Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,7

Still, he figured he’d better get his shit together and stop thinking so hard, because if Rylie was anything like his nieces and nephews, then he would only have her attention for another zero-point-three seconds.

So, he crouched down, met her gaze straight on, and said, “Thanks for apologizing. I’m not hurt.”

Clunky, definitely.

But his sister hated when someone told her kids, “It’s okay,” when she corrected them for their behavior, saying it undermined what they could learn in that moment.

Whether or not he agreed with his sister wasn’t in question—though, for the record, he thought she made a valuable point—one he’d taken, promising himself he’d make sure to use the knowledge for good.

Rylie glanced at her mother, who nodded with an encouraging smile, then ran back over to the chair, picked up her book, and started reading.

“Thanks for that,” she murmured, still no recognition, which was just . . . ego popping? Amazing? Confusing? A breath of fresh air? Finn had constantly been recognized everywhere he went for years now, and he didn’t quite know how to respond to someone not knowing who he was.

So, yeah, ego-diminishing.

“She’s a ball of energy sometimes,” the woman murmured, eyes on her daughter, “and hasn’t quite learned to control her body. Thank you for being so great with her.”

Finn smiled. “My nieces and nephews are the same. Tiny maniacs, the lot of them.”

Her expression warmed. “Oh?”

“I’m one of five kids,” he told her. “The middle child with both a sister and brother on either side of me. Only my older siblings have kids though. A lot of them.”

“Define a lot.”

He grinned.

“I have four nephews and two nieces, ranging from ten to three.”

“Okay.” Her brows lifted. “That is . . .”

“A lot?” he teased and grinned. “You should see us at our family dinners.” He laughed. “I swear, my parents’ neighbors would hate us if they weren’t invited to eat the feast my mom cooks up every Sunday.”

“Every Sunday?” Her eyes widened.

Finn laughed. “I can tell by your face that you think it’s a lot,” he teased. “And you’d be right. It is a lot. But they’re my family, and I love them.” A beat. “Plus, not all of us always get together. Whoever’s in town or not busy heads over to my parents and we just . . . hang out as a family.”

“That’s wonderful,” this woman murmured, but the tone was off. And when he looked at her face, the pain in her eyes stole his breath. But then she was smiling, and it was gone—or maybe not gone so much as tucked carefully away.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a sharp shake of her head. “I didn’t even ask. How can I help you?”

Finn blinked, forced himself to focus on why he’d meandered over to this house in the first place, or at least on the reason he was telling himself he’d come over—that he most definitely wasn’t lonely after having spent too much of the last years surrounded by people, but rather, was just trying to be a good neighbor. He held up the bucket inscribed with the name Rylie on it. “I found this on my deck. Wasn’t sure if it had been misplaced or left behind, but I saw the toys on your deck and thought, perhaps, it might belong here.”

“Left behind?”

“I’m renting the house next door.” He pointed behind him to the small cottage that mirrored hers, one of a few houses lined up along the beach, their front doors facing the ocean. “Just for the summer.” He waved the bucket slightly, the plastic shovel rattling. “I’m guessing there’s only one Rylie in these parts.”

“You’ve guessed right,” she said, taking it from him, slipping beside him and out the front door to set it down in a large tub that held a gaggle of other beach toys. Less than a foot separated them, and he could smell the sweet floral notes of her hair, feel the heat of her body. Or maybe that was just him and more insanity.

He’d gone more than a year without feeling a lick of desire.

One glimpse of this woman, of her sad eyes, her sweet scent, and his cock twitched.

He wanted.

For the first time in as long as he could remember.

“Sorry it was left on your deck,” she murmured, drawing him back into the conversation. “Rylie and the little girl who stayed there a few weeks earlier this summer were thick as thieves.” Her mouth curved. “If you find any rogue toys, then that little