Sweet Little Lies (Heartbreaker Bay, #1) - Jill Shalvis Page 0,16

older.

There were several from many years ago. Finn in a high school baseball uniform. And then a college uniform. He’d played ball for a scholarship and had been destined for the pros—until he’d quit school abruptly at age twenty-one when he’d had to give everything up to care for his younger brother after the death of his father.

She sucked in a breath and kept looking at the pictures. There was one of Finn and a group of guys wearing no shirts and backpacks standing on a mountaintop, and if she wasn’t mistaken, one of them was Archer.

Another of Finn sitting in a souped-up classic-looking Chevelle next to a GTO, a pretty girl standing between the cars waving a flag. Clearly a pre-street-race photo.

Once upon a time, he’d indeed been wild and adventurous. And she knew exactly what had changed him. The question was, could she really help bring some of that back to him, something she wanted, needed, to do with all her heart.

Chapter 7

#WafflesAreAlwaysTheAnswer

Finn watched Pru’s shoulders tense as she looked at the pictures on the walls, and wished she’d turn his way so he could see her face. But she kept staring at the evidence of his life as if it was of the utmost importance to her. “You okay?” he asked.

She shook her head. Whether in answer to the question or because whatever was on her mind weighed too heavily to express, he had no idea. Turning her to him, he watched as her long lashes swept upward, her eyes pummeling him with a one-two gut punch.

And going off the pulse racing at the base of her throat, she was just as affected by him, which was flattering as hell but right now he was more concerned about the shadows clouding her eyes. “You’re worried about something,” he said.

She bit her lower lip.

“Let me guess. You forgot to put the plug in your boat and it might sink before your next shift.”

As he’d intended, her mouth curved. “I never forget the plug.”

“Okay . . . so you’re worried you’ve maimed me for life and I’ll have to give up my lucrative bartending career.”

Her smile faded. “You joke,” she said, “but I could have maimed you if I’d thrown higher.”

“Or lower,” he said and shuddered at the thought.

She closed her eyes and turned away again. “I’m really so very sorry, Finn.”

“Pru, look at me.”

She slowly turned to face him. There were secrets in her eyes that had nothing to do with the dart thing, and a hollowness as well, one that moved him because he recognized it. He’d seen it in the reflection of his own mirror. Moving in close, he reached for her hand, loosely entangling their fingers. He told himself it was so that he could catch her again if she went down but he knew the truth. He just wanted to touch her.

“I’m sure you have to get back out there—” she started.

“In a minute.” He tugged her in a little so that they were toe to toe now. And thanks to her kickass boots, they were also nearly mouth to mouth. “What’s going on, Pru?” he asked, holding her gaze.

She opened her mouth but then hesitated. And when she spoke, he knew she’d changed whatever she’d been about to say. “Looks like your life has changed a lot,” she said, gesturing to the pictures that Sean had printed from various sources, stuffed into frames, and put out on the shelf in chronological order the day after they’d opened the pub.

When Finn had asked him what the hell, Sean had simply said “not everyone is as unsentimental as you. Just shut up and enjoy them—and you’re welcome.”

Over the past year new pictures just showed up. More of Sean’s doing. Finn got it. Sean felt guilty for all Finn had given up to raise him, but Finn didn’t want him to feel guilty. He wanted him to take life more seriously.

“It’s changed some,” he allowed cautiously to Pru. He didn’t know how they’d gotten here, on this subject. A few minutes ago she’d been all sweetly, adorably worried about him, wanting to play doctor.

And he’d been game.

“It looks like it’s changed more than some,” she said. “The fun pics stopped.”

“Once I bought the pub, yeah,” he said.

He’d had different plans for himself. Without a maternal influence, and their dad either at work or mean as a skunk, he and Sean had been left to their own devices. A lot. Finn had used those years to grow