Page 24 of For Love of Liberty

“All … right,” she said in a near whisper, the flick of her gaze to his mouth all but giving him heatstroke. “But does that mean privately too?” Her teeth nipped at those pink lips like he so longed to do while her shy smile pumped more blood through his veins.

With a gruff clear of his throat, he quickly lifted her at the waist and plopped her safely on her own bale of hay, pretty darn sure that if he didn’t distance himself right now, he’d be in a whole heap of trouble. “Libby, there’s something I need to tell you.” He shot to his feet and started pacing, gouging the hair at the back of his head. “Before we walked into this barn, I had absolutely no hope whatsoever that my long-held dream of courting you was even a remote possibility, so when we”—his Adam’s apple jerked hard as he halted to face her head-on—“kissed just now, well I … I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”

She rose and took a step forward, the affection in her eyes warming him to the core. “I’m not. I’ve felt the same way about you forever, Finn, so I’m glad the truth has finally come out.”

The truth.

“Libby …” Clearing his throat again, he retreated another step. “There’s something else you need to know.” He plunged his hands in his pockets, ill at ease for the first time ever with a girl. “As you know, I’ve been seeing Jo Beth here and there …”

“Here and there?” A tiny pucker popped above her nose. “Are you … courting her, Finn?”

Heat singed his collar when he thought of all the kisses he and Jo Beth had shared, something most women tended to construe as commitment. Particularly when she was the one he stepped out with the most. “No, no … nothing like that,” he was quick to respond, a niggle of concern that both Jo Beth and her father might see it differently. “I mean I like her, I do, but it’s just that we’ve gone out a lot because of Milo, since she’s Bettie’s best friend and all, so some folks have assumed we’re a couple.” He coughed. Especially Jo Beth and her parents. “So what I’m saying is I’d like a chance to spare her feelings if I can.” He buried his fists in his pockets once again with an awkward lift of his shoulders. “You know, give it some time for things to cool off before you and I start seeing each other that way, just to let her down easy.”

She blinked, those green eyes softening to the color of new buds in early May. “I think that’s very noble, Finn,” she said quietly, the glow of admiration in her gaze making him feel the farthest thing from noble.

He swallowed a gulp, throat dry as dust. “Yeah, well, the thing is, Libs, I sorta promised I’d help Jo Beth celebrate her birthday on the day of the festival, if you know what I mean …”

She blinked again, her expression indicating she didn’t.

He clawed at the back of his head, sucking in more air to try and make it perfectly clear. “So I don’t feel right breaking it off before then, which means it could be a while before you and I can, you know”—he wagged a finger between them—“step out together for all the town to see. So is that”—his Adam’s apple did another jog—“acceptable to you?”

“More than acceptable, Finn,” she said far too quickly for his ego. “Whatever you need to do is perfectly fine with me, truly, so please take your time.”

Take my time? It was Finn’s turn to blink. She doesn’t mind? Not even a little? “Uh … all right, if you’re sure you won’t be jealous or anything—”

She was shaking her head before he could even finish the sentence. “Absolutely not,” she assured him with a bright smile. “Not even a little.”

“Good … good.” He plunged his hands back in his pockets, not all that sure it was good, at least not with a girl who’d seldom shown an iota of interest till today. It was his experience that if a girl truly cared, she’d be green-eyed over any other woman. Shaking off a sliver of hurt, Finn expelled a noisy sigh. “All righty, then, Libs. Let’s promise to keep this just between you and me till then. And I mean nobody else can know—not Kitty or Martha, Milo, or even Mr. and Mrs. Poppy, agreed?”

“I think that would be wise,” she said with a lift of her chin. “For Jo Beth’s sake.”

Yeah. He tugged at his collar, desperate for more air. And it wouldn’t hurt my loan either. Forcing a lopsided smile, he needed to make good and sure she understood he’d be treating her no differently than in the past in order to avoid any speculation about the two of them. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, he held out his arm, one edge of his smile jagging high. “Which means we’ll revert to our prior enmity in public, Miss Bell, just to make good and sure nobody suspects a thing, agreed?”

“I suppose that would be best,” she said slowly, the tiniest of puckers at the bridge of her nose, “but in private, I’d like to get to know each other better, Finn, if that’s agreeable?”

He stared, pausing several seconds before slowly cupping her face in his hands, gently skimming her jaw with his thumbs. “More than agreeable,” he whispered, wondering how on earth he was going to take it slow when his heart was crashing full speed ahead. He managed a crooked smile. “In fact, it might be a good idea to show up at our weekly meetings an hour earlier or so than usual. You know, just to go over things in private before everyone else arrives?”

A slow grin bloomed on her beautiful face. “I think that’s an excellent idea, Mr. McShane,” she said with a slow nod, green eyes sparkling as she allowed him to usher her to the ladder.

“Good.” Relief breezed past his lips as he climbed down several slats, one arm extended to help her on down. “And I do believe I’m ready for something cool to drink, Libs, how ’bout you?”

“Absolutely parched, Finn, and surprisingly, a bit hungry too.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he said, guiding her down rung by rung, her body so close, he battled hunger pains of a whole ’nother kind.

You might say—downright starved.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

During the noon hour, Libby tapped her toe impatiently on the brand-new paver town square Zeb Miller and his boys had built, studying the empty terra cotta planters with a finger to her lips. “But sagebrush is so … so …” Notepad and pencil to her chest, she wrinkled her nose, striving to come up with a provocation that would put a burr in Finn’s boot. She settled on an insult she’d once hurled at him in school when he’d called her a spoiled rich girl. Hurting people’s feelings was not something she was prone to do, but Finn McShane had always managed to get under her skin, bringing out the worst in her. And before she knew it, the slur had just popped out of her mouth. Never had she seen Finn McShane turn that shade of red before, revealing she’d struck one of the few nerves in the cockiest boy in her class: his poor upbringing. “Pathetically common and pitifully poor,” she finished with a flourish, whirling to give him her best condescending look.

His eyes narrowed considerably, and she had to bite back a smile, thinking she’d never had so much fun insulting Finn McShane before. Their “pretend” rivalry was certainly working. No one seemed even remotely aware that Finn and she had feelings for each other, not even Miss Willoughby or the ever-matchmaking Mrs. Poppy. Although Libby did feel a wee bit guilty about the older ladies’ gentle reprimands and concerned glances whenever she and Finn sparred. So much so, in fact, that even Libby wondered at times if the attraction were real or if she’d only dreamed those tender kisses he’d given her since that night at the Poppys’. Especially since some of their heated festival disagreements since then were certainly anything but “pretend.”

But the attraction was real, she knew, based on the countless hours they spent alone talking at City Hall before the meetings when they’d both arrive early. During those times, they shared about safer subjects like their hopes and dreams rather than festival business. Sometimes their talks were serious and sometimes playful, but always filled with a growing affection that was, for Libby at least, slowly ripening into love. Of course, Finn couldn’t really show that when he walked her, Kitty, and Martha home after each meeting, always reverting to their usual squabbling instead. But he sure showed it when he dropped Libby off last, stealing kisses in the bushes before he delivered her to her door. Those moments together were precious to her, not only because they were some of the rare times she and Finn weren’t butting heads, but because she got to see the tender and caring man behind the gruff and cocky exterior.

The same “gruff and cocky exterior” he now conveyed with a stubborn clamp of his mouth and an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Without question, those kisses seemed pretty distant right about now as he slacked a hip with a disgruntled fold of arms. “‘Pathetically common and pitifully poor’ plants that are native to our fair state, Miss O’Shea, in case you haven’t noticed from the lofty height of your gilded castle.”

“Now, Finn …” Mrs. Poppy said softly, obviously concerned that Libby and he intended to continue the battle of words they’d just had at City Hall.