Cara O'Shea's Return (19 page)

She didn’t flinch at his choice of words, though she wanted to, but she refused to be embarrassed because Finn chose to involve his friend in his obvious brush off. “Finish it,” she murmured. The sudden thumping of her heart caused her head to spin. She forced a deep breath.

“Then I guess you’d better come on in.” She swung the door wide.

Between them, Cara and Bob finished sealing the floor by nine. She painted toward the steps leading to her apartment, while Bob worked his way to the front door.

“You should be able to walk on the floor in an hour. Just don’t drag anything across it for a while, until it’s had plenty of time to cure.”

They were the first words either of them had spoken since she let him in the door. She smiled and thanked him for his help. He closed the front door behind him. Cara sat on the bottom landing of her new staircase and stared at her finished studio.

It was a small consolation, but she was glad now that Finn hadn’t been home when she fled to his place after leaving her father and Hannah last night. She had her pride, enough that she shriveled inside knowing she had run to a man who decided their affair was over, but didn’t have the balls to tell her to her face.

Finn jealous of Evan? What a fool she was. What she expected all along had happened.

Her back stiffened on a spurt of healing anger and she straightened. She’d thought a lot of things about Michael Finnegan over the years, but she never considered him a coward. She did now. His mood of late plainly said he’d rather be somewhere else. Instead of stringing her along and continuing to sleep with her, he should have ended the affair weeks ago.

Her gaze ran over her beautiful, finished studio and she wished she could paint. She needed to paint, but that would have to wait, for now. Pushing to her feet, she went upstairs to get ready for the incorporation celebration.

****

Spruced and polished, downtown Palmerton presented its true identity, a two-hundred-fifty-year-old New England town that had weathered good times and bad. The celebration committee had done themselves proud. Bright, red, white, and blue bunting hung suspended over Center Street along the parade route. The streets were cleaned and the viewing stands assembled.

The press tent swarmed with journalists, all eager for an interview with the town’s most famous citizen. As parade time neared and there was still no sign of Finn, Jill and her band of subcommittee members did their best to keep the peace, promising he would be there soon to make a short speech and answer their questions. The longer they were kept waiting, the less polite the press became in their demands.

Since no one had seen him that morning—Cara had been asked by no less than eighteen people where he was—she figured the shining star of Palmerton was seeing to it his prediction from last week came true. The press tent already resembled a circus.

Cara watched the chaos from behind the information table where she’d been assigned to pass out the brochures the chamber of commerce provided, highlighting the town’s history. She balked at the assignment when Jill told her where they wanted her, not wishing to be anywhere near the action when Finn finally showed up to charm the press, if he ever did.

She begged for a position in the children’s face painting booth, but was shot down. As a successful artist, the committee wanted her at the press conference. Apparently she was to be a backup attraction at the circus.

Maive sat in a chair next to the table. She stopped by the press tent a few minutes earlier, and proceeded to harass one of the subcommittee members into procuring her a chair so she could watch the press conference in comfort. Cara was handing her a brochure when Jill’s clear voice stilled the restless crowd.

“Finally! Ladies and gentlemen, our grand marshal has arrived.”

Cara glanced up and spotted the throng moving along the sidewalk toward them. At six-five, Finn’s dark head was visible over those of the mob surrounding him. The press proved as unruly as Finn predicted. They surged forward to intercept him. Their questions flew like bullets.

“How does it feel to be honored in your home town? Any new endorsement contracts, Finn? Any plans to coach?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’d give him a little room, I’m sure Finn will be happy to answer all your questions.” Jill’s no nonsense voice caused a lull, and Maive took advantage.

“All of you vultures move on back, so I can see my grandnephew.”

Cara stared in amazement as, like the Moses of Palmerton, Maive’s spoken demand parted the crowd like the Red Sea. One by one, the members of the press shuffled to the side, leaving Maive, and Cara, a clear view of the hometown hero—and the blonde bimbo hanging on his arm.

Dressed the part of a casual grand marshal, Finn was typically gorgeous in black tailored trousers and a crisp, white dress shirt. The twenty-something stunner at his side was poured into a slinky, bright red jumpsuit, held up by two miniscule straps. The plunging neckline reached her navel.

Cara wanted to hate her, simply on principle, but as she eyed the blonde, her breaking heart was soothed somewhat, and she snorted with self-satisfaction. Her own outrageous body would fill out that slinky getup far more interestingly than the model thin bimbo.

Besides, Finn was the one Cara hated.

Tempted to slink to the side of the booth, and be as invisible as possible, she remained where she was, in plain view. He knew she’d be here somewhere today, and he wanted her to see this. She would damn well stay.

He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk with the blonde plastered to his side. His cold blue gaze clashed with Cara’s. She lifted her chin and wished with all she was worth for laser-beam-eye superpowers. She’d fry him on the spot!

“Stupid boy,” Maive mumbled from her chair.

Cara sent her a sidelong glance, steeling her heart against the angry compassion in the old lady’s eyes.

“Who’s that you’ve got there, Finn?”

Cara turned at the shouted question, uttered by none other than Stockwell of the future exclusive. Finn flashed a cocky smile at the man, ignoring Maive when she slapped her hand on the plastic arm of her lawn chair.

“This is Vicky, everyone. Vic, say hello to the folks.”

“Hey, y’all.” Vicky gave the crowd a megawatt smile and preened, pressing her nearly bare bosom against Finn’s chest. Cameras clicked and flashed.

“Where are you from, Vicky? How long have you known Finn? What do you do for a living?”

The questions came fast and furious. Jill pushed through the crowd, frantically making her way toward the couple in an attempt to gain control of a circus gone wild.

“Boy!”

Finn ignored Maive’s shouted demand, and Vicky didn’t have the chance to answer the press as Jill arrived at the center ring. “Everyone, Finn has a prepared statement about our celebration today and if you’d…”

“Hell, Jill.” The smile Finn turned on Jill was no more than a bearing of his teeth. “These folks don’t want to hear any stuffy speeches. They already know the important points anyway. They’re here for the good stuff, and the only way they’re going to get it, is by asking questions.” He faced the mob. “Next question?”

“Michael Joseph Finnegan!” Maive slammed her gnarled hand on the table. Cara jumped, scrambling to save the large floral arrangement it held. The glass vase bounced and rolled off the edge to shatter on the cement sidewalk at Jill’s feet. The raucous crowd was suddenly well behaved. “Have you lost your mind, boy?”

Finn finally looked at Maive. His cocky grin slipped a bit. “Just giving the people what they want, Auntie Maive.”

She glared at him, eyeing the blonde plastered to his side. She jerked her head in Cara’s direction. “And what about this one?”

Finn’s gaze swept to Cara and she fought the heat rising on her cheeks when all eyes swung her way.

“I already
gave
her what she wanted.”

****

Finn had to hand it to Cara, she barely flinched, but the quick flash of hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. Bile rose in his throat. Swallowing against the burn, he reminded himself this charade would be over in a few minutes, if Maive would just butt out.

She didn’t. She pushed out of her chair, her eyes blazing across the distance. “For the first time in your life, boy, I’m ashamed of you.”

“Maive.” Cara’s voice was soft, but firm and when she glanced his way, anger sparked in her green eyes. “He’s right. He gave me exactly what I wanted.” She reached beneath the table, and then skirted around it, pulling something from her purse. When she stopped in front of him, Vicky tucked closer to his side. Cara didn’t even glance at the other woman. Her smile was cold, her eyes frosty as she slapped the check for the renovation against his chest. “For services rendered, stud.”

Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd as cameras clicked furiously.

With a final, disdainful sniff, Cara spun away from him, and plowed into a mountain of a man whose dress shirt buttons strained against the girth of his impressive gut. As Finn watched, the man’s beefy hands shot out to steady her, grasping her shoulders.

“Cara Cups!” His booming voice held astonishment. “Well, I’ll be damned. When did you come back to Palmerton?”

Revulsion darkened her eyes. “Let me go, Timmy.” She stumbled backward, wrenching her shoulders free.

Finn flung off Vicky’s clinging hands. A low growl escaped his throat as his fist connected with Timmy Faulkner’s cheek. Timmy staggered back, but he was a big man. He didn’t fall. While the cameras continued to click, Finn took a menacing step forward.

“Keep your hands off her, you bastard.”

He met the big man’s belligerent glare, and hoped the giant would give him the excuse to throw another punch. A moment later, a punch
was
thrown, but not by Timmy—or Finn. A solid thump to Finn’s shoulder had him spinning around to meet Cara’s furious gaze. Her hand remained balled into a fist.

“What the hell did you do that for?” he roared.

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

His jaw dropped, and the cameras clicked some more.

“Finnie.” Vicky whined behind him.

Cara smirked at the blonde’s high pitched complaint. Sickening sweetness dripped from her voice as she purred, “I think Vic wants you, Finnie.”

“Not now, Vicky!” Finn’s voice boomed. Without taking his eyes from Cara, he jerked his thumb in Timmy’s direction. “He’s the asshole from graduation night!”

All the crap he threw at her today hadn’t rattled her composure, but the mention of that night had shadows flitting across her expressive face. She paled, and his heart squeezed in his chest.

“Cara.” He held out his hand, his appeal sounding tortured to his own ears. Timmy, who had apparently been enjoying the show up until now, took exception to the asshole remark, and drew back his fist. Cara pivoted, snapping her elbow. The crowd gave a collective groan at the sound of bone meeting cartilage, with bone winning.

“Out of my way.” The sudden silence was broken by the arrival of Tom O’Shea, resembling a thundercloud searching for somewhere to unload. The crowd gave him a wide birth as he pushed through the throng of avid onlookers with Hannah close on his heels.

The press corps erupted in a frenzy of fascination, their cameras aimed and clicking at the three furious, towering males. One with a Super Bowl ring, one searching for somewhere to plant the side of beef that passed for his hand, and the last bleeding to beat the band. All of whom were frowning at the Amazon with the mean left hook.

“Is there a problem here, Cara?” Tom spoke over Timmy’s pained curses.

“No, Daddy.” Tears welled in her eyes and she dragged her gaze from Finn’s. “I just had some unfinished business to take care of.”

Hannah slipped her arm around Cara’s waist. Tom wrapped an arm around the both of them. They walked away to the sound of Maive’s cackling laughter.

Meggy sprawled back in an overstuffed chair. She tipped the wine glass to her lips. “I have to say, that was one
hell
of an incorporation celebration.”

The room erupted in laughter.

Exhausted from the stress of the day, Cara couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be. Daddy and Ryan had carried her new furniture in from the storage area and set it up in her studio when Mary insisted Maive, who arrived not long after they had left the celebration, shouldn’t have to climb the stairs to Cara’s apartment to find a seat.

Hannah and Erin called for pizza. Meggy and Shan showed up with several bottles of wine.

Her family closed ranks around her after the disaster in front of the press tent. Several friends stopped by to give them circus updates, throughout the afternoon.

Needless to say, the celebration bombed. After Finn’s outrageous performance, the press wasn’t interested in anything to do with the town. They wanted the good stuff he’d mentioned. They hounded Vicky, the underwear model, who stomped off in a tizzy when Finn left her high and dry to race off in the convertible he’d been scheduled to ride in for the parade.

The press camped outside Cara’s studio for a while, until Tom went out and had a little chat with them. They promptly decided to go after easier prey. A bleeding Timmy Faulkner hadn’t been seen again, after shouting
no comment
, before jumping into his brother’s pick-up. Apparently having his nose broken by a woman was more than his colossal ego could take, especially since there were pictures documenting their altercation this time.

Cara hoped he didn’t sue.

Jill did what she could to salvage the day. The parade marched on, sans one grand marshal, but the high school band was wonderful, or so everyone said. They hadn’t raised the kind of money Jill hoped for. However, the townspeople contributed more than expected. There was nothing like a good nose breaking to keep people milling about and gossiping, while buying beer and soda at extravagant prices.

Shan and Mary eventually left to check on Shan’s boys, and Tom and Hannah followed not long after them. Though Cara would never be as close to Daddy as she’d been as a little girl, she found she could forgive him, and had. And Hannah? Well, as Meggy said, she seemed nice.