Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Nine

Sammie

I wasn’t supposed to have to work at either of my jobs tonight, but Barb, my boss at Applebee’s, called in a panic. She had a last-minute callout and needed someone to fill the shift. She knows I’m reliable and willing to help out anytime I can, so of course I said I’d come in.

I figured in addition to filling the shift for Barb, it’d be a good way to not think about last night.

But to my dismay that’s pretty much all that’s been on my mind all freaking day. From the moment I left Finn’s place to the second I stepped into my townhouse, he and the night we shared occupied all the space in my mind.

It didn’t help that I could still smell him and the amazing sex we had on my body.

Hell, I could still feel his touch, like his hands had branded me.

I liked that entirely too much.

So I raced to the bathroom to clean off every last vestige of what happened last night. But even after showering—twice—my body still craves Finn.

My damn traitorous mind does too.

I like the guy.

I can’t help it.

And because of that, I wish we could get to know each other even better.

But we can’t.

That’s why I ignored the text he sent this morning. Oh, I saw it. I also read it about a dozen times, like it was a freaking declaration of love or something.

It wasn’t, of course. Finn just wanted to know if everything was okay.

Ha, okay?

It is not.

And it never will be with me.

He doesn’t realize it, but he’s better off staying away from my sad-ass self. I’m bad luck.

As if to accentuate that point, I round the corner to go into the kitchen at Applebee’s, and a plate slides off my tray, crashing to the floor.

Right in front of my boss.

“Shit, Barb.” Setting the tray on a counter, I reach for a broom that’s leaned up against the wall, along with a dustpan, and bend down to start sweeping up shards of white ceramic. “I am so sorry,” I go on. “I should have seen that plate sliding and grabbed it before it fell.”

Barb gently takes the broom away from me.

I look up at her as she tucks a strand of graying hair that’s escaped from the bun on her head behind her ear.

“Sammie,” she says as she leans against the handle, “stand up.”

“Okay.”

I do as she asked, and she takes the dustpan from my hand, emptying the little bit I had swept up into a nearby garbage can.

“Listen,” she says, setting the dustpan on a counter. “Everything is fine. Nobody was hurt. Just let me get this cleaned up. You did me a big favor by coming in tonight, and now it’s almost closing time. What do you have left? Like one table?”

I nod. “Yeah. These were actually their dirty dishes. I was going to take the plates into the back, and then give them their check.”

Barb waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it from here. And this too.” She nods to the broken pieces of plate still on the floor. “Like I said, I got it. You go home. Get some rest. You look tired, hon.”

I am beat, so I nod and say, “Thank you, Barb.”

She replies with a kind smile. “No, Sammie. Thank you.”

After I grab my belongings from the back, I head out to my car. But as I’m walking across the lot to where the employees park, I notice a dark gray Escalade, one that looks remarkably similar to Finn’s.

Hmmm.

It looks like it just pulled in, seeing as the parking lights are still on.

But then they go out, and sure enough, Finn hops out of the vehicle.

I stop, and my heart skips a beat.

Stupid heart.

He looks good in faded jeans and a black hoodie, better than he should for having on something so casual.

I bite my lip as I consider if I should say something, or just make a run for it to my car.

No, he’ll see me. The only reason why he hasn’t yet is because he’s checking something on his phone.

But then, like he senses my presence, he looks up and over at me.

Stopping in his tracks, he says, “Hey, Sammie.”

I want to walk over and jump into his strong arms. I want to repeat last night all over again. But even thinking these things makes me mad at myself.

What’s worse is that he looks like he’s thinking something along the same lines.

I’m about to cave, but I can’t, so I do the next best thing and take my frustration out on him.

Striding over to this man who drives me nuts, but stopping a few safe feet away, I cross my arms and snap, “What are you doing here where I work? Are you stalking me now?”

His green eyes narrow as he scoffs. “Like I have time for shit like that.”

I sniff. “Well, you’re here, aren’t you?”

In a haughty tone, he tells me, “Did you ever consider that maybe I’m hungry? Did you even think of that?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, right. You’re out of luck anyway. We’re closing.”

He looks at me, I look at him, and we both know he’s not here to eat.

So, why is he here?

I’m about to ask, but then he says snarkily, “By the way, is your phone broken?”

Ahh, this is about the text, the one I ignored.

Acting clueless, I shake my head. “No. Why would you ask?”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes at me as he says, “Did you see my text from this morning?”

I nod and admit quietly, “I did.”

He blows out a breath. “Then why didn’t you respond? And for that matter, why’d you take off this morning and not say a thing? You know, if you didn’t want to wake me up, a note would have been nice, Sammie. Or are you just a fuck-and-run kind of girl?”

I raise my hand to smack him, but he’s too fast and grabs my wrist.

He doesn’t let go, and I hate that his touch is electric. It’s a reminder of the things we did last night and how good it all was.

Our eyes meet, and since there’s no real anger in his, I can’t stay mad at him.

Softly, I admit, “Okay, I probably deserved that comment.”

He lets go of my wrist and shakes his head. “No. I deserved to get hit for saying it. I shouldn’t have stopped you.”

“I’m glad you did,” I say. “Hitting you wouldn’t have been right. Violence is never the answer.”

Chuckling, he counters, “On the ice, sometimes it is.”

More tension dissipates, and I laugh. “Yeah, I guess you have a point.”

Raising a brow, he gestures to his Escalade. “Hey, can we talk in there? You said the restaurant is closing, so I’m sure people will be coming out soon. We don’t want to be a spectacle, right?”

“No,” I murmur, knowing we’ve been lucky thus far to be the only ones in the lot.

Since he does deserve some answers, I add, “Yeah, let’s talk in your car.”

We head over to his Escalade, where he opens and holds the passenger door for me to get in.

I say, “Thank you,” even though I simultaneously love and hate that he’s such a gentleman.

I almost kind of wish he was back to being mean and jerky.

He closes my door, then walks around to the other side of the SUV.

Jumping in, he says, “Oh, hey, I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, hold up.” He lifts off his seat and fishes around in his back pocket. Seconds later, he’s holding out a black elastic hair tie. “You left this on the coffee table, and I wanted to return it to you.”

The hair tie is an instant reminder of last night, and I’m back to remembering how his body felt pressed to mine, how he felt inside me.

Enough, Sammie!

This really needs to stop, so I snap sarcastically, “A hair tie is the reason why you drove over here to see me? Really, Finn?”

“It is.” He nods. “It’s yours, right?”

I grab the stupid tie from him roughly ’cause he’s full of shit on this one.

“Yes, of course it’s mine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Or have you had some other girl over since then?”

His emerald eyes snap back to mine as he says brusquely, “You know I haven’t.”

I know.

I’m just being a bitch.

But that doesn’t stop him from holding my gaze and saying softly, “Go out with me, Sammie.”

I chortle, “What? Like on a date?”

He’s dead serious as he replies, “Yeah, like on a date. A real date. What do you say?”

Sighing, I shake my head and look down.

As I flick away a tiny piece of lint from my black work pants, I reply, “No.”

He breathes out a long, clearly frustrated breath. “Why not?” he implores. “Did you not have a good time last night?”

“I did,” I admit in a whisper, still looking down. “But I thought we already had this conversation. We both have no time for relationships.”

He says gently, “I’d make time for you, Sammie.”

And there goes my heart.

But I have to steel it.

I can’t give in.

Huffing, I just blurt out the truth. “Look, Finn, if it makes you feel any better, it’s me, not you. I’m just not in a good headspace for dating, whether it’s you or someone else.”

He mulls my words over while I sit quietly.

Finally, he says resignedly, “Okay, I have to accept what you’re saying, even though I hate it. But can I ask you one question?”

“What’s that?”

“You said last night that you’d be open to doing something with me just as friends. Does that still stand? Can we hang out sometime as buddies?”

“Buddies?” I scoff. “Don’t you think that ship has sailed?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We’re both adults. I think we can put last night behind us and start over.”

Damn. I do hate the thought of never seeing him again. And what real harm could come from just being his friend?

I have work acquaintances, but the only person I really spend time with outside of my jobs is Ellie. Unfortunately, as of late, she’s usually busy with Nils.

So, yeah, a new friend would be nice.

But to clarify that last night can never happen again, I say, “Okay, but you have to promise me that we can never give in. No more Duck Fart shots. No more ending up in bed.”

“Aww, but those shots are so good,” he says, mock pouting. “And the bed thing… Well…” He waggles his brows.

“Finn,” I warn. “This is not going to work if you’re going to say shit like that.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “I give in, Sammie. You win. We’ll be friends, nothing more, nothing less.”

I raise a brow. “Shake on it?”

I hold out my hand, and he takes it. And together, we shake on being just friends.

Ugh!

With how good his hand feels wrapped around mine, and the undeniable chemistry we share, this is not going to be easy.