Finn (Blue-Collar Billionaires #2) (7 page)

“Oh you have a cleaning business? That's awesome.”

“Yeah, I do.” Her pride comes through in every word. She rushes over to the couch where she's left her things and reaches into one of her bags. “Here’s my card in case you ever need cleaning services or you know anyone who does.”

Tank takes the card and slips it into his pants pocket. “I'll definitely do that. I work for Alexander Security and my boss is in the process of building a satellite office down here. I'm sure he'll need a cleaning company then."

"Really? That would be great. I'm really glad I ran into you again!" Rissa is practically dancing where she's standing. And she's looking up at Tank like he's just promised to personally bankroll her entire operation. All he's done is promise to pass on some information.
 

"Why are you here, Tank?" Not that it's unusual for my brother to visit but it's rarely this early in the morning.
 

The faintly guilty look on his face tells me that he was hoping to catch me home so he could force me to talk. I've been dodging him for weeks now, only seeing him in passing at Mom's bedside. But I'm not ready to have some kind of heart to heart with my brother where he asks a bunch of questions that I'm not ready to answer.

"I just wanted to check on you." He glances over at Rissa and then his smile is back. "But it looks like you're in good hands. So I'll get out of here and back home to my lady. If I'm lucky, she hasn't woken up yet and I can get in a cuddle."

I scowl when Rissa practically melts at his feet. She beams that bright smile up at him again.
 

"Aww, that is so sweet. What a lucky girl."

"Yeah, yeah. Get out of here. And next time, call first." I'm not sure why I add that last part but Tank seems to take it as some sort of confirmation that Rissa and I are dating again.
 

He gives me a knowing grin before looking over my shoulder. "It was great seeing you again, Marissa."

"You too –" Her reply cuts off abruptly when I shove Tank out into the hallway and slam the door.
 
"Finn! That was rude."

"What's rude is him coming over here at the crack of damn dawn and waking me up by flirting with my cleaning lady."

She just rolls her eyes and moves across the room to where she left her supplies. As she rummages through bags and pulls out gloves and a spray bottle, I move to the kitchen. It's awkward just to stand here and stare at her, so I pretend that eating breakfast this early in the morning while I'm still in my boxers is totally normal.

I take down a box of cereal and pull a bowl from the cabinets. She only glances my way briefly before she moves over to the living room and starts spraying the surfaces with whatever's in her spray bottle.

Even though I want to punish her, I also have this driving need to talk to her. To see if what I remember was ever real. Because she can’t be as open and real as she seems, as the girl I remember. She has to be something else because the girl I fell for wouldn’t have done what she did to me.

Finally I remember that I had some paint samples delivered for her to look through. They're on the counter next to yesterday's mail. I grab the envelope and shake out the contents. Rissa looks up when I approach.

"What do you think of these colors?"

"For …" She gives me a strange look.
 

I gesture around us. "For this room. It's kind of boring in here now. I thought a coat of paint might liven things up a bit." I hold up one of the chips. It's a soft tan color. It's labeled Afternoon Espresso. Why are paint colors always reminiscent of food?
 

"What about this tan color?"

She moves closer and her scent washes over me. Rissa was never fond of perfumes, choosing instead to just use scented soaps and shampoos. She smells just the way she did back then, fresh with a soft hint of something fruity. It brings back memories of the cherry-flavored lip-gloss she used to wear and that I used to have smeared all over me.

"If you paint it that color, it'll likely still look very monotone in here. Most of your furniture is dark so I'm thinking you need some color."

I agree so I shift to the bolder tones in the bunch. I pull out one of the more outlandish ones.

“What about this blue?”

“I’m not so sure about that shade. It’s a little Disney for my tastes.”
 

Although I can see what she means, I persist, mainly because I enjoy how her chest bounces up and down when she gets worked up like this.
 

“Maybe I like that whimsical sort of look. I could go for an Aladdin theme in here. Maybe turn it into a harem.” I smirk at her resultant sigh.

"Okay, let's do the blue. I'll even stencil a genie on the wall if you want me to, free of charge."

"Generous of you. But I'm actually going to just stick with the tan color. If you can handle sorting out a local painting crew, that would be great."

She snatches the paint chip from my hand. “Why did you bother to ask my opinion if you already knew what you wanted?"

“Isn’t that what husbands do?”

The question seems to take her off guard. But now that I’ve had time to think about it, I know what I need to get over her. For a time I was so sure that she’d be with me through anything. I deployed knowing that she was safe at home waiting for me and that knowledge carried me through. It made it a little bit easier to leave knowing that she was what I was fighting to protect. Then to come home and find every dream that sustained me was a lie … Well, I think over time my mind turned that dream into an obsession. I need to prove to myself that it doesn’t have any power over me. That being with her, being her husband isn’t what I always thought it would be.
 

I have to know what it’s like to have her at my side, just for a little while. Maybe then I can finally purge this obsession.

“Husband?” she squeaks.

“Well, that’s sort of what we’re doing. Playing house. Just the way we always dreamed.
 
I can finally give you everything I couldn’t then. All the things you obviously needed.”

Her mouth drops open. “That’s not what it was about. It wasn’t about things.”

“Of course it was. I’m not angry anymore Rissa. I understand now. You were just searching for a better life and you took the sure thing. I wasn’t a good bet. But now I am and I want to experience all the things that were denied to me when you left. You were engaged and you two lived together so I'm assuming you'll know better than I will. So I’m asking you, isn’t this what husbands do?”

“No. Not in my experience. They usually let you think you have a choice and then…”

“And then … what? Don’t tell me you didn’t have old Andy boy wrapped firmly around your little finger?”
 

She glances at me in alarm but it was suddenly the most important thing in the world that she answer this question. I have to know what kind of lover Andrew Carrington was. Because if the golden boy with his fancy suits and Ivy League education hadn’t been enough to keep her happy then what chance would I have had?
 

"No, definitely not. He never had any problem saying no to me." Rissa suddenly looks like she's on the verge of tears.
 

"What does that mean?"

She whirls around, her eyes bright with tears. "I was never happy with him, okay? He was an asshole and he had me completely fooled. Is that what you want to hear?"

My stomach clenches. I wait to feel some sense of vindication. This is what I wanted at the start of this after all. I wanted to make her see that she chose wrong and that I was the better bet all along. But seeing tears in her beautiful blue eyes isn't any kind of victory.
 

And the sense of shame I feel for deliberately hurting her makes me feel lower than that shit you find in the crevices of your shoe.

"Rissa–"

“So we're going with the tan color? I’ll coordinate for painters to come in. Unless you already have a company in mind?”

She holds up the paint chip. Her eyes warn me that she's done talking about anything personal. Every time she shares a part of her life with me and then pulls back, it's like losing her all over again. But even though it hurts, I know not to push any more.
 

“No. I don’t have any company in mind. You can choose whoever you like.”

For the rest of the morning, she cleans around me and dodges every attempt to coax her back into conversation. When I go to my room to dress, she's gone when I come back.

*
 
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Later that day, I’m sitting in my usual booth with Luke glaring daggers at me. Then he suddenly narrows his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing is wrong with me. I’m here just like I am every other damn day, aren’t I?”

My tone should have put him off but it seems to amuse him. “You’re crabby. You didn’t even flirt with the waitress when she dropped off your pie and then there’s the absolute proof that something is up.”

“Oh yeah, what’s that Sherlock?”

He points at my plate. “You still have pie left. In the entire time you’ve been harassing me, a piece of pie has never survived this long on your plate.”

“I’m starting to understand why most people think little brothers are annoying.”

Suddenly he sits back. “Don’t tell me a girl has you like this?”

His statement hits a little too close to home. “You’re just a kid so I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
 

“I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-two.” He says this with the kind of pride you can only have when you’re that young. Not that I’m so much older at twenty-five but next to Luke, I feel like a bitter, washed up old man.
 

“Yeah yeah. You’ll be on Depends before long.”

“This girl must be something to have you looking like that. I mean, if even the pie hasn’t cheered you up.”

It makes me think. Why is Rissa affecting me this way? The whole purpose of this is to get her out of my system. To show her how wrong she was and make her regret her decision. It was supposed to make me feel better and give me closure. But there’s nothing final about how I feel for her.
 

“What’s so special about this girl anyway?” Luke is watching me with genuine curiosity.
 

It makes me uncomfortable. Like I’m some kind of math problem that he’s trying to solve.

“She used to be everything and then she was nothing.”
 

Luke is staring at me with newfound interest. “Damn, man. That’s deep. It sounds like she ripped your heart out.”

“Don’t trust women. That’s what they do. They rip your heart out.”

“What are you telling my baby?”

I jump when Anita appears at my elbow. Luke just gazes back at me innocently like
this is all on you.

“Nothing. Just telling him again how lucky he is to grow up eating like this.” I give Anita my most charming smile. She just raises an eyebrow.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

Great, now I have both mother and son watching me like I’m at risk of slitting my wrists any moment. All the hovering is making me claustrophobic. Coupled with all the worry coming my way from Tank, I’m starting to think all this family togetherness has a serious downside.
 

I smile up at Anita. “Haven’t you figured out why I’ve been coming here all this time? I’m hoping you’ll take me home with you.”

“Seriously, you’re flirting with my mom?” Luke looks disgusted. “All right. I’ll meet your brother if it means you’ll stop flirting with my mom. And the other ones. Just don’t expect some big happy family reunion or whatever. I mean, do they even know about me?”
 

“Yes, they all know about you.”

The bell above the door tinkles and I look up. Over his shoulder I see Tank. Then Emma. A few moments later, Sasha follows behind.
 

Shit.
 

“What’s wrong?”

Clearly I must have said what I was thinking out loud. So I don’t even try to prepare an explanation. He wouldn’t believe it and I wouldn’t have time to deliver it. Tank sees me and he turns to say something to Emma. We’ve only got maybe sixty seconds before they descend on us.

“I didn’t plan this I swear.”

Luke glances over his shoulder. When he turns around, his face has turned to stone. “Coincidence right? Does he just happen to have a pie fetish, too?”

“He knows I’ve been here bugging you but I didn’t think he was going to just show up. This is not his style at all. It’s probably Emma’s idea. His girlfriend.”
 

“Great. He’s staring. Did you tell him I was black?”

Anita looks mortified. The tops of her cheeks turn red beneath her cinnamon complexion. “Luke! I’m sure they don’t care about that.”
 

“Is that why you’ve been holding back? I wish you’d told me. That doesn’t matter to any of us. Not in the way you’re thinking anyway.”

Luke sits back with a smug smile on his face that looks far too mature for his age. “Let me guess. Some of your best friends are black, right?”

"Not my best friend but my most beautiful friend, definitely. Actually it's funny you should say that because here she comes now."

By this time, Sasha has made it to our table. Before I can even open my mouth to greet her she throws herself into my lap. “Finn! I only tagged along because Emma told me you’d be here. Thank you so much for that referral. I got the job!”

It’s hard to keep track of what’s going on with a lap full of curvy gorgeous woman but I make an attempt to keep us upright. I'm aware the entire time of Luke's stunned silence as he watches us.
 

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Trust me, I was doing them a favor. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

Sasha finally releases the stranglehold she has on my neck and slides into the booth next to me. “Still, thank you so much.” She finally seems to notice that we’re not alone. She blinks at Luke and Anita. “Oh, hello.”

“Sasha this is my little brother, Luke.”