Page 62 of Stirring Up Love
Simone:
That makes one of us. Our trip hit another speed bump.
Meg:
What happened?
Simone:
Finn happened.
Meg:
??
Simone:
He fell into a creek. Getting warmed up now and hopefully back on the road soon.
Meg:
“Warmed up.” Lol
Simone:
I hope your truck gets stuck in a snowdrift.
Meg:
Love you too.
Chuckling, she took a proof-of-life selfie and sent it to Alisha, along with:Still alive, see you soon.To her grandparents, who she was pretty certain had washed their hands of worrying about her after her first year of college in the city, she sent a text recapping the gorgeous scenery, but omitting any reference to Finn’s ice bath and their current delay.
Half a day lost already, not even counting their overnight stay.
No missed calls, not even from Pops, who she knew must be wondering if she’d lost her dang mind in agreeing to the deal. But he’d vowed to let her run the place as she saw fit, and he trusted her. Much more than she trusted herself. She didn’t want to talk to him until her plan was finalized. What would he think if he knew she was stranded and fighting for a do-over, rather than getting it right the first time?
The creak of hinges brought her eyes up, and she found Finn standing by the fire, toweling off his hair, in those same jeans from summer, feet bare on the hearth.
She needed to put some space between them. Like, now.
Her mind on the bathroom and a closed door and a cold shower, she leaped up and ran straight into Finn’s chest. His rumpled—because seriously, someone needed to teach this man how to fold—shirt smelledlike fresh laundry and home. Not Okay. His arms came up to steady her, and her heart flip-dipped.
“Whoa, Tornado. Where’s the fire?”
She should’ve said, “In the stove,” just to be annoying. But that would only be half-true. Because the fire was right here, between them. In the air, popping like static. In his eyes, gone dark and intense.
Her breath caught when she realized he was still holding her arms. “I was gonna shower. You’re all fresh, and I probably smell like trail dirt and river water.”
“You smell amazing.” He spoke low, and she gave in to desire, her body arching toward him. “Like always.” Finn’s hands fisted in the hem of her hoodie, and he tugged her closer, bringing their hips together. She gasped. “Like a garden after a thunderstorm.”
He breathed out a shuddery breath, and she found herself running her hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders, eyes on his cheeks, his lips, mind everywhere and nowhere.
She answered him mindlessly. “It’s my hair cream. I make it myself.”
Finn swept his hands up over her shoulders. “Of course you do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
