Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Finn
“So, we’re going to Poppy’s, then where?” Raya walks over to the hooks by the door and grabs her coat.
“You’ll find out,” I say, aware that it’s going to drive her crazy not to be in charge.
She struggles with the sleeve of her coat, and I reach out to help her. Her face shifts like she’s not sure she wants to let me, but then, she softens. “Thanks.”
“Sure.” It feels like a win.
She turns to face me, mouth in a tight line. “I’d like to know the plan.”
“A plan sounds like a good idea.”
She stares at me blankly. “So . . . what is it?”
“Ooh,” I suck in a breath through my teeth, “I don’t have a plan.”
Her eyebrow quirks. “You said you had an idea of where we were going . . .”
“Right.”
“So tell me,” she says.
“No.” I shove my hands in my pockets.
“Why?”
“Because it’s a surprise.” Also because I actually have about four ideas and I haven’t decided where I want to take her. Thought I’d play it by ear. I have a feeling she’s never done that before. It would probably also shock her to learn that’s how I ended up at her house.
I was driving home from practice, determined not to bug her, when I remembered that’s not my style. If I’m going to show up for her, I’m going to show up—whether she wants me to or not.
“I hate surprises,” she says.
“Shocker.”
She shakes her head, clearly irritated, and opens the door to the garage. “Normally, I’d walk, but since you didn’t wear a coat . . .” She looks at me. “I’ll drive.”
She slings a bag over her shoulder, and I follow her into the garage. She’s wearing jeans, a red sweater, and a pair of brown boots. She looks adorable.
Casual looks good on her. Better than office clothes, for sure. Makes her seem more approachable, even though she’s still a little standoffish.
The night I met her, she was more open than she’s ever been since, but I blame that on the alcohol.
It went right to her head, which is the only reason I know she got fired.
The only reason I know the guy she’d dated for years had gotten engaged to someone else.
And the only reason I know that behind her tough exterior, Raya feels everything.
I don’t think many people realize that.
We get into her car, and some talk radio show comes on. I immediately reach for the knob, and she smacks my hand. “My car. My music.”
I groan. But then she puts on an eighties station, and I grin. “Solid choice. I wouldn’t have guessed Bon Jovi.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know me at all.”
“I’m guessing not a ton of people do.” I mean for the words to come out playful, but there’s a weight to them I didn’t intend. I see it when I glance over and find her watching me. Her brow is knit tight, and there’s confusion behind her eyes. And something in the air shifts.
I don’t dare look away, but I can’t read her expression.
She snaps her eyes to the mirror, puts the car in reverse and backs out.
“Finn, I think we need to be clear on something,” she says purposefully, eyes on the road.
“Okay . . .” I feel like I was just caught texting in class.
“I want to make sure we’re on the same page.” A quick glance at me. “I’m dating Justin, but even if I wasn’t—you and I are not, you know, compatible.”
Yep. This isn’t going to be easy.
“So you’ve said—on multiple occasions.”
“I’m serious,” she says. “I think it’s important to set the proper expectation.” Her eyes remain on the road. “I like to be direct.”
“No. You?” I chuckle.
“I mean it.”
I might be offended if I wasn’t so taken with her. Raya says what she thinks. She’s clear about what she wants. I can’t fault her for that, even though what she wants is definitely not me.
“Don’t worry. I know you’re dating someone, even if he’s totally wrong for you.” I look at her. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Okay, so . . . why?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I say again. “I planned to give you space, but . . . I was there when you, you know—”
She looks over at me, embarrassment on her face.
“I guess I needed to make sure you were okay.”
She goes still, then says quietly, “I’m fine.”
I nod. She is. Or she seems to be. My gaze drifts out the window. “I also thought you might need a friend.”
“A friend?” she asks.
I half-laugh. “Stupid, since you probably have lots of friends. And you made it clear I’m not one of them.” I glance over.
Her jaw twitches. “I didn’t mean—”
I hold up a hand. “It’s fine. I get it. And you’re right, we aren’t really friends.”
She goes still.
“But I think we could be. I’m good at that.” I adjust the seat to give myself more room, only now realizing it’s cramped in here. I move the seat forward, then up, then back, then back further, then forward.
She looks at me, exasperated, and I hold eye contact as I give the seat one more short adjustment up. “There. Perfect.”
She bites back a smile. A small chink in the armor.
“Seriously, though. With your most recent vote, I’ve been elected Mayor of the Friend Zone, so I have a lot of practice.”
Her laugh is laced with sarcasm. “Yeah, all those women you go out with definitely look like they just want to be friends.”
I rest my arm on my knee and look out the window, letting her in on a secret.
“A lot of those women use me to get to the, uh, more famous players,” I say.
She looks at me for a beat, but it’s long enough for me to catch her frown.
“I’m cool with it,” I say. “I don’t mind being an NHL stepping stone. Pretty people pay attention to me, plus I can weed out the crazy ones before introducing them to the other guys on the team.”
“So why do you go out with these women if you know they’re just using you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just like people, I guess.”
She flips on her blinker and makes a turn. “It’s really shady for anyone to go out with you just to get to someone else. You don’t deserve that.”
“Raya.” I bring a hand to my chest, mock-serious. I nod my head slowly. “This is a moment. It’s almost like you care about me.”
“Funny.” She grips the steering wheel with both hands and sighs. “I’m not as heartless as everyone thinks.”
“People think you’re heartless?”
She slowly turns to me. “I know how I am. People walk on the other side of the hallway when I’m coming.”
“You’d be great as one of those people in Costco with a clipboard,” I joke. “You’re like a hot version of an extended warranty phone call.”
“I’m not—!” She stops mid-sentence.
“—employed by Costco?” I jump in. “Yeah, I know, but if you were, you’d be great.”
She frowns at me, and I shrug at her. “Just sayin’.”
She heaves a big sigh, but I can see the corners of her mouth turn up a bit.
“Plus,” I add, “I know the real you, remember?”
“Will you stop bringing that up?” She shoots me a look, but I see the smile in her eyes.
“I can’t. It was one of the best nights of my life.” I smirk.
“Well, it was one of the worst nights of mine.” Her expression shifts. “A close second to what happened a few days ago.”
I can tell she’s upset. Still bothered by what happened in her office. Maybe the best thing I can do is keep things light.
“Yeah, but now you get a vacation, free breakfast with someone who’s not even a friend . . . ” I say, lightly. “Win-win.”
She smiles weakly but looks conflicted, and I let the subject drop. We drive in silence for a few minutes, just the sounds of the road.
I’m not a huge fan of silence.
“So, in my current position as non-friend, is there any upward mobility? Any goals I can hit to move up the ranks?” I ask. “If I’m going to stay with this company, I need to know there’s a chance for promotion.”
She chuckles to herself, a good sign, and says, “I’ll consider advancement if—if—you show some kind of growth in maturity.”
“Uh-oh,” I say. “Thaaat’s gonna be a problem.”
She takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I figured. Might have to just stay acquaintances, then.”
“Might have to.”
“I’m glad we’re clear. Expectations are important.”
“Right,” I say. “No chance of anything romantic. Totally off the table.”
She side-eyes me. “Only executives get that perk,” she quips.
At least she’s playing along. That’s a step in the right direction, I guess.
“And for the record, I never thought that was ever—”
“Good,” she says. “I mean, you are completely wrong for me.”
I frown. “Okay, wait. How do you even know?”
She comes to a stop at a red light and turns to me. “Oh, come on, Finn. First of all, I already told you, you’re a professional hockey player. Which is a big red flag.”
“Feels judgy, but okay.”
“Second of all, you’re like a big kid!” She shudders. “You don’t take anything seriously. You joke about everything, and the real world isn’t like that—”
“Some would call that a perk, but you know,” I mutter over the sound of her still talking.
“Plus! You’re so flirty with everyone. It’s like you can’t help yourself. I think I saw you flirting with Mara Mitchell one day last week after a game.”
“Mara loves me,” I say, thinking of the old woman who funds one of the team’s largest outreach programs.
“She’s eighty years old.”
“She thinks I’m cute.” I grin at her.
She shakes her head, smiling. “You are maddening.”
The light changes and she accelerates into the business district of her small hometown.
“Listen,” she takes on a slightly more serious tone. “If we’re going to be friends—and I’m not saying we are—but if we were, I’d love to offer you some advice. Friend to friend.”
I turn in my seat toward her. “Bring it on.”
“For the right woman, these will be strengths,” she says, eyes back on the road. “Your joking around, your outlook on life, your whole”—she waves a hand in my direction—“thing. They’re just not right for me.”
“Don’t check your boxes, huh?” I say, with more lightness than I feel.
She initially doesn’t say anything, but then winces and shrugs.
“Youch. Like, none of them? Do you have a ‘he’s a nice guy’ box?”
“You smell good,” she says. “That’s a box.”
I laugh loud at that one, though I can’t shake the feeling that my plan to win her over is a fool’s errand.
“I’m sure I don’t check any of your boxes either.” She slows down in front of a parking space.
“Eh, I don’t put people in boxes,” I say.
The car jerks, and she looks at me. “That’s not what—”
“No, I’m sure you’re right,” I interrupt. “You’re way too uptight for me. I need a woman who knows how to go with the flow.”
A honk sounds behind us, and she goes back to parking the car, sandwiching it between two others like a pro. She puts it in park and turns off the engine. “I can go with the flow.”
“No, you literally can’t.”
She frowns, a quiet pout crossing her lips.
“Are you offended?” I ask, laughing. “You spent the whole ride telling me things that are wrong with me, but you’re the one who’s offended?”
“I’m not offended,” she says, then changes her expression. “Wait, are you offended? I didn’t mean—”
I hold up a hand. “I’m not. I’m just messing with you. Lighten up.” I get out of the car and close the door. Through the closed window, I cup my hands to the glass and shout, “You’re so serious all the time.”