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“Fucking hell, Finneas!” Her hand clutches her chest like she’s trying to keep her heart from jumping out of her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.” I lift a brow, and she glares back.
“What are you making?”
“Breakfast hash,” she says, still pouting and crossing her arms.
“Smells delicious.” I head straight for the stairs before she starts asking questions about what’s in my arms.
I set the easel up by the far window, I feel like I’ve heard artists talking about natural light or some shit. There’s not a lot of room in the eaves, but enough to stand in the middle. I drag one of the nightstands over and put all the paints and brushes I bought in the drawer. I step back and look at the set up and know something’s missing.
It clicks, and I hurry down the stairs. Calling to Effie as I leave, “Don’t go upstairs.”
My first stop is the garage, but I come up empty. Luckily, I find what I’m looking for in the big house. Returning to the barn, Effie isn’t downstairs.Of course, she isn’t.
I told her not to do something, so she obviously did exactly that. I should have known.
I climb the steps and find her staring at the easel and canvas, paint drawer open. She’s toying with the long sleeve of her sweater, and I can’t read her face properly from this angle. She hears me and turns. My stomach drops seeing tears in her eyes.
“It wasn’t done yet,” I say defensively, placing the stool I found next to her.
“Is this—Is this for me?” Her voice cracks and her bottom lip trembles. Her eyes are so sad and heavy that I can’t stop myself from wrapping her stiff body in my arms.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it would make you sad. I will get rid—”
“No!” She rears back but keeps her balled fists against my chest. “No, please don’t. I’m not sad.”
I brush a tear at the corner of her eye with my thumb. “Princess, you’re crying.”
Her mouth cracks in a small smile. “I’m just surprised is all.” She wipes at her eyes and fixes me with a warm stare. “I love it. I promise.”
I bite my cheek, feeling so relieved I could pick her up and spin her around. I’m not a gift giver. Hell, I’m not a giver at all. And I definitely don’t think I’ve ever made someone cry anything but terrified-for-their-life tears.
“Oh, there’s one more thing,” I say quickly, remembering my coat pocket. Her mouth pinches, holding back a smile as she looks up at me all doe-eyed, and I temporarily forget my own goddamn name. I pull the sunflower out of my pocket and— “Fuck, it’s all wilted.”
I go to shove the smooshed flower back in my coat feeling like an imbecile.Who puts a delicate flower in a pocket?Christ, I’m hopeless at this stuff.
But she stops me, taking the stem from my hand. “Thank you, Finn.”
“I passed a bunch on the road, I can go back and get a new one.”
“Finn, would you calm the fuck down?” My eyes snap to her. “You’re the only person I know who gets more frazzled giving someone a flower than disposing of a body.”
I laugh dryly. “Yeah, well…”
“Sunflowers are my second favorite flower.” She looks at the yellow petals with a smile.
“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” I brush a lock of hair off her neck and twirl it around my finger.
“Water lilies.”Fuck.Warmth spills down my spine and pools in my stomach. My fucking chest hurts hearing her say those two words. I want nothing more than to pick her up and throw her onto the bed. To stay there all day, fucking until we lose track of time and space and all I know is every inch of her body, every note of her sweet scent.
But I remember last night and her not letting me in her bed and decide I better not push my luck. Especially not right now when she’s looking at me like she not only doesn’t hate me, but she might even like me.
“Enjoy, princess.” I tug her in by the hip and press a kiss to her forehead, walking away before I lose the ability to control my darkest urges.
“My dad called,” she says as I retreat, and my skin crawls thinking of that fucker. “He wants us to go to the Children’s Hospital charity gala next week. The governor will be there, and he wants to put on a united front.”
Memories of the last time we attended a gala together flash in my mind and I smile. “Are you asking me on a date, Ef?”
She rolls the sunflower stem between her fingers. “I guess.”
