Page 13 of His Good Girl

Rage hits me square in the chest and I'm seeing red. I step back, clenching my fist once, twice, three times before releasing the breath I didn't realize I was holding in. “If he bothers you again, let me know. I’ll pay him a little visit and make sure he knows to stay away.” Her tears slip out now, and before I know it, she's in my arms with her face buried in my chest.

“Thank you,” Alexis whispers. I give in to the overwhelming urge and kiss the top of her head, holding her safely in my arms, slightly alarmed at how good it feels. With one arm wrapped around her back and the other holding her head to my chest, I breathe in this moment of peace. All too soon, she takes a long shuddering breath and steps out of my arms as she wipes her tears away. She smiles up at me, then without warning, takes off in a sprint as her laughter fills the air.

A laugh breaks free as I sprint to catch up to her, every part of me wanting to be near her and the light she brings. We jog the rest of the way in companionable silence, and it feels fucking amazing.

19

FINN

We race the last bit of the way to the gate, both gassed and sweating when we drop to the grass. Lying on my back, I work to slow my breathing. After a few minutes, I sit up and start stretching out while Alexis does the same. Her long, lean legs are on full display, slightly glistening in the morning sun. I have to fight the urge to let my hand wander from where it’s holding my own foot and follow the sculpted contours of her thighs, the muscles honed and exposed in such an enticing way. Instead, I move us to a safer topic than my current train of thought.

“I’m sure Marcee has told me, but what’s your major again?”

“Kinesiology. I’m still debating between going on to get my physical therapy degree or going more the athletic trainer route. I guess we’ll see where this next year takes me and what options are available.”

“That’s no easy degree. And you said you’re maintaining a 4.0? That’s pretty impressive, Alexis.” She beams at my praise.

“I love it, that’s why my job at the gym is so perfect. If things go well, I'll move on to being a personal trainer in the fall, which will give me great experience. Well, that is if I don’t get fired over Jax’s stunt.”

“Jax? Like with an X?” She just nods. “Even his name is douchee.” Alexis nods again and I huff out an exasperated breath. “Geez. Okay, I need pancakes after hearing that.” She laughs loudly and I pull her to stand, our bodies close as she glances up at me with a small smile playing at her lips.

“I could go for some pancakes.”

We head in and find that Marcee is still asleep, so we both decide to shower before getting breakfast going. I hear music coming from the kitchen when I get to the stairs after cleaning up. I make my way down, finding Alexis in the kitchen already with her wet hair piled on top of her head. She’s back in her shorts from last night and the sweatshirt from earlier. It’s so long it looks like she isn’t wearing any pants, and the image of her in nothing but a shirt is something I find very appealing. She’s busy whisking eggs, her hips swaying to the music, so I indulge for just a minute, watching the effortless way her body moves.

“This doesn’t look like pancakes,” I tease as I join her by the stove.

“I didn’t see any flour or pancake mix, so I made a judgement call and started some French toast. Is that okay?” She looks almost vulnerable when she asks and it tugs at my heart. What has happened to this beautiful and vibrant girl to make her so unsure and on guard for criticism?

“Sounds good to me. How about I make some juice, I have more oranges than I know what to do with from the tree out back.” I move to squeeze past her but end up bumping into her a little too hard. She gasps, sounding as dramatic as my daughter. Then I look down and understand why. The whisked eggs are dripping down the front of her shirt.

“Oh, shit!” I grab a towel and start to blot her, mopping up the eggs. Her laughter catches me off guard.

“Uh, I think at this point you’re just smearing it around, Finn. Here, I’ll just ditch the sweatshirt. Can I toss it in the laundry? I didn’t pack much since it was so last minute,” Alexis trails off as I stare unblinking at her. She’s wearing a pale pink cami, and nothing underneath. With her standing in front of the window as the sun spills over her, I can see straight through it. Those nipple piercings shimmer in the light.

My feet move me a step closer to her as if controlled by someone else. The way her breath hitches has my head spinning. Taking my gaze from her chest, I meet her eyes, and the look she's giving me nearly snaps the final thread of my control, like she's every bit as desperate for me as I am for her. Her ruined shirt hangs from her fingers, but she takes a step in my direction as well. We’re so close I can feel the swell of her breasts against me with each deep breath she takes. Reaching up, I gently tilt her chin up and gaze into her gorgeous brown eyes, noticing little flecks of green and gold sparkling from the sun’s rays. Closing the distance slowly, giving her time to protest before I feel the ghost of her breath on my lips.

“Finn,” she breathes my name as I wrap my arm around her waist. The smell of lavender and something floral floods my senses with her this close, driving me closer, desperate for more. A door slamming upstairs has us ricocheting apart, both panting for air.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Feeling like a fucking idiot, I turn to meet Marcee, pasting a big smile on my face. Alexis makes a beeline for the stairs, telling Marcee she needs a new shirt now. By the sound of the laughter I hear from my daughter, I’m betting she's finding great pleasure in her friend's egg incident. If only she knew that her dad was less than a second away from kissing her best friend. Fuck, a second away from doing a lot of things to her best friend.

I turn away from the pair to clean up the mess we made and finish making breakfast. How the hell am I going to stand two more days of that temptress in my house? Grinding my molars, I mentally list all the reasons I can’t go there and throw myself into making the damn orange juice.

20

ALEXIS

My lips still tingle as I meet Marcee at the base of the stairs. Finn and I almost kissed! In the light of day, no shadows to hide in, no excuses for it being late, or not knowing the other was around. The way he watched me—the way we closed the distance between us felt like an invisible force was guiding us together. I don’t think I have ever felt like this before, and I don’t know what to make of it.

Then guilt washes over me when I hear Marcee coming down the stairs. She would be so pissed if she found out. Why the fuck does Finn have to be so perfect, everything I want for my future?

Marcee thinks me spilling eggs on myself is just about the funniest thing ever. She happily lends me a shirt for breakfast, and I take a few extra minutes cleaning up in the bathroom while I sort through all the feelings rioting in my brain. When I finally work up the courage to head downstairs, Finn is setting all the food on the table, complete with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. It’s such a domestic scene I almost giggle. Then I notice Marcee there, chatting easily with her dad, and I feel like a piece of shit. She brought me out here because life has sucked lately, and I made a move on her dad, of all people.

Finn keeps shooting glances at me all throughout breakfast. I don’t speak during the meal, too lost in thought, but I think I manage to smile and laugh at all the right places. Marcee offers to do the dishes since Finn and I cooked. Normally, I would jump in and help too, but I need to get my head on straight. So instead, I ask to borrow her keys, saying I'm going shopping and will be back for dinner. Marcee smiles and I know she's happy to get some time alone with her dad. As I pull out of the driveway, I look up the spas in the area; maybe a massage will help me chill out.

A massage was a mistake. What I gave myself was an hour to obsess and re-obsess over the events of the last twelve hours. Replaying the look in his eyes, the possessive way he tilted my face to his. Fuck, the way his breath caressed my lips as he hovered, ready to kiss me. I’ve had a crush on Finn for what seems like forever, but this weekend, things have changed.

He isn’t just my friend's cute dad, or the father figure that was there for me all the times my own dad wasn’t. Finn is kind, smart, and sexy as hell. If I were to imagine the perfect guy for me, it would be him, one hundred percent. Well, all except for the fact that he’s my best friend's dad. Is there any conceivable way a night with him wouldn’t blow up in my face? Nope, I didn’t think so.