Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,27

Lizzy and Rylie were best friends for life—two days in elementary school was sometimes a lifetime—now Rylie was into all things green and space-related.

And somehow, he’d followed all of that the first time Shannon had explained it.

The other reason she might have stopped arguing with him was because she’d finally taken a bite of her burger.

Finn could attest to their tastiness.

Juicy. Firm. Just the right amount of sauce.

And now his dick was hard.

Cool.

He inwardly rolled his eyes, forcing his thoughts to the ocean, to the bad scripts, to his agent explaining that things were blowing over and he could head back to L.A. soon.

Finn didn’t want to go to L.A.

He liked it here in Stoneybrook. He liked sitting on his deck and watching the waves—not that he couldn’t do that in L.A. It was just that . . . this wasn’t Hollywood. Aside from the one selfie request he’d had on the beach, no one bothered him or approached. No pictures had appeared in magazines or online. He could walk down the street and pick up takeout without it being a shit show of pushy paparazzi. And . . . he liked Shannon. He liked Rylie. He liked being close enough to chat with Pepper or to veer off from human contact altogether and go take a dip in the ocean.

But mostly, he liked the person he was with Shannon.

He liked thinking about someone else.

He loved getting out of his head.

He—

“Why’s your face all scrunchy, Mr. Finn?” Rylie asked around a bite of nuggies.

“Rylie!” Shan exclaimed.

Finn smothered a grin. “You know you can just call me Finn?” he said, instead of answering Ry about the face-scrunching. Mostly because he wasn’t going to admit to thinking about nuggies, but also because he thought that if he told Shannon he liked her a lot and was considering leaving L.A. in the dust and making a home base in Stoneybrook—preferably right next door if he could convince the owner of the house he was staying at to sell or rent long-term—he was pretty sure she’d run screaming for the hills.

If he thought about it for too long, he almost considered running for the hills.

But here was the thing . . . he’d spent years—years!—having every step of his life and career planned out for him.

Filming schedules, promotion, supposed spontaneous carpool sing-a-long participation, cover shoots, even the few times he’d gotten to take a vacation had been planned out by his publicist so as to minimize the media presence.

He hadn’t been able to just walk down the street without a security guard in years.

But in Stoneybrook, he could sit on his deck and just be.

Finn was here because he’d needed to get away from L.A., because he’d needed to get his paparazzi-drawing presence away from his family.

But he was also here because he wasn’t happy.

“Pepper!” Ry spun in her chair, not answering him about the whole just Finn thing. “Mom! It’s Pepper! Can I go say hi?”

Shan glanced across the beach and he followed suit, seeing Pepper on her deck, who caught sight of them and waved.

Shannon’s lips twitched. “Just a quick hello. Derek just got back into town, and I’m sure they want some time alone.” A beat. “Plus, you have nuggies to finish!”

“Nuggies!” Ry yelled, charging across the sand.

“She doesn’t move in anything but a sprint, does she?” he asked.

A shake of Shan’s head, lips curving further. “Nope,” she said. “Heaven help her teacher. I’ve already invested in a case of wine for her for Teacher Appreciation Week.”

“Isn’t that in May?”

“I’m impressed you know that, Mr. Finn.”

He snorted. “My mom is a teacher. It was ingrained in me to know.”

“Good son.”

“Good mom,” he challenged.

“I think that, too,” she said softly.

They sat in quiet for a couple minutes, gazes on Pepper and Rylie and then, he was guessing, Derek, when a man walked out from the inside of Pepper’s house, a platter of food in his hand. His guess was confirmed when he heard Rylie shout, “Derek!” and throw her arms around his waist.

Shannon shifted next to him, capturing her dark brown hair in one hand and sweeping it up into a ponytail, making her soft floral scent drift through the air and up to his nose as they watched Derek hand the food off to Pepper and sweep Ry up into the air. “I’m lucky to have them,” she murmured. “That Ry has them in her life.”

“Pepper is good people,” he agreed, taking a bite of his burger. “And seeing how happy