Heartbreaker(17)

One kiss was bad enough. If it happens again, I know there’s no way in hell we won’t wind up in bed. Or a backseat. Or anyplace I can get my hands on him. So I cross my arms firmly and try to stare him down, but Finn just gives me that bourbon smile – dangerously sweet and intoxicating. “Are you afraid I’ll do it again?” he asks.

My heart lurches just thinking about another kiss.

“Or…” he muses, stepping closer. “Are you afraid you’ll like it?”

I can feel it again, the heat rising, burning at the edges of all my good sense and determination. I want to argue, to tell him to stay away from me, but deep down, I know he’s right.

I would like it. Too much.

Finn smiles, as if he can tell how he’s affecting me, but just before he can prove himself right, his cell phone rings. It breaks through the moment with its loud, insistent ring.

Finn laughs. “Saved by the bell, sweetheart,” he says, stepping back. I don’t need another invitation. I steer the stroller around and head quickly back towards town, leaving Finn there on the boardwalk all alone.





Six.


FINN.



I watch her walk away, hips swaying and sunlight catching in her hair. I thought after all this time it would be different, that things might have changed. But just the sight of her hits me in the chest like a goddamn bullet, same as the very first day. The best thing I’ve ever done and my biggest regret, all wrapped up in one heart-stopping package.

Eva.

She pauses by the pier to lean over the stroller with her nephew, lifting him out and swinging him in the air. I can see it now, how much he looks like Lottie. But I swear, the world nearly dropped out when I thought he might be hers. I knew she would have moved on - hell, we both should have by now – but there’s a difference between knowing something in theory, and being faced with her gorgeous, lush body and imagining it under some other guy’s hands.

Not on my watch. Every second I spend with her is a battle not to yank her closer and kiss her until she’s gasping for more. Last night I came close, damn, so close to taking her straight to bed. Now I wonder if I was a fool not to take that chance when I had it.

She wants me, and f*ck if I don’t need her more than ever.

My cell phone keeps ringing, so I finally turn away from the past and answer. “Kyle, what part of ‘vacation’ don’t you understand?”

“Man, you’re going to want to get on a plane and come right back when you hear what I’ve got lined up for you.” My manager sounds pumped, but then he always does. Kyle is two parts Jerry Maguire, and one part your annoying kid brother who just won’t quit. But he’s the best in the business, the one who took a chance on me from the start.

“I’m not interested,” I try to interrupt, but Kyle keeps steamrolling.

“SNL, baby!” he whoops. “They want you as the musical guest this weekend!”

I take a breath. Saturday Night Live? It’s a big deal, the kind any musician would kill for. Millions of viewers, a guaranteed boost in sales. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned on the road, it’s that there are some things more important than another number one hit.

Like the girl in the cut-offs walking away from me, her tanned legs making me crazy for just a single touch.

“Sorry,” I tell him. “Tell them to book someone else.”

Kyle groans. “Come on, man, you’re killing me! I already turned down another leg of the tour so you could have a break, but this is one night. One tiny studio show. You could be on a plane and back in Beech Bay by Monday.”

“Oak Harbor,” I correct him, heading back towards town. “And you know it’s never just one night. You’ll be hounding me back into the studio before I’ve had a chance to breathe.”

“Yeah, well your third album won’t write itself,” Kyle grumbles. “And you know this one’s the big kahuna. The debut got you cred, the follow-up was the smash, and then this one’ll take it to the next level. Total world domination. Just look at Adele!”

I have to appreciate his faith in me. He’s the one who found me playing at an open-mic in Austin and swore I could make it all the way to the top. Still, when it comes to the grind, Kyle doesn’t get it. He stayed in LA through most of our tour, working the business end and only flying out to a few big shows, so he doesn’t know what it takes out of me. He doesn’t know how I give my all to an audience, and then get right back out there and do it again the next night, and the next. “Unless you want the whole record to be about insomnia and the inside of a tour bus, you’re going to have to give me some time.”

“I get it, refilling the creative well. Look, I’m on your side. You wouldn’t believe the way the label’s hounding me. But I told them, I said ‘Finn’s gone fishing’. That’s why this SNL gig would get them off my back.” His voice turns pleading. “Buy us some time for this vacation of yours.”

“Don’t act like I’m bailing on you,” I warn him. “I’ve been out there for two straight years, and it’s not just me. My band was about ready to kill you by the time I called it, and they still might if I drag them back before they’ve had a chance to recover.”

“So we make it a solo show.” Kyle keeps pushing. “You, acoustic, unplugged—”