Finn (Breakaway Hockey #4)

Chapter Thirteen

Sammie

I widen my stance, lift the axe high above my head with both hands, and let it fly.

“What the hell,” Finn says from behind me. “Another bull’s-eye? I can’t believe this!”

It’s amusing that he’s shocked at how good I am at this axe-throwing thing. But if there’s one strength I have, it’s superb hand-eye coordination, as evidenced by the fact that this is my fifth bull’s-eye tonight.

And I’ve only thrown six times.

The lone one I missed was close, too, just a little off to the left.

“Now I see why you wanted to go axe-throwing,” Finn says as I turn around to face him. He points at me accusingly. “You’re a secret ace.”

I kind of am, but I just wave my hand and retort, “Aww, I don’t know about that. I’m just okay.”

“Okay?” he coughs out. “You are way better than ‘okay,’ Sammie.”

I am, but I’m trying to be humble here. I mean, Finn’s no slouch at this activity either. He’s done well, but not as good as I have. Still, he’s scored some points by hitting the targets in various areas.

But he’s not nailed five bull’s-eyes.

Nope.

To his credit, though, he has hit a respectable two.

I like that he’s impressed with my performance. And he’s right—I did choose this activity on purpose. I wanted to show off for him. I don’t know why.

Oh, hell, I do know.

Even though this friends-only thing is working out thus far, I can’t help that I still like Finn as more than just a pal. Spending time with him has made my attraction to him stronger than ever.

Like, God, look at him now.

Even distracted as he chooses his next axe—like a new one will help him do better—this man is gorgeous. The little cut on his cheek is healing nicely, and I doubt he’ll have a scar. But damn if that mark doesn’t make him look even sexier, more rugged. His black jeans and tight gray tee he has on today add to that image, showing off his firm ass, strong, corded arms, and wide chest.

I sigh, and memories of the night we spent in his bed flood my mind.

Licking my lips, I just kind of stop and stare at him.

The way he used his body, his mouth, his cock…

A shiver runs down my spine, the good kind, and Finn, who’s done picking his axe, is now staring at me.

He tilts his head, his brow creasing.

Thank God he can’t read minds.

But crap, maybe he can, seeing as he starts grinning at me slyly.

Clearing his throat, he asks, “Whatcha thinking about over there, Sammie?”

I wave my hand as I casually walk over to him. “Oh, nothing.”

He spins his axe like a pro. “You sure about that?”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure.” I nod a little too exuberantly, and it becomes clear from the smirk on his face that he knows I was reminiscing about that night.

Hey, I’m sure he does too.

It was that damn good.

Chuckling, he steps up to the throwing zone…and nails a perfect bull’s-eye.

Shit, this game is on.

Despite a valiant comeback on Finn’s part, I end up winning our axe-throwing battle.

Since it’s been my night to pay, and we haven’t even come close to what dinner cost him the other evening, I suggest we grab a bite to eat at the pizza joint next door.

He seems a little hesitant, though I have no idea why, so I add, “I know you like Italian food based on the other night. So, what do you say?”

“Yeah, sure.” He nods. “I’m up for some pizza. But…” He holds my gaze. “I’m buying.”

Ahh, this is why he was slow to say yes. He’s worried about me spending more money.

I shake my head. “That isn’t our agreement, Finn. We’re supposed to take turns paying.”

“I know.” He sighs. “But it seems unfair. No offense, Sammie, but I make a hell of a lot more than you do.”

I assure him that I’m not offended. What he’s saying is true. His annual income is far higher than mine. But what he doesn’t know is I have a huge savings account and several investments that have done very well.

That’s how I was able to afford such a nice townhouse and a decent car. But I don’t like to talk about that money. The reason why I have so much is related to what happened that awful night all those years ago.

And you know what? I’d give everything back, every last cent, if I could have a do-over with a different outcome.

But life doesn’t work that way.

I must look sad, as conjuring up memories like those has that effect.

Finn, brow creased, touches my elbow and says softly, “Hey, I know you said you weren’t offended, but I still shouldn’t have phrased it that way. I sounded like a dick, and I’m sorry. If you really want to pay, that’s cool. We did make that agreement.”

“I’m not upset with you,” I assure him. “I was just thinking about something different. Honestly, what you said was fine. It’s true anyway.”

He seems to accept that I’m good, and we head over to the pizza place.

It’s not crowded, but we still choose a table way in the back.

Since it’s Monday night, there aren’t a lot of people out throwing axes and eating pizza. Still, two guys did recognize Finn when we first walked into the axe-throwing place.

He graciously signed autographs for them and chatted with them about the season for a few minutes. He even let them take a selfie with him.

Since all of the teams in the division have been playing exceptionally well lately, the Thunder are clinging to a playoff spot by a thread.

Finn and the two fans talked about that, and then they wished him good luck and took off.

Luckily, no one is approaching us in the pizza shop. Probably because there are only a handful of patrons.

The menus are on the tables already, tucked behind the napkin dispenser, so Finn grabs two and hands me one.

“What are you in the mood for?” he asks as we look over our options.

Perusing the menu, I say, “Hmmm, well, I’m kind of open to whatever. Do you want pizza or something different? It looks like they also have hoagies and calzones.”

I look up at him, and he shrugs. “I’m feeling pretty open too. We can share a small pizza, or, really, whatever you want works for me.”

“I’m good with pizza,” I reply, since I am.

He nods. “Perfect. Then pizza it is.”

We take a minute or so to decide what toppings we’d like, ultimately choosing extra cheese and pepperoni.

Just as we’re placing the menus back behind the napkin dispenser, a waitress comes over to take our order.

We tell her what pizza size and toppings we want and ask for two iced teas.

After jotting everything down, she steps away.

I really want to assuage Finn’s concerns that he’s somehow taking advantage of me when it’s my turn to pay, so I decide to bring up the subject again.

This time I’ll add a little more, but not too much, detail.

“Hey,” I begin. “Not to beat this thing into the ground, but can we discuss our agreement about taking turns paying?”

“Sure,” he says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “What about it?”

“Well.” I tap my fingers on the table, and then I pull out some paper napkins from the dispenser so I have something to fidget with. “I just think it’s important to share with you that I have more than enough money to treat when it’s my turn. My income from waitressing isn’t all I have.”

I’d like to leave it at that, but I can tell from the puzzled look on Finn’s face that he’s about to ask for more detail.

Sure enough, he says, “It’s probably none of my business, but I did notice you live in one of the nicest townhouse complexes in town. In fact, I’ve known players who’ve lived there.” Raising a brow, he asks, “Did you, like, win the lottery or something?”

Ha, I wish it were so simple.

So as not to get further into this subject than I’d like, I reply with a cryptic “Yeah, it’s something like that.”

Thankfully, Finn doesn’t press. He just uncrosses his arms and holds up his hands. “Point taken. I promise I won’t give you any more grief about paying. In fact”—he pretends like he’s going to flag down the waitress—“I think I’ll order a hoagie, maybe two, to go along with that pizza.” His green eyes meet mine, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in their depths. “After all, you’re still paying, right?”

I laugh and ball up a paper napkin.

Tossing it at him, I say, “Shut up.”

He laughs right along with me, and the rest of the night is a blast. We enjoy our pizza and conversation.

When we leave, we make our way to the parking lot, where our vehicles are parked. We drove separately tonight and just met here earlier.

That was my suggestion, as it seemed less date-like.

Funny thing is, we arrived at the same time, so we’re parked right next to each other.

We reach our cars, and, standing at the back between the two, it suddenly starts feeling like we just had a date.

A really great one.

And here comes the awkward goodbye.

“So,” Finn says, hands in his jeans pockets. “That was fun.”

“It was,” I agree.

He rocks back on his heels, then forward. “Um, yeah, so, anyway, we have a couple of away games coming up.”

“I saw that on the schedule,” I reply.

“That means I won’t be home till next Monday. Then we have a game here on Tuesday.”

I nod. “Saw that too.”

Lord, this is as awkward as I expected it to be.

And we were doing so well up to this point.

“Anyway.” He blows out a breath. “Would you be up for doing something next week? After our home game, that is.”

I grimace. “Ah, I think I’m working next Tuesday evening. Plus, Ellie didn’t mention that she’s going to that game, so I won’t be there either. As you know, she’s my ticket connection.”

“Oh.” His brows shoot up. “I didn’t mean that we should do something directly after the game. I meant, like, later in the week. Maybe Wednesday night? That way we’d have more time. We could even catch a movie.”

“Ahh, got it.” I think about my schedule and don’t recall a shift at either of my jobs on Wednesday evening, so I tell him, “Wednesday should be good. And a movie sounds like fun.”

“Great, cool. We’ll go see one, then.” He sighs. “Do you just want to work out the details when it gets closer?”

“Yeah, let’s do that. I’m not even sure what’s playing. Not to mention, it’s getting late.”

“It is,” he agrees. He then kind of shuffles his feet and says, “There is one more thing I want to say before we go.”

Uh-oh .

I murmur a tentative “Yeah?”

Chuckling and clearly picking up on my trepidation, he assures me, “It’s nothing bad. It’s just that if you ever want to go to a game and Ellie isn’t going, just let me know. I can always get you a ticket.”

“Oh, okay.” I let out a relieved breath. “That would be fantastic. Thank you, Finn.”

Thank God what he wanted to say wasn’t anything bad. I don’t know what I thought it could be. Maybe that he’s done trying to be just friends, and if we can’t date, then there’s no sense in continuing this.

Although that’s probably more of my own feelings talking.

I’m projecting.

All because my heart wants more.

I can’t help it.

Good thing my damn head is in charge.

Otherwise, instead of saying our goodbyes and getting in our respective vehicles, I’d be going home with him and banging his brains out.

So, yeah, I’m lucky my head is stronger than my heart.

For now.