Once we’re in the French Quarter, Finn pulls up before a converted factory building that overlooks the Mississippi. A doorman hurries over, and Finn hands him the car keys.
By the time we get to his condo, my wrist feel like it’s being crushed in a vise. I hold it against my chest and follow him in. Finn’s apartment reminds me of mine, exposed brick, wide and worn floorboards, and high ceilings. But where mine is—fuck, was—a loft, his has been divided up into rooms.
With a hand on my lower back, he guides me down a wide foyer into a living area. It’s a man cave, but refined: reclaimed wood coffee table, big leather club chairs, a gray couch you could swim in, and a massive TV with what looks like three separate gaming systems. Arched windows frame the river, glinting with moonlight.
“Are you hungry,” he asks, pausing.
“No, just tired.”
He nods as if he suspected as much, and leads me down another hall. The first door opens into a bedroom. At first glance, I think it’s his because it’s so large and it’s fully decorated. But there’s a slightly feminine touch in the lacy white duvet and multiple throw pillows on the pretty carved mahogany canopy bed that I just can’t see Finn choosing for his bedroom. Nor can I imagine him sitting on one of the delicate little linen covered armchairs set up before the fireplace.
He sets my busted laptop down on a sideboard. “My mom uses this room when she visits. There’s a bathroom here.” He opens a door, and I get a peak at a clawfoot tub and more exposed brick walls. I’m suddenly aching for a hot bath.
Finn clearly notices the direction of my gaze because he gives me a small smile. “Want me to start a bath? It’ll take a bit to fill.”
“Okay.”
While he fiddles with the taps, I stand in the middle of the room. I want to sit, but everything is so pretty and clean, and I stink of soot and smoke.
Finn bustles back in, full of nervous energy that makes me want to hug him. “Right, so there’s a coffee maker.” He opens the doors of the sideboard and pulls out an automated espresso maker on a tray. “And a fridge as well.”
The small fridge is stocked with cream and juice and bottled waters. Just like a luxury hotel. I blink several times and nod, as he looks over his shoulder at me to see if I’m getting everything.
“It’s perfect,” I assure him, my voice thick.
He stands and shoves his hands in his trouser pockets. He seems larger in this room, his masculinity somehow highlighted against all the frilly touches. An elegantly dressed bruiser with a sensitive heart. “Towels and a robe are in the bathroom… And, right…” He moves to the tall dresser by the closet. “Clothes.”
“Clothes?” I croak. On stiff legs, I go to him, as he pulls open a drawer.
Shirts of various colors, jeans—blue and black—sweaters… They’re all neatly folded, tags still on them. I blink again, more rapidly, my throat swelling.
“You got me clothes?”
His eyes meet mine. “You needed them.”
I can’t speak.
“It’s just to get you started,” he goes on as if I’m not about to lose it right here in his cozy guest room. I find bras, panties, socks and nighties, in a rainbow of color, resting nicely in another drawer.
“Bra size was a little harder to guess. I mean, I was pretty sure about cup size but 34? 36? I have no idea what that’s all about…” He meets my gaze, and the tips of his ears pink. “Ah…yeah…so anyway…”
A smile pulls at my lips. “I could always go without.”
“Please don’t,” he teases. “I’m trying hard enough as it is to not ogle your tits.”
My chest is so tight it hurts to laugh. I suck in a shaky breath at the end of it. “When did you do this?”
He couldn’t possibly have had the time.
“As much as I’d like to take credit,” he says, sliding a drawer closed. “My assistant, Charlie, did it. You’ll meet him soon enough.” Finn goes to turn off the water. “He works for a bunch of us guys, and when I heard about the fire, I called him in to help.”
“Finn…” I don’t know what to even say. Slowly, I walk toward him. “All of this…” Shit, I’m going to sob.
He shrugs again as if it’s no big deal. “I wanted to give you what I could.”
The bathroom is warm and humid, the air fragrant with the vanilla-lemon bubble bath he added to the water when I wasn’t looking.
Finn gazes down at me, his expression so tender, I might break. I can’t. If I cry now, I don’t know if I can stop.
“Look, you don’t have to stay more than the night,” he says in the quiet. “But I wish you would. I’ve got some away games coming up and will be traveling for a couple of weeks, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
The stiff way he holds his shoulders eases, and he lets out a breath. “Good. Go on and have your bath. I’ll get the meds the doc prescribed.”
“You’ll get my meds?” God, all I’m doing is parroting him now, but my mind has scrambled.
Finn rests his hand on my shoulder. “Chess, honey, I’ll get you anything you need.”
He becomes a blur as my eyes fill. I blink back tears that cannot fall. But my resistance crumbles. With a shuddering breath, I step into his space and wrap my good arm around his waist. “Finn,” I croak.
Immediately, he gathers me up, holding me close, his lip pressed to the top of my head. I lean on him and wallow in the feel of his body, strong and firm and warm. It’s so comforting, part of me wants to pull away, afraid that I’ll come to need this too much. But I can’t move.
“I think I love you right now,” I tell him, my voice muffled on his crisp shirt.
Those massive arms of his tighten a fraction, even as his chest shakes on a laugh. “Only right now, eh?”
“I’m sure you’ll eventually say something to remind me why that’s a bad idea.” I don’t bother lifting my nose from his chest. The silk of his tie presses against my cheek, the scent of fine wool and clean man surrounding me. Finn in a suit is devastating. But I miss his t-shirt and jeans.