Sweet Little Lies Read online

  Willa waited, eyes lit. “Not that that wasn’t fun to watch, but are you finished arguing with yourself?”

  Pru sighed. “Yeah.”

  “Finn’s got a lot going on. Keeping the pub’s head above water isn’t easy in today’s economy. Plus he’s slowly renovating his grandparents’ house so he can sell it and move out of the city—”

  Pru’s heart stopped and she swallowed a heavy bite of chicken wing. “He wants to leave San Francisco?”

  “To live, yes. To work, no. He loves the pub, but he wants to live in a quieter place and get a big, lazy dog. And then there’s his biggest time sink—keeping Sean on the straight and narrow. Add all of that up and it equals no time for—”

  “Love?”

  “Well, I was going to say getting lucky,” Willa said. “But yeah, even less time for love.”

  Pru turned her head and watched Finn in action, taking care of his employees, his customers, his brother . . .

  But who took care of him, she wondered as he worked his ass off, running this entire place and making it look easy while he was at it.

  She knew it wasn’t about making time. It was about what had happened eight years ago when he’d been just barely twenty-one. Her gut twisted, which didn’t stop her from eating her entire plate of chicken wings when it came.

  An hour later she left the bar warm, dry, and stuffed. Night had fallen. The rain had tapered off. With the clearing of most of the clouds, a sliver of a moon lit her way. The courtyard was mostly empty now, the air cool on her skin. Pots of flowers hung from hooks on the brick walls and also the wrought iron lining parts of the courtyard. During the day, the air was fragrant with the blooms but now all she could smell was the salty sea breeze.

  A few people were coming and going, either from the pub or cutting through for a shortcut to the street and the nightlife the rest of the Cow Hollow and Marina area offered. But the sound of street traffic was muted here, partially thanks to the fountain’s water cascading down to the wide, circular copper dome that had long ago become tarnished green and black. A stone bench provided a quick respite for those so inclined to stop and enjoy the view and the musical sound of the trickling water.

  Pru stopped, staring at the coins shining brightly from the tiles at the bottom of the fountain. What was it the woman from earlier had said? Never too late to wish for love . . .

  On a sudden whim, she went through her purse, looking for her laundry money. Pulling out a dime, she stared into the water. A wish made here out of true desperation, with an equally true heart, will bring a first, true love in unexpected ways.

  Well, she had the desperation. Did she have the true heart? She put a hand to it because it did hurt, but that might’ve been the spicy chicken wings.

  Not that it mattered because she wasn’t going to wish for herself. She was going to wish for true love for someone else, for a guy who didn’t know her, not really, and yet she owed him far more than he’d ever know.

  Finn.

  She closed her eyes, sending her wish to . . . well, whoever collected them. The fountain fairy?

  The Karma Fairy?

  The Tooth Fairy?

  Please, she thought, please bring Finn true love because he deserves so much more happy than he’s been dealt. And then she tossed in the dime.

  “I hope you find him.”

  Pru gasped and whirled around to face . . . Old Guy.

  “What’s his name?” he asked.

  “Oh,” she said on a low laugh. “I didn’t wish for me.”

  “Shame,” he said. “Though it doesn’t really work, you know that, right? It’s just a propaganda thing the businesses here in the Pacific Pier building use to draw in foot traffic.”

  “I know,” Pru said, and crossed her fingers. Please let him be wrong . . .

  “I tried it once,” he told her. “I wished for my first love to return to me. But Red’s still dead as a doornail.”

  “Oh,” Pru breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “She gave me twelve great years. Shared my food, my bed, and my heart for all of them. Slept with me every night and guarded my six like no other.” He smiled. “She’d bring me game she’d hunted herself when we were hungry. She followed me everywhere. Hell, she didn’t even mind when I’d bring another woman home.”

  Pru blinked. “That’s . . . sweet?”

  “Yeah. She was the best dog ever.”

  She reached out to smack him and he flashed a grin. “Don’t be ashamed of wishing for love for yourself, sweetness,” he said. “Everyone deserves that. Whoever he is, I hope he’s worthy.”

  “No, really, it’s not—”

  “Or she,” he said, lifting his hands. “No judging here. We all stick together, you know what I’m saying? Take Tim, the barista at the coffee shop. When he decided to become Tina a few years back, no one blinked an eye. Well, okay, I did at first,” he admitted. “But that’s only because she’s hot as hell now. I mean, who knew?”

  Pru nodded. Tina had made her coffee just about every morning for three weeks now, and on top of making the best muffins in all of San Francisco, she was indeed hot as hell. “I’m not wishing for me though. I’m wishing for someone else. Someone who deserves it more than me.”

  “Well, then,” he said, and patted down his pockets, coming up with a quarter, which he tossed in after her dime. “Never hurts to double down a bet.”

  Chapter 4

  #CarefulWhatYouWishFor

  Two days later Finn was at his desk pounding the keys on his laptop, trying to find the source of the mess Sean had made of their books while simultaneously fantasizing about one sexy, adorable “fun whisperer,” and how much he’d like her to fun whisper him. He was a most excellent multitasker.

  He liked that sassy smile of hers. He liked her easygoing ’tude. And he really liked her mile-long legs . . .

  He was in the middle of picturing them wrapped around him when he found the problem.

  Sean had done something to the payroll that had caused everyone to get fifty percent more than they had coming to them. Finn rubbed his tired eyes and pushed back from his desk. “Done,” he said. “Found the screwup. You somehow managed to set payroll to time and a half.”

  Sean didn’t say anything and Finn blew out a breath. He knew that sometimes he got caught up in being the boss and forgot to be the older brother. “Look,” he said, “it could’ve happened to anyone, don’t take it so hard—”

  At the sound of a soft snore, Finn craned his neck and swore.

  Sean lay sprawled on his back on the couch, one leg on the floor, his arms akimbo, mouth open, dead asleep.

  Finn strode over there and exercised huge restraint by kicking his brother’s foot and not his head.

  Sean sat straight up, murmuring, “That’s it, baby, that’s perfect—” When he saw Finn standing over him, he sagged and swiped a hand down his face. “What the hell, man. You just interrupted me banging Anna Kendrick.”

  Anna Kendrick was hot, but she had nothing on Pru Harris. “You’re not allowed to sleep through me kicking your ass.”

  Sean didn’t try dispute the fact that Finn could, and had, kicked his ass on many occasions. “Anna Kendrick,” he simply repeated in a devastated voice.

  “Out of your league. And why the hell don’t you sleep in your own office? Or better yet, at home.”

  Home being the Victorian row house they shared in the neighborhood of Pacific Heights, half a mile straight up one of San Francisco’s famed hills.

  “I’ve got better things to do in my bed than sleep,” Sean muttered and yawned. “What do you want anyway? I’ve cleaned my room and scrubbed behind my ears, Mom.”

  “I’m not your damn mom.”

  This earned him a rude snort from Sean. Whether that was because Finn had indeed been Sean’s ‘damn mom’ since the day she’d walked out on them when they’d been three and ten, or simply because Finn was the only one of them with a lick of sense, didn’t matter.

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