How Sweet It Is (21 page)

“You
are
trouble.” He rose and kissed her forehead.

“Maybe one of these days we can have dinner, you and me,” she said, following him out. “Before you leave.”

He frowned as he took his jacket from the coatrack close to the door.

“You must be close to being done with your project,” Jasmine continued, handing him a scarf. “And then you’re going to go back to Paris, I imagine.”

That had been the plan. “Yes.”

“You don’t sound sure of that.” Jasmine grabbed his collar and searched his face. “Are you changing your mind about staying?”

“No.” He just hadn’t thought of it.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you like to live in your own dreamworld.”

She shook her head. “I wonder what Viola would say to that.”

“She’d say you live in a dreamworld, too,” he retorted as he walked out.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jasmine called after him.

He knew that—he just couldn’t imagine anything worse than the two of them discussing him.

Catching a taxi, he arrived at Viola’s house on time. He paid the driver and walked up to her house. He rang the doorbell and waited.

He heard the dog, and then the door opened to reveal Chloe. She was dressed in her school uniform, her black hair pulled back. He was struck by how severe the color was on her again. He wondered if her real hair was anything like Viola’s.

But then he noticed the worry behind the girl’s black-rimmed eyes, and he frowned. “What’s wrong, Chloe? Where’s Viola?”

“Lying down.” She opened the door wider and moved aside to let him in. “She’s not feeling well.”

“She has a cold?” he asked as he took his layers off.

“I don’t know.” Chloe closed the door, her face pinched with concern. “She’s never sick.”

“Can I see her?”

“She’s in her room.” The girl’s relief was palpable. “I just took her tea.”

“Excellent.” He touched her shoulder and bounded up the stairs. At Viola’s room, he knocked lightly on the door and then went in when he didn’t hear anything.

There was a small, curled up lump in the middle of the bed. He sat on the edge and put his palm on her head. She didn’t feel overly warm.

She stirred under his hand. Her eyes, bruised with faint circles, blinked open. “Finn, is it dinner time?” she asked, trying to sit up. “I can get up.”

“Rest a bit. Chloe said you weren’t feeling well.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think I have a bout of the flu. But I feel better. I’ll get up and—”

“You’ll do no such thing.” He soothed her hair. “Why don’t you sleep, and Chloe and I will take care of dinner?”

“You don’t have to do that. Spending time with a teenager has to be low on your list of things to do.”

“Yes, but this way I can check it off the list.” Smiling, he leaned down to kiss her softly on her lips. “Sleep a bit. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” She snuggled under the covers and was asleep in seconds.

When he walked into the kitchen, Chloe and the dog both perked up. “How was she?”

“She thinks she has the flu.” He frowned. “Shouldn’t she go to the doctor?”

“Maybe, but she’ll never do it. We’d have to gang up on her or call Aunt Beatrice.”

“Well.” He looked around the kitchen. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“You want to have dinner,” Chloe said flatly. “With me.”

“My date cancelled on me.” He pointed upstairs. “Do you have better plans?”

“No …” She didn’t look convinced though.

“I’m not that horrible.”

She still didn’t look convinced, but at least she didn’t say anything.

“How about fish and chips?” he asked. “I haven’t had any yet this trip.”

“Really?” Chloe narrowed her gaze. “You want fish and chips?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said emphatically. She hopped off the stool and pointed a finger at her dog. “Watch after Mum while I’m gone.”

The dog barked once and then laid back down on the rug.

“I know a place close by,” Chloe said as they put on their coats.

“Good. I’m hungry.” He held open the door for her.

The walk to the restaurant was silent, not comfortable but not uncomfortable either. He could feel her trying to gauge him, to get used to him. He could tell she wasn’t sure what she thought of him. Obviously Viola didn’t bring men home. That pleased him more than it should have.

It also scared him.

“It’s here,” the girl said, going into a small shop.

The fried smell hit him the moment they walked in. “Heaven,” he said, reading the simple menu over the counter. “Two large orders?”

“Yes, please,” Chloe said. “And I’ll have a beer.”

He nodded. He put in their order along with two ginger ales. He waited until the man filled their drinks, and then motioned Chloe to a table.

“I asked for a beer,” the girl mumbled as they sat down.

“I know you did.” He handed her the nonalcoholic soda.

She frowned at it. “Mum lets me drink sometimes.”

“Yes, but she’s your mum. I’m not authorized.” He held up his glass. “But after she gives us authorization, then we’ll have a pint together.”

Chloe eyed him with distrust. “Does that mean you’re going to be around?”

“For a little while, at least.”

“Don’t you live in Paris?”

“Yes. I’m staying with my best friend Jasmine.”

“Your best friend is a girl?”

“We grew up together.” He nodded at her. “Who’s your best friend?”

She frowned as if she’d never considered it. “I think my mum,” she said finally. “Or maybe Aunt Bea.”

“My uncle Henry was my best friend growing up. He taught me how to whittle and about art.”

“Aunt Bea doesn’t write,” the girl said. “My grandmother does though, and so does Declan, her beau. He’s a bestselling author.”

“Beau?” Finn arched his brow, amused.

Chloe shrugged. “That’s what my aunts call him. I think they don’t want to call him their almost-stepfather. I wouldn’t want another father either.”

He smiled. “I’m not applying for the job, if that’s what you’re implying.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why not? Don’t you like my mum?”

“Of course I like her, but like you said, I live in Paris.”

“You wouldn’t live here? Don’t you miss your family?”

“No.”

Their food arrived, fortunately. They dove in, silently handing each other malt vinegar and mayonnaise.

Chloe lifted a chip to her lips, chewing it thoughtfully before she said, “Is your family awful? Is that why you don’t miss them?”

“My family is misguided, and I don’t get along with them.”

“But I thought you said your uncle was your best friend.”

“He died a number of years ago.”

Chloe stopped eating and focusing her blue gaze on him. “That’s terrible.”

He smiled faintly, amused. “It was.”

“And you don’t see the rest of your family? Ever?” She shook her head. “That’s just weird.”

“My father and I had a falling out,” he said simply. “We don’t get along.”

“I don’t get along with my father either.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Maybe I should have a falling out with Charles so I wouldn’t have to see him.”

“That’s different.” Finn handed her a napkin.

“How?” she asked skeptically.

“I was afraid I’d become like my father.”

The girl recoiled, horrified. “Will I become like Charles?”

“Of course not. Not if you don’t want to,” he amended. He didn’t know very much about Viola’s ex-husband, other than he was an idiot to let her go, but if he had to guess, he’d say Chloe was exactly like her mother in all the ways that mattered.

“So”—the girl pointed a piece of fish at him—“you don’t go to see your family, because you’re afraid you’ll become like your father. But you don’t want that. So why doesn’t your logic apply to you?”

Finn narrowed his eyes. “Are all teenagers sassy, or is it just you?”

Chloe brightened. “You think I’m sassy?”

“Yes. You’re just like your mother.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she decided, eating another chip.

“Your mother is the best of women,” he said, meeting her gaze so the teenager knew he meant it.

“But you’re still going to leave?”

Crumpling his napkin, he tossed it on the remains of his meal. “One has nothing to do with the other.”

“You believe that?” The way she said it made it clear she thought he was a fool.

Maybe he did, too. “Mostly.” He nodded at the food. “This was excellent fish and chips.”

“Yes,” the girl said with feeling.

“Maybe we can do this again.” He smiled at her. “You’re not so bad, even if all the black is odd.”

“I wouldn’t talk if I were you,” she said, standing up. “That shirt is hideous.”

Chapter Twenty-four

“I think I’ve got this.” Chloe looked up from where she was sprawled on the floor with her science book.

Hunter stopped strumming his guitar and smiled at her from his chair. “Of course you do. You were just missing a few foundation pieces. Once we got those in place, it was easy to build on.”

“You’re a pretty great master architect. I wasn’t getting anywhere on my own. I think I even understand about Schrödinger’s cat.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind.” He sobered, setting his guitar on the stand next to his desk. “How’s your mom, by the way?”

“She seems better, just tired.” Chloe sat up and crossed her legs, playing with the edge of her sweater. “She’s never been sick like this before. Do you think she’ll be okay? She won’t go to the doctor, even though my Aunt Beatrice came over and told her she should.”

“The flu’s been going around, and your mom is obviously smart enough to know what she needs.”

Chloe pursed her lips. She’d never have thought of Viola that way, but Hunter was right. “I had dinner with her boyfriend this week. Alone. For the first time.”

“So you like him?” Hunter asked.

“Actually, I do.” She remembered the way he talked to her, like she was an adult, even though he wouldn’t let her have a beer. “But he lives in Paris, and I think he’s going back.”

“For the record, my dad’s company moved us here for good.”

“But they can change their mind at any time,” she pointed out.

“Only I’ll be going to college after this year.” Hunter studied her. “I’m thinking of staying here for a while.”

A warm flush of pleasure suffused her chest. “That’d be nice.”

“I think so.” He got up and joined her on the floor, sitting on his knees in front of her. Cupping her head, he leaned in.

Holding her breath, she met him halfway. Their lips collided, almost bouncing off each other before they settled into the kiss.

They were both careful to start, but then she opened her mouth a little and he began to nibble at her lips.

She liked it—a lot—so she did it to him, too. It made the kiss a little wetter and more slippery, but it wasn’t gross the way some girls talked about at school.

It made it exciting. She leaned closer, putting her hand on his shoulder. He stretched back, until he was reclined on the rug and she was draped over him.

He slipped his hand inside her shirt, to her back. His fingers on her skin made her breathe heavier, and she arched her back, wanting something more but not really sure what.

He rolled onto his side, so she was on her back. Lifting his head, he watched her as he slid his hand to her front. He slowly traced a line under the band of her bra, but his gaze was on her. “I like you, Chloe.”

He’d told her that before. She managed to nod.

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

She shook her head.

“I haven’t either.”

That made her smile. “That’s good, because if you’d had a boyfriend, it’d be awkward.”

He grinned, his eyes lighting up. “True, but you’re prettier than any boy I know.”

“Thanks.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s saying a lot.”

He laughed. Then he kissed her quickly. “I’m trying to tell you that I want to be more than your study partner, in case you didn’t pick up on it before.”

“Do you want to have sex?” All boys wanted to—at least that was what Gigi had told her once. Chloe hadn’t seen any evidence to contradict it either. The boys at school were always talking about it.

Hunter’s eyes practically popped out of his head, though, and he withdrew his hand from her shirt like she was suddenly toxic. “No,” he exclaimed. Then he frowned. “Well, yeah, I do want to have sex. With you, but that’s not what I meant.”

“Have you had sex before?”

“A couple times, but not with anyone special.” He gazed at her steadily. “Yes, you’re special, so sex can wait until you want to have it.”

Did she want to? She pursed her lips as she sat up. “I want to, but maybe not right now.”

“I didn’t mean
now
. Jesus, Chloe. Is that what you thought?”

His horrified expression made her laugh. Then she laughed harder, because he looked disgruntled.

To make her point, she began to undo the buttons on her blouse.

Hunter’s face went from disgruntled to shocked faster than Luca’s Ferrari drove off.

Biting her lip, she opened her shirt. Before she got nervous and changed her mind, she pulled up her bra so her breasts were exposed. The air felt cool against her skin, and her nipples looked different than usual, a little pointier.

She glanced at Hunter. She could hear him breathing although he looked frozen. “Do you want to touch them?” she asked.

“
Yes.
” He swallowed audibly. “But not tonight.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He looked her in the eye, his expression fierce. “I
really
want to, but we can wait, Chloe. I’d rather wait.”

Pulling her bra back in place, she asked, “Why?”

“Because you aren’t ready.” He closed his eyes.

She began to button up her shirt. “What are you doing?”

“Searing the memory of you in my brain, so I never forget this moment.”

Flushing, she ducked her head. “It couldn’t have been that impressive,” she murmured.

He took her hand. “Yes, it was.”

***

Her mum was sitting with her in the kitchen, papers all over the table. She seemed better today. She’d even made dinner for them, which was a relief.