Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Three

Sammie

F inn Norath really came to my rescue tonight. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were getting more aggressive and saying a lot of suggestive shit.

I like to think I have a thick skin and can handle myself, and I generally do, but this evening just wasn’t the night for it.

I’m feeling too fragile.

All because of what happened on this exact date so many years ago.

To me, though, it will always feel like yesterday.

That’s why when Finn says, “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” for this crazy moment, I think he means this whole city, the entire state.

And I’m ready to say yes.

Even though Atlanta will always be my home, God knows I could use some time away from just…everything.

I sit and blink at him as I put together that he really means “let’s get out of Boots,” which is a great idea.

I’m done with this place for the night.

But now there’s another problem—Finn looks concerned that I misinterpreted him.

It’s funny in a way, as I initially did misunderstand what he was asking. But not in the way he’s probably thinking. I was in no way assuming he meant anything sexual.

Then again…

I could get into that.

Whoa, this is so not me.

Or is it me?

It could be today.

I have no time to debate with myself, as Finn begins to backpedal. “Er, uh, I didn’t mean that in any kind of a suggestive way,” he says sheepishly. “Shit, Sammie.” Running his hand down his chiseled features, he adds, “Fuck, I just meant that you clearly spent enough time in this place today. I was thinking a change of scenery might be nice. Anyway, I swear I’m not trying to hook up with you.”

Damn, I kind of wish he were. Finn Norath is a damn fine man, what with his messy reddish-brown hair and striking green eyes. Not to mention that body of his.

Oh, my!

I mean, come on, just look at how solid and strong his chest is in his too-tight black tee. And those biceps, his corded forearms…

Yeah, his body is perfection.

I sigh.

I bet he could make me forget everything, at least for a little while.

He’s apologizing again, so I place my hand on his forearm. Really, I kind of want to touch him. That hug earlier felt amazing.

Smiling, I reassure him, “No, you’re fine. I wasn’t even thinking that. I just got lost in thought for a moment. That’s all.”

“Great.” He winces. “Now I feel really stupid.”

“Stop, you’re good.” I remove my hand from his arm and wave it around. “I am actually more than up for getting out of here.” I down the little bit of beer I have left in my glass and ask, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well.” He blows out a breath. “Unfortunately, I think a lot of places are closing for the night. That is, if they’re not shut down already. So, again, don’t take this the wrong way, but my house is only about a mile or so from here. We could hang out there, shoot the breeze, have another beer, or maybe even a shot.” He cocks a brow. “I can make you a famous one that was invented in my hometown. It’s pretty touristy to take one nowadays, but it does taste fantastic.”

I’m intrigued, more about him than this shot that requires being “made.” That’s piqued my interest as well, but not more than wondering where Finn is from.

“Where is your hometown?” I ask, fully expecting he’s from somewhere ordinary.

But then he replies, “Juneau.”

My brows shoot up. “Wow. As in Alaska?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, as in Alaska. I still have a cabin up there, but I don’t have much time to get to it a lot.”

I’m still pretty impressed, so I blurt out, “I’ve never known anyone from Alaska.”

He laughs again. “Well, now you do.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I guess I do. That’s really cool.”

I reiterate that I’m up for getting out of Boots, and I sure as hell am. Since we’re both done with our beers, I make a quick return to behind the bar, where I rinse out and put away the glasses.

Once that’s done, I grab my purse from a low shelf, toss my phone inside, and ask Finn, “Are you ready?”

He nods once. “I am.”

As we step outside Boots, I relock the front doors and let him know, “I’ll just follow you, okay?” I turn and point to where my cobalt blue car is parked off to the side. “I’m the Honda Accord over there.”

There’s only one other vehicle in the lot, a dark gray Escalade, and it’s only a few feet away. I assume that it’s his.

Sure enough, he takes a step in that direction and says, “Sounds good. This is me. I’ll take it slow so we don’t get separated.”

“Great.”

Following Finn is easy. He does indeed drive slowly, as promised.

Within minutes and only a few turns away, we proceed into and through a quiet neighborhood of large homes that sit way back from the road.

At the very back of the development, we pull up to a large set of black wrought iron gates.

“I guess we’re here,” I murmur to myself.

And we are.

While I idle behind Finn, he opens the gates remotely from inside his Escalade.

“Okay, this is nice.”

Blowing out a breath, I follow Finn up a long, lit driveway leading to his house.

Whoa, wow!

What a house it is—a huge, stately red-brick mansion.

He parks in front, so I do the same, pulling in just behind him.

There is a set of garages angled off to the left with a bit of a turnaround.

That’s good. I’ll have plenty of room to loop around and head back down the driveway when I’m ready to leave.

Hopping out of his SUV, Finn steps over to my car.

Once I get out, I wave my hand around and say, “Your house, this property, these grounds… It’s all beyond amazing.”

“Thanks.” He shrugs and looks down.

Aww, I think he’s a little embarrassed.

How sweet.

Looking back up, he says, “I think it’s too much, though. I had the house built after I bought this land. But I probably should have gone smaller.”

I shake my head. “Nah, I think it’s a good choice for the future. I’m sure someday you’ll have a family. Then you’ll be glad you went big and spacious.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly, looking away.

He seems kind of sad, so I ask, “What? You don’t think so?”

Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know, Sammie. Nothing in life is guaranteed, you know?”

That’s for sure , I think but don’t say.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m already twenty-seven, and I haven’t met the right one yet. Not to complain, but being a professional athlete makes it even harder. You just don’t know who you can trust, or if someone’s intentions are genuine or not.”

“I can see how that could happen,” I agree.

“But hey.” He blows out a breath. “Enough griping from me. You’re the one who had the long day. Let’s go in, and I’ll make you that shot.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

We head inside, and, since it’s late, he gives me an abbreviated tour. From what I get to see of the inside of Finn’s house, I conclude it’s even more impressive than the exterior.

Every room is just so nicely decorated. I tell him that once we reach the end of his tour in the entertainment room.

Laughing, he replies, “I have to be honest. I had no idea what I was doing when the house was done and I moved in. It was just so vast and empty. I had no clue where to start, so I just took the easy way out and hired a bunch of interior decorators.”

“Well, they certainly did a great job,” I reply.

“They did,” he agrees, chuckling.

I take in the slate-blue walls and the sleek black accents in this entertainment room. There’s a masculine feel to it, yes, but not overtly so. The space is somehow still warm and welcoming.

There’s a black leather sectional sofa that looks really comfy, a massive TV on the wall, a long bar on the opposite side of the room, and a well-placed electric fireplace.

Nodding as I glance around, I remark, “Very nice. I love the vibe in here.”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I really like this room, as well. I spend a lot of time in here, so I guess that’s good, huh?”

“It is,” I agree, smiling.

There’s a sudden lull of silence, and though it’s not uncomfortable per se, it is a tad awkward.

Clearing his throat, Finn says, “How about that shot I was telling you about? Do you want to try it?”

“Absolutely.” I release a relieved breath that we’re back on track. “You said you’d make one for me, so I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that it’s a layered shot of some sort.”

“You would be right,” he confirms as he heads over to the bar.

Following him, I take a seat on a high-backed black wooden chair.

“What’s this shot called?” I ask as he steps behind the bar. “You said it was invented in Alaska, right?”

“It was. It was first made in Juneau.” Finn takes out two tall shot glasses from a cabinet above the counter running along the wall. “As for what it’s called…” He turns to me and raises a brow. “Are you ready for it?”

“Uh-huh.”

Suppressing a smile, he says, “It’s called a Duck Fart shot.”

“Oh…my…God.” I start laughing. “I’m sorry, but that sounds disgusting.”

He holds up a hand. “It’s not. I swear!”

Wary, I ask, “Uh, what exactly is in it?”

“Here.” He turns around and starts picking out bottles from behind the bar. “Let me show you.”

I watch with interest as he fills the bottom of one tall shot glass with a dark liquor, which turns out to be Kahlua. He then adds Bailey’s Irish Cream poured over the back of a spoon to make the white middle layer, and tops it all off with a decent amount of Crown Royal whiskey, making the uppermost level an amber shade.

“Ooh, it’s very pretty,” I remark as he hands me the colorful shot. Turning it this way and that and admiring it as he makes one for himself, I add, “This is like a work of art. Maybe you should pick up a shift at Boots.”

Laughing, he says, “Yeah, maybe I should.”

Putting on a mock-serious tone, I let him know, “Hey, we’re always hiring.”

Now we’re both laughing, as we know he doesn’t need an extra job. Hockey keeps him plenty busy, and he clearly has more than enough money.

Holding up his finished shot, he says, “Now, since it’s layered, you can’t sip it. You have to just down it all in one big gulp.”

I assure him, “I can do that.”

“Up in Juneau, we like to say, ‘Quack, quack, throw it back.’”

That makes me giggle, but I ask if we can do just a normal toast.

“Sure,” Finn replies.

Lifting my shot glass and holding it up to his, I say, “Here’s to Juneau, Alaska, and shots with funny names.”

We tap glasses, and he adds, “Here’s to making new friends as well.”

I like that, so, smiling over at him, I say softly, “I’ll drink to that.”

And we do.

In one fell swoop, I down my Duck Fart shot, which happens to be quite tasty. I especially like the Bailey’s part.

Finn downs his shot, too, then sets the glass down on the bar.

Setting mine down next to his, I say, “I like it. I think I’ll have another.”

He laughs. “You got it. And I’ll join you.”

“Good.”

Finn pours us two more Duck Fart shots, then twists off the caps of two bottled light beers he pulls out from a mini refrigerator under the bar.

“We need a chaser,” he explains as he sets one beer in front of me.

I agree, but since I’m already feeling kind of buzzed, I say, “Okay, but if you find me sleeping in my car in the morning, don’t be alarmed.”

Brow furrowing, he says, “You don’t have to sleep in your car, Sammie. Look at this place.” He waves his hand around. “I have plenty of spare bedrooms both upstairs and down. You can just stay here. In fact, I think you should plan to do that so we don’t have to worry.”

I like his idea, but I’m not sure.

Grimacing, I say, “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to interfere with your schedule.”

He laughs. “What schedule? We’re on our All-Star break until Tuesday. I have nothing I have to do for the next four days. Well, check that. I may get in a skate tomorrow just for the hell of it, but I can do that whenever I want.”

A bed is much more preferable than sleeping in my car, so I say, “Okay, I’ll stay here. Thanks, Finn.”

“You’re welcome, Sammie.”

It seems like I’m always thanking this man for something. But the biggest thing I should be thanking him for right now is that my mind is on something other than the significance of this night.

I want it to stay that way, so I down my bottle of beer rather quickly and ask for another.

“All right!” Finn grabs a bottle from the mini fridge and twists off the cap. “Now we have a party.”

I laugh and agree, “We sure as hell do.”

This is what I need, and this is what I want. Spending a night partying with this gorgeous man is far better than going home to my townhouse and wallowing in sorrow and sadness.

Yeah, this is much, much better.