Page 6 of Off-Limits Love
Another car pulled off the road behind her, forcing her to crawl forward through the line of trees sheltering the farm from the noise of the busy road leading to the island.
It was a bit odd to think of a farm so close to the beach, but once she moved through the trees, she saw several large barns and buildings on opposite sides of a parking area.
One structure looked newer and fancier in that rustic yet modern way with all the pretty elements brides or party-organizers might require. The opposite barns looked to be older but extremely well-kept, with an assortment of adorable animals roaming the fenced areas.
Not far from those was a home, one on the smaller side like Sam’s and not the newer two- and three-story builds so popular in the ever-growing coastal area.
A large truck was parked between the home and the barn, and she took it to be Finn’s based on the logo-ed side. The large white truck suited Finn, as did the simple logo for Blackwell Farm.
Mak had left Emi at home since her four-year-old had woken up not long after she’d started her early morning baking only to fall back asleep this afternoon while watching a movie on the couch.
Emi had been sleeping and eating a bit more lately, and it made Mak wonder if she was in a growth spurt.
Since Mak knew she wouldn’t be gone long, she’d left Emi under Sam’s watchful eyes and came to make her apology.
Now that her nerves were kicking in, however, she wished she had her rambunctious four-year-old with her to pose as a distraction if nothing else.
Sam had described Finn’s speech issue as a stutter, matching what few words she’d heard from him last night in the chaos with the police.
Finn had been embarrassed, but she doubted the man wanted pity. He seemed proud, and based on his good looks alone, she had to think the problem dealt a big blow to his ego. It would to anyone’s, she supposed, because the stutter made life, which was already difficult on a good day, even more so.
As though conjured by her thoughts, Finn emerged on her left. He wore jeans and work boots, a dark gray T-shirt that pulled snug across his broad chest and bulging arms, and a linen-colored, well-worn cowboy hat that shaded his eyes and face.
He stopped to pet a miniature donkey that came running up to him at the fence, a gentle smile on his handsome face as he scratched the donkey’s ears and then under her chin. The donkey practically melted in bliss.
So did she.
Mak bit her lip at the sweetness of the image and couldn’t blame the little donkey for the soft, groaning bray of pleasure.
Stop it. Stop ogling the man meat.
The last thing she needed right now was to be noticing a man, any man, especially considering the drama she still endured in regard to Emi’s father.
She took a deep breath and turned off her older model Toyota Camry before grabbing the bag from the passenger seat. It held several containers of goodies, all homemade and painstakingly beautiful. At least in her opinion.
And Sam’s. He’d oohed and aahed over them at the table as she’d packed them up to deliver and would probably still be there eating his favorites with another cup of coffee when she returned.
Ignoring her rapidly increasing heart rate, Mak shoved open the door and got out, forcing her feet to move in Finn’s direction.
He must have sensed her approach because Finn lifted his head and turned toward her, and she spotted the moment a wary expression tightened his handsome features and foresty green-brown eyes. Her heart tugged at the sight.
She bit her inner lip and kept walking, managing a smile that probably looked as awkward as it felt. “Hi,” she said once she was close enough to speak. “I… I hope you don’t mind me dropping in, but I just wanted to say how sorry I am about what happened last night. You know, with the police. You ran through the woods to try to help me and wound up handcuffed for it, and I am so, so sorry about that.” She held out the bag. “I made you these. I—I know they aren’t enough to…fix what happened, but it’s my way of apologizing. I hope you enjoy them. Sam thought you might. They’re his favorites and…here.”
She practically shoved the bag into his hands and left him no choice but to take it and then waited anxiously.
He peeked inside, eyebrows lifting when he spotted the baked goods in their clear containers.
“It’s a mix of things. I made Sam’s favorite brownie bites, and some German chocolate and strawberries-and-cream cupcakes. There’s also a few lemon drop cookies. You know, if you’re not a chocolate person. Sam said if you didn’t like them, you’d probably share with your employees or family. If you don’t like any of them, I can make other kinds. Just tell me your favorite flavor and—you know, I can make those instead,” she finished awkwardly. So, so awkwardly.
She hadn’t thought about how hard it would be to talk to someone who didn’t talk back. His body language gave her little to go by, too. He just stood there, holding her apology in his hands and watching her with a careful expression on his too handsome face.
Think about what you just said.
She bit back a groan. She’d just told a man with a speech issue to tell her his favorite flavors when he hadn’t been able to even speak last night when it mattered most. “You can tell Sam,” she hurried to add. “If you’d prefer something else.”
Finn was comfortable with Sam, and her uncle had said Finn was able to converse with him now that they’d known each other so many years.
Finn dipped his head in a silent nod but then shifted sideways to place the bag atop a nearby bin so he could pull out the first container.
