Chapter 6
“Are you sure you’re up for this?” I ask, clicking my fingernails together. “If you’re too tired, we can just do this another day.”
Finn smiles at me from across the table.
We’re hidden in a dark corner of the restaurant, and even behind his heavily tinted sunglasses, I can see the warm support glittering in his eyes.
After only getting home three hours ago from his latest round of away games, he’s here with me instead of sleeping the exhaustion away.
“I’m probably more ready than you are. You look like you’re trying not to throw up.”
I can’t argue with him when he’s this right. “You’re sure he doesn’t have a wife? A girlfriend or hidden love child from the past?”
“Yeah, Bree. I’m sure. The worst thing this guy has done is pay his taxes late.”
“So, he’s not responsible, then?” I groan as soon as the question escapes.
Finn laughs under his breath and nudges his glass of water toward me. “Take a drink and then a breath. This is going to be just fine as long as you keep a level head.”
“Do you really not get nervous before going on dates?”
I pull my hair up off my neck, already regretting not pinning it up.
The overly hair-sprayed curls weigh heavily over my shoulders and against my sweaty back.
The halter neck of my dress pinches my heated skin, and even as I pull at the swooped front, it doesn’t become any more comfortable.
Even my shoes feel off, the heels digging in where they never have before.
I’m overstimulated before I’ve even seen my date, let alone gotten that first whiff of cologne or heard his laugh.
The photo I forced Finn to show me on the way here didn’t make me feel any which way, and that sure as hell hasn’t helped settle me.
I don’t know what’s made me so picky when it comes to men, but shit, you’d think I was a supermodel or something.
Finn tilts his head slightly as he thinks, his arms dropping to the table.
I look at them a bit longer than I probably should, taking in the way the biceps bulge when he leans forward and digs his elbows into the wood top.
In my defense, I’ve been the one person who’s gotten the full experience of watching them grow over the years. Or rather, all of him grow.
When we were teenagers, he used to stay the same size regardless of how much he ate, thanks to his fast-working metabolism.
Then, we were graduating, and he was putting on bulk like it was nobody’s business.
Each time I blinked, there was another inch of muscle on his body, and those arms were thick enough that he had to go up a size in shirts to avoid the sleeves cutting off his circulation.
There’s nothing youthful about his physical appearance anymore.
His jaw has gotten squarer, his lips thicker and smirk cockier, and even his hair has somehow gotten floppier in a sexy way.
Over the last few years, it’s become clearer to me that he’s not just cute anymore, but the best-looking man I’ve ever laid eyes on.
It’s the world’s biggest slap in the face knowing that the one person who seems to check every single one of my physical boxes is someone who is completely off limits.
Even now, as my tongue starts to feel heavy in my mouth, I have to remind myself that he’s my best friend and that I’m not supposed to be staring at his body like I want to use it as my next favourite toy.
The heat inside me hisses as I extinguish it and fill my mouth with the cold water he’s offered.
“Sometimes. It depends on the date, I guess,” he says, completely oblivious to my previous eye-fucking.
I clear my throat. “What?”
“I don’t get nervous all the time. Very rarely, actually.”
“Right,” I mutter, catching back up. “Well, lucky you. I’d guess that has something to do with you playing baseball in front of thousands of people and having them judge you for every shitty throw you make. You don’t care about people’s opinions of you anymore.”
“Hey, hey, I don’t make shitty throws.”
“Not according to the fans online,” I sing.
“There’s a difference between playing and watching, Bree. Some people love to blab like they know better than the athletes they’re really watching.”
“You’re so humble, Finn. Maybe that’s the key to never getting nervous.”
“Damn, my coaching is working already.”
I push the glass of water back toward him and watch as he swipes one long finger over the dew on the side. “Do you have any actual advice for me?”
“Just live in the moment. Don’t let your mind wander to whether or not you’ll be able to sit and build an IKEA table with him without fighting. At least wait until you know if he’s got any siblings or if he’s close with his parents first before doing that.”
“That’s impossible. If I don’t think about those things on the first date, then I risk missing something important and getting stuck in a relationship with a man who’s bound to disappoint me two years down the road.”
“Rather than what? Never giving a man the time of day and spending the rest of your life on terrible blind dates?”
“It’s the safer option.”
He frowns, and I feel my stomach shrivel up from guilt. “Just try not go easy on Leo tonight. For me.”
“Fine. But I swear to God, Finn, he better be a goddamn saint.”
“He’s . . . close. Ten times better than the last guy you went out with, at least.”
“You said he’s Jett’s cousin?”
“Yes. He’s thirty-one, makes good money running his own photography business shooting weddings, and—bonus points—has never been married.”
I roll my eyes and reach into my purse for my lip gloss.
Uncapping it, I glance across the table at Finn.
He’s staring over my shoulder, an odd expression twisting his features that’s gone before I can think much of it.
When I turn in my chair, I have to blink twice when I see the massive man standing by the entrance, appearing as though he’s looking for someone. Me?
I’m pleasantly surprised when my nauseating nerves transform into subtle butterflies. I quickly swipe my gloss over my lips and jam it back into my bag, clutching the leather handle. My hair doesn’t feel so heavy when I whip back around and grin appreciatively at Finn.
“Okay, if that’s Leo, there’s a bigger chance than I thought of this going well.”
“It is. I’ll stay here until you’re done,” he says, leaning back in his chair, one arm hanging over it. Then, with a crooked grin, adds, “Unless you text me otherwise.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself. I doubt it’ll go that far.”
Even if I do have a bit more hope with this guy than usual. I’ve never been much for sleeping with men on the first date. Or even the fourth. Oh well.
“Either way, I’m here. This is just for me to get a better idea of what exactly is leading to your .
. . date-destruction.” He glances past me again.
“He’s asking the girl who sat us about you.
Good luck, Bree. Just remember to give him a slim chance here.
And if you need me to cut in and pull you away, just do something that I’ll know means help. ”
When he stands, my heart clunks nervously in my chest as I remain looking forward at him, too much of a wuss to look to see if Leo’s coming over. My best friend’s familiar chuckle relaxes me just enough that I don’t feel like I’m going to faint.
“Don’t go too far,” I blurt out, having to hold my hands together in my lap to keep from reaching for him. “I don’t know how soon I’ll start waving my hands around like a lunatic.”
His eyes turn my favourite shade of blue as he tucks my hair behind my ear and nods, lowering his voice to a rough whisper. “I’ll be close.”
Then he’s gone, and I’m left sitting alone. Inhaling deeply, I pull my shoulders back and look to the entrance. The Goliath of a man notices me this time and offers a smile as recognition registers in his dark gaze. I hold my breath when he starts my way, appearing much more confident than I feel.
“Aubrey?”
I force my chin down into a nod before standing. I regret that choice almost instantly when I realize there was no point to it. What am I supposed to do now, shake his hand like I’ve just walked into a meeting? With a rough laugh, I sit back down while he takes Finn’s empty seat.
“Yes. You must be Leo.”
“That’s me. And at the risk of sounding overly interested, you are far more beautiful than in the photo my cousin showed me.”
My face goes up in flames beneath the weight of his deep brown eyes.
There’s something demanding about them, and I feel myself being drawn to stare at him, losing my tongue in my airway when I give in.
I’ve felt this sensation before, but it’s usually isolated to the courtroom.
This man isn’t as innocent as Finn made him out to be.
Instead, I think he’s the opposite, and that has me bristling slightly.
I dislike being at a disadvantage, and I have a feeling that Leo is used to women behaving that way around him.
He’s a man who knows how good-looking he is and uses it to his advantage, making women feel less confident and like they need to agree with everything he says just so they don’t risk losing his attention.
And fucking hell. I’ve just done it again.
In another life, I’ve got an office in my mega-mansion with a Ph.D. on the wall and a man crying into a tissue in front of me as I read his entire personality to filth.
Floundering, I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs and sweep my eyes over the tables around us.
It doesn’t take me longer than a skipped heartbeat to find Finn.
He’s sitting three tables back, pretending to stare at his menu with his sunglasses shielding where he’s truly looking.
I can feel his gaze, though. It’s not enough to pull me from my thoughts, but it does slowly ease the tightness in my lungs.
His menu shifts an inch lower, revealing a small, encouraging smile. I stare at it for a moment before looking back up into tinted lenses.
“Maybe I said that too soon. I didn’t mean to offend you,” Leo says, yanking my eyes back to him.
“Oh, no, you didn’t offend me. I’m a bit rusty when it comes to dating.” I reach for Finn’s half-empty glass of water and take a sip. “I appreciate the compliment. When I saw you, I thought the same.”
A charming grin shadowed by neatly trimmed facial hair flashes at me. “I was hoping I wouldn’t disappoint.”
“Definitely not.”
“I wasn’t late, was I? You haven’t been sitting here alone for long?”
“No. Just long enough to order this.” I tap the glass as I fib.
He nods and reaches for his menu. I tongue my cheek and scroll over my own, rereading the list of items for the thousandth time already.
“Are you much of a drinker?” he asks.
I look up, searching for a sign of expectancy in his features, but come up short. “I enjoy one after a long day or on a first date.”
“Likewise.”
Is that it?
“What’s your drink of choice?”
He taps his menu despite holding it toward himself, where I can’t see it. “Tequila.”
“A margarita?”
His laugh is loud enough to make me jump in my seat just in time to avoid the spittle that flies along with it. “No. On its own.”
“I can’t say I usually reach for tequila.”
“There’s a first time for everything,” he drawls, looking up just long enough to wink at me. “Try a glass with me.”
“I haven’t had tequila since university. I’ll stick with my martini.”
This time, his gaze lingers longer. It sticks to my skin like glue, making me shift uncomfortably. “Just one. I’ll order you a martini backup.”
A bit pushy. Terrible taste. But still not the worst I’ve dealt with. I can almost hear Finn’s voice in my head reminding me to keep an open mind.
“Alright. Just one,” I tell him, giving an inch.
The waitress arrives a couple of minutes later, and shocker, there’s no backup martini ordered. I hold back my annoyance and let yet another thing go.
“You’re a photographer, right?” I ask before he chooses the topic of conversation again.
His interest sparks, making me smile a bit. “Yes.”
“Do you have a specialty?”
“Well, I started with weddings, but after a while, I realized it was far easier to photograph women. Have you ever had boudoir photos done?”
I pause, trying to think of something nice to respond with. “No, I haven’t. Is that what you do now?”
“Oh, yes!” He laughs that abrupt, hard laugh again. Unfortunately, unlike last time, I don’t avoid the spit in time. “I’m sure you’re not surprised to hear that women are far better subjects than men. You follow orders so much better.”
The waitress chooses this exact moment to arrive with our drinks.
I open my mouth to tell her to just take mine back when Leo thanks her and slides mine in front of me.
With my lips pinched together tight enough there’s no chance the words I’m holding back can escape, I take my napkin and dab my collarbone, removing his spit from my skin.
This time, when I look over at where Finn’s sitting, he’s glaring at Leo. I debate standing and leaving, but then his blue eyes flick to me, softening instantly. Do it for me, he said.
As badly as I currently want to waterboard Leo with his tequila, I remind myself of why I’m here and settle again, digging my heels in, refusing to give up.