Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,18

guess the Hamiltons aren’t getting their loaf,” Pepper said.

“Nope,” he agreed. “It doesn’t look that way.”

“Want some?” Rylie asked, holding up the bread.

“No, thanks,” he and Pepper said in unison.

Rylie went back to eating.

“Are you going to answer any of my questions?” Pepper asked again.

“I’ve been in town a week.”

Her head tilted to the side. “Why are you saying that like there’s something else I should know?”

Finn’s jaw dropped open, gaze dropping to the sand and Rylie then back up to Pepper’s face, which was clouded with concern but didn’t have a trace of recognition. “Do you really not know?”

Concern transmuted to worry. “What happened?”

His eyes flicked to Ry. “Lexie. Me. The media.”

She couldn’t possibly ferret everything out from those three words, but Pepper had been part of a long Hollywood dynasty, and that gave her enough.

“So you’re here?”

“For exhaustion,” he quipped.

Her nose wrinkled. “Shi—er, shoot, Finn.”

He shrugged. “It’ll pass.”

“Yeah,” she said. “That’s true. It’ll pass, and in the meantime, you get this”—she swung a hand toward the ocean—“waves and privacy. No one in this town cares about movies or the latest gossip.” She nodded toward Ry. “They care about good schools and who has the best recipe for banana bread. Shannon’s is the best,” she added with a smile. “Just in case you were wondering.”

“I was definitely wondering that,” he deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes. “Punk.”

“I’m glad to see you, Red.”

“Me, too. We should have dinner—” Movement to their side caught both of their attention. “Oh, and maybe Shannon could join, too. Have you met . . .?”

Her words trailed off.

Probably because he’d lost the ability to focus on them. Perhaps she’d stopped talking altogether because she got a glimpse of his face—which had to be revealing something of the visceral gut punch of Shannon, striding across the sand in a simple, almost prim, sapphire one-piece that showcased every lithe curve in sharp relief.

So. Fucking. Pretty.

She had a towel under one arm, a big floppy hat on her head, and sunglasses covering those gorgeous eyes.

And quite simply, she took his breath away.

“Finn,” she said with a smile.

“Shannon,” he murmured.

A soft question. “Want to watch the waves with us?”

He nodded . . . because words wouldn’t come.

“Great!” Then her eyes drifted to Rylie, and her mouth dropped open. “Ry! How could you?”

His gaze rose to Pepper’s and they shared a wince, realizing they probably should have stopped Rylie from downing that loaf instead of spending the time catching up.

But the damage was done.

The loaf decimated.

And for the first time in a long time, Finn figured he might as well live for a minute. He bent, scooped a chunk of the bread out and shoved it into his mouth. “Whoops,” he said, lips twitching as he chewed.

“Your bread is just too tempting,” Pepper said, mirroring him.

Shannon plunked her hands on her hips, the towel falling to the sand. “Really?” she asked, scooping it up.

He shrugged and swallowed. “It really is too tempting.”

He meant she was too tempting, and both Shannon and Pepper seemed to recognize that. Pepper gave him an assessing glance, but he was more focused on Shan and her lips parting, breath shuddering out.

Yeah.

Too fucking tempting.

Rylie stood and handed him the loaf. “Tempting!” she yelled and ran off.

He grinned as he traced her loping over the dunes, and he thought the little girl was tempting, albeit in a wholly different way than her mom. Sweet and fun and innocent, it was hard not to get swept up in her enthusiasm.

“I’ll trade you,” he told Pepper, carefully wrapping the half-eaten loaf while passing over his neatly wrapped one. “This can be for the Hamiltons.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“You can take it to the Hamiltons,” he said.

Yes, he emphasized you and take, even while understanding he probably didn’t need to, given the knowing look Pepper tossed in his direction.

“You know the Hamiltons?” Shannon asked.

“No, Blue Eyes.”

Shannon bit her lip. “But you’ll take the half-eaten loaf anyway?”

“I’ve had my fingers inside it,” he said, “that’s a pretty surefire way to take ownership of the loaf.”

She sucked in a breath.

Pepper made a strangled sound. “Well, I’ll just go grab Ry and deliver this . . . unfingered loaf . . .”

He nodded but couldn’t tear his eyes from Shannon to look at his old friend. No, his gaze was glued on the blue-eyed, pink-lipped, lithely curved woman in front of him, her skin bronzed by the morning sun, that prim and proper swimsuit making him want to peel it slowly from her body, kissing his