Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,40
been made into an office.
But he’d be fine on the couch for a night.
“I’m all right”—another yawn—“I want to catch up with you—”
He snagged her backpack and pushed in front of her, bringing it into the bedroom and setting it on the chair just inside the door. “You’re exhausted from being on a plane all day. Get some sleep, and we can catch up tomorrow.”
No more arguments.
She just nodded and unzipped the large compartment of her backpack and extracted some pajamas. “Okay.” Another yawn.
“Bathroom’s through there. There’s a spare toothbrush under the sink.”
“Okay,” she said again. “Can I borrow a T-shirt?”
Finn grabbed one out of his dresser and tossed it to her, then turned to pull a blanket out of the closet, a pillow and his laptop and cell off the bed as she disappeared into the bathroom to change, then got himself settled on the couch.
Lex appeared a few minutes later, clad in his shirt and fluffy penguin pajama bottoms, and looking about twelve years old.
“Love you, middle bro,” she said, giving him a hug.
“Love you, littlest sis.”
She grinned.
“Sleep tight,” he told her and watched as she went back down the hall and closed the door to the bedroom. He knew she’d be out in approximately ten seconds, because that was her superpower: give Lex a semi-horizontal surface and a modicum of tiredness and the girl could sleep.
He’d always been so jealous of her on road trips, both of them crowded into the back of the minivan with their siblings, Lex sleeping through the bickering as the miles slipped by.
Tonight, just like then, he knew it would be nearly impossible to fall asleep.
He had too much to think about.
Too much to process.
But somewhere around the time the sun began to rise, his eyes were finally heavy enough to slide shut.
And, what felt like mere moments later, they opened back up to chaos.
Complete and utter chaos.
Fifteen
The Other Woman
Shannon
She knocked on the front door, frowning at the quiet of the house.
Rylie was wriggling next to her, almost vibrating herself out of her skin—if such a thing were even possible, her daughter would manage to get that jumping, dancing skeleton right out of her body and prance along the porch.
But those fictional dancing bones couldn’t answer the door.
She knocked one more time, waited a few more minutes.
“Why isn’t Mr. Finn answering, Mom?”
“He’s probably sleeping, honey.” She tugged the end of Ry’s ponytail. “Let’s go back to our house and make French toast. When we’re done, we’ll come back over and knock again.”
Ry made a face. “Okay,” she muttered.
“He probably just stayed up too late. Remember how hard it was to get up that time you tried not to go to sleep?”
Her daughter considered that. “Yeah, I remember.”
“So, we’ll make our French toast extra good, in case Finn is grumpy when we come back and knock again.”
“With extra powdered sugar?”
“Yup.” She started to turn. “And maybe even with bananas.”
“Bananas!”
She grinned. “Let’s go—”
The door opened.
A beautiful blond woman stood there, one hand on the wooden frame, the other on the knob. “Can I help you?”
She was wearing a T-shirt of Finn’s.
Shannon knew because she remembered with crystal clarity the last time he’d worn it. Standing on her deck. Well, leaning against the railing of her deck, the disappearing sunlight emphasizing the strong lines of his jaw and cheekbones, wind ruffling his hair. She’d just come back from checking on Rylie inside, making sure she was settling down for bed, then had emerged to the sight of a Greek god.
Frozen in place.
Emerald green shirt that made his eyes look almost otherworldly.
Then he’d smiled at her.
And she’d gone, a fish to bait, a mouse to a trap, recognizing the danger but still drawn forward, unbidden, unable to stop herself.
One step. Another. Another.
When she’d gotten close enough, he’d reached out, snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her against his chest, and he’d kissed her.
Kissed her until her head spun.
Kissed her until she forgot about the danger.
Kissed her until she believed the danger hadn’t existed in the first place.
And she’d spent the last month in a bubble, a safely-padded cocoon where it had just been this wonderful, lovely man with her and Rylie. Walking to school, sharing meals, stealing kisses.
New and exciting, comfortable and . . . normal.
But in all of that newness and comfort and normal, she’d forgotten that he was the biggest actor in the world. That while the people of Stoneybrook might not be impressed by fame, while they were used to seeing celebrities,