Page 31 of Hearts Adrift (A Texas Beach Town Romance #4)

I guess that’s how we end up stuck behind the bar.

For twenty-two of the longest minutes of my life.

During the most stressful day I have ever known.

We’re seated on the floor behind the bar, and my eye keeps catching the glint of a bottle on the counter above us. From the weird lighting and the bottle being turned away, I don’t even know what it is.

All I know is that I’m stronger than that bottle.

“You okay?” asks Finn gently.

Our shoulders are touching. Were circumstances nicer, we might be cuddling. I could use a good cuddle. “Is your phone charged yet?”

He lifts his head up just enough to check. “About forty percent. Enough to get a ding from Theo when the coast is clear.” He sits back down next to me. “I still can’t believe he did that.”

“Seems like something impulsive I would’ve done.” I chuckle to myself. “I kinda admire the guy. Just a little,” I add when I see Finn’s expression. “Teensy, tiny bit.”

“So … what? Now you’re Team Theo suddenly?”

“Maybe.” I smirk. “But I ain’t autographing shit.”

“Y’know this thing isn’t over yet, right?”

“I know. They’ll probably turn Wingless Angels into a trilogy after this.

Ugh .” When I see the serious look on his face, I acknowledge the very real adrenaline that is carving a path to my chest. Yes, this is far from over, and I know it .

I pull my eyes away from the bottle and lean my head back with a lighthearted sigh to keep my head calm. “I know.”

“What’re we gonna do after I get the all-clear and we get out of here? River …” He brings his voice low. “I think you need to contact your friend.”

Lexi … “No. I won’t do it. I’m not forcing her hand.”

“River …” His phone dings. He stands up to check it. “Brooke. Again. Looks like the vans and the crowd left my house. Bet there’s people still at the bungalow, though.”

“Is there a safe path to your house from here?”

“Yep. Avoiding all the main streets.”

“Should we head out now?”

He shrugs. “Maybe give it another five or ten?”

I rise to my feet and depart the back of the bar. After a second of confusion, Finn swipes his phone off the charger and follows me. “What’s the hurry?” he asks. “We can’t go out too soon in case some rando spots us, then everything Theo just did will be for nothing.”

“We don’t have to hunker down behind a bar .”

“It’s just in case anyone peeks in through the—” It hits him. “Oh, god, River, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—”

I pull my cute Finn into my arms so quickly, he grunts with surprise.

“Didn’t I say never to apologize to me ever again?

You, my dear, cherished island boy, are the one to whom I will be forever grateful.

The fact that you’re still standing by my side and haven’t taken off running, even after all of this …

after all I’ve done …” I shake my head, holding him even tighter. “I’m going to make this right.”

“I understand wanting to make this right, but …” He closes up, body going stiff. “Just promise me something.”

“Promise you what?”

He lifts his face. “Don’t throw your whole career away in the process.”

I stroke his hair. “You’re cute. I think I’ll keep you.”

He swats my hand away. “I’m being serious.”

“Me, too. Can I keep you?” I go for his hair again. He lets me this time. “After this is all over with? … Can we … give this an honest shot? … Us?”

His eyes soften. He doesn’t know what to say.

Then his phone buzzes. He lifts it up to look, then lets out a sigh—of relief or worry, I can’t tell. “Did three loops of the isle. Four vans and a ton of cars followed him on his way out of town. Isn’t sure how many of the cars are actual weirdos or just people who were leaving anyway.”

I smile. “Sounds like our all-clear.”

“As good of one as we’ll get,” he agrees, anxious.

The next minute, we’re on the street, making our way north to our side of the island. It’s eerily calm everywhere, like a hurricane passed and all that remains is suspiciously still air and a sense like the worst is yet to come.

“Keep your head down,” I tell him.

“Says Clark Kent,” he grumbles back. “With a pair of shades, a hat, and a leather jacket that somehow completely masks your identity.”

We stop at a corner and turn away, waiting for a car to pass by. It brings our faces close as I shield him from view. His eyes lock onto mine. We stay just like that, even after the car has long since passed, his eyes vivid and alive.

“I might be crazy,” I say, “but if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were having a little fun right now.”

He cracks a smile. “Little fun. Lot of inner panic. Goes hand-in-hand sometimes.”

“You look kinda hot in your ex-boyfriend’s clothes.”

His face goes funny. “Seriously?”

“Just dye all your hair black, get a lip ring, and you’re halfway to starting an emo punk band. Seriously,” I laugh as his face goes even funnier. “Got any musical talent? Can you play a guitar?”

“Not a lick of it. Couldn’t sing my way out of a bucket. Emo punk band?” He snorts with laughter. “Really?”

“Maybe you’re a better actor than I thought,” I tease. “Put you in a costume, and who knows what you become?”

“You think?”

“What does this black mesh tank-top-wearing version of Finn do? How brave is he?” I hug him closer against me, close enough to feel his breath on my cheeks. “Is he brave enough to … kiss me out here in broad daylight?”

His next breath catches in his throat. Here we stand, no one in sight, as we clutch each other tightly, isolated in our little world for this tender moment on the street corner.

He feels so perfect cradled in my arms. Our chests put together, hearts beating alongside one another’s, breaths in and out, body to body, essence to essence.

“It’s taking every last fucking thing inside me to resist kissing you right now,” I admit.

“Don’t you dare,” he says, but it sounds more like a downright invitation.

I ought to exercise my self-control. After all, aren’t my impulses the very thing that, just a few weeks ago, upended so many people’s lives with one fell fucking swoop?

So instead of making quick work of this man’s fine, plush lips, I take his hand into mine. He appears pleasantly surprised by the act, even if he was likely hoping I’d kiss him, and then the two of us are off, crossing the street like a normal couple.

A normal couple pretending to be other people.

As long as I’m next to this guy, I don’t give a fuck what my role is .

When we round the final corner, the Hopewell house looms like a stage I’m not ready to step on. Indeed, there’s no crowd or news van lingering, which is especially good news—and convenient—as Finn and I come around the front of his property, up the side steps, and toward the back door of the porch.

That’s precisely when we let go of each other’s hands.

“Probably for the best,” he tells me. “Heather is going to be on fire. No telling what my dad will be like.”

“Better to not poke the fire,” I say, following his logic.

“Or stoke the bear,” he agrees, playing back with me.

Then after a breath, he opens the door.

Inside, it’s surprisingly calm. Unsettlingly calm.

From deeper within the house, the soft murmur of conversation is heard.

Brooke and her father, with her laptop out on a table by the window in the living room.

Heather, standing by the couch behind them, her arms crossed tightly, with a whole untouched bagel pinched between her fingers, forgotten.

Upon us approaching, the three of them turn our way and fall silent—so silent, I swear I can hear our pulses.

I’m fully prepared to bear Heather’s wrath and to face the music of Finn’s father, who likely does not have a very high impression of me either. Even their cats—Arial and Roman—are lined up by the couch with their wary eyes on me, like they too are ready to chew me down to size.

Brooke is the first to stir, bursting from her chair to put her arms around Finn. “I’m so glad you’re safe!”

“Me too,” says Finn, hugging her back. Then he faces the rest of the house. “Dad. Heather. I guess he needs … no introduction … but this is—”

“The person responsible for singlehandedly destroying our family name?” Heather shakes her head and sucks her teeth. “What a pleasure. Forgive me if I’m not hospitable.”

“Heather,” gripes Brooke over her shoulder at her.

“What?” returns Heather with a shrug, then takes a bite of her bagel and grimaces. “Fucking stale.”

“No shit, you’ve been holding that thing for an hour.”

Heather glares back. “Because I’ve been waiting on our brother to return from imminent danger that this man put him in— and you know how my IBS flares up when I eat anything on a flip-floppin’ stomach! ”

“Now, now,” says Finn’s father calmly, sitting on the arm of the couch.

He’s dressed in a mishmash of clashing, bright patterns and colors with a green bucket hat slapped atop his head.

I see where Finn gets his handsome yet boyish allure from.

“Mr. River, welcome to our home.” His face shifts.

“Though, as I’ve come to learn, you’ve already been here.

Even stayed here for a little bit.” He chuckles.

“Bungalow wasn’t quite to your liking, I take it?

… Came with an unexpected crowd outside the window, I hear? ”

Heather sneers as she tosses her bagel aside. “Really, Dad? You never miss a chance for an ill-timed joke .”

“No one should take life too seriously, I think.” Finn’s dad appears proud of himself, though I can see the creases of tension in his face, betraying him.

He’s pensive and sad in his eyes, a stark contrast to his otherwise cheery outfit.

I watch him fight that away as he nods to me.

“It’s nice to finally meet you in the flesh. ”

“Thank you, Mr. Hopewell,” I respond with a nod.

“Marty,” he insists.