Page 29 of Wintertime Love (Holiday 2)

I’m so lost in my depressing thoughts that I don’t hear the knock on my door and jump when a familiar voice calls out my name.

Finn is standing in the doorway, frowning at me, “You okay there, Darlin’?”

I gape at him. “What are you doing here?”

He lifts up a basket. “Helen sent me to find you.”

“Since when are you their errand boy?” I snap.

“Since they feed me and coddle me,” he responds, walking over and looking down at what I’m doing. “What is this?”

“Nothing,” I say, hastily, trying to close the computer screen and failing.

Finn stills, and he grabs my hand to prevent me from closing the screen. “Clara, what is this?” His eyes are running over the estimates and numbers that I’ve been calculating over this past week.

I try to smile, airily, but I can’t manage it. “Just some work stuff. Nothing to be—”

“Are you planning to do heavy maintenance before Christmas?” He sounds concerned. “That will really hurt your business.”

I snatch my hand away and close the scree., “What do you care about my business?”

He shoots me a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I swallow and turn my head to the side. “Nothing. Forget it. What did you bring?”

Finn however, doesn’t want to forget it and he grasps my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “Answer my question, Clara.” His voice is cool,

The commanding tone is unmistakable and his amber eyes are boring into mine, making mine lower, unable to handle the dominance in it. His grip tightens on my jaw, and he says, warningly, “Clara.”

It shouldn’t but his authoritative tone and his hold on me, makes me want to put everything down and lean on him for a bit, on the man who’s the reason behind everything about to go wrong in my life right now. I stare up at him, suddenly feeling helpless and not knowing what to do.

I’m a strong independent woman who has always refused to turn to a man for help. I’ve grown up around women who have taught me to be my own strength. This is the first time that I don’t want to be strong and handle all this pressure by myself. But the person my traitorous heart wants to share it with, he’s the last person I should be depending on.

Slowly, with a heavy heart, I reach up and gently push his hand away from me. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired. Never mind me. What’s in the basket?”

“Clara, why are you revamping your entire interior design?” Finn asks, quietly.

I purse my lips and I answer, “It’s just something I’m thinking about.” I reach for the basket, desperate to change the subject, scared that I might let something slip. This uncertainty, it’s new to me, and I’m trying to figure out how to handle this particular brand of vulnerability.

There’s homemade chicken rice inside, along with a large two person container of wild mushroom soup. There is also a flash of Aunt Helen’s tea. One sniff and it has a calming effect on me. Of course that doesn’t stay for long since I’m right next to the person who’s source of all my stress.

“I think she sent it for you as well.” I sigh as I close the basket. “Look, I’ve got a lot of work to do. And I’m not particularly hungry at the moment. I’m sorry she made you come all this way for nothing.”

Finn doesn’t say anything. Instead, he does that thing where he watches me with this simmering intensity till I want to blurt something out to fill the length of silence. Then he closes the basket and walks over to where my coat is hanging. He brings it over and holds it up. “Come on.”

“What?” I stare at him and then at the coat. “I’m not—”

“They were setting up lights and decorations in the town park. I want to see them.”

“You mean the Christmas Garden?” I ask, slowly, realizing that I haven’t even begun to decorate the diner. We’re already two weeks into November. But then I’d been thinking of revamping the entire look.

“Yes,” Finn says, stubbornly. “I want to see them with you. Now, come on.”

“Finn—” I begin.

He cuts me off with that mournful look that never fails to get to me. “You’d make me go there alone? By myself? With no one to accompany me? All by my lonesome?”

The corner of my lips quirks up against my will.

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