Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,29
I’m sorry the world doesn’t seem to care about women and their bodies when they’re violated and hurt but cares too much when women want to make choices about their health and their bodies.” She sighed. “But most of all, I’m just terribly sorry your sister will be marked by this forever.”
“Thank you.” He forced his fists to flatten out, to press into the arms of his chair, for his lungs to suck in a slow, even breath. “It just . . . it put things into perspective for me. I’ve been unhappy and lonely because of my big, movie star life, and she’s . . . been devastated.”
“Finn.” Her chair screeched on the deck as she shifted to face him more fully. “Look at me.”
He found it impossible to not look at her.
Even though he still felt deep shame at not being able to protect his sister, at having exposed what was done to her to the media, even though the urge to crawl back into his own skin and hide was intense, Finn couldn’t keep his eyes from hers.
“This is not your fault.”
“I—”
“Bad stuff happens. People make mistakes. You’re not immune to that, even if you make millions of dollars on a movie set.”
“But—”
“And just because you make a lot of money doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to be sad or lonely or depressed.” She cupped his cheek. “Just because you’re a movie star doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to feel. Beneath it all, you’re just a normal human being.”
He covered her hand with his. “How’d you get to be so smart?”
Lips tipped up, and he wanted to kiss her again. Except they were in full view of Pepper and Rylie. Except, he didn’t know if she wanted him to kiss her again, most especially in front of her daughter and friends.
She wasn’t divorced yet.
Her husband was an ass.
“Six years of college and copious amounts of continuing ed,” she said, answering his rhetorical question with a chuckle, and leaning back slightly.
He released her palm that was pressed to his cheek, hating the feel of her hand sliding away, hating that her other hand followed suit, hating that the connection was broken, that this little circle of peace they’d built around themselves was disturbed.
“Go on a date with me,” he blurted.
Shan had picked up her burger, was bringing it to her mouth. At his blurt, she froze, mouth open in what would have gotten a huge audience laugh if it had been a scene in one of his movies.
He had to admit that being on the receiving end of it in real life didn’t feel great.
Her “What?” even less so.
“Never mind,” he said quickly. Dumbass. She was still married, still pulling the pieces of her life back together. “Forget—”
“You’d want to go on a date with me?”
He frowned at the incredulity in her tone. “Why are you saying it like that?”
“What do you mean, why am I saying it like that?” she said. “You’re a huge movie star. I’m me. Of course, I’m saying it like that.”
“You’re a beautiful, smart, funny woman. Of course, I want the privilege of taking you on a date.”
She laughed.
Literally bent in half, chest falling toward her knees, burger still clutched in her hand as near-hysterical laughter filled the space around her.
“You— Me—” Giggles erupted, but he didn’t find it the least bit funny.
“Shannon.”
Her head came up. “Me.” A shake of that head. “Me. An average brown girl with a movie star.”
“Shan—”
“Me. A soon-to-be-divorced single mom with the biggest movie star in the world.”
“I—”
“Me.” She shook her head again. “With the Finn.”
He sighed, knew he wasn’t going to talk her into believing that he wanted to take her out on a date, to see if this rapport they had, if the connection that had formed was real and would continue to grow.
Finn needed a call to action.
He tugged the burger out of Shannon’s hands and tossed it on the paper wrapper she’d spread on the table.
She stopped laughing.
He stood.
She bit her lip.
He tugged her into his arms.
She released a shuddering breath.
“Yes,” he murmured. “You. With the Finn.”
Then he lowered his head and slanted his mouth across hers. Wide eyes met his for a moment before her lids slid closed, before she melted in his arms, before her lips parted, and . . . she kissed him back.
Hand sliding up his arms, resting on his shoulders, moving in and weaving into the hair on his nape, her nails lightly raking his skin.
Heat.
Goose bumps.
This woman.
He pulled