“It isn’t Andrew Hanes, is it?” Could it be? Even though the famous real estate powerhouse was no longer featured in my story, it would be fun to meet the original inspiration for it IRL. My toes lifted off the ground in excitement at the possibility.

“Not exactly.” Vick removed his white hard hat and scratched his head.

Johnny and Emma joined us. “We’re out,” Emma said. Even wearing a hard hat over her chin-length jet-black hair and with safety goggles covering her dark blue eyes, she was sexy in black denim jeans and a bright red, white, and blue flannel shirt. A wrist tattoo peeked out from her sleeve. It was a good thing I wasn’t the jealous type, because she was hot. Then I noticed the matching his-and-hers gold bands around Emma’s and Johnny’s ring fingers. They were married!

“You think he’ll be okay?” Johnny asked, his blond eyebrows drawn together.

Vick returned his hat to his head. “He’s a grown man. He’ll be fine,” he said, pacing from one foot to the other.

My skin prickled. “What are you guys talking about?”

The couple turned to me in surprise as if finally realizing I was standing there.

The pale skin of Johnny’s freckled face turned red. “Nothing.”

I opened my mouth to call bullshit as a loud crash sounded in the direction of the trailer.

“What the…?” I licked my dry lips. The heebie-jeebies took over like spiders crawling up my back. “Who’s Finn meeting with, and why wouldn’t he be okay?”

Three pairs of eyes refused to meet mine.

“I’ll just have to see for myself.” I stomped over to the trailer, ignoring the protests behind me, with every pulse in my body throbbing. The contrasting sounds of Finn’s soothing voice with another, more agitated one coming from inside left me temporarily frozen, but concern for my boyfriend propelled me forward. I opened the door and stepped inside. Both men looked my way.

I’d pictured Mr. Adams like Crazy Earl, Wade Kinsella’s drunk father in Hart of Dixie—old, with white, unruly hair and bad posture. Finn’s dad, if this was in fact him, was the opposite: mid-fifties, tall and handsome, with thick, black curly hair peppered with gray. Only his bloodshot eyes gave him away.

“Who the hell are you?”

Oh. And he was mean.

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Four

Finn’s father squinted at me. His eyes were narrowed to slits as if he lacked the coordination to open them all the way. “Who’re you?” He swayed toward Finn. “Who’s she?” He came at me.

I took a step back, stumbling on what felt like a shard of glass, but blessedly not losing my balance.

He hovered, waiting for an answer.