Drunk losers who couldn’t fathom me not wanting to take them home from the bar had called me a lot of things over the years—I was a prick tease, a desperate slut, too fat to be a spin instructor, lousy in bed (my personal favorite, since I’d refused to sleep with him), a dog who’d be so lucky to have his dick in my mouth—I knew better than to take it personally. There was nothing Finn’s father could call me that would make me think less of his son.

He gave me a sad smile. “You say that now.”

“I do.” And I’d say it tomorrow and the day after that, if he let me. I scooched closer to him and raked my hand through his thick hair. It was so soft.

He took a sharp intake of breath and gripped the steering wheel.

I let my hand fall and slid away from him before I caused an accident. “I can’t make you want to be with me, Finn. But please don’t put words into my mouth or feelings into my heart.”

Once again, the four-door sedan was soundless aside from the podcast. I increased the volume, but it quickly became apparent the subject matter—relationships in the modern world—was more awkward than the silence, so I turned it off. I stole glances at Finn at regular intervals, trying to read his mind. A vein in his neck was twitching, and from the way he stared so intently at the road, you’d think he was driving in treacherous weather conditions, like the ones that had led to me sharing his room at the B&B, instead of dry and clear skies.

Suddenly, the doubts rushed in and heat suffused my body. I gripped the bottom of my seat with both hands. What was I thinking declaring my love for a guy I’d known less than two weeks? I didn’t use the words, but he wouldn’t need a translator to get the gist. Did I honestly believe Finn would trust me enough to change his entire attitude with respect to relationships and let me in?

My shoulders relaxed and I loosened my hold on the seat. It made no sense, but I hoped for it anyway. And I was proud of myself for communicating my true feelings in an adult romantic relationship, maybe for the first time ever. Score one for adulting.

Then I felt his hand squeeze mine.

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

I stared down at our joined hands. Had what I said about not being scared off by his imperfect-on-paper family actually sunk in? I lifted my head and searched his face for answers. “Finn?” I hoped the one word communicated all the questions.

He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed it before turning back to the road.