Page 27 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

When it comes to this man, there is a constant conflict in my heart, between the fact that he stole my dream when I was days away from achieving it and the fact that he makes me feel things I’ve never felt.

Finn reads the expression on my face and says, “Clara.”

I look up at him.

There’s a strange look in his eyes, wonderment, incredulity and naked want. “Go out with me. One date. You won’t regret it.”

I already am.

He takes a step closer. “Give me a shot.” His tone is earnest. “Just one date.”

I open my mouth to say no because it’s a bad idea, because he overwhelms me, because he makes me feel things that scare me. “Okay.”

The restaurant is a fancy one that I’ve only gone to once, a few years ago. I’ve always found it way too extravagant but Finn insisted on bringing me here.

It’s bee, two days since that kiss in the diner. Two days since he managed to convince me to go out with him. And since those two days, all I’ve had are wet, unfulfilled dreams that make me wake up restless and wanting.

I’m wearing a pale blue dress with a golden hem, which matches my simple gold earrings. I’ve not gone overboard with dressing up or at least I’ve tried not to. Lucia, who had shown up an hour before the date, armed with her makeup kit, forced a dark smoky eye on me and put my hair up in a loosely artistic bun that makes me look more elegant than I actually am. I do look hot but I feel uncomfortable. It’s like I’m wearing a disguise, hiding my true self.

If it had been up to me, I would have left it at the dress and the earrings, maybe perhaps putting on a light lipstick. Finn has been unable to take his eyes off me and while that should be flattering, I don’t want him to look at this dolled up version of me which is so far from who I am.

We order appetizers and I’m unusually subdued, feeling fidgety, wanting to take off the makeup caked on my face.

“You don’t look very happy,” the man across from me comments as he leans forward and grasps a strand of hair that’s been left on the side of my face to frame it. Finn tugs at the curl. “How come you dressed up so fancy?”

My eyes widen at the question and I feel a surge of resentment inside of me, at whom I don’t know yet.

Before I can say anything, he continues, a light smile on his lips, “I love your hair when it’s unrestrained and wild. You look so proper right now.”

I detect the mocking note in his voice, and I clench my jaw. Reaching up, I take out one of the hairpins, holding my bun together. I slowly and deliberately place it on the white tablecloth between us, my eyes on his. I take out the second one and then the third one. I keep going till they’re all out and my hair falls around my face in wild curls. As I take out each pin, that half smile on Finn’s face doesn’t falter but the hunger in his eyes grows till it feels like an all consuming fire scalding my skin.

He reaches across the table, uncaring if anybody is watching and runs his hands through my curls, taking them apart, giving my hair back its volume.

His eyes never leave mine as he does this, the act so intimidate, that my cheeks flush red. But I don’t want to be the one to break eye contact. It’ll seem like I’m losing and so far when it comes to this man, I never seem to get the upper hand. He keeps yanking the ground from under my feet, forcing me to stumble into unfamiliar territory.

I have always been in control when it came to relationships but Finn doesn’t seem to want to follow the guidebook. Losing control is something I always fear. I’m not like Aunt Helen who prefers to go with the flow of the air or like Aunt Vee who adapts to every situation like water. I have always been someone who plans in advance, who prefers her i’s dotted and her t’s crossed. I’ve never considered it a bad thing, it’s something I’ve always accepted about myself. This is the first time that I’m wondering what it would be like to just let go and not think about the consequences. Finn makes me want to try.

Jerk, I think to myself, childishly.

He still has one curl wrapped around his finger and he tugs on it, playfully. “Much better. I prefer you in your normal wear, scowling at me.”

“Normal wear?” I echo. “Should I be offended?”

He grins. “You know. Your blouses, pants and jeans and skirts. You look so hot when you boss people around the diner.”

“Did you just call me bossy?” I blink at him, my brows raised. “Just how much experience do you have in dating? I don’t think calling your date bossy is a good way to start things off.”

His lips curve again into a smile. “It is when I think it’s sexy. You’re always welcome to boss me around.”

I lean back in my seat, batting his hand away from my hair, and study him, “I don’t think you’re the type of guy who lets himself get pushed around. You like being in control and if you don’t have it, you’ll seize it. You’re too dominant.”

The double meaning in my words isn’t lost to him and Finn tilts his head as an arrogant gleam enters his eyes. “Sometimes, letting someone else take charge can end up being more stimulating.”

He doesn’t even bother disguising his statement, forcing me to absorb the full impact of his words. If his intention is to throw me off my game, he’s got another thing coming. I give him a calm smile, masking my frazzled emotions and the sudden quivering of my insides. “Yes, well. Maybe I’m not looking for stimulation.” I reach for a breadstick and break it in half, chewing on one half of it, offering him the other.

Finn takes it from me. “You should give it a try, Darlin’.”

The amber of his eyes are so piercing that it almost robs me of my breath. I just give him a vague look and shrug. “You want to stimulate me, tell me about your plans for the bar that you’ve just bought.”

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