Page 22 of The Bear's Matchmaking Mix-up Mate
She stepped back, avoiding his touch. Not wanting to feel that delicious sense of connection between them, because it was a lie. “I get it, okay? I’m just the famous singer hiding out in your small town. A novelty. Something to pass the time with until...”
“That’s not true.” His voice cracked with emotion. “Donna means nothing to me.”
Wren finally looked up at him, really looked, and what she saw made her breath catch. Pain etched deep lines around his eyes, and there was a desperate sincerity in his expression that made her chest ache. The wall she’d hastily constructed began to crumble at the edges.
“Then why didn’t you stop her?” The question came out softer than she intended, all her hurt distilled into those six words.
“I was trying to be polite. I didn’t want to make a scene.” He ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in tufts. “I know how that sounds, but I swear, Wren, there’s nothing between us. There never has been. There never will be. Ever.”
She believed him. How could she not when his voice was filled with such raw emotion?
She touched her hand to the pendant at her throat as she turned to face him, fighting the warmth that threatened to melt the ice around her heart. His eyes held hers, open and earnest in a way that made her chest ache.
“It’s really not my business,” she said, but the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
“But it is,” Finn insisted, taking a step toward her. His voice caught, and for a moment she thought he might say something bigger. “Because I…”
Whatever he was about to say was cut short as the front door burst open and Mrs. Abernathy came out to greet them. “I was not expecting you so soon.” As she approached, her eyes lingered on her goddaughter’s face. “Is everything all right? Has someone recognized you? I saw John Davis at the farmers’ market. If he saw you and has threatened to expose you, just let me know and I will cut him off in his tracks.”
Mrs. Abernathy sliced her hand through the air, and Wren had an irresistible urge to laugh. It started as a giggle and grew until it bubbled up inside her. “Sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hands.
“Never apologize for laughing,” Mrs. Abernathy said as she slid her arms around Wren and held her close. “It’s the best sound in the world and the best medicine.”
“It is,” Wren said breathlessly as her laughter subsided.
“Good, then let’s go and take a look at the garden, shall we?” Mrs. Abernathy stepped away and went around the side of the house to the garden gate, obviously expecting Wren and Finn to follow.
“I’m sorry I overreacted,” she said, offering Finn a weak smile.
“I’m sorry I gave you a reason to overreact,” he replied with a crooked smile. “Are we good?”
“We are,” Wren said and reached out and squeezed his hand, reveling in the sense of connection. “But we won’t be if we don’t makeover my godmother’s garden.”
“You’re right. Believe me, I do not want to get on her wrong side,” Finn said with a wink.
“Are you coming?” Mrs. Abernathy called.
“We are,” Wren said and tugged Finn’s hand.
“Right, let’s get started.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you would like and we’ll go from there,” Finn said, his attention completely focused on Mrs. Abernathy’s words as she launched into her vision for the garden. Wren loved how he leaned in slightly, listening to Mrs. Abernathy’s suggestions, and asking clarifying questions about soil conditions and sunlight patterns. He wasn’t just humoring her godmother; he genuinely cared about creating something she would love.
How could she not be charmed by a man who cared this much about someone else’s dreams?
“I’ll draw up some plans,” Finn promised, pulling a small sketchbook from his back pocket. “Something that balances beauty with practicality.”
Mrs. Abernathy beamed at him, then at Wren. “Perfect! Now, why don’t you two get started while I make us some tea? Nothing like a good cup of Earl Grey to fuel the creative process.”
With a wink that wasn’t nearly as subtle as she probably thought, Mrs. Abernathy bustled back inside, leaving them alone among the tangled flower beds and neglected borders.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant call of a buzzard and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Finn cleared his throat.
“Wren, I really am sorry about earlier.” He dropped his gaze to his hands, then looked up, vulnerable. “I just… I don’t want anything to come between us, especially not something that doesn’t matter.”
Wren wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold despite the warm spring air. “It’s okay. Really.”
“No, it’s not.” Finn took a step closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of his body. “I need you to know that there’s nothing between me and Donna. Or anyone else.”
