Rett by Tess Oliver

Author:Tess Oliver
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Tess Oliver
Published: 2014-05-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

Rett

The old truck creaked as it climbed the long driveway to Finley’s house. Santa Ana winds kicked up a purple snowstorm from the trees lining the road. It was the first time I’d pulled up to the house to pick her up, and it still felt awkward. She and her brothers and father had made peace with the whole thing . . . for now. Cole and I had returned to a boss and worker relationship, which, in the long run, was probably better anyway. With as much as we had in common, there was so much that we didn’t have in common it would have eventually put a strain on our friendship. Of course, I had little in common with Finley too except that I thought about her all the time, and when we were together we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

The massive front door opened, and Finley stepped out looking like just a sliver of a girl in front of the mansion’s sprawling facade. She had on faded jeans, a flannel shirt and boots. She always half-skipped when she walked, another habit I’d come to love. She climbed into the truck.

“Hey, Farmer Finley, it looks like you were made to ride in this old truck. You’re just missing that red bandana of mine.” Instantly my mind went to sex. Not unusual for me, but it seemed to happen a lot more since I’d met Finley. “I’m thinking we need to stop by my bedroom and tie you up with that bandana.”

“Mandy and Joe are expecting us at the barn.” She scooted next to me. “I love that these old trucks have bench seats.” She stretched up and kissed my cheek. “Much cozier. I just hope I can keep my hands off of you while you’re driving.”

“Not a problem. I’m pretty good at multitasking, especially when one of the tasks has to do with kissing and touching you.” I drove around the circular driveway and headed down to the gates.

Finley reached forward and pushed the buttons on the old radio. Jimmy had replaced the speakers, but the original radio remained in the dash. She settled on a rock station that her dad’s band happened to be playing on.

“Is your dad still on tour?”

“Technically, but they stopped off to rest at my dad’s country estate in England.”

“Why did you say rest like that?”

She leaned her head against my shoulder, and I realized she was right about the bench seat. “My dad never rests. He still parties like he’s in his twenties. He collapsed at practice a year ago, and I thought it would scare him enough to slow down. But he’s just as wild as ever. And the people around him don’t give a shit about his health. They just want to party and have a good time and make big bucks off my dad.”

The freeway was packed for a Sunday. I pulled the truck into the slow moving sea of cars. “I guess you don’t see him much.

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