Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Four

Finn

S ammie Monroe is fucking awesome. She’s not only hot and beautiful, she’s smart, witty, and a lot of fun.

I’m glad we came back to my house. I feel like I’m really getting to know her much better.

We’ve been relaxing on my sectional sofa, talking about all kinds of random shit. I’ve learned she owns a townhouse that’s only a few miles away from my place. She bought it on her own, so I think that’s pretty cool. I like how she’s self-sufficient and a hard worker.

Sammie reminds me of myself with hockey. I train hard, play the game with all I’ve got, and do everything I can to not only be a great teammate, but also attain my own personal best.

I share all this with her and add, “It’s worked out well so far. Centering the Thunder’s second line is something I’m proud of. I worked for it, and I made it happen.”

She’s quick to agree, “You should be proud, Finn. And, damn, you sure do score a lot of goals. I’ve seen plenty, and many of them were real beauties.”

Wow.

A little thrill runs through me hearing that she knows this about me and has actually watched me score. I’m aware she’s been to some games with Ellie, but not everyone pays total attention when they’re in the arena.

I’m happy that Sammie does.

“Do you catch a lot of our games?” I ask. “Like, the ones you don’t go to.”

“Uh-huh.” She nods. “We always have the Thunder games on at work. But I also watch you guys at home when I’m off.”

“Man.” I shake my head. “That is so fucking awesome.”

And fuck, it is.

What’s also awesome is having this amazing woman sitting next to me on the sofa.

Though we’ve been maintaining a safe distance, and clearly on purpose, there’s still a relaxed vibe in play. Sammie ditched her high leather boots a while ago. They’re on the floor, and she has her legs curled up under her.

I’m turned toward her, but leaning back on the arm of the sofa opposite of where she is. This angle has afforded me an excellent view of her long, lean legs.

But that’s not all that has my attention.

I love the way her white blouse is unbuttoned just enough to show off her ample cleavage and sexy black bra. I wish she was down to just that bra and the black boy shorts I noticed she has on under her short plaid skirt.

Then again, no, that would not be a good idea.

How would I even concentrate?

I’m having a hard enough time now.

Because I’m not thinking clearly, I blurt out of the blue, “Hey, I just want to tell you that I’m having a good time tonight. I’m glad we came back here.”

Sammie is quiet for a beat, and I’m worried I’m coming off as a creeper, but then she says softly, “I’m having fun, too, Finn.”

She smiles over at me, but there’s that damn sadness again in her emerald eyes.

What could be weighing on her?

Since I have no place to ask something potentially too personal, I just blather on. “You know what?”

“What?”

“We should go to dinner sometime, or maybe we could even catch a movie.”

That seems to surprise her, as she looks down and murmurs, “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

She bites her lip, and I can tell she’s uncomfortable, so I add quickly, “We can go as just friends, you know? Or whatever.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m trying not to overstep here.”

“Aww, you’re not,” she assures me, shaking her head and making her ponytail bounce. “Maybe going as friends would work. I mean, it’s not that I don’t find you attractive, Finn. It’s just that I don’t go out on dates. I have no time for a relationship.”

Sandwiched between all of what she just said that’s standing out to me is that she finds me attractive.

I keep hearing her say it over and over again in my head.

But I need to stop, because the rest of what she just told me holds true for me as well.

Waving my hand nonchalantly, I reply, “No, I hear you. I’m not in any position to get involved with anyone either. Hockey keeps me far too busy. Between practices, training, and games, there’s no time for love.”

Chuckling, she says, “We’re sad, aren’t we?”

I laugh. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“But as for dinner or a movie…” She shrugs. “We could maybe do either of those things sometime.”

I cock a brow and reiterate what we just established as boundaries. “Strictly as friends, of course.”

She nods decisively. “Yes, as friends.”

I shouldn’t, but I’d like it to be more. It’s true that I don’t really have time for a relationship, but I think I’d make time for her.

No, I know I would.

After we take a minute to exchange numbers on our phones, we settle back on the sofa.

Sighing, Sammie slides her black ponytail holder off, letting her shiny auburn hair down.

Damn, why does she have to be so pretty?

Fluffing out her hair and flicking the little cloth-covered elastic band that was holding her hair onto the coffee table, she says, “You know what I could go for?”

“Er, uh…” Focus, dude, focus. “What’s that?”

“I think I’d like one more of those Duck Fart shots.”

“Sounds good.” I stand up and head to the bar. “I’ll have one too.”

“And a beer to chase it,” she calls out as I begin pouring the first shot.

“You got it.”

Once the shots are ready, I bring them over and set them down on the coffee table.

“Hold on a sec.” I start back toward the bar. “Let me grab our beers.”

With my back turned, I hear Sammie murmur, “Okay.”

Quickly, I pull two light beers from the fridge, twist off the caps, and make my way back to the sofa, bottles in hand.

Setting the beers on the table, I sit back down, this time a little closer to Sammie.

I pick up my shot glass and hold it aloft. “You ready?”

She picks hers up and nods. “I am.”

“Should we toast to anything?” I ask.

There she is, biting her lip again, like she’s seriously mulling it over.

“Hmmm,” she says, “we already toasted to Alaska and to making new friends.”

“Yes, we did. And those were both good ones.”

“They were,” she agrees. “But I think I have another good one.”

She looks really determined, and I’m curious as fuck as to why, so I say, “Great. Let’s hear it.”

Holding her shot glass up high, almost touching mine, she says, “Here’s to letting go.”

Okay, wow.

I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’ll play along.

Tapping my glass to hers, I say, “Cool. Here’s to letting go.”

We down our shots, but all I can think is that, though I toasted to it, I have nothing that I need to “let go.”

But what really has me perplexed is what in the hell does Sammie have.