Page 45 of When The Rain Falls

"What's the problem, sugar? Not having fun?" His words are drawn out and unusually slow. His breath is hot and reeks of beer. I twist and pry myself free.

"As fun as it’s been to watch you drunkenly throw pointy objects at the wall, I'm ready to leave.” I turn and Jack grabs my other wrist. I pull against him, but this time I can’t get escape.

“Let go, Jack,” I warn. Do I have to kick him in the balls? I might have to kick him in the balls. I’ve always wanted to do that.

"Let her go, asshole," Finn says, looming beside us. I swear there’s steam coming out his nostrils. I shoot Finn an angry look as I continue trying to yank free from Jack's grip. Great. Now Finn is going to get all manly and protective on me. I don’t want his protection. I don’t want a knight in shining armor. I just want a dragon to ride away on.

"Stay out of it, dick.” Jack practically spits out the words. “Maybe she likes it rough. Maybe I’m just giving her what she wants.” Jack’s whole face is puckered in a snarl. He finally drops my wrist so he can saddle up to match Finn’s stance. I rub a spot where my wrist feels tender and possibly bruised.

Finn shifts his weight and the two of them face each other. I hate every second of this. Being treated like garbage by my date who’s supposed to be a fresh start. And being protected by the man who’s relationship status is searing my stupid, smitten heart.

“I’m not staying out of anything." Finn's voice sounds almost manic as he juts a thick finger into Jack's chest. "Not as long as you’re within forty feet of her.” As they face off, I realize Jack is taller by several inches. But Finn is a wall of well-aged muscle. And he looks like he knows how to use every inch of his hard body. I remember the sight of him doing pullups in his garage, shirtless, sweaty, and grunting. I will my panties to stay dry. I'm angry, damn it. Not hot and bothered by Finn's protective body.

I’m about to step in and tell Finn to knock it off when he continues. "If I have to throw a punch and bloody my godamn knuckles over your pathetic ass, I’ll be taking as many of your fucking teeth down with me." He jabs into Jack again and Jack’s eyes begin to burn with fiery rage. "So the smart thing to do would be to back off." Um, what? Who isthisman? My jaw drops. But I quickly set it back into place.

Jack laughs in Finn’s face. A menacing, crazy sort of laugh that sends drops of spit into the air. Finn calmly swipes his face with the back of his hand. Then Jack takes a step forward, dropping his right shoulder in a bladed stance.

That’s all it takes. Before Jack can swing, Finn slams him in the chest with an open palm. It doesn’t do much damage, just catches Jack unaware. Jack tumbles backward and lands against a barstool. Jack looks dazed as he tries to scramble to his feet.

“Stay down, bastard,” Finn mutters. Then Toby is on Jack, holding him back and talking him down.

Finn turns, grabs my elbow, and marches me towards the saloon door. I immediately wriggle and pry free from his grip. Finn immediately spins to me, his eyes growing soft at the edges. “You ok?”

I’m not ok. I’m seething. I’m pissed. I’m embarrassed. I want to both punch Finn and kiss him right on the mouth at the same time. I hate that I just had to be rescued. But I love that it washim who did it. And, meanwhile, he has a stupid girlfriend that he hasn’t even mentioned once.

“I don’t need your help,” I growl as I walk past him and head straight for the saloon doors. I push through them, letting them swing wildly behind me. And then I’m outside, where the air is fresh and cool. A stark contrast to the heavy smoke-filled air of the tavern. I suck it in hungrily and enjoy how it fills my lungs. The air here always carries the faint hint of sea salt. And I can never seem to get enough.

The moon is out and starting to bask the ground in its milky glow. I use it to search out Finn’s van and march straight towards it.

"I can't believe he took you to this dump," Finn mutters behind me. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” Listen to him. Fawning all over me like he actually cares. When I know that he really doesn’t. Not after he rejected me this afternoon. Not when he’s got someone named Rebecca.

"I don’t need people to fight for me. I didn’t need you. I had it handled!" I yell at him as I stomp onwards.

"It didn't look like you had it handled.” His tone is almost apologetic. “It looked like you werebeinghandled." Finn falls into step beside me. I can’t help but notice that his long, easy strides sync up with my shorter, more furious ones.

I storm towards the van door and tug it aggressively. But it’s locked. So I end up just standing there stupidly, jamming the handle back and forth. I push away from the van, fold my arms, and tip my chin angrily to the sky. As soon as I hear the locks click, I tug the handle and slump into the front passenger seat.

Finn climbs in next to me. I ignore the sexy way his broad frame fills the seat. Stupid man. Looking sexy in the world’s most hideous minivan. He throws an arm behind my seat as he rummages for something in the back. I steal a glance at his big, rough hand and the large, muscular arm attached to it. Stupid.Stupid man. Making me admire his objective beauty while I’m angry at him.

He pulls out a piece of fabric of some kind and tosses it in my lap. "Here," he says. "Thought you might want that."

I uncross my arms to lift up the fabric and inspect it. It's a grey zip-up hoodie. He brought me a hoodie? His hoodie? I hold it up to my nose. And it smells like him. That familiar scent of pine and fabric softener.

"You're supposed to wear it." He tosses me a sarcastic look as he puts the key in the ignition and turns it.

He packed a hoodie in case I might be cold? It's a sweet gesture. And I decide that I'll wear it. But only because I feel ridiculous wearing this strappy, lacy atrocity while sitting in a minivan. Not because he's forgiven. I slip my arms into the hoodie and then buckle my seatbelt. As soon as I do that, Finn throws the van into reverse and backs out of his parking stall. But then he keeps going. And keeps going. Suddenly, I hear a loud crunch. My eyes go wide.

"Oops," Finn says flatly. I look out the back window as Finn switches to drive and pulls out of the lot. Jack's motorcycle is lying flat against the ground. Finn studies it in the rear-view mirror. And I swear there is the tiniest glint of joy in his eyes. The tiniest. But I can't be sure. Because I'm not sure I've seen anything in his eyes other than anger and annoyance. Except for the glint of hot fire earlier today.

“Great,” I mutter. “Real classy.” He points the van down the long, rural highway.

“Classy? I nearly took a punch in the state’s grimiest tavern. Nothing classy happened here tonight,” he mumbles. I cross my arms as I look out the side window. We pass several intersections in silence before I rest my head on the cool glass. The condensation kisses my skin.

"You aren't talking,” Finn finally says, casting quick glances in my direction. "Are you mad at me?" I sigh and press my forehead deeper into the window.

"Ok then," he says. "Just ignore me. After I came all the way out here.”

"Thanks,” I huff out. The air in the car is still. Finn’s hands are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. Now that I'm processing things, I'm starting to realize I'm not actually mad at him. I'm mad at myself and he's just an easy target. Because I did it again. Acted stupid, and reckless, and made a fool out of myself.

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