6. Finn

Hello?

Against my better, more practical survival instincts, my heart does a strange thing and flutters. Maybe its the sweetness of her voice. Maybe its the lack of sleep on my part. At any rate, I regain my footing.

Emily? Hi. This is Finn … we met earlier, though not under the best circumstances.

Theres a pause for a beat. Then her reply comes. Its flatter now, as if shes trying to contain herself. Hey, Finn. Whats going on?

So, youre still here, right?

I am, she intones. I was under the impression that I was meeting Caeleb. That seems to have … not happened. Im just staying until some legal formalities are complete.

I make a mental note to tell Caeleb that if hes playing for keeps, hes doing good. He obviously has Emilys interest. Theres something between them, and Ill be damned if I dont find out what it is. But theres time for that later. I clear my throat. Im sorry. I was hoping I could meet you sometime today. Theres been an issue at the vineyard.

Her voice is tight. Im well aware. I just dont want to be involved.

My brows knit in a frown. Emily, this isnt something that you can wish away. Legally, the responsibility of the vineyard rests on you. Theres a big corporation involved, and your platform could help bring them down. If you stand and watch people suffer, thats … Im sorry, but thats incredibly juvenile.

I— I can almost hear her flinch at the harshness in my tone. I sigh inwardly. Im sorry, I say, this time gently. Theres over a hundred jobs at stake. Even if you dont want the vineyard or anything to do with it, at least consider helping the workers?

Fine, she mutters after a beat. Lets meet.

Somethings wrong with my damned heart. Maybe its age finally catching up with me. Ill have to get the bloody thing checked. Great, I say. I know a little café that has the best pancakes. Can I pick you up?

Give me the address, she replies immediately. Ill meet you there.

Oh, take a stake and plunge it through my heart, shes got game.

Sure.

It takes me an hour to reach Café Delish, Embertons sweetest little coffee shop. I go home, change into a fresh set of clothes after a quick shower, and this time, I take my car.

I gun the truck down Embertons postcard-perfect road, the sunset bleeding across the sky like a ripe grape split open. Should be a damn beautiful sight, the kind Silas wouldve whipped out his camera for. Instead, all I can think about is Emily.

Wheatish skin, silky chocolate hair … focus, Finn, focus. Im practically salivating over a woman like some lovesick pup, and right after my best friends funeral. Guilt gnaws at me, mixing with an unfamiliar flutter of excitement.

Café Delish is a cozy haven amidst the quaint town. Warm light spills through its windows, a beacon against the fading dusk. Inside, its a delightful jumble of worn armchairs, mismatched china, and walls plastered with cheerful artwork.

The air hangs heavy with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and something sweet, like childhood afternoons at Grandmas.

I spot her immediately—a vision against the vibrant backdrop. Shes breathtaking in a summery dress, and all I can manage is a lame, Hey.

She smiles. Hello. I took the liberty of ordering us pancakes. I had a feeling youd be hungry.

I slide into the booth opposite her, wondering for a second, if the entire café heard the sound of my stomach rumbling. Howd you know?

Youve got that just rolled out of a ditch look about you. Her eyes twinkle, a hint of mischief erasing the earlier tension.

Charming, I deadpan, but cant help a grin. Caeleb let it slip that shes intimidating, but theres a warmth beneath Emilys polished exterior.

The waitress delivers the pancakes, the scent of maple syrup cutting through the air. So, I begin, shoveling pancake into my mouth for courage, I guess we need to talk about the elephant in the room. Or, well, the elephant-sized vineyard …

She stiffens, her gaze turning glacial. Look, Finn, Im not interested in playing this game. Sell the place, for all I care.

I bite back a sigh. Emily, come on. Those people out there? Their jobs depend on that vineyard.

And what am I supposed to do? Snap my fingers and make it profitable? Her voice drips with annoyance.

I get it. Harvey wasnt the best father out there. The whole of Emberton could testify he cultivated more scandal than grapes on his land. Absentee parenting was practically his middle name, making Emilys grievances as justified as a judges gavel. But were not just talking about the man himself here; its the empire he erected thats at stake. I take a sip of coffee before reasoning with her.

Not single-handedly, no. But youve got a voice. You get people listening. Imagine you expose that corporation exploiting the workers—create some public backlash?

She eyes me, a calculating glint in her gaze. You really think a model has that kind of power?

Its not about your usual content, I counter, leaning forward. Its about authenticity. Youre passionate, you care—people eat that stuff up.

They care about sunsets and exotic beaches, Finn, she scoffs. Not vineyard workers rights.

Maybe. But you never know until you try, I say, keeping my voice light, but determination courses through me. Give it a shot, Emily. Just one shot.

A long pause. She chews a thumbnail, that perfect brow furrowed. Then, with a defiant lift of her chin, she meets my eyes. Fine, she snaps. Ill do your damn social justice rant. But when it—inevitably—fails, Im washing my hands of this mess.

A surge of relief washes over me. Dont be so cynical, I grin. We might surprise you.

I can read some things about Emily immediately. I watch her as she finishes the pancakes on her plate, munching thoughtfully on the cloudy mass. Shes not worried about creating content surrounding the vineyard. Shes worried people wont buy it.

A little vulnerable, even though she tries to come across tougher than nails.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. The last rays of the sun invade through the windows by our table and paint her golden. Shes beautiful. Shes unlike anything Ive ever seen.

Emily pushes away her plate. Listen, Finn, she begins, a note of hesitation in her voice, Ive got a … thing happening in town tonight. A modeling show, fundraiser sort of deal.

I almost choke on my coffee. Are you inviting me to your show?

Her lips quirk in a wry smile. If youd want to come. Anyway, she continues, it would be good … publicity-wise … if someone connected to the farm showed up. Might help with this whole workers rights angle.

And you generously offer me a front-row seat to the Emily-extravaganza? I raise an eyebrow.

Emily extravaganza? What the hell is wrong with me? Maximum cringe.

Consider it market research, she shrugs, but theres a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. Interesting.

We fall into easy banter as we leave the café, the earlier tension dissipating. Something about her—the fire, the unexpected vulnerability—keeps me off-balance, and I secretly kind of like it.

Back at my place, I try to focus on rescheduling that damned hotel meeting. My mind, however, is a jumbled mess of Emily.

The show is in a converted barn on the outskirts of town—surprisingly chic for rural Emberton. As I take my seat, the lights dim, and there she is. Emily under the spotlight is a different creature entirely. Every inch the supermodel, she moves with liquid grace, her confidence radiating outwards. My stomach does a weird flip-flop thing I dont even want to analyze. This is so far out of my league, its laughable, and not just because Im way too old for her.

After the show, I linger near the makeshift backstage area, a knot of nerves twisting in my gut. When she emerges, flushed and radiant, I almost do a double-take.

Well? she asks, tilting her head. Brutal honesty, please. Did I at least not embarrass myself?

You were … incredible, I admit, the words almost sticking in my throat. A decade melts away, leaving a man hopelessly smitten.

The one functioning corner of my brain screams at me to run, to forget Emily, forget this whole mess. Flushed with success, shes luminous. Before I can overthink it, I lean in, my lips brushing her cheek in a whisper of a kiss.

Her eyes widen in surprise, then soften. For a heart-stopping moment, it feels like everything might change. But then she steps back, a touch of confusion clouding her features.

Finn, I … I dont think … this is a good idea, she stammers.

I wish I could undo all of this right now, but then she clarifies why. Its not just because you guys were close to my dad. I also have something going on with Caeleb, although Im not sure if?—

Ah. I had my suspicions before, but Im sure now.

I touch her arm gently. Dont worry about it. I reacted too impulsively. Jokes on me. Can we not make an awkward thing out of this?

She nods, a small smile gracing her full lips. I notice a flash of what looks a lot like regret in her eyes. The chemistry is there, but so are the complications.

Okay, I say. Lets take a time-out here. Tell me youre still going to help with the vineyards?

I am, she replies, with a laugh. Dont worry about that.

Thanks, Emily. What will you do now?

She looks at the sky. I follow her gaze. The night is a bright, beautiful one, tearing through the expanse with a million burning stars.

Ill go to the mansion, she says softly. Have a lonesome dinner. Maybe Flora will visit.

Did Verona and Alec get you into any more trouble?

Nah, she smirks. Flora all but dragged them out of the place following the will reading. It was easy, considering Dad, for some reason, has entirely written them out of the will.

I nod. Good, I guess well?—

Yeah, she says, finishing my words for me. Well catch up later. I had a really nice time, Finn.

So did I.

A final glance at Emily, her smile hesitant but warm, and I duck out. The night air is cool against my skin, a welcome contrast to the simmering nerves inside me. Hopping into my car, I cruise down Embertons main street, then out into open country.

Vineyards roll by in the silvery moonlight, their rows etching the landscape. Overhead, the mountain range looms, a dark mass against the inky sky. It feels like Im driving on the spine of some massive, sleeping giant. The vastness of it all presses down on me, a reminder of my own insignificance in the grand scheme of things.

Forty-something years old and Im still stumbling around like a clueless teenager. Emilys face flashes in my mind, that brush of the kiss still tingling on my lips. A wave of guilt washes over me. Caeleb deserves to know, even though the thought of telling him makes my gut clench.

Fumbling for my phone, I dial Caelebs number. His voice is a welcome anchor in my swirling thoughts. Hey man, got a minute?

Whats up? You sound … weird.

Im headed to The Tipsy Cow. Meet me? My voice steadies, the decision made.

The Tipsy Cow is a burst of neon and mismatched furniture, its cheer defiant against the slumber of our town. The smell of stale beer and fryer grease hangs heavy in the air. Caelebs parked near the back, leaning against his Honda, bathed in the orange glow of a streetlamp.

I slide into the passenger seat. Thanks for coming.

Course, man. Spill. Whats got you all twisted up? He eyes me, concern etched on his face.

I take a deep breath. There was an attack at Harveys Vineyard today.

Caeleb listens, brows furrowed in concentration, as I launch into the events of the day, sans the bit where I kissed Emilys cheek.

Of course, he doesnt miss out on much.

He whistles, low and long. Damn. Emily? Thats a surprise. You two been spending time together?

The way he says her name, a hint of something else beneath the casual question, sends a jolt through me. Yeah. Sort of. Listen, Caeleb, theres more … My voice falters. How do I even begin to explain the kiss? Im a tangle of emotions that has me acting like a fool.

Truthfully, the concept of sharing a woman isnt foreign to any of us. I just didnt think Id get to experience it in this lifetime.

If Caeleb is okay with it, of course. If not, well?—

Just say it, Finn, he says, his voice gentle, a brothers patience in it.

I meet his gaze. I think … dammit, Caeleb, I think I might be falling for Emily.