Hot Mess - Elise Faber Page 0,8

one”—she pointed to her daughter, cuddled up with her stuffed animal, eyes on the page—“is probably the culprit.”

Finn chuckled. “Noted. I’ll be sure to storm over if I step on a Lego.”

“Ah, you joke, but you must not have suffered that particular parental torture if you can make light of it.” Her smile made his breath catch again.

She was . . . incredible.

Sweet. Lovely. Beautiful. And . . . sad.

So, so sad.

Her gaze met his, and he went rigid, hating the fact she was sad, this woman he didn’t know from a stranger was in pain, and yet wondering how the rest of the world didn’t see it, because otherwise they would want to storm in and take away that hurt.

But . . . he wasn’t here for that.

He was messed up, and bringing his special brand of messed up into this woman’s life wasn’t an option. “I’m just going to go.”

Sad got sadder.

And . . . fuck.

“Of course.” She stepped back. “Thanks again.”

Dark brown hair that shone in the afternoon sunlight, skin a deep gold that made the turquoise of her eyes stand out in sharp relief, lush, pink lips.

That parted.

That tipped up into a smile.

One that didn’t reach her eyes. Again.

And even though he didn’t know her, even though he was just going to be in town for a couple of months, even though she was only a temporary next-door neighbor—albeit one who seemed lovely and had an adorable kid—Finn made himself a promise.

In that moment, he made it his mission that if he did nothing else in his time away from Hollywood, then he would get this woman to smile for real.

Not just with her lips, but with her eyes.

With her heart.

He turned away, stopped, then spun back around to face her. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Shannon,” she murmured, extending a hand for him to shake.

His fingers met hers, his palm collided with hers, and . . . sparks, heat licking up his arm, consuming him with desire.

And Finn, who hadn’t felt anything real in far too long—

His skin prickled, his cock twitched, and . . . his heart pulsed.

Five

Graceful As An Elephant On Rollerblades

Shannon

She watched the tall, gorgeous man walk away, his stride loose-limbed and familiar, but her mind was too clouded with everything that had happened since the damn realtor had shown up at her front door, since Brian had screwed her over. Again. Worse, she felt beyond dumb for letting it happen, for holding on to stupid hope that her ex wouldn’t be a complete asshole, but he’d proven his asshole tendencies were strong and that hope had been shattered anyway.

Later, when things became clear, she wouldn’t be able to believe she hadn’t recognized the stranger bearing sand toys at her front door.

But, in that moment, her mind wasn’t anywhere close to sharp. In fact, she felt a bit like an elephant wearing rollerblades—big clumsy feet moving out of control in all directions, flailing and trying not to fall . . . even though the collapse was inevitable in the end.

And that was an image for the middle of the day.

Enough.

Her lawyer was doing what he could. She’d checked in with Alberto just that morning and he was filing . . . whatever lawyers filed with the court. So, she was focusing on her work. Her lesson plans were almost complete, her classroom supplies had been ordered. The first day of school loomed heavy with anticipation . . . and she might not be able to stay in this house.

Memories refused to be compartmentalized away.

This was the house she’d spent hour upon hour setting the tile backsplash in the kitchen, watching copious YouTube videos, fucking up so much, but still managing to make it look nearly perfect in the end—if one ignored the tile with spacing that was off in the corner by the fridge.

Which most people—most people being not her—did.

This house to which she’d brought Rylie home.

This house with the ocean, with waves, never failed to soothe her, with salt-tinged and sticky air that clung to her skin, mussed her hair.

This house where Rylie was asleep, cuddled up with her fox on their deck, those waves in the background, her book forgotten as they coaxed her into a nap.

God, this house. She loved it so much.

And yet, it was nothing when compared to the love she had for her little girl.

Shannon sighed, stepped out onto the deck, and made her way over to her daughter, scooping Ry up into her arms—albeit with a grunt,