Falling for Finn (Maplewood Falls #1)

Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

FINN

DAY 17

Tomorrow is the last day of the harvest festival, and Oakley has been painting her ass off, trying to finish in time. After she worked on it for a couple of hours this morning, we strolled through the pumpkin patch.

Once it got too crowded, we grabbed coffee, then left. Oakley’s deadline is looming, and all finishing touches have to be added so it can dry.

When we walk into my house, she immediately grabs her brushes and gets to work.

“Am I bothering you?” I ask, standing behind her and admiring her delicate brushstrokes.

“No, not at all. You’re the only person I don’t mind watching,” she admits, looking over her shoulder. “Grab a seat if you want. I’m just adding a few tiny details.”

“Wish I could, but I have some work to do today.”

She smiles. “I understand. You know where I’ll be.”

It’s taken us all week to clean up after the centennial celebration. The stage had to be torn down, and all the picnic tables, chairs, and hay bales had to be put away. The main storage barn is a disaster, and I promised my grandfather I’d have it organized before Monday—which is tomorrow. I’ve been procrastinating, but I’m a man of my word.

When I arrive, I immediately start moving things around to make room to walk. I appreciate the task because it keeps my mind busy. Oakley’s leaving on Tuesday, something I’ve been dreading for too long. And I know there won’t be anyone who can convince her to stay, not even me.

Spending time with her this past week has been incredible, but I feel like we’ve just gotten started. When she wasn’t working, we hung out, and when she was, she’d let me watch her paint while we chatted.

I’m completely and utterly entranced by her. Even though I’m older, she’s the brilliant one who teaches me more than I could ever teach her.

We haven’t talked about what will happen when she leaves—it’s the elephant in the room that we’ve avoided. I’m not sure what I’d even say anyway.

Stay here?

Don’t get on that plane?

Sounds ridiculous.

“What’s up?” I hear a voice say from behind and nearly jump out of my skin.

“Fuck,” I cuss at my cousin Sebastian. “How about you not give me a heart attack?”

“Too jumpy for my liking,” he says with a chuckle. “Have some more chairs for ya.”

He turns and points at his truck. Metal chairs are haphazardly stacked, and I’m uncertain how he made it here without losing some. Wouldn’t be surprised if I found a few on the side of the road.

“Great,” I deadpan. “Lend me a hand, will ya?”

Sebastian and I take several trips and set them next to the others that need to be put into the storage loft.

“So what’s been going on?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

He gives me an incredulous look. “After seeing you at dinner together, I gotta ask. Are you two hooking up?”

“None of your damn business.”

He shakes his head, chuckling.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s obvious you are . I heard Aspen begged you for a second chance and then broke up with her fiancé.”

“News travels fast around here,” I say. Makes me thankful Oakley was here to rescue me from making that mistake twice. Who knows what would’ve happened.

He pats me on the shoulder. “Well, guess I better get going and leave you to it.”

I chuckle. “Ya bored? Want to help me put all this shit up?”

“I’m good. Have fun with that.” Sebastian laughs as he heads to his truck. He honks twice and then waves as he drives off.

Hours pass, and I’m already sore from the constant lifting. After a quick break, I neatly stack the tables in the loft next to the chairs. They aren’t heavy, but the repetitive motions are exhausting. I push through it because I want to spend all tomorrow with Oakley—something I’ll need to chat with my grandmother about.

Before I go home, I stop at my grandparents’ house. As soon as I walk in, the smell of fresh-baked cookies hits me.

“Grandma? Grandpa?” I holler.

“In here, dear!”

When I enter the kitchen, Grandpa’s rinsing dishes in the sink as Grandma reads the Sunday paper at the table. They still refuse to get their news electronically.

I snag a few cookies that are still warm. Making myself at home, I open the fridge and pour a glass of milk, then Grandma invites me to join her at the table.

“So what’s on your mind?” she asks as I sit across from her.

“I’d like to take tomorrow off for Oakley’s painting presentation and spend some time with her before she leaves on Tuesday.”

“Aw.” Grandma beams, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Grandpa looks at me over his shoulder and grins.

“Don’t you start too.”

“I said nothing,” he muses.

“Consider it done,” Grandma tells me. “She’s a nice girl. Going to be very sad to see her go.”

“Yeah,” I mutter, not wanting to talk about it.

“Will she come back and visit?” she asks with a twinkle in her eye.

“Yeah, we’ll try the long-distance thing and see how it goes.”

I hate lying, but I have to keep up the act until Oakley’s gone. Although, my grandma looks at me like she knows something I don’t. Either way, I ignore it.

“That’s nice. I hope it works out. You two seem very happy,” Grandma says, but her eyes don’t leave mine.

“Thanks.”

Before she can continue, I thank them for the cookies and see myself out.

I make it home in record time, and when I enter, Oakley’s sitting on the couch with her phone. She’s wearing nothing but a towel.

I grin and plop down next to her. “Did you finish?”

“Yep. Check it out.” She stands and leads me over to the canvas.

My eyes scan over the town square decorated for the harvest festival, and I’m amazed by how she continually captures all the small and important details.

“Oakley,” I say, pulling her close. “You’re so talented.”

“Thank you,” she says. “I’m happy with it. The colors complement each other so well, but then again, I painted it just as it was. Vermont is beautiful.”

“The townspeople are going to lose their shit over this. Mayor Myers might not let you leave without painting ten more.” I look closer and see the back of a couple holding hands as they stroll down the street. “Is that us ?”

“Yes.” She chuckles. “How’d you know?”

“The flannel gave it away,” I admit. “And your hair.”

“It’s our little secret.” Her gaze lingers on my lips.

“I love it,” I say, pressing my mouth to hers. “I thought we’d do something fun tonight.”

“Oh, I love the sound of that now that I don’t have the weight of the project on my shoulders.”

I inhale the sweetness of her bodywash and am tempted to lick her from head to toe.

“Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

“That’s all I needed to hear.” I flash her a wink, then make my way to the kitchen. Digging in the freezer, I grab the homemade lasagna my mom made a few weeks ago and pop it into the oven.

As Oakley gets dressed in a hoodie and leggings, I let her know I’m stepping outside. She follows me as I grab large pieces of wood from the stack on the side of my house, then chop them into smaller pieces.

“I’m enjoying the lumberjack vibes. My only regret is that I didn’t grab my phone.”

“It’s not too late.” I lift a brow, then swing the handle over my shoulder and smash the blade on the wood. It cracks and splits.

Oakley runs inside and returns with her phone. She smirks as she takes pictures and videos while making me laugh at her vocal antics. It brings me joy knowing she’ll look at them later. Once I have plenty of logs and have rounded up some kindling, I carry them over to the firepit.

I move the two patio chairs close to one another. It’s already in the lower forties, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we got our first snowfall soon.

“This view…” She sighs happily, and I turn and look over my shoulder at the rolling hills. The sun hangs lazily in the distance, and everything that surrounds us is splashed in burnt yellow.

“It’s the best time of the day to take pictures. Golden hour—when everything is covered in a warm hue. I’d consider it one of my favorite times of day, especially during fall.”

Her eyes meet mine. “This time, I was talking about you.”

I smirk and move closer. “Maybe I can be the subject of your next painting? You do portraits?”

Oakley chuckles. “I’ve not done many. But I’d consider it if you’d be willing to pose for hours… while naked .” She barely gets the words out before she bursts into laughter.

“Sure, but I doubt you’d be able to focus.” I flash her a smug grin.

“You’re right. I’d get no painting done. Just a lot of dicking down.”

I snort.

The timer on the oven blares, so we go inside to eat. The hearty aromas waft through the air. I pull out the pan and place it on top of the oven. While the lasagna slightly cools, I pop in some garlic bread.

As I do this, Oakley grabs some plates, and I love how she moves around my place like it’s her own. It basically has been.

“Want to eat outside?” I ask once the bread is done.

“Yeah, I’d like that if we can start the fire first.”

I grab a lighter as she carries our plates. Once it’s lit, we sit and eat.

“This is amazing.” She moans around a mouthful. “Good food and company. Can’t tell you the last time I’ve done anything like this.”

“When I was remodeling this place, installing this pit was one of the first things I did before moving in. Levi and I have spent many nights shooting the shit out here. But I’ve also enjoyed it plenty of times alone. It’s quiet and peaceful.”

She wipes her mouth with her napkin. “I think pure silence is one of the things I’ll miss the most. I’d never get that living in my apartment. If sirens aren’t blaring, it’s my loud-ass neighbors.”

“I couldn’t handle that. However, it’s not always like this, though. In the summer, the crickets are loud as hell.”

After we finish eating and put our dishes in the sink, I join Oakley with a box of graham crackers, chocolate bars, and marshmallows.

“S’mores?” Her eyes light up with excitement as she scoots to the edge of her chair.

“Hope you saved room.” I hand her a retractable roasting stick that automatically spins when a button is pushed.

“This is cheating.” She watches the two prongs at the end twirl in a circle.

I make a face, and she giggles. “Then don’t press the button and do it the old-fashioned way. I prefer mine to be roasted evenly.”

“A s’more connoisseur. Honestly, that’s a good thing. Burning it to a crisp creates carcinogens, which aren’t healthy.”

I burst into laughter. “You and your random facts.”

“Everyone knows that, right?”

“No.”

She shrugs. “I was in Girl Scouts for like two weeks when I was seven, and my mom quickly realized outdoorsy things weren’t for me. Same with sports. Basically, if you needed a smart kid who could draw and paint, I was your girl. Everything else, forget it. Funny enough, as an adult, not much has changed.”

“At least she knew your strengths and encouraged that. Otherwise, we might’ve never met.” I shoot her a wink.

“That’s very true. I’ll have to thank her for that the next time we chat,” Oakley says as she carefully places a marshmallow on the end of the stick.

“You have to prepare your cracker and chocolate before you start roasting. Otherwise, it’s a sticky disaster.”

She chuckles. “I’m following your lead, Country Boy. Show me how it’s done.”

I hand her all the supplies and do the same for myself. We place our sticks in the fire and let them do the work.

“If there was a contest for marshmallow roasting, you’d win.” She states it as a fact.

“You pull it out when it’s lightly toasted like this.” I show her and then walk her through the process of building the perfect s’more.

I use the top of the graham cracker to smoosh the gooey marshmallow onto the chocolate and pull out the stick, then set it to the side. She follows my lead, then takes her first bite. When she moans, my cock springs to life.

“This is orgasmic .”

I chuckle as I eat mine.

“Sticky, but I don’t mind that,” she says, placing her finger in her mouth and sucking it off. Now she’s teasing me.

After we’ve finished eating, I hold her as she sits on my lap. We don’t say much as we watch the flames lick and devour the remaining wood. As the sun sets, the temperature drops, and Oakley shivers.

“Let’s go inside,” I mutter, and she happily leads the way.

Oakley sits on the couch. Reaching for the remote, she flicks on the TV. I go to the kitchen and dig around in the fridge.

“Want some cider?” I ask.

“Hell yeah!”

When I hand hers over, she studies the logo and reads the words on the back of the can. “This is from the distillery?”

“Yep. It’s my favorite flavor, too. Sour apple.”

She takes a sip, and her eyes widen. “Whoa. This stuff is dangerous .”

“Very. It sneaks up on ya because it’s sweet and smooth but has a high alcohol content. Took years to perfect.”

She takes another sip. “How many do you have left?”

“More than you can handle in one night.”

“We’ll see about that. Tonight, I’m celebrating finishing that painting and getting to show the mayor tomorrow.”

She lifts her drink, and we cheers.

“Now that’s something I can drink to.”

She chugs it down, and I lift my brows when she crunches the aluminum with her hand, then burps.

“What? I’m from Nebraska. All we had were pot circles and booze for entertainment, remember? So you better try to keep up, old man.” She grabs my drink and happily claims it as her own.

“It’s gonna be like that, huh?”

She nods, and I make my way to the fridge and pick up the box that’s over half full. I set it on the coffee table, and she gives me an approving look.

“Better catch up. I’m already halfway into this one.”

“Well, shit.” I crack a new one open and down it.

“Ever shotgunned one of these?” she asks.

“Of course, but it’s been over a decade. Also, don’t get too cocky. This cider will kick your ass. Keep drinking like a fish, and I’m gonna have to carry you to bed.”

“Thankfully, you’re big and strong.” She stands and pulls me up with her. “Let’s do one.”

I pull the truck keys from my pocket and hand them to her. “After you.”

Like a pro, Oakley turns the can sideways and slams the key into it. Liquid slightly sprays, but she pops the tab and drinks it down. I watch her finish it in a couple of gulps, and my eyes widen.

“ Damn, woman. Maybe I am too old for this.” I chuckle.

She smirks as she releases another burp. “Your turn.”

I mimic her actions, but I don’t spill a drop.

Oakley’s brows rise as if she’s impressed. “Nice job.”

Then she turns her attention toward the TV. “Oh my gosh. Halloweentown is on. This was one of my favorite movies as a kid!”

“I’ve never seen it.”

Her mouth falls open, and she gasps. “Never? How ?”

“Maybe bits and pieces, but never all the way through. Guess I was too old for it.” I shrug.

“That ends tonight. We’re about to play a Halloweentown drinking game unless you’re too chicken.”

“Pfft.” I open another can. “Tell me the rules so I can destroy you.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?”

“It’s reality, babe. I’m larger and can hold my booze better. It’s all about anatomy with drinking.”

Her head falls back on her shoulders as she laughs. “We’ll see about that. Now, the rules are simple. Anytime someone says Halloween—even when talking about the town—or if they try to do magic, if someone is in costume, or the word human is said, you take a sip.”

“Sounds easy enough. Though I have a feeling that’s going to be like every other word.”

“Take two sips if Sophie uses her intuition or if someone says witch or warlock. Oh, and when Marnie complains.”

“Jesus. Anything else?”

“Nope. For now.”

In the first twenty minutes of the movie, we’ve opened several cans each. At some point, Oakley pauses it for a bathroom break. She stands and walks as if she hasn’t drunk a drop.

“Color me impressed,” I say when she returns, and instead of unpausing it, she places a hand on her hip.

“Told you I could hold my booze.”

I can’t help but laugh. She lifts a brow but instead of sitting beside me, she straddles my lap. Immediately, she cups my cheeks, and our lips magnetize to one another. I’m hard as hell for her already. She rocks her hips, knowing I want her just as bad, then grabs my shirt with her fists.

“Take me, Finn. All of me.”

I crash my mouth to hers. She undoes my jeans and frees me, then stands and slides her shorts and panties down.

Oakley takes all of me in with one swift movement, and I cup my hands under her ass. With my feet planted on the floor, I lift my hips, slamming up into her.

“God, yes,” she whisper-hisses as she removes her shirt. I take one of her nipples into my mouth as I pinch the other.

We fuck hard and fast, greedily racing toward the edge.

At this moment, nothing matters but her.

I selfishly wish I could freeze time so we could stay like this forever. When Oakley Benson entered my life, I couldn’t wait for her to leave. Now I’m dreading the moment she does.

Our movements slow, and I can tell she’s close. I kiss her and tell her how gorgeous she is before she completely loses herself. I can’t hold back any longer and spill inside her. She leans her forehead against mine, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight.

My heart gallops as we catch our breaths and come back down to reality. She kisses me one more time, and her lips linger a little longer than usual.

After we’ve cleaned up, Oakley yawns, and I know she’s beyond exhausted.

“Let’s go to bed.” I reach for the remote and turn off the TV.

She stands, and I grab her hand, then lead her upstairs. I’m honestly shocked she’s not hovering over a toilet right now.

Oakley slides under the comforter in only her panties, and I smile, loving it when she sleeps practically naked. I join her in only my boxers.

As I roll over and spoon her, I whisper, “Guess what?”

Oakley hums in response.

“I’ve still never seen Halloweentown from beginning to end.”

“Dammit,” she mumbles with a laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ve never seen Elf all the way through either,” I admit.

“What am I gonna do with you, Finn? Those are classic holiday movies.”

I hold her a little tighter. “Maybe one day we can watch them together.”

“Deal,” she whispers right before we drift off to sleep. And I know deep down that’ll probably never happen.