Her Fake Boyfriend by Heatherly Bell

Author:Heatherly Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2024-04-24T18:36:39+00:00

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On Wednesday, Finn drove out to his parents’ house as he did once a week to check in. After his father, Dan, had retired from his job at the post office, and his mother from her job doing the occasional real estate deal that had helped finance much of Finn’s training, they’d moved to a property on the outskirts of Charming. It held the distinction of being the only fixer-upper left in Charming and plenty of elbow grease plus pension dollars were steadily going into the improvements. They were in no hurry, a good thing because it was going to take a few years since his father refused to hire anyone.

“Why spend the money when I can do it myself?”

Every Wednesday his father seemed to tackle sanding a different portion of the back deck that would someday be the showpiece. The house sat on a small hill, and the view from the deck was spectacular. In the distance were the lighthouse and all the sandy beaches of the coastline. His father said better than being near the water was having a good view.

“Finn!” His mother greeted him at the door. “Just in time. He’s going to kill himself out there. Yesterday, I caught him on a ladder. A ladder! Please talk some sense into your father before he makes me a widow. I’m far too young to be a widow. Are you staying for dinner?”

“Sure, Ma.”

“Good boy. I called Declan, but he has no time for his mother. All he does is work at that bar pretending he doesn’t have a mother who loves to cook for him.”

“He’s just trying to make a living.”

“Well, when you see him tell him he’s breaking his mother’s heart. That ought to do it.” She disappeared into the kitchen, banging pots and pans.

“That’s right, pile it on,” Finn muttered.

The old Irish guilt. Catholics had nothing on them. Guilt was a way of life for the Sheridans. They might be sixth-generation Irish Americans, but some old habits died hard. Luck they didn’t have, but there was guilt enough to spare.

He grabbed two Guinness from the fridge and went to meet his dad. There he was on his hands and knees, wearing Declan’s old kneepads from when he’d tried for one season to play roller hockey just for fun. But because he wasn’t any good at it, compared to baseball, Dad made him stop. At least the kneepads were still hard at work.

The sander stopped making its grinding sound when his father sensed Finn behind him.

“Ah! You’re here.”

“Take a break, Dad.” Finn offered a cold beer. “Talk to me.”

He stood, wiped his brow, and accepted the drink. “I’ll take a break when I’m dead. One of my goals is to finish this deck by the end of summer. Your mother might complain but wait till you see her face when this is all complete. We’re going to be able to sit here side by side on two Adirondack chairs and just gaze at our view.

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