15 Shades Of Pink (31 page)

I turned back to him. “I’m just here to relax this week. I’m sure you’ll find another beach babe to entertain you.” I stood up and grabbed my purse. “I’m going to tell the girls I’m headed back to the rental. Thanks for the invite to the party. Tell your friend it’s a great place.” I headed for the dance floor.

He followed me. “You shouldn’t be wandering around alone at night. Let me walk you back.”

I looked back at him. “You don’t need to.” I walked over and tapped Brooke’s shoulder. “I’m leaving.”

Her eyes widened. “With Finn?”

“No! Although he’s insisting on walking me home.”

Her eyes flicked over at him as he lingered on the concrete patio behind me. “Go for it girl; it’s pretty clear he’s interested.”

“Well, I’m not,” I lied. But that’s the story I was sticking with. My hormones were interested, but my brain kept me from being a fool. I pushed my way through the metal gate leading to the parking lot.

Finn was right behind me.

“Is this some firefighter code of honor?” I asked as we walked toward the road.

“No, just common sense. If I had a sister, I wouldn’t want her walking home from a bar alone at night,” he said.

Okay, I’ll buy that
. “No sisters, huh? What about brothers?”

“I’m an only child.”

A couple of brothers who looked like him would have been a nice solution for my gal pals. “Being an only child was my dream—I grew up with two older sisters and a kid brother.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Guess you always want what you don’t have.”

I pointed at him. “See? That’s my point exactly about why you’re interested in me.”

He held up his hands. “And you’re absolutely wrong. But I’m not one to force myself on a lady. I can take no for an answer.” He grinned in the dark while my stomach flip-flopped. But I knew I was doing the right thing.

Now that I’d made it known I wasn’t interested, we chatted easily on the walk back to the rental. He loved to cook. He read novels and worked out on his downtime at the station and shared my love of skiing. But when we stopped at the front door, the casual conversation dried up, and I was hit with first-date goodnight jitters. And this wasn’t even a date.

I looked up at him. “Thanks. That was really nice of you. You’re right. I shouldn’t be walking around by myself at night. You headed back to the bar?” If my friends were lucky, he’d make his move on one of them.

He braced his hand against the doorframe. “No, I’m headed back to my place. I’ve got plans tomorrow morning.” He stepped back. “See you on the beach.”

I wrapped my arms around myself. “Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

And without a single bad line or a smooth attempt at a kiss, he smiled and walked into the darkness.

I lay in bed listening to the surf, wondering if I was the stupidest woman in the world for letting him go.

***

The girls rolled in after two a.m., and I woke up at six along with the sunrise. Since I’d gotten to bed at a respectable hour, I decided to go for an early jog on the beach. I had to do something to burn off the calories from all the alcohol and goodies we’d been consuming. Monica had apparently bought out the entire section of cupcakes at her favorite bakery, while salt-loving Catherine had brought seven different varieties of potato chips. We only had three bags left.

I stretched out and ran toward the pier in the distance. It was at least two miles away. There and back would make a nice little run. The tide was low, and the place was mostly deserted, except for a few people poking around looking for shells and sea glass. I’d only run about a quarter mile when I spotted the familiar outline of a hot firefighter burning up the beach even at that hour. He stooped down with a small rake and dragged it through the sand.

I ran up to him and stopped, bracing my hands above my knees. “Building a sandcastle was your big plan for this morning?” I grinned at him.

He laughed and reached his hand deep in the sand, churning up black, mucky goo. He plucked something from the depths and held it up. “I’m having a clam bake tonight and maybe clam chowder tomorrow if I get lucky.” He stood up and tossed the clam in one of the buckets at his feet.

Huh. He was out trolling for mollusks, not women. “How do you know where to find them?”

“You just start digging. It’s easier to find them at low tide.”

“I’ve never been clamming.”

“It’s kind of a family tradition. You can just feel around with your foot, but using a rake helps. Once, I beached my father’s boat in a sand bar and the motor kicked up enough sand to give us baskets of clams. Good eatin’ that weekend, that’s for sure.” He looked like a goofy kid with the grin and his dirty feet.

“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of good times down here.”
Not just the hooking up kind either
, I wanted to add.

He nodded. “It’s something I hope to pass down to my kids some day, if I’m lucky enough to have a family.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for you. Are you seeing anyone right now?”

He gave me a look. “I wouldn’t have hit on you last night if I were.” He shook his head. “I’ll admit, I played the field for quite a few years, but now I’m having a hard time shaking my reputation. Everyone just assumes I’m looking for a good time.”

I put my hands on my hips. “I’ll try to spread the word: Finn Donahue is a changed man.”

He copied my move. “I’d be happy if you just believed it yourself.”

Blushing, I looked down and traced the toe of my sneaker along the sand. “But how does a guy like you just change all of a sudden?”

He crossed his arms and looked out over the water. “You see a lot of shit in this job. People lose families. Or they’re injured, and their life is changed forever.” He looked back at me. “It puts things in perspective.” He shook his head. “We lost one of our guys a few months back. Attic fire. He fell through the floor doing a search.” His voice cracked.

I reached out and touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Just makes you realize life is short, you know?”

I nodded. It explained a lot. But if this was all just a ploy to get me to reconsider going out with him, then he was even more of a hound than my friends thought. Though I doubted he could fake the pain I saw in his face. I pulled my hand away.

“Want me to help hunt for clams?” I peered in his buckets. He only had half a dozen or so.

His smile returned. “Sure. Only if you promise to come to the clambake tonight.”

“Can I bring the rest of the girls?”

“It wouldn’t be a party without them.”

He gave me the rake and I knelt beside him, dragging the tines through the sand and pulling up the fist-sized, gray-white shells. Finn plucked them out of the sand and tossed them in the buckets. We took turns, alternating between raking and plucking.

My running outfit was getting dirty from the black mucky sand below the surface. Finn was streaked in dirt, too. “We’re both a mess,” I said.

He reached for my hand and pulled me up. “Let’s wash off.” He pulled me toward the water, and we splashed in together.

I sucked in a breath. “This is freezing!” My teeth chattered.

“It’ll feel good later today when the sun’s blazing.” He wrapped an arm around me. “I’ll keep you warm for now.” My cheek was pressed against his wet shirt, and I could feel the rock hard muscles beneath.

“That better?” he asked.

I nodded, but feeling myself in his embrace only made me shiver more.

He must have felt it. “Let’s get you a towel. My place is close by.”

He kept one arm wrapped around my shoulder as we sloshed out of the water. His big hand felt nice against my skin, but then it slipped away when we reached the buckets of clams. He took one in each hand.

“Let me grab one.”

“It’s not a problem. I could carry the two buckets back to my place with you over my shoulder and not break a sweat.”

“Oh.” I tried to ignore the twinges in my belly as I imagined that scenario.

He winked at me. “Part of my job, gotta keep in shape.”

I followed him to a tidy white house just up from where we had been digging. It was an older home with shrubby beach roses lining the property and a big fire pit ringed with stones and clamshells right in the middle of the yard. Big pieces of driftwood lined the seating area. “Cute place,” I said. It wasn’t one of the ostentatious new builds that dotted the shore of the Cape. The weathered shingles and simple lines of the home suggested decades of casual, family get-togethers.

He pulled a towel off a clothesline near the house and handed it to me. Then he stripped off his shirt, exposing his incredible abs and taut back. Really, how could a girl not gawk? I frowned when he pulled on a new shirt.

“Sorry I interrupted your run,” he said.

“This was more fun.” I forced myself to look away. “What do you have to do to prepare them for the clambake?” Surprisingly, I wasn’t ready to leave. Our morning together had been fun.

“The batch I’m going to steam will stay in the water until later tonight. But we’ve got enough for chowder tomorrow. Come inside and I’ll show you a family secret for kick-ass New England clam chowder. Haven’t even told the boys at the firehouse this one.”

“Are you sure?” I teased. “That’s a pretty big thing to give up so early in the game.” I stopped myself, but Finn grinned at my words that suggested I had indeed decided to give the man a chance. My stomach tumbled at the news. I wasn’t sure when I’d subconsciously made that decision, but there it was.

He was gracious enough not to point it out. He reached into a cupboard over the refrigerator and pulled out a box of cornmeal. “This right here is the Donahue family secret.” He laughed. “Well, not anymore.”

“I won’t tell a soul. But what does cornmeal have to do with clam chowder?”

He set it on the counter and grabbed a big metal bowl from another cupboard, filling it with water. “Ever have gritty clam chowder?”

Grimacing, I nodded.

“That’s because the clams pull in sand when they take in water.” He dumped the rest of the clams in the bowl of water, along with a handful of salt. “But if we shake a little cornmeal in here, they’ll end up spitting out the sand and ingesting the cornmeal. We’re going to change the water every half hour for the next three hours and it’ll taste a lot better in the end.” He shook the box of cornmeal over the clams.

“Very impressive. You could’ve been a chef.”

He shook his head. “Nah, I love what I do. Getting up in the morning and knowing I could save someone’s life is one hell of a feeling. Must be similar to being a teacher. Not saving lives, but making a difference, you know?”

“You’re right. For some kids, school is the only stability in their lives. And art class is a great opportunity for expression.” It was nice knowing that someone understood that feeling. I smiled at him and got caught in his stare. I looked away. “I should get back to the house. The girls will be wondering where I am.”

“Can I walk you back?”

“Sure.”

He closed up the house and got me a new towel from the line, since mine had gotten damp already. I draped it around me, wishing it were Finn’s arm instead. But it was nice just walking with him.

I figured the girls would still be sleeping, but Monica was on the back deck drinking coffee when we wandered up. Her eyes went wide and she ran her hands through her hair; probably some instant primping reflex that kicked in when a hot guy showed up. “I thought you came home last night?” A smirk crept across her face.

I planted one hand on my hip. “I did. Early enough that I was able to go out for a jog this morning.”

“And look who you ran into,” she said with a smile.

“I needed some help digging up clams,” Finn said.

“And it looks like you went swimming. Or took a shower…” Monica tapped her finger against her nose, thinking.

“We got dirty and washed off in the water. Finn invited us to a clambake at his place tonight.”

“All of us or just you?” One eyebrow popped up.

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I told you, I came home last night.”

“Not that I didn’t try,” Finn offered.

I jabbed him with my elbow.

“We’ll bring the mojitos. Brooke has this fabulous basil watermelon concoction,” Monica said.

“Great. I’ll see you at six, if I don’t catch you on the beach first.” Finn smiled and then looked at me. “Thanks again for your help, Anna. It was nice spending time with you.”

I just knew I was blushing. “No problem. See you later.”

Monica’s mouth dropped open as he walked away. “Who was that guy? What did you do with the real Finn Donahue?”

Catherine and Brooke wandered out onto the deck wearing nothing but t-shirts. “Finn?” Brooke said, suddenly perking up and looking around. “Finn was here?”

“Yes, walking Anna back from a romantic morning of clam digging.” She rolled her eyes. “But our tiger has turned into a pussy cat. What gives? It was like eavesdropping on a conversation at the sixth grade Sweetheart’s Dance. Didn’t you two hook up last night?”

I sat down at the table and grabbed the rest of Monica’s bagel. “No! He walked me home, and when I told him I wasn’t interested in being another conquest he was a perfect gentleman.” I took a big bite, chewing hard to work off some frustration.

“Finn Donahue? You turned down Finn Donahue?” Catherine asked.

Brooke’s eyes went wide. “And he was a perfect gentleman?”

I looked up at the sky. “I’m not looking for a beach fling.”

“Yet, he’s still following you around.” Catherine took a long drink of her coffee. “Interesting.”

I shrugged. “He said he’s changed. That he’d seen some tough stuff on the job that made him reevaluate things.”

They gave me doubting looks.

“What?” It came out more defensively than I’d meant it to.

Monica narrowed her eyes. “That just might be a very good line. Lure you in with his Mr. Soft-Hearted routine and then eat you up like a lobster dinner.” She nodded, satisfied with her ocean-themed analogy, being on the beach and all.

But that idea actually worried me a bit.

“I hate to say it, but she might be right. A leopard can’t change his spots, isn’t that what they say?” Brooke asked.