“Okay, I might claim the annoying part. I do find a lot of joy in making you scowl at me. But an asshole? Never.”
“You find joy in it, do you?” Her hand starts to clench until her nails are digging into me.
“If I’m being completely honest, I’m beginning to find it borders on our own fucked-up kind of foreplay.”
Her wide eyes snap to me, and I bite my lip to hold in my laugh. I keep looking straight ahead at my mom, who is having a field day trying to find the best angle. Oakleigh sees me trying to remain calm and composed and she shifts her foot until it’s over mine, pressing down as hard as she can.
I don’t even flinch. “You know you weigh nothing, right?”
She tries to keep her face straight as she scoffs. “You’re impossible.”
“Oh, a new one. This one I also have to disagree on, though.”
She sighs and then looks up at me with a dazzling smile. “Is this good enough for you, my darling?”
I smile down at her. “Perfect, my sweetie pie. You look utterly infatuated.”
My mom squeals as she rushes over to us.
“They look so cute!” she cries, tucking her phone back into her pocket.
“You’re not even going to show us?” I ask with a laugh.
“Nope! You’ll have to wait.”
She motions for us to follow. Oakleigh and I look at one another and she surprises me by letting out a laugh that sounds like its closer to a snort than anything else. She looks free, unrestrained, and I finally feel like I might be making some headway.
ChapterThirteen
OAKLEIGH
An hour after our little hiccup, I’ve been to what feels like half of the stalls at this festival. My bag is bordering on overflowing and weighing down my shoulder.
Nonetheless, I still decide to visit a stall that offers different kinds of jams and condiments, all of which contain cherries. They have some odd ones—cherry-flavored ketchup, cherry panko breadcrumbs, cherry pasta, but there are others that I’m dying to try.
“Hello, there,” the lady behind the stall says. “Welcome to Very Berry Cherries!”
“Hi.” I smile at her. She’s an older lady, maybe in her early seventies. Her blonde hair is overrun by silver strands and wrinkles stretch across her forehead, but she also has lines on her face that show years of smiling that compliments the kindness in her eyes. She actually reminds me of Wanda. “This all looks amazing!”
“Oh, well thank you so much!”
I pick up a jar of cherry and blackcurrant jam. “Do you make all of these yourself?”
“Damn right I do. My sons help me pick all of the cherries when the time comes, and I just make whatever I’m feeling at the time.”
“Cool,” Finn mumbles as he reads the label on a bottle of cherry-flavored mayonnaise.
I also pick up two jars of cherry and vanilla jam and hand the three containers to the lady. “I’ll take these, please.”
“Excellent choices!”
She bags up the products and hands the bag over. She lets me know the price and I reach into my bag to try and find my purse. My movements stop completely, however, when Finn’s hand rests itself on my lower back and immediately begins to slide lower. My breath hitches as his large hand covers my ass cheek, everything he does so clear and concise. I feel his forehead against my temple and his breath on my cheek, and just like that my body is on edge, waiting for whatever it is it should be waiting for. His fingers drag against me, leaving a line of fire in its wake.
His hand leaves me and comes in front of us as he hands the lady the card that was in my back pocket. His card.
The lady takes the card and the entire time, Finn’s forehead hasn’t moved. His breath reaches my ear as he whispers, “My woman doesn’t pay for a damn thing.”
The possessiveness.Mywoman.Hiswoman. The way I’m being taken care of without even having to ask; beingtreatedto things that he knows I’ll love because of its cherry association.
