Finn walked a few steps to the right, then to the left, circling the immediate area a few times before finally standing still on the grass. “Here it is. The perfect spot.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Perfect for what? What are we doing?” It was late Saturday evening, and Finn suggested walking to the park.

He pulled a dark blue fleece airplane blanket out of his black Under Armour backpack. “Movie under the stars—Pleasant Hollow style.”

My eyes bugged out. I’d have been less shocked if he said Jason Momoa had checked into the B&B. “Pleasant Hollow has an outdoor movie night? Like Bryant Park? Why didn’t I know about this? Where is everyone else?” I didn’t spy another person among the trees and occasional benches in the small park.

Finn placed a hand on my arm. “Easy there. Pleasant Hollow doesn’t have a movie night. I do. We do. And no one else is invited.” He brushed aside some leaves and spread the blanket on the ground before us. “Sit.”

My curiosity outweighed my apprehension that it was too cold to sit outside for the duration of a movie. At least I’d worn my army jacket. I sat down, thankful I had on loose-fitting boyfriend jeans, and patted the spot next to me. The sky was a bright royal blue, and the horizon was tinged with pink. The river was still visible from here, but it would be sunset soon and our view would be limited to one another. “Where’s the screen and what’s playing?”

“The screen is my laptop monitor, and the movie is Frances Ha.”

I cocked my head. “Interesting selection.”

He shrugged. “It’s supposed to be a love letter to Manhattan. I’m a little homesick and thought you might be too.”

Considering how bad I’d wanted to escape the city a week ago, the truth in his words surprised me. But nothing made you more cognizant of the phrase “There’s no place like home” than being a stranger in a strange town where no one desired to learn your name (except Lorraine, and I was paying her).

“This is nice.” It was—dare I say it—romantic. I bumped my shoulder against his. “Thank you,” I said, silently admiring his weekend look. His uniform of a gray hoodie and tattered jeans demonstrated it wasn’t clothes that made the man but the other way around.

“I also thought we could both use a little fresh air.”

I blushed. Aside from taking turns picking up food at Pinkie’s, we’d spent almost every waking moment since last night tangled in his bedsheets.

“Have you seen it?”

“The movie? Nope.”