Chapter 11

Alex

F inn blinked, his eyes struggling to focus on me. "A lift home? You're not trying to kidnap me, are you?"

I laughed, shaking my head. "No, Finn. I promise, no kidnapping. Just a ride home so you can get some rest."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm and more than a little boozy. "You know, you're a lot nicer when you're not trying to buy my brewery."

I smiled, trying to keep things light. "And you're a lot more talkative when you're not yelling at me about it."

Finn's lips curled into a playful smirk. "I don't yell. I passionately express my feelings."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" I teased.

He poked me in the chest, his finger not quite steady. "Don't get smart with me, Mr. Business Man."

"Okay, okay," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "No smart comments. But seriously, let me take you home."

Finn sighed, looking down at his empty glass. "Alright, but only if you promise to tell me more about that depression thing. And no more business talk."

I nodded, appreciating his honesty. "Deal. But only if you promise to let me in on why you hate dating apps so much."

Finn rolled his eyes dramatically. "Because they're the worst, Alex. They turn people into commodities. It's all about swiping and judging and... ugh. It's not real."

I could see the genuine frustration in his eyes, and it made me like him even more. "Fair point. So, let's do this the old-fashioned way. No apps, just... us."

He looked at me, his expression softening. "Yeah. Just us."

I helped him off the stool, and he wobbled a bit before finding his balance. "You good?" I asked, steadying him.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little tipsy," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

We made our way out of the brewery, the cool night air hitting us as we stepped outside. I guided him to my Range Rover, opening the passenger door for him. "Your chariot awaits."

Finn laughed, a genuine, hearty sound that made my heart skip a beat. "Such a gentleman."

As we drove, the silence between us was comfortable. I glanced over at him, his head leaning against the window, eyes half-closed. "You okay over there?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just... tired."

"So where do you live, Finn?"

I waited for a moment, then asked him again. This time, he responded with a snore.

Shit. I didn't want to wake him, but I didn't know where he lived. "Finn? Finn, wake up."

He snored even louder. A red light was up ahead, and when I came to a stop, I reached over and patted him on the shoulder. His head dropped, and now his chin was resting on his chest. "Please, Finn. Wake up."

More snoring.

‘Well, I guess you're coming home with me."

I navigated the car up my long, winding driveway, enveloped by the inky darkness of the countryside. The headlights cast eerie shadows on the overhanging branches as we advanced slowly. With a flick of a button, I rolled down the windows, inviting the cool night air to wash over Finn and hopefully wake him up. He wasn't a small guy, and carrying him inside would be difficult. The symphony of cicadas and other nocturnal insects filled the car, their persistent drone mingling with the distant, lowing calls of my neighbor's cows.

As we got closer to my home, the familiar silhouette of my country cottage emerged from the gloom. Nestled serenely on the banks of the James River, its cozy charm enhanced by the soft glow of moonlight reflecting off the water. Here, tranquility reigned supreme—a stark contrast to the busy streets of Richmond.

This was originally my grandfather's home, and he left it to both me and Summer, along with our trusts. Since she and George had their farm in The Plains, I chose to live here after my divorce. It was possibly one of the best decisions I've ever made. My ex had insisted on living in Washington DC, afraid she'd miss out on the social whirl. I'd hated living there. Too cold, too busy, and too full of politicians.

I parked in front of the house and turned to Finn. "Buddy, you've got to help me out, because I can't carry you."

"What?" Finn mumbled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Even if he could walk a little, it would be better than carrying dead weight.

I helped Finn out of the car, and he stumbled slightly before leaning against me for support. "Where are we?" he slurred.

"My house," I replied, leading him towards the front door.

He looked around, taking in the peaceful surroundings. The moon was full, casting shadows around us. "It's beautiful."

"Thanks," I said with a smile as I fumbled for my keys.

Once inside, I locked the door behind us before guiding Finn to a nearby couch. "Make yourself comfortable," I said, gesturing for him to sit.

He let out a sigh and sunk into the cushions, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry for passing out like that."

"It's alright," I reassured him. "You must be exhausted."

"I am," he admitted with a small nod.

I walked into my kitchen and grabbed a glass of water for Finn, then returned to find him fast asleep on my couch. He looked so peaceful lying there, his blond hair slightly tousled and his features relaxed.

For a moment, I just stood there watching him sleep before shaking myself out of it. This was not how tonight was supposed to end, and I wondered for a moment if perhaps he had a drinking problem? Then I realized it was probably my fault he'd gotten so drunk. First, I shocked him by showing up at his bar, giving him my real name. Then I'd brought up the business proposal. Another unexpected surprise.

I gently woke him up and handed him the glass of water. He sipped it while looking around at his surroundings again. "This is really nice," he said, his voice still heavy with sleep. "Beats the hell out of my apartment in Oregon Hill."

I sat in the armchair opposite the couch, watching Finn as he sipped his water. The moonlight streamed in through the large bay window, casting soft shadows that danced around the room. The house had always been a sanctuary for me, a place where I could retreat from the world and its chaos. Having Finn here, even in his tipsy state, felt oddly intimate and significant.

Finn looked around again, his eyes lingering on the old photographs on the mantelpiece and the rustic wooden furniture that filled the room. "You really live here alone?" he asked, his voice still groggy but filled with genuine curiosity.

"Yeah," I replied, leaning back in the chair. "Just me and the memories."

He gave a small, sleepy smile. "It suits you. Feels... real."

I chuckled softly. "Thanks. It's a far cry from the city life, that's for sure."

Finn nodded, his eyes drooping again. "I like it. It's peaceful."

I watched him as he settled back into the couch, his breathing becoming more even. This was the first time I'd brought a man to my home, my sanctuary, and it felt like a turning point. My ex-wife had never understood the draw of this place, the serenity it offered. She'd always seen it as a retreat from the hustle and bustle, something to escape on weekends at best. But to me, it was home in the truest sense.

I stood up and grabbed a throw blanket from a nearby chair, gently draping it over Finn. He murmured something incoherent but didn't wake up. I took a moment to look at him, his features softened by sleep. There was a vulnerability there that tugged at something deep within me. Finn was tough, resilient, but here, in the safety of my home, he looked almost childlike.

My mind drifted to the times I'd spent here with my grandfather. The old man had been a rock in my life, teaching me the values of hard work and honesty, and instilling in me a love for the simple, quieter life. Bringing Finn here felt like sharing a piece of that legacy, a piece of myself that I rarely showed to anyone.

I walked over to the large window that overlooked the river, the water shimmering under the moonlight. The memories of my grandfather were everywhere—in the worn wooden floors, the scent of old books that lined the shelves, the antique clock that still ticked away steadily on the mantel. It was a place full of history, of love and loss, and now Finn was becoming a part of that story, however unexpected.

Turning back to the room, I felt a wave of emotions. Finn was here, in my sanctuary, and it felt... right. There was an unspoken connection between us, something that went beyond business deals and drunken nights. It was raw, real, and deeply personal.

As I watched him sleep, I realized that this moment, as simple as it was, held a significance I hadn't anticipated. It was a step towards something new, something potentially beautiful. And for the first time in a long while, I felt hopeful about the future.

I decided to let Finn rest and headed to my bedroom. Before I turned in, I went back to the living room one last time, feeling a swell of warmth as I watched his chest gently fall, then rise. The night hadn't gone as planned, but maybe that was okay. Sometimes, the best things happen when you least expect them.

With a small smile, I turned off the lights and let the peacefulness of the night wash over me. Finn was here, in my home, and for now, that was enough.

The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. I stirred, stretching languidly as I awoke from one of the most peaceful sleeps I could remember. The usual weight of stress and responsibility felt lighter, replaced by a sense of calm I hadn't felt in a long time.

As I rolled over, the sight of Finn lying next to me jolted me fully awake. Finn was on his side, his blond hair tousled, face relaxed in sleep. For a moment, panic seized me. Had something happened between us? I lifted the sheets cautiously, my heart racing, and was relieved to see we both still had our clothes on. Finn was wearing the same outfit from the night before, and I noticed that my underwear and t-shirt were wrinkled but intact.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I allowed myself to relax. The previous night came rushing back to me—bringing Finn home, the way he'd collapsed on the couch, and the decision to leave him there. He must have gotten up during the night and found his way to my bed.

I lay back, staring at the ceiling, my mind drifting to the one night we'd spent together on the cruise. Finn had held me after I learned of my sister's miscarriage, his arms providing a comfort I had desperately needed. The memory of his warmth and the security of his embrace filled my head, and I felt an overwhelming desire to reach out and hold him now.

I glanced over at Finn, his breathing steady and even. The temptation to cuddle with him, to feel that same comfort and connection, was almost too much to bear. But fear held me back. What if he woke up and rejected me? What if this, whatever this was between us, shattered?

I turned onto my side, watching him sleep. His presence here, in my bed, felt surreal. Part of me wanted to take the risk, to bridge the gap between us. But the fear of rejection, of ruining this fragile moment, was paralyzing.

I sighed softly, torn between my longing and my fear. Finn shifted slightly, his arm moving closer to me. The urge to close the distance, to take his hand and pull him closer, was almost overwhelming. Instead, I shut my eyes and allowed the memory of that night on the ship to play on a loop in my brain.

I sighed, feeling sleep settle over me again. Then I felt the bed shift, and as my eyes snapped open, I felt Finn's arm on my belly, pulling me into his warm body.

"Good morning," I whispered. A soft snore was his answer, and I felt my smile stretching across my cheeks. This is what I craved, this closeness with another man. I wrapped my arms around him and sighed.

His body pressed against mine, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing. It was comforting, grounding me in the moment. The scent of his cologne, mixed with a hint of last night's beer, lingered in the air. I closed my eyes, letting myself savor this unexpected intimacy.

As minutes passed, I couldn't help but think about the implications of this. Was Finn seeking the same connection, or was this just a result of his being drunk? The questions swirled in my mind, but I pushed them aside. For now, I wanted to enjoy the simple pleasure of being held.

Finn stirred slightly, his hand moving in a gentle, subconscious caress across my stomach. I held my breath, waiting to see if he would wake up. Instead, he nuzzled closer, his face resting against the back of my neck.

A flood of warmth spread through me, and I couldn't resist any longer. I turned slowly, carefully, until I was facing him. His eyes were still closed, his expression peaceful. I studied his face, taking in every detail—the curve of his lips, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his hair fell over his forehead.

Tentatively, I reached up and brushed a strand of hair away from his face. My fingers lingered, tracing the line of his cheekbone. The fear of rejection still loomed, but it was overshadowed by the hope that maybe, just maybe, Finn felt the same way. I leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. He stirred again, this time his eyes fluttering open.

"Alex?" he murmured, his voice husky with sleep.

"Hey," I replied, my heart pounding. "You okay?"

He blinked a few times, his gaze focusing on me. A slow smile spread across his face. "Yeah. Just... didn't expect to wake up here."