Victoria. I’m determined to show her a good time, even if it has to be modified for my fucking knee.
“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” she asks, sounding amused and extremely curious.
“I already told you — no. Can’t a guy surprise a girl with a night out?” I tease, moving my hand to the top of her thigh and rubbing it back and forth. “Just relax and enjoy.”
She lets out an adorable huff. “I am relaxed. This is me relaxed.”
That makes me snort under my breath. “Really. So your obsessive packing, constant badgering me about directions, and the twenty questions you’ve already asked on the drive is your idea of relaxed?”
