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He wasn’t looking for more, no matter what his body was telling him.
He was fulfilling his promise to her by finally getting Evan to bring one of his paintings in—the old guy hadn’t taken much convincing, truth be told, not when Finn had put a decent scotch on the table—and then he was going to chat to her about his idea of her and Indigo moving into Clint’s farmhouse.
A friendly conversation and that’s all.
So he ignored the heat gathering in his gut, ignored his persistently wandering attention that kept settling on things it shouldn’t, such as her cleavage, and concentrated instead on the deep green of her eyes, which were wide with surprise.
Then she smiled, that bright one that nevertheless looked fake to him. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she exclaimed as if she’d never heard of anything so amazing. “Seriously, that’s great. Are you sure?”
“What’s the problem?” Because despite what she’d said, it was clear to him that she did not think it was that amazing and there was a problem. “You don’t like the idea?”
Izzy frowned. “I’m pretty sure she just said she loved the idea, Finn.”
“Yeah, she did. But she didn’t mean it.” He glanced back at Beth. “Did you?”
She hadn’t. He’d heard the note of uncertainty in her voice even if Izzy hadn’t. He’d seen the slightly forced nature of her smile too, though he’d always seen that. But especially now, when he knew what the real thing looked like. Beth on her back, having just been thoroughly pleasured, smiling up at him like he’d taken the moon from the sky and handed it to her…
Shit. Don’t think about that.
Yeah, he really shouldn’t.
Beth’s bright smile wavered for a second before holding firm and becoming even brighter. “Sure I did. Indigo is getting sick of not having her own space, and while I love Cait’s cooking, it would be really nice not to live out of a suitcase for a change.”
Finn studied her while she stared back, and this time there was no wavering in her smile.
“Is there some workshop space?” she asked. “Or at least somewhere I could do some metalworking?”
He didn’t even need to think because it was something he’d considered when Chase had mentioned that he was having difficulty finding the owner of the house the women were supposed to move into and how problematic finding alternative accommodation was.
Clint’s farmhouse seemed perfect. It was unoccupied and Finn wasn’t going to move into it because he already had his own house. Plus there was a huge workshop space near the stables that would be perfect for Beth and her jewelry making, not to mention Indigo and her dyeing operation.
“Yeah,” he said. “There’s a big shed near the stables with a big workshop bench and other stuff. Clint isn’t going to take it all with him, so I said he could leave his tools here. They won’t be what you want, but I’m sure you’ll like the bench space.”
Beth eyes glowed and this time it was totally genuine. Yes, it would seem she’d definitely like the bench space.
“When you say ‘big workshop bench,’” she murmured, “exactly how big are we talking about here?” Something playful glinted in her eyes. “Not that size matters, of course.”
Finn shifted against the counter again, everything male in him wanting to respond to her, flirt with her, because she was definitely flirting with him. She’d been doing so from the minute he’d walked in the door.
But while he liked it and wasn’t immune to it, he couldn’t in good conscience keep doing it. Not while their chemistry was still so strong.
One night, he’d told her, and she’d agreed, so there wasn’t any point in continuing to belabor something that wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Ignoring her comment he only said, “I’m not sure how big you need for your purposes, but it’s a decent size. Plenty of places to store tools and things too.”
The brightness of her smile dimmed. Obviously, she’d taken note of his refusal to flirt back and had been disappointed by it.
That couldn’t be helped. He’d been very clear about what he could give her and she hadn’t refused him. In fact, she’d told him she hadn’t wanted anything more either, so why she was being flirtatious he didn’t know.
It had to stop though.
“Think about it,” he said, deciding that now was a great time to take himself out of her immediate vicinity. Especially before she said something else that might give them away. And most especially with Izzy looking interestedly on.
Stepping away from the counter, he gave them both a last smile, then turned and walked out of the gallery.
It was early evening, a late summer heat lying over the valley, the air full of the smell of dry grass and the earthier, spicier scent of the bush.
It was peaceful—or it would have been peaceful if there hadn’t been a town barbecue.
