It is fairly horrifying to realize how well Finn Mannus can play me. For the rest of the day, and into dinner, he keeps his distance. He isn’t cold or anything. Hardly that. He’s a great host. Solicitous, including me in conversations, making sure I have enough to eat.
And that’s the problem. He’s treating me like a guest. Gone are the light touches, as if he can’t keep his hands off me. Gone is the way he somehow always manages to be standing close enough that our arms brush. And gone are the teasing glances that dare me to reach for more.
I hadn’t noticed he’d been doing these things until he stops.
The result being, I seek him out. I’m the one finding ways to stand closer, to touch his wrist or the curve of his biceps. And though he doesn’t say a word about it, I know he’d predicted with unnerving clarity how I would react.
I don’t know if I should admire his skills or be annoyed.
Both, is the answer.
My annoyance grows when he gives me space and heads out to get wine for dinner without inviting me to come along. He’s gone for over an hour.
I realize I’m pissed at myself. For being a coward where he is concerned. For pretending that what we are to each other isn’t evolving. I know he cares about me. He makes certain I feel his care every day. He won’t hurt me. Not intentionally.
And I need to apologize because how I acted was hurtful and unfair. But I don’t get the chance. Between Finn distancing himself and his family intent on being good hosts as well, we are never alone.
Before dinner, Finn and his dad settle down in the den for a game of chess.
“I didn’t know you played,” I say to Finn as I sit next to him on the couch to watch.
“We never really got to the ‘hey, by the way, I love playing chess’ stage of our relationship,” Finn says with a sly wink.
I nudge his shoulder. “Smart ass.” God, I’m doing everything I can to be close to him. It’s ridiculous.
Even more so when my heart gives a little leap as he nudges me back, softly chuckling. “You play chess, Chess?”
I resist sticking my tongue out at him since Sean is watching with avid interest. “No. I admit, it’s over my head.”
“Then watch and learn, my friend.”
“I’ll watch, but all I ever see are pieces being moved around, seemingly at random.”
With a snort, Finn hunkers down and studies the board. The stern, absorbed expression on his face is adorable, and frankly hot. It’s even sexier when I realize he’s actually good, really good.
I lose track of time as he and his dad play with the intensity of men at war.
Eventually, I end up reclining on the couch to read. Without taking his attention away from the board, Finn puts my feet in his lap and rests one warm hand over my ankle. I keep reading, but I love it. I love that, ever so often, his thumb strokes my skin in an absent-minded but tender caress. Whatever is going on between us, I know that he isn’t angry at me. And some of the tension flows out of my body.
After dinner, I go back to the room and change into comfortable lounge pants and an oversized light sweater. Then Glenn, Emily, Finn, and I head for the family room to watch a movie.
“I feel like I’m in high school,” I say to Finn. “Watching a movie with a boy while his parents are in the other room.”
He gives me a knowing look. “You gonna let me cop a feel under the blankets?”
I don’t answer, leaving him to catch up, his eyes narrow on me.
The family room is a large but cozy space with a sectional couch near the back and two big recliners grouped together off to one side. A tumbled stone fireplace fronts the space.
“Where’s the TV?” I ask.
Glenn picks up a remote. “Right here.”
A movie screen starts lowering from the ceiling.
“Wow.”
“Finn’s last Thanksmas present to my dad,” Glenn says. “I’m still waiting for mine, the cheap ass.”
“Hey,” Finn says with a laugh. “I keep you flush in athletic gear.”
“You get that stuff for free.”
“Don’t listen to Glenn, Chess,” Emily says. “He wouldn’t take a gift like that even if Finn snuck it into our house on the sly.” She heads for a recliner. “My back is killing me.”
“Damnit, baby,” Glenn complains. “You know I like the couch.”
“Then snuggle up with Finn and Chess.” She relines the chair with a happy sigh. “Or would you rather carry this baby?”
“Yeah, because arguments based on total fantasy always work,” he grumbles and plops down in the other chair.
“Sucker,” Finn says, sprawling on the big corner of the couch.
I walk by him, intent on taking the opposite corner, when Finn reaches out and takes hold of my good wrist. And I pause, staring down at him. He doesn’t do anything more, his grip warm and secure, as he meets my gaze with steady eyes.
It’s my decision, whether I cuddle up with him or move on. If I tug on my arm, take a step, he’ll let me go. I sink down. And he moves with me, turning his body, tucking me at his side, my legs draped over his, my head on the couch pillow beneath his chin.
Neither of us says a word as he reaches back and grabs a thick throw to cover us. Nestled against the firm expanse of his chest, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to return to sitting alone. Not when he is near.
Finn grunts as if to say, about time, and then wraps his arm around my waist.
“What are we watching?” My voice is breathy.
“Die Hard.” Finn’s words rumble against my shoulder blades. “Christmas classic.”
“Come out to the coast, we’ll get together, have a few laughs…”
His lips graze the shell of my ear. “I promise not to blow anything up.”
Glenn messes with the remote again and the lights go low. I’ve seen Die Hard a dozen times. I know the lines by heart. I hear none of them now.