“So am I.” We made googly eyes at each other as if the drama of the morning had never happened. Only it had, and my gut said I’d need to get used to it.

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two

When I learned about a remote town on the cusp of development by a real estate mogul from the city, it immediately brought to mind my favorite television movies. I jumped at the chance to write a story about a real-life small town where a familiar fictional plot was playing out in reality. Taking on this project would allow me to soak up the quiet life while jump-starting my journalism career, healing my financial problems, and escaping flaky local bachelors already onto the next best thing in one fell swoop. My best friend teased I might even fall in love with the town’s hottest bachelor. I brushed her off while secretly hoping she was right.

“Come here often?”

I stopped typing and smiled up at Finn. “I love a guy in wool,” I said, admiring his white Irish sweater, worn under his leather jacket, of course.

“And I love a woman in a purple hoodie, so we’re even.” He bent to kiss me before sliding into the other side of our favorite booth at Pinkie’s. “Were you waiting long?”

“Yes, but it was intentional.” The bright sun coming through the window in the common room had given me FOMO, so I moved outside to the park. First I texted Kate with an update, using the bare minimum of specificity to protect Finn’s privacy. She responded with a series of emojis expressing her delight, concluding with the eggplant and peach to demonstrate her immaturity. I’d planned to work on my story, but the weather was a bit nipplier than the blue skies suggested, which was why I arrived at the diner an hour before my scheduled lunch date with Finn.

He gestured to my laptop. “It’s going well?”

“I think?”

“You don’t sound so sure. Can I read what you have so far?” Without awaiting an answer, he reached for the computer.

“No!” I said, pulling it back toward me and slamming it shut.

His mouth quirked into a smile. “Territorial much?”

“Sorry.” I dropped my shoulders. “I’m not ready to share yet.”

“Keeping secrets is a questionable way to start a relationship, but okay,” he teased.

“It’s not that. It’s just…” I took a sip of my now-cold coffee and waved down the waitress—the one who wasn’t Doreen. After we gave our orders, I turned back to Finn. “The story is about me.”

His head swung back. “You?”

I sat up straighter. “It’s a true fish-out-of-water story about a woman who left the city for a small town expecting one thing and found something else entirely.”

Finn rested his thumb and index finger on his chin, saying nothing.