“No,” Finn said. That he knew definitively. Because he always knew when Lane was dating someone. It never failed to bother him, even if he happened to be with someone himself at the time.
Whenever he and Lane dated other people it threw things into a little bit of a tailspin. Because inevitably the woman he was with hated Lane hanging around, and of course every guy who passed through Lane’s life hated the fact that Finn spent evenings at her place.
No matter what either of them said, nobody really believed they were platonic.
But, up until last night, they genuinely had been. At least, externally. His fantasies were another matter.
“I assumed maybe she had gone through a breakup or something.”
Finn shook his head, belatedly realizing his friend couldn’t see the motion. “Not that I know of. And typically, I know. The town is too small for her to hide it.” Unless she was sleeping with somebody secretly. He was thinking of dating, of course. But she might have a hookup he didn’t know about.
He didn’t like that idea at all.
He gritted his teeth, wondering now if part of her reaction to him last night had been based on the fact that she was with someone else. Or had been recently.
Now he was going over every interaction he’d had with her over the past couple of weeks, looking for signs to connect what Mark was telling him with what he had observed during time spent with her.
“To be honest with you, I’ve been up to my neck. And Lane has been bringing me food and in general making sure everything’s okay.” As soon as he said that he felt guilt, yet again, for his earlier uncharitable thoughts. “But I promise to pay closer attention.”
“Hey, your grandpa just died. I don’t really blame you.”
Yes, his grandpa had just died. And he most definitely had grief associated with that. But it wasn’t the biggest part of the turmoil in his life right now.
“Still,” Finn said, “she is your sister. And my friend.” Again, memories of last night crept up on him. Her hands on his body, pressed hard against his chest... The way she’d made him feel made a mockery of that statement. “I’ll figure out what’s up.”
The problem was it was more than likely him.
“Thanks,” Mark said. “Appreciate it.”
For some reason, Finn reflected, once they’d hung up, that phone call had gotten his head back in the right space. He was being unfair to Lane. Maybe there was something going on in her life, and he had missed it, because he had been so consumed by his own. She had a right to be mad at him about last night.
He gritted his teeth. He didn’t like admitting that, even to himself. But she had a point about their friendship. About the importance of it. For both of them. And the fact remained that the reason he had never made a move on her in the first place stood. Yes, denying the attraction between them was hard. But now probably hadn’t been the best time for him to make a move toward dealing with it. Especially not the way he had chosen to.
He wasn’t thinking clearly. And he sure as hell wasn’t feeling clearly.
So, he would go check on her tonight, as a favor to Mark. And he would do what he could to try and set things to rights between them.
He pictured her as she had been last night, enraged, her lips faintly swollen, her cheeks flooded with color. And in spite of himself, he felt his body beginning to harden. Desire rolled through him like dark clouds, signaling a thunderstorm was on its way.
He pushed it down, because he was good at that.
Yeah, he was going to confront her tonight. To deal with the aftermath of what had happened yesterday. Because whatever happened after this, Lane mattered to him. She was one of the pillars of his life here in Copper Ridge. That all-important existence he’d built for himself when he’d finally decided to cut and run from his life in Washington. From a life lived at the mercy of his parents’ whims.
One kiss wasn’t going to change that.
* * *
HE DIDN’T CALL FIRST. He didn’t want her to make an excuse not to see him. He was reasonably certain she didn’t have any plans tonight—because no matter how unobservant he might be about her mental state, he was pretty damned observant about her schedule—and he knew about what time she would get home after quitting at the store.
He was also armed with dessert. And okay, technically he was kind of regifting dessert, since Alison had sent over some pies a couple of weeks ago and he had put them in the freezer. But he knew Lane well enough to know that she wouldn’t look a gift pie in the mouth.
It wasn’t only dessert he planned to use to help soothe her anger. He had also come with a new lightbulb for her porch. He was bringing food and man services. She could hardly complain about that.
He shifted the items under his arm, then knocked.
He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe some hesitance. Maybe for her to ignore his presence altogether. Given the way she had acted last night, there really was no telling. Except he knew he had not expected her to open the door immediately, a wide grin fixed on her face.
But that was exactly what happened.
“Hi,” she said, the grin stretching impossibly wider. Any more, and it would crack her face completely. “I wasn’t expecting you. Did we have plans?”
She knew full well they did not have plans. And she was being weird.
“No,” he said, “but I brought pie. And I brought a lightbulb for your front porch. I thought I would change it for you.”
There was only a slight flicker in her dark eyes that betrayed the fact that she found this remotely strange. “That’s thoughtful of you. I really appreciate it.”
“So,” he said, frowning, “I’m going to change the lightbulb now.”
“Great! I’ll take the pie.” She was all too bright and sparkly when she grabbed the pastry box from his hand and disappeared back into the house.
He turned to see to the task at hand, clearing the cobwebs away from the porch light before taking out the old lightbulb and putting the new one in. He felt like there was a rock in his chest. And then he felt like maybe there was a rock in his head.
She was going to pretend that nothing had happened. She wasn’t just mad, she was furious, but she was going to keep on smiling at him, keep on pretending that everything was fine so that they didn’t have to talk about this.
Rage trickled through him like wildfire. Burning everywhere it touched. He threw his tools down onto the porch and walked inside, not bothering to keep his footsteps light.
“That was fast,” she said, that same near-manic smile fixed on her face.
He crossed his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” she said, waving a hand. “Just fine. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Oh, that did it. He was a strong man. Growing up like he had, that had been a necessity. When his father had left his mother, it had been up to Finn to take care of her. To assume the responsibilities of the household, even though he’d been a boy. And then, when his mother had left... He’d been on his own.
There had been no space for him in his father’s life, with his new wife and his sons. He could bear a lot of things. Had done so. Would continue to do so, if his brothers’ presence at his ranch was any indicator. But he would be damned if he would bear this. She could be angry about his kiss, but he would not let her ignore it.
It had changed things. Rearranged something in him. Ripped away the excuses he’d been making for years about not touching her. Because she wanted him too, and now he knew it.
And he couldn’t unknow it.
“No reason,” he said, his anger a dark, flickering thing inside of him, making him reckless. Making him mean. “Mark called.”
“Cool. Did you guys talk about girls?”
“We talked about you,” he said, appraising her openly, not bothering to hide it. She looked wary, and he didn’t love that. But he did love the ski-slope curve of her nose, and the way the corners of her lips twitched when she was trying to hold back a smile.
He felt gratified when he saw color mount in her cheeks. “He wanted to know what was up with you.”
“Did you tell him nothing? Because there’s nothing up with me.”
“Really. Did you talk to him last night sometime by any chance?”
Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again. “I did not,” she said, her tone flat.
“Okay, because I feel like if you had, that might’ve been significant.”
“Why would it have been significant?” The question sounded as though it had been dipped in sugar.
“No reason,” he said, taking a step closer to her. She took a step back. Then, she edged around to the other side of the counter, putting it between them.
He was supposed to be here to make things right. But it didn’t seem fair. That making it right meant letting her pretend nothing happened. That making it right meant letting her live in a fiction where he didn’t ache to have her with every breath.
If she would just acknowledge the kiss. Maybe that would be enough.
Maybe.
For a moment, just a moment, the voice of sanity screamed inside of him that it was ridiculous to be acting like this with the woman he considered to be his best friend in the entire world. But that voice was drowned out by the roar of testosterone. And so he continued on as he had started.