head. “I haven’t played since my dad died.”
“I’m so sorry.” She sucked in a breath, knowing she couldn’t let him tell her the story without her telling him some things first. “Finn—”
“At the time, Sean was still a minor. He’d have gone into the system, so I came home.”
The familiar guilt stabbed at her, tearing off little chunks of her heart and soul. “What about your mom?”
He shrugged. “She took off when we were young. Haven’t heard from her since.”
Pru had to take a long beat to just breathe. “Sean was lucky to have you,” she finally said. “So lucky. I hate that you had to give up college—”
“I actually hated school,” he said on a low laugh. “But I really, really didn’t want to go home. Home was full of shit memories.”
Feeling land-locked by her misery, she had to run that through twice. “Finn, I—” She stopped. Stared at him. “What?”
He was eyeing a deli across the street. “You hungry?”
“I . . . a little.”
“You ever eat anything from there? They make the most amazing steak sandwiches.” He slid her a look. “Don’t want you to miss out on steak on my account.” He guided her inside where he ordered for them both.
Which was for the best because she couldn’t think.
His memories of home were shit? What did that mean?
Finn paid and they continued walking. He was quiet, keeping an eye on her. But she didn’t want quiet. “What do you mean home was full of shit memories?”
He took a moment to answer. “You grow up with siblings?” he asked. “Both parents?”
“No siblings but both parents,” she said, and held her breath. “Until they died when I was nineteen.”
He didn’t make the connection, and why would he? Only a crazy person would guess that the two accidents—his dad’s and her parents—were the same one.
“That sucks,” he said. “Sucks bad.”
It did, but she didn’t deserve his sympathy. “Before that, it was a good life,” she said. “Just the three of us.”
“Well, trust me when I say, Sean and I didn’t get the same experience.”
His body language was loose and easy, relaxed as he walked. But though she couldn’t see his eyes behind his dark sunglasses, she sensed there was nothing loose and easy in them. “Your dad wasn’t a nice guy?”
“He was an asshole,” he said. “I’m sorry he’s dead, but neither I nor Sean was sorry to have to finish raising ourselves without him.”
She stared at him in profile as she tried to put her thoughts together, but they’d just scattered like tumbleweeds in the wind. All this time she’d pictured his dad as . . . well, the perfect dad. The perfect dad who her dad had taken from him and Sean. She let out a shuddering breath of air, not sure how to feel.
“Hey.” Finn stopped her with a hand to her arm and pulled her around to face him, pulling off his sunglasses, shoving them to the top of his head to get a better look at her. “You don’t look so good. Your cuts and bruises, or too much sun?” he asked, gently pushing her hair from her face and pressing his palm to her forehead. “You’re pale all of a sudden.”
She shook her head and swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. He’d hate her sympathy so she managed a smile. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t look like he believed her, proven when he switched the deli bag to his other hand and with his free one, grabbed hers in a firm grip. They were only a block from their building at this point, but before they could take another step, Finn stilled and laughed.
Pru looked up to see Spence coming toward them.
Tall and leanly muscled, with sun-kissed wavy hair that matched his smiling light brown eyes, he was definitely eye candy. He wore cargo shorts and an untucked button-down, sleeves shoved up his forearms. He was a genuinely sexy guy, not that he seemed to realize it.
He was walking two golden retrievers and a cat, all three on leashes advertising South Bark Mutt Shop, striding calm-as-you-please at Spence’s side.
Spence himself was calm as well, and completely oblivious to the two women craning their necks to stare at his ass as he passed them. He was too busy flipping Finn off for laughing at him.
“I didn’t realize you worked for Willa,” Pru said. Or that one could actually walk a cat . . .
“He doesn’t exactly . . .” Finn said.
Spence didn’t add anything to this as Finn looked at him. “You’re walking a cat. They’re going to take away your man card.”
“Tell that to the owner of the cat,” Spence said. “She asked me out for tonight.”
“So now you’re using these helpless animals to get laid?”
“Hell yes,” Spence said. “And yuk it up now because later I’m going to let Professor PuddinPop here anoint your shoes. Fair warning, he had tuna for lunch and it’s not agreeing with him.”
“No cats allowed in the pub,” Finn said.
“Professor PuddinPop is the smaller retriever,” Spence said. “His brother Colonel Snazzypants is a specialist in evacuating his bowels over a wide area. Watch yourself. You’ve been warned.”
“What’s the cat’s name?” Pru asked.
“Good King Snugglewumps,” Spence said with a straight face. “He’s actually an emotional support cat, which you look like you could use right now. What the hell happened to you?”
“I slid trying to catch a ball at my softball game,” she said.
“With your pretty face?”
“No, that was collateral damage. But I did catch the ball.”
“Nice job,” he said with a smile and a high-five.
Finn had crouched down low to interact with the animals. The cat was perched on his bent leg, rubbing against him, and both dogs had slid to their backs so he could scratch their bellies.
“The Animal Whisperer,” Spence said. “They always gravitate to him.” He shook his head at Good King Snugglewumps. “Man ’ho.”
Good King Snugglewumps pretended not to hear him.
Finn grinned. “I’m the Animal Whisperer, and Pru here is the Fun Whisperer.”
Spence turned to Pru. “How’s that going? He learning to have fun yet?”
“He’s not much for cooperating.”
“No shit.” He looked at Finn. “Keep your shoes on, that’s all I’m saying.”
And then he strode off, two dogs and a cat in tow.
Finn pulled out his phone and snapped a pic of Spence from behind.
Spence, without looking back, flipped him off again.
Still grinning, Finn shoved his phone back into his pocket and reached for Pru’s hand. “Let’s get you home.”
Good idea. In just the minute that they’d stopped to talk, she’d gone stiff, but did her best to hide it. They entered the courtyard and she glanced at the fountain, which, she couldn’t help but notice, had not been very busy fulfilling her wish for love for Finn. She sagged behind him just enough that she could point at the fountain and then at her eyes, putting it on notice that she was watching it.
The fountain didn’t respond.
But apparently Finn had eyes in the back of his head because he laughed. “Babe, you just gave that thing a look that said you’d like to barbeque it and feed it in pieces to your mortal enemy.”
She would. She absolutely would. Hoping for a subject change, she waved at Old Guy, sitting on a bench.
“Eddie,” Finn said with a male greeting of a chin jut. “You look better than the other night.”
Eddie nodded. “Yeah, it was either a twenty-four-hour flu thing or food poisoning,” he said.
“You could stop eating everything everyone gives you,” Finn suggested.
“No way! I get good shit, man. Cutie Pie here gives really good doggy bags. Chicken wings, pizza . . .” He looked at Pru. “You know what we haven’t had lately? Sushi—” He broke off, narrowing his eyes. “What happened to you, darlin’? This guy get tough with you? If so, just say the word and I’ll level him flat.”
Eddie was maybe ninety-five pounds soaking wet and looked like a good wind could blow him over. Finn had at least six inches on him and God knew how many pounds of lean, tough muscle, not to mention a way of carrying all that lean, tough muscle that said he knew exactly what to do with it.
Pru caught him looking at her with a raised brow, like are you really going to say the word?
“I roughed myself up,” she admitted. “Softball.” She started to reach into her pocket for a few dollar bills to give Eddie but Finn put a hand on her arm to stop her. With his other hand he fished something out of his duffel bag.
The third sandwich he’d bought at the deli.
Eddie grinned and snatched it out of thin air. “See? I get good stuff. And you know your way to a man’s heart, boy. Mayo?”
“Would I forget? And extra pickles.”
“Chips?”
Almost before the word was out, Finn was tossing Eddie a bag of salt and vinegar chips.
Eddie clasped a hand to his own heart. “Bless you. And tell Bossy Lady that I got the bag of clothes.”
“Elle?”
Eddie nodded. “She said I was going to catch my death in my wife beaters and shorts, and insisted I take these clothes from her.” He indicated his trousers and long-sleeved sweater. It was the surfer dude goes mobster look.
“How do they fit?” Finn asked, smiling, enjoying the old man’s discomfort.
Eddie rolled his eyes. “Like a cheap castle—no ballroom.”
Finn laughed and reached for Pru’s hand again, tugging her toward the elevator.
That’s when a whole new set of worries hit Pru. Was he going to come in?
Had she shaved?
No, she told herself firmly. It doesn’t matter if your legs aren’t hairy, you are not going there with him.
At her door, he held onto her hand while rummaging through her bag for her keys, and then opened her door like he owned the place.
But before they could get inside, the door across the way opened and Mrs. Winslow stepped out.
Pru’s neighbor was as old as time, and that time hadn’t exactly been particularly kind. Still, she was sharp as a tack, her faculties honed by staying up on everything and everyone in the building.
“Hello, dear,” she said to Pru. “You’re bleeding.”
This was getting old. “Skiing accident,” she said, trying something new.
Finn flashed her an appreciative grin.
Mrs. Winslow chortled. “Even an old lady knows her seasons,” she said. “It’s high summer, which means it was softball.”
Pru sighed. “Yeah.”
“Did you at least win this time?”
“No.”
“I think the idea is to win at least sometimes,” Mrs. Winslow said.
Pru sighed again. “Yeah. We’re working on that.” She gestured to Finn at her side, steady as a rock, but looking a little hot and dusty. “I recruited a new player,” she said.
“Good choice,” Mrs. Winslow said. “He’s put together right nice, isn’t he.”
Pru’s gaze went on a tour of Finn from head to toe and back again. Nice wasn’t exactly the description she would use. Hot as hell, maybe. Devastatingly, disarmingly perfect . . .
At her close scrutiny, his mouth curved and something else came into his eyes.
Hunger.
“I got a little something delivered today,” Mrs. Winslow said. “That’s why I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Me?” Pru asked.
“Yes, my package came via your dumbwaiter.”
“Why?”
“Because, dear, the dumbwaiter is only on your side of the building.”
Okaaay. Pru gestured to her open door. Mrs. Winslow let herself in, unlatched the dumbwaiter door and removed a . . . platter of brownies?
Pru’s mouth watered as Mrs. Winslow smiled, gave a quick “thanks” and exited the apartment, heading for her own.
“Those look amazing,” Pru said, hoping for an invite to take one.
Or two.
Or as many as she could stuff into her mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mrs. Winslow said with a negative head shake. “These are . . . special brownies.”
Pru blinked and then looked at Finn, who appeared to be fighting a smile. “Special brownies?” she repeated, unable to believe that Mrs. Winslow really meant what she thought she meant.
“Yes,” the older woman said. “And you’re not of age, or I’d share.”
“Mrs. Winslow, I’m twenty-six.”
Mrs. Winslow smiled. “I meant over sixty-five.”
And then she vanished into her own apartment.
Finn gently nudged Pru into hers, which answered the unspoken question. He was coming in. Into her apartment.
And, if her heart had any say at all, into her life.
Chapter 15
#Doh
Finn dropped both duffel bags and the deli bag on Pru’s kitchen counter and then turned to her. “Okay, time to play doctor.”
Her entire body quivered, sending “yes please” vibes to her brain. Luckily her mouth intercepted them. “Sure, if I can be the doctor.”
His mouth curved. “I’m willing to take turns, but me first.”
Oh boy. “Really, I’m fine. I think I just need a shower.”
“Do you want something to drink? I could call down to the pub and—”
“No, thanks.”
“I wasn’t talking about alcohol,” he said. “I already know you don’t drink.”
There weren’t many who would so easily accept such a thing without some sort of question. People wanted and expected others to drink socially when they did. Usually whenever she politely declined, the interrogation inevitably started. Not even one little drink? Or what’s up with that, are you an alcoholic?
Pru couldn’t imagine actually being an alcoholic and facing that kind of inquisition with class and grace, but the truth was that she didn’t drink because her parents had. A lot. They’d been heavy social drinkers. She didn’t know if they’d had an actual problem or had just loved to party, but she did know it had killed them.
And that had quenched her thirst for alcohol at an early age.
But Finn didn’t push. “How about something warm?” he asked. “Like a hot chocolate?”
She felt her heart squeeze in her chest for his easy acceptance. “Maybe after my shower.”
He nodded and leaned back against the counter like he planned on waiting for her. Not knowing how to deal with that, she nodded back and headed for the bathroom. She shut and locked the door and then stared at that lock for a good sixty seconds, because did she really want to lock him out? No. She wanted him to join her, the