Page 27 of The Aster Valley Collection, Vol. 2

He pursed his lips and stared down into the steaming dish of savory vegetables. “I would imagine you’ve set her up for life financially.”

“Of course. The first thing we did was buy a house.” I thought of that first house and the look on her face when the real estate lady had handed my mom the keys.

Looking back on it now was almost comical.

The house in Mar Vista had been a little three-bedroom ranch house with a postage stamp yard.

It had seemed like we’d won the lottery.

“You must have been proud,” Declan said gently.

“God, you can’t even imagine,” I admitted. “It was like seeing the weight of the world lift off her shoulders. That house had a fenced yard out back, and Mom let us get a dog. She insisted on naming him Clover because as far as she was concerned, everything we had we owed to that show.”

“And you.”

I looked up from the bite I’d just taken of the stir-fry. “Hm?”

“It was also owed to you. They wouldn’t have given you the role or the paycheck if you hadn’t been good at it.”

My face flooded with heat. The food was spicy, so I fanned my cheek with my free hand. “I guess.”

Declan studied me for a minute before asking an odd question.

“What did you call the dog?”

“I just told you. His name was Clover.”

His lip curved up in a sly grin. “That’s not what I asked.”

I looked away and took another bite of my food. After chewing and swallowing, I muttered, “Henry Higgins.”

I refused to meet his eye. I didn’t want to know if he got the reference, and if he did… whether or not he understood my connection to it.

“Mm,” he said before going back to his own dinner portion.

Silence sat heavily between us. I’d never met an awkward silence I couldn’t fill.

“I felt…”

Declan put his fork down and held up a hand.

“Before you say anything, I want you to know I would love to hear it. However, you do not need to explain anything to me or talk about anything you don’t want to.

I always want to know what you’re thinking, and I’d love to learn more about you, but you don’t owe me any explanations.

” He watched me for a beat before continuing.

“I judged you that night, Finn. The night you sped up in your fancy car representing everything I’d happily left behind in LA.

I know now that was on me. I judged you instead of getting to know you. I’d like to fix that.”

I stared back at him. Had anyone in my life ever wanted to get to know the real me? The one who didn’t love chasing fame or worrying about public perception? And was it possible he meant it?

Plenty of people in my line of work had warned me away from trusting new people. I knew better than to spill secrets to a stranger. But Declan was… was different. He was the kind of man who practically radiated honor from his every pore.

“I felt like I was never good enough,” I admitted.

“I had no training, no experience. They’d cast me based on my looks and the fact they could sign me super cheap, at first anyway.

Then they had to put up with the results which was a kid who didn’t know what a gaffer was or a grip.

Or any number of lighting and direction terms. I was constantly being told I was doing it wrong, and I felt like… ”

“Eliza Doolittle.”

I nodded and let out a little huff of laughter. “Exactly.”

Declan grinned. “And poor Henry got all your backtalk and complaints.”

“But he never spilled any of my secrets. Henry Higgins was the best friend a lonely gay kid in Hollywood could have ever had. I remember when my agent was negotiating the contract for the fifth season of the show, I demanded permission to allow Henry in my trailer on set.” I laughed at the memory.

“They were all stunned. I’d never demanded a single thing.

Ever. My mom was horrified. She told me to let it go, but I stood my ground. ”

“Don’t mess with a boy and his dog,” Declan teased.

“Did you have a dog growing up?”

He nodded. “Several. My mom had a Great Dane named Poe, who wouldn’t give the rest of us the time of day. My brothers and I had a motley crew of dogs over the years, but my favorite—my heart dog—was a corgi basset hound mix named Goose. She used to sleep on the pillow above my head.”

I had a hard time picturing a lanky, awkward teen version of Sheriff Stone with a little dog curled on the bed above his head.

“Have you thought about getting a dog here in Aster Valley? Seems like you have enough land for it. My agent cautioned me against getting one since I don’t have a yard and I travel a lot. But you have plenty of land and presumably don’t travel.”

Declan studied me again. It was becoming a little eerie. Like maybe there was an entirely different conversation going on between us in his head. Finally, he spoke.

“Do you have enough money set aside to last you and your mom the rest of your life?”

I stared at him in shock. What the fuck was he asking me? Had I gotten him all wrong? Was he interested in my money more than my childhood dog stories?

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I stood up and grabbed my almost empty dish, quickly taking it to the kitchen sink and rinsing it off before trying to remember where I’d set down my keys. I needed to get out of here. The man had just tripped my creep-o meter in a big way.

Before I could turn away from the sink, the sheriff’s big body boxed me in from behind. “Slow down,” he said with that infuriatingly calm tone. “Let me explain why I was asking before you go off half-cocked.”

I shrugged out of his hold. “Get off me.”

He stepped back and held up his hands. I made my way over to where I’d kicked off my shoes. There was a bench by the door. I quickly sat down and shoved my foot in the first shoe.

“I was getting around to asking you why you do it. If it’s not for money, which I have to think at this point it’s probably not, then why do you keep doing something you hate?”

I froze. My heart pounded in my chest like cops were banging on the door of a drug bust. Police, open up . I glanced at Declan.

“I don’t hate it,” I said automatically.

His face stiffened into a resigned disappointment. “Okay. Then please accept my apology for implying otherwise. Would you like a piece of pie?”

He sounded so distant all of a sudden that I wanted to scream and possibly cry. Open back up, dammit.

“I don’t,” I called at his back as he moved toward the kitchen.

“I heard you the first time,” he said casually, like it was no big deal. Like it was something other than the live grenade he’d left me holding with the pin pulled.

I wanted him to put the pin back in my grenade. I wanted it so badly. I’d been carrying this pocket-sized bomb for such a long time. I’d gotten so used to carrying it, I’d forgotten all it would take was one person curious enough to pull on the metal loop.

“I don’t want to talk about my fucking feelings,” I called out.

“Or… or work. Or… childhood fucking dogs, dammit! I don’t want to make small talk with you.

I…” My breathing came faster. Need crawled under my skin, but I wasn’t clear on what exactly I needed.

“Can’t we just fuck? Can’t I come here, eat a nice meal, and just…

get naked with you? I’d rather have your dick than your psychoanalysis. ”

I sounded like a brat. Ungrateful and rude. I knew that. But he was holding my pin, and if I didn’t do something to distract myself from the grenade I was holding, I was going to drop it and destroy everything.

Declan appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. He looked as calm as ever. Like my angry words hadn’t affected him at all.

“Go upstairs to the bedroom on the right and strip down to your underwear. Lie down on my bed and think about a white piece of paper. That’s it.

Just a white piece of paper. Nothing else.

” With that, he turned around and returned to the kitchen like he’d just instructed me on how to take the trash out.

I left a Finn-shaped cloud of dust behind me as I raced toward the stairs. Finally, we could stop talking and simply fuck.