“Hey!” someone said, popping into the window, but I did not have time to process. His voice hit, and all I could see was red before throwing my fist at whatever I could catch.
“Wait,” the plea shot out, but it was too late. My fingers plowed straight into bone. “Holy shit,” a man groaned, hitting the sand with a thud. “I think you broke my nose.”
“What?” I leaned out, angling my phone down to see my attacker. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Finn Emerson,” he peered up, holding his face. “Your mentor?”
“Oh, fuck.” I scrambled out the window, landing beside him. “I am sorry. I, uh. Reflexes.”
“I tried knocking, but no one answered.”
“So you thought you’d crawl through the window?” Irony caught in my throat, but I choked it down.
“It felt less creepy in my head,” he groaned. “But my aunt forgot to stock the fridge, and since you’re stuck out here, I wanted to make sure you had dinner.”
Make sure I had dinner? Finn’s words repeated until they stuck. I was safe.
“Here,” I grabbed him by his massive biceps, hauling him upright onto his feet. “You scared the shit out of me!” I laughed, flashing an awkward smile.
Finn Emerson was tan, lean, jock-strong, with wavy, sandy-brown hair that made his chocolate eyes sparkle.
“Same,” he groaned, pressing his powder-blue shirt to his nose. “Where did you learn to punch like that?” Finn asked, staring down at me. He had to be at least three inches taller, but he felt manageable. A Squishamallow who let ice cream dribble down his chin.
“Underworld overlords,” I grinned, watching his lips twitch at what he would pass off as a lie. All the men schooled me in fighting, but it was Nathem who taught me how to win.
“Overlords. Huh?” He lowered his shirt and checked the damage. “Most people say their dad.”
“Never had one of those,” I mumbled, pointing at the bundle beside him before he could pivot. “Is that for me?”
“Yeah,” he shifted, picking up the wicker basket and handing it over. “Hopefully, it’s still intact.”
“Thank you.” I carried it to the window and set it on the side table. “Wait. Emerson?” I tilted my head.
“Yes, Finn Emerson.”
“The midwife?” I mouthed, my brows crashing together.
“Oh, she’s getting it. Cute.”
Was he flirting with me? Did I want to be flirted with?
“Wait. You’re a midwife. Or mid-husband?” I bowed in awe. In all my years of studying, I’d never met one male brave enough to claim the title.
Fuck yes.
“Midwife. My whole family is. My mother is Emma Emerson.”
What a name.
Finn blinked, shifting his expression while we stared at each other in the darkness. After a few seconds, I pressed my lips together and looked away. Awkward!
“Holy shit!” he gawked, making me jump.
“What?”
“You’ve never heard of her!” He laughed, his nose already turning purple. “How are you going to kiss her ass if you don’t know who she is?”
Kiss her what? Something inside me thundered because that wasn’t me.