I nod robotically; the shock of splitting my head open and finally seeing Teague again in the flesh, all in less than five minutes, hinders my ability to speak coherently.
“You okay with that plan, Fin?” Farrah asks, her eyes searching mine for assurance that I’m okay to be left alone. “I’m so sorry.”
My chin bobs up and down again as I move inside the long, galley-style bathroom. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I answer, finally finding my voice. “Go ahead with him. I’ll be out soon.”
Picking Fiona up, she offers an encouraging smile. “Okay, we’re right here if you need us. Just yell.”
The three of them disappear from the doorway and head back down the hall, leaving me alone to brave the reflection by myself. Each step I take causes me to wince in pain, so I gingerly shuffle my feet forward until I’m standing in front of the mirror.
Oh, for the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary… A knot the size of a baseball has formed above my right eye, reaching well up into my hairline, and right smack dab in the center of it is a nasty lash that’s probably two inches long, running parallel with my eyebrow. Blood continues to stream down the far side of my face, forming a bright red stain on my shirt I know will probably never come out.
My natural instinct is to reach up and cautiously press my fingers to the raised skin around the cut that’s already turning a deep shade of purple, but as I go to lift my arm and lean in to get a closer look, Teague and an older black woman carrying a stainless steel box appear next to me in the mirror, startling me so that I drop my hand to my side and jump backward, banging the crown of my head on a wall-mounted towel cabinet.
“Shit!” I hiss, cupping then rubbing the top of my skull with my left hand as I twist around and give the offending cabinet a dirty look.
“Are you trying to concuss yourself, sweetheart?” Nancy tsks, as she does a visual inspection of my head. Setting the box on the white marble counter, she flips the latch and opens it up, revealing an assortment of first aid type things, as well as a bunch of medicine vials and syringes. “Why don’t you go ahead and sit down on the toilet so I can get you all cleaned up, and then we’ll see if we need to get you to the ER for stitches or if I can just bandage you up. Looks like you really did a number on yourself there.”
Teague hangs out in the background, leaning against the wall close to the door, and when I glance over at him, I find his intense stare locked firmly on me. His expression is unreadable, and I desperately want to say something — anything — to him, to gauge his reaction to my being here, but I don’t. I’m too scared.
Lowering the lid on the toilet, I sit down as instructed while Nancy gathers her supplies. My legs tremble uncontrollably and my teeth chatter loudly together as I wait. I’m not cold in the least bit, but my arms are covered in goose bumps. The absolute last thing I want to do is to go to the hospital to get my head stitched up. Meeting my dream man is quickly turning into a nightmare of epic proportions.
“What’s your name, hun?” the older woman asks, as she squats down in front of me with a soapy wet rag in her hand. Her big brown eyes are kind and warm, her voice nurturing and soothing. “I’m Nancy, Grumpy Goodman’s nurse, if they didn’t tell you earlier.”
“Nice to meet you, Nancy,” I reply softly, as she begins to gently dab the cloth around the wound, cleaning the fresh blood off my skin. “I’m Finley.”
Nancy nearly drops the rag when I say my name, her head swinging over to Teague and her bottom jaw hanging open, but she doesn’t say anything to him. Instead, she pierces him with a death glare and sighs loudly then turns back to me and resumes her cleaning and assessment, the calm, comforting expression on her face back in place.
“That’s a really pretty name. And not a very common one either.”
I try to smile, but the closer she gets to the wound, the harder it is to not twist my face up with agony. “Yeah, I’ve never met another female Finley. I think after my sister Farrah, the one in the other room, my parents were really hoping I was a boy.”
She laughs softly and nods. “I’ve got four girls of my own, so I can definitely understand that. But I never would’ve guessed you two were sisters. Y’all don’t look a thing alike. Is the little girl yours?”
I wait to respond until she finishes removing all the blood and then grabs a fresh cloth to apply pressure to the laceration. Teague holds steady with his statue-like stance while Nancy and I talk, hands jammed in his pockets, lips pressed in a thin, firm line, more gorgeous than I remembered, even in his plain white T-shirt and dingy jeans.
“No, Fiona is Farrah’s daughter, but because of our hair color, most people usually assume she’s mine,” I tell her. “Though I was only fifteen when she was born.”
She removes the rag and leans in farther, carefully and thoroughly inspecting the now-clean cut. The corners of her mouth tip upward into a satisfied grin as she backs away and moves back to the box of supplies.
“Well, that’s good news. No kids at fifteen and no stitches,” she chuckles, pulling out a tube of what looks like ointment. “I can use some skin glue and butterfly strips to close up the wound, and then we’ll just have to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t get infected or open back up.”
I exhale a relieved breath and nod in her direction so she knows I heard her. Then, I brace myself as she tells me it’s going to be quite uncomfortable while she first applies an anesthetic ointment, followed by the glue itself. Screwing my eyes shut, I dig my nails into the side of the porcelain toilet seat and grit my teeth through the stinging pain as she works intently and swiftly to finish up.
About five minutes later, her fingers leave my head, and she announces, “I’m all done.”
My lids flutter open and I immediately stand to look at it in the mirror. Without the bloody mess smeared all over my skin, it looks much less gory, but the gigantic lump dressed with white gauze and bandages reminds me of something out of a cartoon.
Softly patting my shoulder, Nancy talks to me through the mirror I can’t tear my eyes away from. “When you come out into the kitchen, we’ll get you some ice for the swelling and ibuprofen for the pain. It’s important to keep it clean and dry. Change the bandages once a day, and if you see any oozing, it needs to be checked out. I can’t guarantee there won’t be any scar, but if there is, it should fade slowly over time, especially if you put vitamin E on it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. This time when I attempt a smile, it actually looks like one.
“Of course, sweetheart. Take your time. I’ll have the icepack waiting for you.” Her eyes shift over to Teague, sending some sort of silent message, and then she closes the kit up and marches out of the room with it tucked under her arm.
And now it’s just me and him. Alone. Electricity crackling in the air around us.
Our gazes collide through our reflections and my lips part on a quick inhale, my heart pitter-pattering in my chest. All the words I rehearsed in my head for the last twelve hours are nowhere to be found, and the longer I stare at him, losing myself in his infinite pools of blue, the further I get from remembering anything else.
One side of his mouth curls up into a lopsided, boyish grin, triggering my eyes to drop down to his full, beautiful lips. The desire to kiss him storms through me, and I have to force myself to suppress it.
Finally, he speaks. “Catch another kitchen on fire?” he teases, pointing a finger at my injury.
I bark out a laugh and shake my head, the nerves buzzing in my belly settling slightly at his playful tone. “No, actually this guy got his watch caught in my hair and banged my forehead on a table.”
He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow and takes two long strides in my direction, sidling up next to me at the vanity countertop, though we continue to watch each other through the large rectangular mirror.
“Wow, that must’ve hurt. I hope the jerk apologized.”
“He did, and I didn’t think he was a jerk at all. In fact, I kinda liked him, but he disappeared before I foun
d out his name.”
Teague swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Had to be a jerk, any guy who would just disappear on someone as beautiful as you.”
My cheeks heat from his compliment, but I shrug to play it off. “I’m sure he had his reasons. Probably wasn’t interested.”
“I’m sure he was and wishes he would’ve stayed. I’m sure he’s thought about it many times.”
Together, as if we’re suddenly being controlled by an invisible magnetic force, we both turn to face each other, our bodies mere inches from each other as I peer up at him. My breathing escalates and my pulse races, anticipation curling in my stomach. He smells like citrus and oak with a hint of hard work, and my fingers twitch to reach out and touch him. I’m so mesmerized I can’t even feel the pain radiating through my skull.
“Well, looks like he’s getting a chance to redo it,” I whisper.
He softly places his large hands on either side of my neck then glides them upward to cradle my face in his palms, thumbs stroking tenderly over my cheeks. His touch acts like a match, setting my insides ablaze with pure want.
“Hi,” he flashes me his panty-melting smile, complete with those devastating dimples, “I’m Teague Goodman, and I’m only a jerk sometimes.”
Before I can think of something clever to respond with, the space between our mouths disappears as he leans down and lightly brushes his lips across mine. I whimper in response. Taking my cue to continue, his fingers snake around to the back of my neck, tangling in the loose tendrils that have fallen out of my messy bun, and he tilts my head back to kiss me again. Deeper and more forcefully this time, his tongue slides into my mouth to twist with mine as I moan with pleasure.
After weeks and weeks of fantasizing about this very moment, about how perfect my Mr. Sexy Eyes would taste and feel and smell and sound, I don’t give a second thought to the fact I hardly know anything about him or that I’m now making out with him in his grandfather’s bathroom while our family members are waiting for us in the kitchen.
Nope, not a second thought, until I hear a certain someone say in a British accent, “Now that’s what I call a proper snogging.”
Teague
“LET ME KNOW if y’all need anything at all. My room is just up the stairs and to the left, and I’ll leave the hall light on.”
After a chorus of goodnights, I turn the lights out and close the door to the guest room, lingering for a couple of seconds while I listen to Finley, her sister, and her niece settle in for bed. The fact they’re even here blows my mind. Part of me wants to stay in there with them, afraid when I wake up in the morning, they’ll be gone and I’ll realize it was all just a dream.
Despite my morning from Hell, a day I expected to be one of the worst days ever, Finley’s unexpected appearance — and that kiss — make me want to relive it over and over and over. Of course, I wish she could’ve done without the whole forehead splitting open thing, but the bandage and baseball-sized knot didn’t deter from whatever it is about her that I find completely captivating, even more so than I remember from our first encounter in the restaurant.
Moving from the first-floor hall to the kitchen, I grab a root beer out of the fridge and pop the top then pad across the wood floors to the side door, in need of some fresh air and a few minutes of alone time to get a handle on the whirlwind of emotions tornadoing through me.
Through Nancy addressing her wound, the best first kiss of all first kisses, and a dinner filled with more laughing than I’ve ever experienced, not once has she said why she’s here or mentioned the lottery ticket. And much to my surprise, Grandpa has yet to ask why they’re here or how long they’re staying. It’s almost as if he expected them to show up.
The sound of the crickets’ music greets me as I step out on the wooden planks, and I inhale a deep breath of the mild September air, wondering what in the world happens now. I’ve been wearing a goofy-ass grin ever since I tasted her sweet pouty lips in the bathroom, a memory that’s played on a repetitive loop through my mind all evening.
“I was wondering when you were gonna come out here.” Grandpa’s voice startles me, and I snap my head over to where he’s settled in his rocking chair wearing a smug smirk.
“Hey, Gramps,” I say, as I take my place in the chair next to his. “I thought you’d already gone to bed. It’s well after ten.”
He stops rocking and leans over, stealing the root beer from my hand. In one gulp, he guzzles down at least half the bottle then hands it back to me, and jokes, “I’m up past my bedtime and drinking root beer, feeling super rebellious tonight. Those three beautiful girls must’ve got me all riled up and off my rocker.”
I laugh and take a drink from the bottle myself before he decides to finish it off. “I’m not sure you’ve ever been on a rocker, except the one you’re sitting on now, old man,” I tease back.
“Mmhm,” he nods, shifting his stare from me back out to the vast darkness hiding the open land in front of us. “Well, that makes two of us then, son.”
We sit in silence for a minute or two. I open my mouth several times to start the talk I planned on having with him over dinner, but nothing comes out. I’m terrified of disappointing him, but I know I have to tell him soon.
Luckily — or unluckily, depending on how you look at it — he opens the conversation for me, when he asks, “So when were you going to tell me?”
My heart thuds rapidly behind my ribcage, fueled by nerves and fear. “About F-F-Finley?” I ask, my voice cracking on her name.
“About all of it, Teague. The Apex settlement, putting the land up for sale, Finley — the real one and the fake one,” he lists, all while keeping his focus forward.
“You know about all of that?” My mouth hangs open as I stare at him incredulously.
“My sugar levels and blood pressure may be high, but my IQ is too, boy. Of course I know.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I saw Finley on TV the day after she won. You didn’t think I’d recognize the numbers you and I have always played were the winners? I was going to mention something to you about it when you came over that Saturday, but before I got a chance, you told me you were seeing a girl named Finley from San Francisco. I believe in coincidences, but come on.” He claps his hands together and barks out a loud laugh. “So you can imagine how surprised I was to meet your other friend, who definitely didn’t look like the same Finley I’d seen all over the news and interweb. The one who’s asleep right inside my house right now.”
“So why didn’t you say anything to me? Why did you let me go through that whole charade if you knew?” I demand, frustrated he wasn’t honest with me either.
“Because I’ve been waiting for you to tell me,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I didn’t know how far you’d let it go, why you were doing it exactly, but I also knew something else was going on, and I figured it was tied to the Apex lawsuit, since you hadn’t mentioned it to me in quite some time. So I called up your assistant and pretended to know the details, baiting her into sending me all the documents in your Apex file.”
Damn Mitzi! I knew I should’ve let her go when she put me on that damn flight number 191. “So how did you know about me putting the land on the market?” I ask. “I just did that today.”
“Ol’ Bobby Schaffer and I go way back,” he discloses. “The minute your attorney contacted him today, he called me and asked if I knew what was going on. I told him I did, and that I supported whatever you wanted to do, that I’m out of the day-to-day operations of the business. Though, I still don’t know the ultimate decision you made. I had a feeling you would be coming clean tonight or tomorrow, but I’m guessing you weren’t expecting our guests tonight?”
It’s my turn to shake my head as I pinch the bridge of my nose and take several deep breaths. “No, I definitely didn’t see that coming — or them, I guess I should say. I had indeed planned on talking to you tonight, at dinner actually… before they showed up.”
Finally twisting to look at me, Gr
andpa nods and smiles warmly. “Well, now’s your chance. Lay it all on me. Help me fill in the blanks from the day you left for San Francisco until now. I think I’ve about got it all figured out, but I’d like to hear it straight from the source.”
Over the next fifteen minutes, I tell him about everything. The original Apex offer, meeting Finley, the lottery ticket, the deal with Jessica, the final settlement terms, having to sell off nearly half of the land, and my confusion over Finley’s surprise arrival here, tonight of all nights. I put it all out on the line, hoping and praying everything I divulge isn’t so disappointing and failure-ridden that it sends him into cardiac arrest. But when I get to the end, to the part where I tell him about kissing Finley in the bathroom earlier, the only emotions I can see etched in the wrinkles framing his blue eyes are that of pride and joy.
“I’m so sorry, Grandpa,” I tell him, sincerity filling my voice. “I’m sorry I wasn’t upfront and honest with you from the beginning, and I promise you that I’m going to bust my ass to build Goodman Farms to be even bigger and better than it was before this lawsuit.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Teague.” He waves his hand in front of his face and frowns. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about the size of the company. I was perfectly content with my small little farm here for over fifty years, and now that I can’t even get out there to work in the fields, I definitely don’t care how much or how little land you have, as long as it provides you with enough money to make a good living and be comfortable.
“My biggest concern now is making sure that after I’m gone—” he pauses to let those words sink in to my thick skull, “—and no, Teague, I won’t be around forever — that you won’t be alone in this life. I told you this once when you were a kid, and I’m gonna tell you again, and I need you to really listen to me this time. Wealth isn’t the amount of money you have in your bank account, but rather the love and happiness you have in your heart. Nice houses, fancy cars and trucks, and designer clothes are all things that can help improve your quality of life, but without having someone to wake up to everyday and go to bed with each night, someone that you love more than life itself, then you aren’t really living. At least not in my opinion.”