Chapter 3 #2
I take a sip of my drink. I don’t miss the way the bartender shakes his head as he puts away a glass.
Yes, we’re that pathetic. This date is going down like a week-old balloon.
And it hurts. Not the loss of this particular guy, but the loss of a possible connection.
Simple, basic connection. Someone to hold me, make me feel good.
It’s been so long since I’ve had good sex, I’m beginning to forget how it feels to be touched in reverence. And that fucking hurts.
Evan lets out a sigh, and I’m hit with a waft of garlic and stale cigarette smoke.
That’s the other thing; he has terrible breath. Why didn’t I notice this before? Maybe it’s just tonight? Should it matter?
Everyone has bad breath now and then.
“Chess?”
I blink out of my fog, ready to answer Evan, when I realize the voice that had spoken was deeper, laced in an innate sense
of confidence and command. That voice grabs hold of my spine like a hot hand, sending prickles over my skin. No, God no, not
him. He cannot be here to witness this fiasco.
Even as the thought runs through my brain, my stupid traitor of a body begins to hum with happy anticipation.
Bracing myself, I turn and come face-to-face with my tormentor, my rescuer—Finn Mannus. Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world . . . From beneath the brim of a battered Mickey Mouse ball cap, his blue eyes twinkle. There’s such sly humor in his gaze that
I’m hard-pressed not to smile.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, crowding my seat. He isn’t exactly insinuating his big frame between Evan and me, but it’s
a close thing.
“Who did I piss on in a prior life to deserve this?” I mutter, even as my body stirs with renewed energy. Really, I’m full
of shit because I’m happy to see him. My mouth can lie, but my heart knows the truth.
He’s close enough that the warm length of his arm brushes against mine. “Some say my presence is a blessing.”
“It doesn’t count if you pay them to say that,” I lob back.
He chuckles low and easy. “It was only the one time, I swear.”
My lip twitches. He sees it, his eyes bright with shared humor.
Jake Ryder takes the moment to make himself known. “Chess!” He bumps into both Finn and me. “Can you believe this coincidence?”
He says it with such obvious exaggeration that I give Finn a look.
He’s got a good poker face, but the fact that he’s even wearing one makes me wary. “Is it, now?” I drawl.
Again, Finn flashes a quick smile meant to charm and evade. He leans in a touch, and his voice rubs over my skin. “I was just
nowhere near your neighborhood.”
My heart gives a little kick. “I’d never imagine you’d quote Singles, Mannus.”
A strangled sound to my right snags my attention. Evan is gaping at us like he’s seen a ghost. Right. Evan. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Finn Mannus,” he says in an awed voice. “Seriously?”
Finn gives him an easy, aw-shucks grin. “Yep.”
“Wow.” Evan’s gaze pings from me to Finn and then back to me. “You didn’t say you knew Manny.”
“I don’t. Not really.”
Jake slings an arm around my shoulders. “Oh, come on, Chess. You’ve seen us naked. I’d say that counts as knowing us, don’t
you, Manny?”
Little shit. I roll my eyes, as Evan’s mouth falls open again. Finn glares at Jake. “Keeping it classy, Ryder?”
“You . . .” Evan looks at me. “They?”
“Naked,” Jake confirms with a nod.
“They were in the studio for a photoshoot today,” I explain, pursing my lips at an unrepentant Jake.
“Cool,” Evan says, then does a double take. His eyes go wide. “And Jake Ryder, too? Fucking awesome play on fourth and ten
last week, man.”
Jake grins. “Thanks. I try.”
“I can’t believe you know these guys.” Evan turns to the bartender. “You see who’s here? Finn Fucking Mannus and Jake Ryder.”
The bartender, who is at the other end of the bar pouring drinks perks up. “No shit?” Soon he’s sliding over, wide-eyed as
a kid in a toy store.
I roll my eyes again, and my gaze clashes with Finn’s. He’s not paying his fans any attention, but watches me. Amusement lightens
his expression, and for one strange moment, it feels as though we’re sharing a secret joke.
“Bet you didn’t know my middle name was ‘Fucking,’” he murmurs as the bartender shakes Jake’s hand.
“I’d have guessed ‘Asshat,’” I tease.
Finn presses his big hand to his chest, now sadly covered in a white T-shirt. “You wound me, Chester Copper.”
Shaking my head, I incline my head toward his. “The fact that you keep calling me Chester might have something to do with
it, Finnegan Mannus.”
“Actually, it’s Finnegan Asshat Mannus.”
“So, I was right.”
“You’re the only one who’s figured it out.”
I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten to each other, that we were nearly nose to nose, him bent over me, his hand resting
on the back of my chair. A loud laugh bursts the little bubble we’ve created for ourselves, and a man slaps a hand on Finn’s
big shoulder.
Finn’s expression tightens for a second before he turns his head to look back at whoever grabbed him.
“Manny!” the guy yells in glee. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
“Believe!” I cry, waving my hands in the air.
Finn nudges my side with his elbow. “Cute.”
I blink innocently, but don’t miss the way he keeps his arm pressed against mine, as if we’re together. His skin is warm and
firm and has my body’s complete attention.
Which is wrong; I’m on a date with . . . fuck, not again. Edward? Ethan? “Evan,” I mutter, pulling Finn’s attention back to me.
“No, it’s Finn,” he says, smug as hell.
He’s so tall, I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. “I’m on a date with Evan.”
He lifts a brow, glancing at my date, who is gesturing wildly as he talks to Jake about football stats. “Looks like it’s going
well.”
“Well, maybe if someone hadn’t interrupted it . . .”
“You would have fallen asleep on your stool?” he offers lightly.
I exaggerate taking a sip of my vodka, turning my back on him even as he chuckles low and close to me. The sound sinks into
my skin, an unwelcome prickle that makes everything shiver.
But then he’s crowded by more fans, getting more slaps on the shoulder. The loss of his attention is like being pulled out
from under hot stage lights. It’s cold and dark where he isn’t.
I snort into my glass and keep drinking. I’m losing it around this guy. It must be his fame I’m reacting to. That’s all. It’s
normal. Normal.
Except none of the other football players I photographed today did anything for me.
And none of them sent giddy anticipation fluttering through my middle.
Manly, deep laughter rumbles around me, and then I hear it: the softly feminine lilt of a bunch of women on the prowl. Stiffening,
I glance over my shoulder. Sure enough, four women have found their way to Finn and Jake.
These women aren’t wide-eyed with fame. Oh, they’ve clearly recognized the football players, but they aren’t fazed. No, they’re
sizing Finn and Jake up, looking for a good in.
Hell, I’ve been part of such groups, heady college days when we’d go out in search of cute guys. It was thrilling back then,
the excitement of hooking up, maybe finding someone who I’d actually want to stick around afterward. Now the thought of searching
makes me tired.
Pushing my drink away, I lean past Finn’s wide shoulders and tap Evan on the arm.
He’s so caught up in fawning over his idols that it takes a couple of taps before he notices.
“I’m going to call it a night,” I tell him.
Relief washes over his face, though he does try to hide it. “You want me to take you home?”
“No,” I insist, wanting to escape and fast. “I’m good. You have fun.”
I don’t mention seeing him again. We both know that’s not going to happen. He’s already turned back to Jake.
Grabbing my purse and jacket, I slide off the stool. Finn, who has been mobbed by women, wrenches around. His gaze narrows
on me. “You leaving?”
“Yep.”
A brunette hangs on his arm, and he slips free of her before stepping back to give me room.
“Night,” I tell him, needing a clean getaway. The longer I linger, the more I’ll like him. I know my time with Finn is akin
to getting a glimpse of a shooting star.
He touches my elbow. “I’ll walk you.”
The heat of his fingertips sends little fissures of awareness skittering over my skin. I won’t pretend the attraction between
us isn’t there, but it’s superficial at best. Still, I’m not surprised he wants to act on it. From the second he appeared
at my shoulder, I’d known his play would arrive, a foregone conclusion with the inevitable cliché ending; hot, cocksure, famous
guy bags the woman who gave him shit earlier.
I don’t think he’s trying to be a dick. He’s just following the script. Doesn’t mean I have to.
Two women press in on both sides, wanting to be near him. I glance their way and give them a tight smile. Finn doesn’t acknowledge
their presence, but gives me an expectant look.
I put on my jacket then sling my purse over my shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m perfectly fine walking by myself.”
Finn lifts a hand the way cops do when they’re about to give you shit. “Can’t do it, Copper. I won’t feel right not seeing you home.”
“Don’t go all caveman on me, Mannus.”
The guy is like rubber, happily bouncing back with each volley I serve. “Didn’t you know?” he says lightly. “All football
players are part cavemen. Some more than others.”
I’d never have thought a six-four, muscle-packed guy could be cute, but he is. And it’s hard to resist him. “Be that as it
may, I’m really fine.”
We reach the door, and Finn opens it for me. “Okay then, walk me home.”
“You?” Despite myself, I pause on the sidewalk, the humid night air wet on my skin.
Finn’s tan skin glows purple in the light of the bar sign. “Yeah. I don’t feel safe going it alone.”
Such innocence in his expression. I bite back a smile. “Where do you live?”
He gives me my address.
Laughing, I shake my head. “Persistent bugger, aren’t you?”
“Again, football player. We don’t give up.”