Ticket To Ride (Passing Through Series Book 2), page 9
“Bathing in?” Andy dead panned.
Way to go Andy and that sly sense of humor hiding there. “Twice weekly.”
The silence between them eased into comfortable. Andy loosened his tie. “So, why did you need cheering up?”
“Family stuff.” She didn’t want to bore Andy with her interminable family drama. “Why were you dragged here?”
“I’m getting divorced.” Andy stared at his beer for a long moment. “Gray thought I should get right back on that horse again.”
“It seems to be working for Gray,” Claire said.
Gray had his jacket thrown over the back of the booth and his sleeve rolled up as he displayed a tattoo on his forearm.
Tara was being suitably appreciative.
“Yeah.” Andy laughed. “He’s a player. Maybe you should warn your friend.”
“So is she.” It looked like Claire would be driving home, and she ignored the champagne. “Maybe you should warn Gray.”
“You know what we should do?” Tara whirled in her seat.
Claire’s heart sunk.
“We should go dancing.” Tara twined her arms sinuously above her head. She threw her head back. “I love dancing.”
Gray looked like he’d found heaven. “Then we go dancing.”
This time Andy did sigh. He turned to her. “I’m out.”
“Oh, come on!” Tara leaned over the table toward him. “It’ll be great.”
Like a root canal with no happy gas. “Tara, I really think I should be getting home.”
Tara’s happy vibe disappeared in an instant, and a malicious look slid over her face.
Claire knew that face; it was Tara on the edge of a not getting her own way tantrum. “Hey! But you go. Why don’t I take an Uber home?”
“Well, I’m not sure.” Tara made a good show of protesting, but now that she’d gotten her way, peace was restored. “We girls need to stick together.”
“I’ll be fine.” Claire managed to put the required amount of enthusiasm in her reply to bend Tara’s rubber arm.
Andy kept his voice low. “How far away is home?”
“About a three hundred bucks worth.” Three hundred bucks that she really didn’t want to spend. Dammit, why hadn’t she remembered this stuff about Tara?
“Let me give you a ride,” Andy said. He indicated Gray. “We came in my car, and this gives me an easy out.”
“Thanks.” Claire searched for a polite way to decline. “But I can’t ask you to do that.”
“What if I promise to talk about my wife all the way there?” Andy said. “And my mother would never speak to me again if I let you get into a car with a stranger for two hours.”
“You’re not much more than a stranger.” Claire had never tried to get an Uber that would take her that far. Maybe it wasn’t even possible.
She dug her phone out. “It’s two hours there, and then you still have to come back. I’ll call an Uber.”
“Then I have to go dancing.” Andy looked appalled. Then his face cleared. “Hey! Why don’t you do what my sisters do? They take a photo and text it to someone they trust. That way if they go missing someone knows who they left with.”
Tara was already on her feet. “Are you sure you’ll be fine, Claire?”
“She’ll be great.” Gray was taking no chances on losing out. He hustled Tara out of the booth and gathered all her packages. “Andy will make sure she gets home safe.”
“Bye, babe. I’ll call you.” And Tara disappeared with a finger flutter and a giggle.
Andy stood up. “So, where’s home.”
“Twin Elks.”
“Where?”
Not surprising. “A small town halfway between here and nowhere.”
“You aren’t going to lure me to some secluded spot and introduce me to your twelve banjo-playing brothers, are you?” Andy slung his coat over his arm.
“Nah.” Claire waved her hand. “Only Leroy plays the banjo.”
Andy chuckled and held his arms out. “Take your picture.”
She snapped a shot of him and then stared at her contact list. The only person on there of any use to her was Horace. Everyone else was back in Boston.
Before she could overthink it, she tapped out a quick text and sent him the picture.
Andy led her to a midsize sedan, and she climbed in. “Can I, at least, pay for your gas.”
“Nah.” Andy started the car. “I’m going to charge it to Gray’s expense account anyway.”
It sounded like a good idea to her. “So, tell me about your wife.”
“You know I was joking about that.” He kept his eyes on the road as they slid through the city and on to the highway.
Outside of town the highway opened into a dark strip almost devoid of traffic. “I’ve never been out there before,” Andy said.
“It’s pretty. In the daylight.” Andy’s car was comfortable and clean, and he showed no imminent signs of being an axe murderer.
“I don’t want to be divorced,” Andy said.
“No?” Claire eased her shoes off. “Then why are you getting divorced?”
“Ella, that’s my wife, it’s her idea.”
It turned out that Andy had a lot to say about his wife and his divorce, so the miles slid by. Mostly Andy was clueless about women, and she tried her best to point him in the right direction.
The car hum sent her into a daze, and she almost missed the offramp when it came up. “Here.”
Andy jumped slightly. “Sorry, you surprised me.”
She gave him directions to the house.
The porch light was on as he drew to a stop.
“I really can’t thank you enough.” Claire held her hand out. “It really was nice to meet you, and I’m glad you didn’t turn weird on me.”
“Likewise, Claire.” He shook her hand and leaned forward. “That is one beautiful house.”
“Yes, it is.” In the soft lights from the porch, Winters House looked like something out of a fairytale.
Andy tensed. “Who’s that?”
Finn emerged from the dark porch and headed their way.
“That’s Finn.” Claire opened her car door.
Andy looked nervous. “Is he your man?”
“No.”
“Well, he doesn’t look happy.”
Poor Andy. Claire got out of his car. He was a nice guy who’d done a really nice thing.
Finn looked like someone nobody wanted to tangle with. Finn looked like he wanted to make someone else’s night go very badly for them. Finn looked like the closest thing she had to a friend.
Andy drove off, and Finn glanced his way before all that seething intensity zeroed in on her. “Of all the fucking stupid, careless—”
“Hush, Finn.” Claire gave in to her instinct. She closed the distance between them and pressed her face into Finn’s chest. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
He stilled, and then his arms came around her. “I am mad at you.”
“Can you yell at me later?” Claire wrapped her arms around his waist. He smelled like laundry detergent and warm skin. “I’m glad I’m home.”
Finn huffed a laugh. “For future reference, if you ever want to get out of being yelled at by me, this works.”
“Good.” She pressed closer into his embrace and felt like she could stay there all night. Finn’s presence cocooned her like a duvet on a blustery winter night. “Tara went dancing with some idiot called Gray, and Andy offered to bring me home.”
“Andy?” Some of Finn’s tension returned.
Claire waved in the direction of the highway, where Andy would be on his way home. “My ride. And a thoroughly nice guy whom I met tonight, and he drove me all this way home.”
“Claire, baby.” Finn’s voice rumbled against her ear. “I can feel my mad coming back.”
She pulled away enough to meet his gaze. “Let me help you out.” She lowered her voice. “Of all the fucking stupid, dangerous ass things to do, getting into a car with a fucking stranger has to be one of the worst. What the fuck was I thinking?”
“That about covers it.” Finn almost smiled. “I would probably have carried on for a bit longer. What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking how I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be here.” She slid her hands to his chest and opened her palms over the solid slabs of muscle. “I was thinking I wished I had your number so I could have called you to come and get me.”
“Claire.” Her name was a soft rasp in the night. “How much did you drink?”
She recognized that tone, like she registered the accelerated beating of his heart against her palm and the growing heat in his gaze. “One drink. Not enough to not know what I’m doing.”
“Good.” He cupped the back of her head and tilted his head toward her.
Claire rose on her toes. She wanted him to kiss her like she wanted the next breath.
Finn brushed her mouth with his.
The touch spread through her like heated honey, and she waited for the next touch, not daring to breathe.
Finn came back for more and this time he lingered, parting her lips with his, drawing her bottom lip into the heated cavity of his mouth.
It felt so good that she whispered, “Finn,” on a soft moan.
And playtime ended. Finn’s fingers firmed in her hair, and he breached her lips with his tongue. There was nothing tentative about this kiss. It demanded from her and took all that he wanted.
His other hand pressed against the small of her back, pushing her against him. Full body contact that drove want into crave.
Her breasts melded into the strength of his chest. She needed more, and she rubbed against him.
“Damn.” He came up for air. His eyes glittered down at her before he took her mouth again.
His hand slid down and cupped her ass, pushing her against his erection.
He was so hard it turned her knees to water. She wanted him, all of him and right now. She wanted him to drive her out of her mind.
“Finn?” Horace’s voice came at them from the darkness. “Is Claire home?”
Light limned Horace as he stood in the door to the carriage house.
It didn’t reach where she stood still wrapped around Finn.
Finn cleared his throat. “Yeah, Horace, she’s safe. I was…er…telling her how worried about her we were.”
Horace grunted. “That’s not what we called it back in my day, son.”
*
Finn turned from the door Claire had disappeared through and took a deep breath of the chill night air. That shouldn’t have happened. He should have exercised more control. But the combination of being worried about her, the relief she was okay and Claire in his arms, beautiful, unguarded and sweet had stripped him down to base need.
Horace limped up the stairs, his threadbare bathrobe hanging open over a pair of striped pajamas. “She get home without any trouble?”
Finn nodded. Horace had brought Claire’s text straight to him. They’d come up with and rejected several alternatives. “Some guy called Andy brought her all the way home.”
“Nice guy.”
“Yep.” Finn couldn’t consider the alternative without his blood coming to a boil. When he’d read that text, a primal urge to find her and protect her had taken him over. Seems his hair trigger extended to Claire now as well. It had taken twenty minutes of meditation following by a hard run through the dark streets to cool him down. “She’s here and she’s safe.”
Horace gave him a long look. “Son?”
And Finn knew what was coming.
“Claire and I might not play nice with each other, and I sure as hell can’t claim father of the year.” Horace rubbed his hand over his gray stubble. “But that’s my daughter, and even though she doesn’t like that fact, it doesn’t mean I want someone messing with her feelings.”
“Understood. I won’t mess with her.”
Horace stared into the night. “See that you don’t. She doesn’t need another asshole making her cry.”
Chapter Eight
Claire lay in bed as the sun made the wooden floors glow like poured honey.
Horace had accused her of not knowing what she thought she knew. She’d certainly been wrong about Poppy, and trusting Tara had landed her in an uncomfortable situation. Thank God for Andy’s kindness. She had already shot him a text to thank him again and knew he had arrived home safely.
The morning felt different somehow. Like the sun shone brighter, and the bed was softer. Pressing her fingers to her lips, she closed her eyes and relived the kiss.
Damn, she must have had kisses to equal it, but she couldn’t think of one, and she knew for sure she’d never had one to beat it.
She tingled at the memory.
Too shaken to face him, Claire had slipped away while Finn talked to Horace. Finn had come upstairs shortly thereafter, stopped outside her bedroom for a few heart-stopping moments and then walked away. As the door to his room had shut, Claire couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved.
Someone knocked on her door.
“Yes.” Claire struggled into a sitting position. Maybe Finn had decided to take up where they’d left off. An all-over flush spread across her skin. If he kissed like that…
Poppy peeked around the door. “Hi. I brought you a cup of coffee. Finn said you got in late last night.”
“Thank you.” She’d been nothing but rude and antagonistic to that woman, and there she was bringing her coffee in bed. And it’s not like Poppy didn’t have her hands full getting her children out of the house. “You really shouldn’t have bothered. You have enough to do.”
“Ben has them all under control.” Smiling, Poppy carried a coffee cup to her. “He’s pretending Finn is helping, but he’s probably only getting them all revved up.”
Claire accepted the cup and hoped she hadn’t blushed at the mention of Finn. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome.” Poppy looked down at her feet and up again. “We were all worried when we got your text last night.”
Funny thing Poppy didn’t mention Tara. Claire knew, for sure, had it been the other way around, the conversation with Tara would have started with accusations hurled at Poppy. As Poppy didn’t say it, Claire got there for her. “I should have known better than to go off with Tara like that.”
Poppy shrugged. “Actually.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “I had an ulterior motive for the coffee.” She motioned the window seat. “May I?”
“Sure.” A woman who brought you coffee exactly as you liked it deserved a hearing, at the very least. Especially one whom you had maligned.
Poppy placed one hand on top of the other in her lap. “You and I got started on the wrong foot.”
Caught mid-sip, Claire had to swallow fast or risk choking. The hot coffee scalded her throat, and she could only nod.
“The thing is, Claire, I don’t know what is going on with you and Horace, but he was kind to me at a time when I really needed someone.” Poppy cleared her throat. “I owe him more than I can ever repay. And I guess that makes me protective of him.”
The relationship between Poppy and Horace had been the biggest reason she’d felt like Poppy would usurp her inheritance. “I know you turned the house down.” Poppy deserved her honesty. “I’m not sure I’d have been able to walk away from a forty-dollar house.”
“I gave it a lot of thought.” Poppy laughed.
When she laughed her eyes crinkled up, and she tossed her head up a bit. Her smile took over her entire face, and it shifted her from pretty to lovely. Tara would never be able to compete with her. Poppy’s beauty came from her embracing soul. Her physical appearance only added to her appeal.
“Anyway.” Poppy refolded her hands. “I can understand why you thought I might be here to take what is yours.”
“I don’t believe that anymore.” Claire sipped her coffee to loosen her dry tongue. That kind of honesty didn’t happen a lot in her life. “I know you’re not part of the fight over the house between Horace and me.”
Poppy frowned and stared out the window. “I do love this house, though.” She looked at Claire. “I can’t tell you what to do with it, but I hope you’ll consider hanging on to it.”
“I’m not sure I can.” For so many reasons, and none she wanted to share. If she could share, they might even understand why. The house carried so many bad stories for Mom, and besides she needed the money. The last thing Mom wanted was for Horace to know about her Alzheimer’s. “But like you said, Horace and I need to sort that out between us.”
Poppy sighed. “I really hope you two can find a middle ground.”
“Me too.” She meant it as well, and that struck her momentarily dumb. Watching Horace with Poppy and her children made Claire crave something like that. But how could she trust someone who had hurt Mom like that? Unless, the truths she held as so absolute had another side she needed to hear. “I came here to get rid of you, and now I need to revise my plan.”
Poppy laughed and wiped her brow. “Whew!” Then she grew serious again. “Listen, I don’t expect you to want to be my friend or anything, but if we could declare a ceasefire and try to get along, it would make things easier for everyone in the house.”
“Yes.” Until Poppy had said it, Claire hadn’t really understood how much she didn’t want to dislike Poppy anymore. Poppy was kind and sweet and nothing like Tara described her. “I would very much like not to circle each other anymore. Maybe we could work on the friend thing. I mean, I won’t be here for that long, but I’d like to leave knowing there were no hard feelings behind me.”
“Good.” Poppy flushed and stood. “I’m glad.” She made a stunted gesture toward the door. “I should go and rescue Ben from Finn and the children.”
“Okay.” Claire smiled at her. A genuine smile that came from the heart. A weight had lifted off her chest. It brought her back to the Horace accusation. “Poppy?”
