Page 47 of Falling for Finn

We spend the next few hours placing signs every mile or so on the property. Tiernan texts me for an update, but I tell her I’ll chat later after I’m done.

When we shove the last one into the ground, I turn to him. “How many people do you think will still get lost?”

He chuckles. “Handfuls. People don’t read or pay attention.”

“But they’re neon orange.” I glance down at the blinding bright color.

“A few distillery employees will be out here with flags, guiding people in the right direction.”

“Smart. I guess it does take an army for an event this size?”

He nods.

“Is this the first time the farm has had a celebration this large?” We climb back in the truck and head toward his house.

“They had a seventy-fifth-anniversary one when I was nine. But now that social media is a thing, it’ll be much bigger. Jessa’s been posting about it nonstop.”

“Wow, that’s a good point. I don’t know what life is like without having a mini computer in my pocket.”

“Live out here for a few years, and you won’t even care about the internet. It’s one of the many advantages.”

I’m sure it is, but I can’t relate. Not when I have to market myself as an artist, apply for commissions, and network.

When we go inside, I look at my painting again and lightly brush my fingers against the edges of the canvas.

“It’s getting there,” I say as Finn stands beside me. I watch him admire it as pride rushes through me. I figured he’d be my biggest critic, but I still wanted to impress him.

I was waiting for him to say the colors were wrong or the details were off, but I was so meticulous that it nearly looks like a photograph. The only thing that gives it away is the textures made by my brushstrokes.

“Oh, I almost forgot about this little guy,” I tell him, grabbing the small 12x12 canvas I painted for his grandmother. I left it sitting on the kitchen counter after I finished it a few days ago.

Finn reaches out, and I hand him the small painting of the inn. “She’s going to love this.”

“I hope so,” I say, heat rushing to my cheeks. With one look, I’m putty in his hands.

“When I met your grandma, I instantly adored her. She was so sweet and gushed about my work like I was someone important. I’d never had anyone know so much about my short career as a professional painter. In the grand scheme of artists, I’m obscure. I’m going to give it to her as a thank-you gift for giving me a chance on the project.”

Finn meets me with soft eyes. “You know she’s not gonna let you leave after this.”

I chuckle, though it’s covered in sadness. “Wonder where she’ll hang it in her house.”

Turning, I look at the sunrise painting I made for Finn hanging above the mantel. It was the perfect place for it.

“Somewhere so everyone who visits will see it, and she can brag about it.”

I smile at the thought. “I hope she does. Maybe that way you won’t forget about me.”

Finn pulls me into his arms as a smile creeps across his lips. “Oakley Benson. You’reunforgettable. My family will talk about you nonstop to the point I’ll have to beg them to stop.”

I laugh at his attempt to compliment me. “And who said romance is dead?”

He brushes his nose along my cheek, feathering kisses as he moves down my jawline. “I’ll miss you, Sunshine. Don’t think I won’t.”

I hold on to those words like they’re a promise. But I’m sure someone will come along and snag Finn up as soon as I’m gone. He’s too much of a catch when he drops the grumpy man act.

After our moment comes and goes, Finn dials his mom to see if they need any help. When he ends the call, he sits next to me on the couch.

“They need me to grab more folding tables and chairs because Grandma doesn’t think there’ll be enough picnic tables.”

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