Page 4 of Falling for Finn

“Your painting supplies arrived early last week, so the boxes are at the cottage, waiting for you. We’re looking forward to seeing your vision come to life. Well, when you decide what you’ll paint for us,” Willa says.

When we talked on the phone, they were very clear that I had complete creative control and wanted me to tour the farm to get an idea of its history. That was another reason I accepted the job. Not only are they comping the entire trip, but the piece they’re paying for will also be one of my highest-paid commissions. However, it puts a lot of pressure on me to present something worthy of the occasion.

“Perfect. I’m glad everything arrived okay. I’ve never shipped my supplies across the country before.” I smile, wanting to pop the entire cookie into my mouth but refrain. Considering this is my first big freelance job, I’m shocked by how smoothly the process has gone so far. I’ve heard a handful of horror stories from friends who were given unrealistic deadlines and underpaid offers as well as worked with unbearable clients. Other than the tight deadline I’ve set for myself, the Bennetts have allowed me to call the shots.

As I take a sip of milk, James speaks up. “We’ve also ensured that you’ll get a proper tour of the farm. You’ll visit different areas over the next few days. We want you to take your time seeing it all and get the full experience of the orchard.”

I let out a relieved breath. My art takes time, and I don’t like being rushed. “Thank you. From the drive here alone, I’m eager to start painting the trees.”

“We’ve asked our grandson Finn to show you around, and he’ll be your main point of contact. He has expert knowledge of all the different areas of the orchard and is passionate about the farm. You’ll learn a lot from him,” Willa tells me with a smile.

“That sounds perfect.” I smile. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Oh, you already have. He picked you up from the airport,” James explains.

My smile drops, and I have to stop the four-letter words from escaping my mouth. Not excited to be touring the place with a man incapable of holding a conversation.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

CHAPTER TWO

FINN

Once I’mat the cottage, I unload Oakley’s bags while she chats with my grandparents. I wanted to give them privacy and also needed time to clear my head.

When I’m inside, I walk by the six boxes she shipped. They all weigh a ton, like her suitcases. Not sure why a painter needs this much shit for one project. Seems like overkill to me.

I’m already counting down the days until she leaves so I can go back to focusing on my shit instead of being her damn babysitter. It’s only been a couple of hours, and her snarky attitude is already making her a majorpain in my ass.

After everything is settled, I lock up, then drive the five miles back to the inn. I was gone for thirty minutes, which should be plenty of time. However, my grandparents could talk for hours if you let them.

When I walk inside, I find Grandma and Oakley chatting at the dining room table while Grandpa writes in his notebook. Oakley glances over her shoulder, and the smile melts off her face when she sees me.

“Speak of the devil,” Grandpa says.

“Nice to meet you,Finn.” She stresses my name, something I didn’t share with her earlier. Not necessarily on purpose, but she never asked.

I grin, but her sarcasm isn’t lost on me. This celebration is important to my family and me. Still, I’m stuck dealing with her because they know I’m as dependable as the old truck I drive.

My younger cousins Sebastian and Jessa would be more than capable of escorting Little Miss City Girl around, but my grandparents insisted I do it since I know how everything works around here. They want her to get the true orchard experience, but she’s only going to slow me down during a time when I’ll be busier than ever getting things ready for the celebration.

“We told Oakley you’d be showing her around,” Grandpa tells me.

“Right. Well, speaking of…” I look at my watch, hoping someone gets the hint.

“Looking forward to learning all about the farm from you,” Oakley says sincerely, but I hear the hint of amusement in her tone. She knows I’m not happy about it.

Spending time with her is going to be torture. I hate that I find her attractive when I shouldn’t. Not only because she’s at least a decade younger than me but also because she’s only here for a week and a half. I also can’t imagine we have anything in common. She’s sunshine on a winter day, and I’m too coldhearted to give her the time of day. Shitty relationships with even shittier breakups will do that to a man.

“Would you like to take a quick tour of the inn?” Grandma asks her, ignoring my eagerness to leave.

“Absolutely,” Oakley says, and it feels like she did that just to piss me off. As they move toward the stairs, her long, flowery skirt sways when she walks. The bracelets on her wrists clank together as she swings her arms, and she flashes a knowing smirk when she looks at me over her shoulder.

Once they’re out of sight, Grandpa stands and gives me a pointed look. “Be nice. She seems sweet.”

I glare in response. “This is business. I’m not here to be her friend.”

He pats my shoulder. “I know how rough around the edges you can be, so remember you’re representing the family, and she’s our special guest.”

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