not going to abide by our agreement.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.”
A shrug. “My lawyer is doing his best.”
“I can—”
He’d started to offer up his lawyers, his resources, but then Rylie appeared in a skid of sand and bare feet. “Mom! Come see!”
Shannon pushed out of the chair, her hand slipping free from his.
Finn missed the contact almost immediately.
But then he realized it was a good thing Ry had interrupted him. The last time he’d gotten involved, pushed his way into a situation that didn’t involve him, it had blown up in his and Lexie’s faces.
He didn’t want that for Shannon.
And him siccing his lawyers on this asshole ex of Shannon’s was sure to get the vultures circling.
Descending.
He watched her smiling as she ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the sandcastle, and he knew that he couldn’t do that to her. So, instead of offering her the power of his name and his retinue of lawyers, Finn carried the dirty glasses and plates into the kitchen, washing and loading them in the dishwasher as his mom had trained him to do many moons before.
Then he slipped quietly from the deck and vowed to leave this woman to her life.
His vow lasted all of twelve hours.
Which was how long it took for the knock to come on his door.
He was reading over a script. Well, reading was a strong word for slogging his way through another uninspired story. Sighing as he set it back onto the pile of scripts his agent had sent over, Finn pushed to his feet and headed for the door.
A freckled nose, blue-brown eyes, and a rapid wave.
He smiled and cracked the door. “Morning, Rylie.”
“Mornin’!” She shoved a foil-wrapped loaf into his hands. “Mom said we could share.”
He took the parcel instinctively. “Th—”
“Bye!”
She ran off, meeting a redheaded female wearing a large floppy hat and a big grin. The woman bent and high-fived Rylie then straightened as she handed her another loaf, presumably to deliver to the next lucky neighbor.
But as she was straightening, she froze in a half-bent position.
“Finn?” She popped up like a whack-a-mole, recognition collecting on her face.
For one heartbeat, his stomach seized, dread at being recognized coalescing in a nearly impossible to resist urge to run into the house and slam the door closed. In fact, he’d actually taken a step back when the bright red hair, the porcelain skin, the—as she tripped over her own feet—charming clumsiness processed.
“Pepper?” he asked.
She nodded, sweeping toward him and tugging him in for a hug.
Well, less hugging and more catching her as she tripped again, but the end result was his old friend in his arms, smiling and . . . happy.
She seemed really happy.
“Married life agrees with you,” he said, releasing her, his eyes drifting over her shoulder to make sure that Rylie hadn’t wandered off.
When he saw Ry, he grinned.
“Oh,” Pepper said, turning. “Ry is good about not running—” She broke off on a laugh.
Because Rylie had plunked down onto the sand, unwrapped the final foil loaf, and was eating it like it was the last food on earth.
“She’s something else,” he murmured.
“Oh, have you met Rylie already?” she asked, lacing her arm through his. “And Shannon? How long have you been in town? How long are you staying?” Emerald eyes flicked up to his. “You’re the one person I like from the old crew, and you didn’t let me know you were coming?”
He waited.
She huffed. “Are you going to answer me?”
“I was just waiting to see if you were done lobbing questions at me,” he teased. “You sure you don’t want back into the industry? You would be an excellent investigative interviewer.”
“Ha.” Pepper snorted. “I’d be more likely to trip them into question submission.”
“Don’t you know that clumsy heroines are in style?” he asked, tugging the end of her ponytail.
A shudder. “I’ve had more than enough clumsy for a lifetime. I don’t need to trade in it.”
“You’re okay, though?” He tugged her to a stop. “Happy with this guy and your art? Happy being away from L.A.?”
“Happier than I ever thought possible.”
His heart squeezed. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
They reached Rylie on the heels of his statement, the little girl’s bare feet covered in sand, the loaf of banana bread—if it was the same deliciousness he could smell wafting up from the loaf in his hand—open as she broke off chunks and crammed them into her mouth.
“Rylie!” Pepper exclaimed.
The little girl looked up guiltily. “Sorry?” she said, the word barely distinguishable around the bite in her mouth.
“I