Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Two

Finn

I t’s Thursday night, and I just left the theater, where I watched a movie…alone.

Yeah, that kind of sucked.

Sadly for me, there was no one I could find to go with. My Atlanta Thunder teammates, at least the ones who are close friends of mine, are either out of town or at home with their significant others.

I don’t have one of those.

So the choice tonight was to go see a movie alone or stay home.

My house, though aesthetically beautiful thanks to the work of a slew of professional decorators I hired not all that long ago, is just too damn huge and too fucking quiet.

That’s why the movie option won out.

Too bad the flick I picked wasn’t very good.

But still, I can’t complain.

It was something to do.

Now I need another activity to occupy my time. I’m not anywhere near tired. That’s probably because there are no games or practices this week to wear my ass out.

Unfortunately, that’ll be the case until next Tuesday, when our NHL All-Star break comes to an end.

Thank God.

I tap my fingers on the leather steering wheel of my graphite-gray Cadillac Escalade as I drive through a small stretch of businesses that are about a mile from my house.

I pass by a strip mall, a fast-food restaurant…

Oh, and there’s Boots.

I always smile when I cruise by that place. It makes me think of Sammie Monroe. She works there.

I guess you could say I have a little bit of a crush on her. She’s a friend and coworker of Ellie Troy, who dates my best friend and teammate, Nils Sten.

I actually met Sammie through Ellie, though.

It was after one of our games the two of them had attended, when Ellie brought Sammie down to the locker room.

I was immediately attracted to Sammie and made a point to chat her up a bunch. Right away, I liked that she’s kind of mellow and laid-back like me.

We hit it off, and my crush took off from there.

Now I always tag along with my teammates when they’re heading over to Boots for dinner. This way I get to see Sammie as much as possible and not look like a creeper.

Despite our casual interactions, or maybe because of them, I’d like to get to know Sammie a whole lot better.

She is just so fucking gorgeous. The best part, though, is it’s she doesn’t even realize just how stunning she is.

If she does, she sure is humble about it.

I like that, too, along with her shiny, long auburn hair, green eyes that are a shade darker than my own, hot-as-hell body, and the cute smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Fuck, she is so my type in both personality and looks. It’s a damn shame she’s not interested in dating anyone. Not that I asked her out and heard it firsthand from her.

No, I checked with Nils for the 4-1-1, and he informed me that Sammie has no time for men.

“Her words to Ellie,” he said, “not mine.”

Supposedly, she’s too busy working her two waitressing jobs—the one at Boots and the other at Applebee’s.

That seems strange, though, seeing as Ellie works at the same two places in the same capacities and still had plenty of time to get to know and fall for Nils.

But hey, who am I to judge?

In any case, my crush may be unavailable, but I still fucking like her.

What can I do?

You could go into Boots right now and grab a drink.

Yeah, great idea.

Maybe Sammie is working.

If she is, not only can I say hi and talk to her some, but I can also fuel up a few new fantasies for later.

Shit.

That’s how bad I have it for this girl.

I’ve done my research, so I know she works at Boots a lot.

Dinner hours are long over, but she could possibly be helping to close up. She could even be covering for a bartender. Ellie mentioned to me once that Sammie does that a lot when the opportunity arises.

But she could be off tonight, I remind myself.

I don’t want to get my hopes up too high.

Aw, hell, whether she’s working or not, I’m going in.

I have nothing else to do, right?

Hitting the turn signal at the last minute, I swing into the Boots parking lot.

I park in a space right out front, cut the Escalade’s engine, and run my fingers through my reddish-brown hair.

Rapping my jean-clad thigh, I mutter, “Okay, let’s do this.”

Once I’m inside Boots, I scan the restaurant area. It’s dark and empty, which is no surprise.

I then shift my gaze over to the long oak bar.

And yes!

There is Sammie.

I can’t help but break into a wide grin.

As usual, she looks exceptionally tempting in that sexy-as-fuck Boots outfit.

But wait.

When I scan up to her face, it’s clear she doesn’t look too happy.

Yeah, she definitely has a stressed-out expression as she sets down what look to be two draft beers for a couple of punk-ass frat boy dudes.

Man, I hope they’re not giving Sammie a hard time.

I bet they are, based on how tense she is.

When Sammie finally glances over to the doorway and sees me, she looks surprised for a beat, then instantly relieved.

Stepping away from the frat boys, who are now busy downing their beers, she subtly jerks her chin toward them and mouths, “Help me.”

I’m a big guy and an elite athlete, so I’m not one to be messed with. My muscles aren’t just for show. I’ve thrown down on the ice many times, as well as back in my home state of Alaska, where I grew up before I became a professional hockey player.

So, yeah, bottom line is I’ll take these dudes out in a heartbeat if I have to.

Both of them too.

Damn the consequences.

First, though, let’s try the deterrent route.

Swooping in, I stride straight to behind the bar, stopping where Sammie is standing.

I give her a quick wink, like “Are you ready to play?”

She nods once.

Okay, show time.

Sammie smiles at me and exclaims in a loud voice, “Finn!”

“Babe!”

I wrap her up in a big hug right in front of the two jackasses. We’ve never embraced before, but this is for show.

Fuck, I need to keep that in mind, because I like far too much the way she feels pressed up to my body, especially when she hugs me back just as enthusiastically.

I press my nose into her hair—which smells fantastic, like fresh strawberries or something.

Finally, leaning back ever so slightly, I say loud enough for the jackasses to hear, “Hey, sweetheart, how are things going tonight? Sorry I was late getting here.”

I’m trying really hard not to notice how warm and soft Sammie’s body feels still pressed close to mine. She doesn’t need me creeping on her too. That’s why I just let go of her and take a step back.

Playing along with our ruse, she shrugs. “Things have been okay, I guess. Well…” Her gaze slides over to the two frat boys. “They were okay up until a few minutes ago.”

I side-eye the dudes, and they get real fucking nervous real fucking fast.

As they should.

Crossing my arms, which makes my chest and arms look huge, I ask them, “Do we have a problem here, fellas?”

“No, no,” they reply in unison as they shake their heads like synchronized puppets.

It’s actually kind of funny.

The one with the darker hair throws a twenty onto the bar and, standing, says, “In fact, we were just leaving.”

“Wise choice,” I mutter.

The dudes take off so fast, leaving their half-full beers, that they’re like a blur.

“Okay, that was interesting,” I say, chuckling, once they’re out the door.

Sammie’s shoulders slump as she rests her hip against the bar. “Thank you, Finn,” she breathes out. “I was holding off on bothering our night manager, but those two were beyond inappropriate.”

I look at her worriedly. “They didn’t touch you, did they?”

“No, no.” She shakes her head. “I would have buzzed for Evan then, for sure. They were just making piggish comments under their breath that they knew I could hear. When I called them out on it, they snickered and pretended like they hadn’t said anything. One of them even had the audacity to tell me I should have my hearing checked.”

“Fucking dicks,” I murmur.

I don’t ask Sammie to elaborate on what exactly they were saying. I can only imagine, and that’s enough. There’s no need for her to feel further humiliated.

Shaking my head, I grumble, “I fucking hate men like that.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “I do too.”

But then, out of the blue, she starts giggling.

“What?” I ask. “What’s so funny?”

Still laughing, she shares how she was calling the two dicks Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.

“In my head,” she clarifies. “Not to their faces.”

“You should have said it right to them,” I reply. “You know, give them back a little of their own medicine.”

Looking away, she shrugs. “Yeah, maybe, I guess.”

I realize then that she was probably too scared to confront them like that, so I drop the subject.

“Are you sure you’re okay now?” I ask.

She nods. “I am, thanks to you.”

“Hey, I was happy to help,” I throw out over my shoulder as I walk around to the customer side of the bar.

As I take a seat on a stool, Sammie asks me, “Do you want a drink? I’m assuming that’s why you came in here, right?” She checks her phone and adds, “We have about fifteen minutes left till we close, so you’re still good.”

“Great.” I smile. “Just give me whatever. I’m not picky.”

“Okay, uh…” She looks back at a row of beer taps. “We have a new light lager that’s been pretty popular lately.” Turning back to me, she raises a pretty auburn brow. “Would you like to try that one?”

“Sure,” I say. “A light lager sounds perfect.”

As Sammie fills a glass from the tap, Evan, the night manager, emerges from the back.

He sees me and nods.

I nod back.

Though I don’t think the frat boys recognized me, Evan knows pretty much all of us Thunder players from the times we’ve been in. Well, that and he’s also a big hockey fan.

He says a few words to me before he lets Sammie know he’s taking off for the night.

“If you’re cool with locking up,” he tells her, “you guys can stay as long as you like.”

Sammie replies, “No problem. I can do that.”

Evan turns his attention back to me, but before he can even ask, as I know what he’s about to say, I hold up my hand and tell him, “Don’t worry. I’ll walk her out and make sure she gets to her car safely.”

He raps the bar twice. “Cool. Thanks, man.”

Once Evan is gone, Sammie walks over and locks the doors behind him.

When she returns to the bar, she pours herself a draft, the same light lager as mine.

Taking a seat on the stool next to me, she sighs and says, “I think I deserve a beer after this long-ass day and night.”

“Was it all bad?” I ask. “What’d you do, work dinner and tend bar?”

She nods as she takes a sip of her beer, her high ponytail bouncing.

Setting the glass down on the bar, she says, “I actually worked lunch, dinner, and picked up our usual bartender’s shift when he called in sick.”

“Damn, woman.” I shake my head. “That’s a lot of hours.”

“It is,” she confirms. “I was lucky, though. I had a long enough break between dinner and the bartending shift that I was able to run home, shower, and change into a clean uniform. It was like starting a whole new day.”

“It still sounds hectic,” I murmur as I lift my glass to take a drink.

She shrugs. “Yeah, but it kept me busy”—she lowers her voice to a near whisper—“which was kind of my goal today.”

I set my glass down and take a long look at her. It’s clear from how she’s now biting her lip that she just said more than she intended.

Still, I ask, “Any particular reason why you wanted to keep busy today?”

If she needs to talk about something, I want her to know I’ll listen.

But she shakes her head and says, “No.”

Sammie then smiles over at me, but there’s sadness in her pretty emerald eyes. This has nothing to do with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. No, this runs deeper.

Unfortunately, though, for as much as we know each other, it’s really only as acquaintances. I wish we were close friends, or really even more, but we’re not.

So I won’t press her on what’s really bothering her.

I do have an idea, though.

I don’t want to keep Sammie here in this place where she’s already spent too much time.

But I’d like to hang out with her a while longer.

So, finishing off my draft, I set the glass down with a clink and say, “Hey, do you want to get out of here?”