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“Where are we going?”
“We’re leaving the city,” he said, brushing a tendril of hair out of her face. “Keep the dress on, we’re still on a date.”
CHAPTER 24
COLLEEN
“I never would have guessed you drive a Ford Explorer,” Colleen said, wrapping the pashmina around her. Finn had been driving for about an hour on the freeway. With each mile, he had relaxed considerably. She still didn’t understand the necessity of leaving town to avoid the press, but she was eager to see where he was taking her.
“They’re reliable, safe, and have lots of room in the back.”
“For what? It’s not like you’ve got a dog or go camping.”
“I like to keep my options open.” He looked over at her. “Almost there,” he said, taking the Stony Brook exit.
“Are you sure this is okay with your mom?”
“She was thrilled. She’s happy we’ll be able to look after Alfie for a while.”
“Who’s Alfie?”
“Her dog.”
“I’m not great with dogs. I’m more of a cat person.” Cats were more independent and weren’t as needy as dogs.
“Relax, he’s great. I gave the dog sitter a few days off and we’ll hand him back to her when we leave.”
Colleen gave a curt nod as she considered the neighborhood they had entered. Houses of various sizes, but mostly traditional bungalows on a tree-lined street. The homes were well-maintained with beautiful yards. It was the perfect American neighborhood, so different from the hustle and bustle of Manhattan.
“This is it,” Finn said, pulling into a small driveway.
The outdoor lighting illuminated a small patch of grass and flowers bordering the edges. The stone cottage was downright cozy. She understood now why Molly O’Connor chose to live here. It was safe and welcoming.
Finn grabbed their bags from the back, and they walked down a brick-paved path.
“This is really sweet,” she said, admiring the roses in the yard, the white hydrangea shrubs under the cottage window, and the purple pansies lining the path.
“Wait until you see inside. My mom decorated it herself. She was inspired by her favorite artist.” He unlocked the arched wood door and opened it wide for her.
“Who’s her favorite artist?” Colleen asked, stepping inside, looking around.
“Thomas—”
“Kinkade,” Colleen finished for him. She stood in the entryway with her mouth open, taking in the floral chintz-upholstered furniture and polished cherry wood tables. But it was the many framed Kinkade prints on the wall that caught her interest. God almighty, she had entered Kinkade World.
“Do you know his work?” Finn set their bags down and closed the door.
“I sure do,” she said with a snicker.
“He’s an extraordinary artist.”
Colleen pulled her attention away from the prints to stare at Finn in disbelief. Out of nowhere, a small white dog ran yapping into the room.
“Hey, Alfie. How are you little guy?” Finn scratched the dog behind the ears.
“What kind of dog is he?” she asked, hoping she sounded a little interested.
“He’s a west highland terrier.” Finn lifted the dog. “Do you want to hold him?” He held a wriggling Alfie in his arms out to Colleen.
