Pursued by the Rogue (The Fairy Tales of New York Book 1) Read Free Page B

murmured Faith. “It’s been a long time.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. Busy years.”
    She pulled back awkwardly and let Faith study her.
    “So sleek and classy,” Faith said at last.
    “It’s the clothes.”
    “It’s your confidence.”
    If only.
    And then Faith let her go and the next person in line to greet her was Finn, leaning casually against the bar as if it belonged to him and, oh.
    Well.
    There was a scent she remembered.
    Up close she could see the details she’d missed earlier. All those long lines and lean muscles, the five o’clock shadow and the smile that spoke of confidence aplenty and a fine appreciation for others. He’d always had that smile. Even back then.
    “Hello, Finn.”
    “You remember me.”
    “Seriously?” she offered dryly. “How many famous concert violinists do you think I know?”
    Mercy caught her eye and mouthed ‘rockstar,’ and it was so ridiculously playful and innocent that Dawn laughed and tried for her own sake to push her inner insecurities aside. “Yes, Finn. I remember you.”
    Faith groaned. “Don’t encourage him, Dawn. His ego’s big enough already.”
    “Don’t listen to her, Dawn.” Finn’s voice carried a hint of Irish in it. “Encourage me more.”
    This was what she’d suffered for all those years ago. A warm and easy welcome from a lover who knew nothing of the heartbreak that had followed their one night together. This laughing reunion. This meeting of adults who’d made their own way, secure in their choices and decisions.
    She’d earned this.
    “You’re making beautiful music these days,” she told him. “I even went to one of your concerts once, years ago when you played at the Lincoln Center.”
    “Did you like it?”
    “It was magic,” she told him with simple sincerity. He’d cut an impossibly romantic figure against the glitteringly formal backdrop of the orchestra. He’d been dressed all in black and had been so far beyond her reach that he hadn’t seemed like a real person at all, but his music had been real enough to wrap around her like a lover and drench her in beauty. “And that’s about all the flattery I have for you.”
    “Pretty sure we can help her come up with more,” murmured Zel.
    “Goodbye, Finn. Moving on,” Faith warned and ushered her old school friends towards a faraway booth. Dawn couldn’t help but take one last look as she walked away, still hungry to catalogue the changes the years had provoked. New memories to replace the old.
    Better ones.
    He was looking down at his hands, shadows playing merry with his eyelashes and the planes of his face. As for those fingers, they were long and strong with immaculately kept nails. A musician’s hands; made for wringing every last drop of emotion from an instrument. Or a lover.
    Dawn stumbled over the leg of a chair and quickly looked away.
    That was probably enough new memories for now.
    “What are we drinking?” she asked as Faith stopped by the bar and waved them towards the last booth in a long row of booths set neatly against the wall.
    “I have a plan,” said Faith. “It involves Guinness for you. That okay?”
    Dawn nodded and followed the other two women to the window booth with the ruby red seats and battle-scarred wooden tabletop. There was safety in being squeezed in between Mercy and the wall, with Zel sitting opposite.
    Safety in not looking towards Finn at all.
    Grasping for anything that involved the here and now, Dawn turned her attention to the drinks Faith set down in front of them. Guinness for her, Faith and Mercy. Something icy and minty for Zel. “What’s that?”
    “A virgin Mojito. I’m trialing a couple of cocktails for the bar, with and without the alcohol. Zel’s my jetsetting guinea pig who’s graced the fancy bars of the world. She’s going to tell me if this one’s any good.”
    “I feel so loved,” said Zel, with a wicked grin.
    “Next round is mine,” said Mercy. “I’m a one Guinness woman and then I’m