Intimate Relations by Rebecca Forster (most popular ebook readers TXT) 📕

"So what happened?" Lapinski asked as he drove toward Maria's.

"Nothing," Cori said.

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah." The light from the street lamp shined softly on Cori's hair. Lapinski thought she looked beautiful; Cori was only thinking about Finn. "He turned a corner, Lapinski. All that talk about being over Bev wasn't bull."

 "Now you don't have to worry about him," Lapinski said. "You can concentrate on us."

"What?" she said, clearly not thinking about Lapinski and an 'us' as she squinted into the oncoming headlights.

"Just wondering what you were thinking about,” he said.

"Sorry, nothing really. Finn asked me to ask you about someone, and I can't remember the name."

"Brain dead," he said as he took her hand. "You need food."

"You're a gem, Lapinski." Cori gave his hand a squeeze and then let it go. "Drive on."

"My pleasure, Anderson," he said.

Her stomach grumbled. Lapinski smiled; Cori didn't. They were thinking the same thing, that all felt right with the world. The difference between them was that Thomas Lapinski was looking forward to things getting better still while Cori Anderson was wondering how long it would all last.

15

According to Finn's mother, the middle of the week was the time to be prudent. When he was small, there was no television, no staying up late, and no midnight snacks on a school night. When homework was done, Finn and his brothers and sisters would go to their prayers and beds.

He could not argue that this was not a 'school night'. It was Wednesday, middle of the week, but his ma was nowhere near Mick's Irish Pub and he was old enough not to have any homework. So Finn O'Brien was wearing out his welcome at the dartboard. He had a Guinness in one hand and the last dart in the other. He bent his knees, held his right hand near his brow, and teased those watching.

"'Tis headed for the Little Audrey," he called as he feigned his throw.

"In your dreams, O'Brien," hooted a deep baritone voice.

"Throw already." A woman said, but her chiding was all in fun.

"Here it comes." Finn rocked. He let the shaft fly straight and sure until, at the last moment, it deviated a millimeter to the ring and bounced off. There was a collective groan, a spattering of applause, and a lot of laughter.

"Sure, I was robbed." Finn threw up his arms. "'Tis a London's 5 board. Geoffrey, what happened to the Irish Black that used to be here. Geoffrey!"

Finn pushed through the weeknight crowd. He was still chuckling when he slid onto a barstool next to Gretchen. Beautiful, tall, dark haired and eyed, she was a firefighter and a regular at Mick's. Gretchen was a woman used to pressure, and one who believed that all the boredom of the job was worth the one moment she saved a life, a home, or a business. Her work was a calling, and she never considered another path. Her father and his father before her had done the same.

"O'Brien, don' you be blamin' de new board," Geoffrey said. "You be givin' Mick's a bad rap if you sayin' de board be bad. Everybody be losin' now and again."

"I guess you wouldn't believe me if I told you I threw the game would you, Gretchen?" Finn gave her his best smile.

"Not on your life," she said. "But I'll buy you another round as a consolation prize."

"That is kind, but if I have one more I'll be asleep on this stool."

Finn took another drink, and saw he had two more good swallows before he would call it a night. He put it aside to make it last a bit longer.

"O'Brien, he be havin' a big case." Geoffrey put all his weight behind the word 'big'. When Finn saw the twinkle in his eye, he knew what was coming next. "He be seein' de ex-wife, and it weren't no picnic."

"Ah." Gretchen gave Geoffrey a knowing look and offered Finn a sympathetic smile. "Still nursing that broken heart, Finn?"

"As much as Geoffrey would like you to think so, no," Finn said. "And I'd like barman to keep his opinions to himself."

"No opinion." Geoffrey shook his head and those dreads swayed on his shoulders. He had changed his beanie to an elegant black knit. "Love be love. It don' go away easy. I say dat don' matter. Not how many you love, just dat' you be true to the one you wit. You not wit her, you don' be true."

"Love the one you're with, Geoffrey, that's how the song goes. I'll have another." Gretchen slid her glass across the bar, leaned into Finn, and whispered. "It's Coke. I've had a long day too."

Geoffrey went to fill her glass. She rested her chin on her upturned hand and with the other pulled her long hair over her shoulder. A small scar ran through her right eyebrow. Her nails were short, her hands were strong but delicate looking. Finn had seen her dressed for work. He preferred her this way, in her jeans and a flowery shirt of some billowy material.

"Do you believe that? Love the one you're with?" Gretchen asked.

"I fear I am a romantic. I'm wanting a woman to watch my back for all eternity." Finn drained his glass. "But my ex was not the one. Still, my heart longs for the happy ending and holds out hope it will come."

Gretchen chuckled. "After all this time, how could I have missed that you believed in rainbows and unicorns?"

Finn swiveled on his stool. The woman deserved a man's full attention, especially for a conversation like this.

"And what about you, miss?" he said. "Rainbows or fireworks?"

"They both fade away before you want them to, so that's a false choice. But let me think," Gretchen said. "Okay, here goes. I love a good burst of fireworks now and again, but they need to be few and far between to be appreciated. The rainbow? Every girl wants the rainbow."

She raised her chin to indicate her naked ring finger.

"I had it once.