“Wise man.” Robbie handed Sawyer his McFlurry, then presented the milkshakes to Finn with a dramatic wave of his hand. “A beverage, monsieur?”
His lips quirked. “I didn’t order one.”
“I noticed that you forgot, but I’d hate for you to miss out. I mean, it is an important part of a balanced meal.”
Finn laughed. “Which is mine?”
“Whichever you want.”
Finn took the strawberry.
“Ha! Knew it.” He leaned in and brushed a kiss to Finn’s cheek. “Princess.”
Finn swatted his chest with the back of his hand, but he didn’t deny the charge. Instead he wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked, arching a brow at Robbie in defiance.
“Ugh, stop being gross and come eat.”
“Us? Gross? Never!” Robbie pulled away from Finn so he wouldn’t hurt his ears. Despite his protests, he followed Sawyer’s instructions and unpacked the rest of the food. Sawyer had stopped at the Happy Meal.
“So,” Sawyer said around a fry, “where were you this afternoon?”
Robbie searched his face for judgment or betrayal at Robbie’s choice that left him alone, but found none, just curiosity.
He munched a fry and considered what to say. There was Sawyer’s reaction to consider, of course. And that concerned him most.
But he wanted to be careful about Finn too. If Scott somehow fumbled the ball and didn’t offer Finn the coaching gig, he might go on the road withDance Your Ice Off. And that might leave Robbie with a limited amount of time to spend with him.
He also didn’t want to rub salt in any wounds. This job—a reasonably lucrative one—had more or less fallen into his lap, and he didn’t even need the money.
“Beavers team execs have been watchingDance Your Ice Off,” he started. He flicked his gaze from Sawyer—skeptical—to Finn—impassive. “Apparently I have on-screen presence and charisma.”
“Dubious,” Sawyer said.
Finn nodded, faux serious. “Clearly they have no idea how much editing goes into each show.”
“Rude.” But probably fair. And if Finn was joking, that was probably a good sign. “Still, if they’ve been hoodwinked, they’re committed to their misunderstanding. They offered me a one-year trial contract with the option to renew next summer if things work out.”
“A contract for what?” Sawyer still had food in his mouth. He looked like a startled chipmunk.
“To be Mario.”
“What?”
“They want me to make intermission and online content. Do interviews and stuff.”
“Wow, Robbie, that’s amazing,” Finn gushed. If he felt any kind of envy, Robbie couldn’t detect it. “I knew you were having too much fun.”
“Are they sure they know what they’re doing?” Sawyer said. “You’d be way better at colour commentary. You might have negative rizz, but you’re very good at yelling at the TV.”
“Wow.” Robbie bit down hard on the smile that wanted to escape. He couldn’t encourage Sawyer like that. “Negative rizz? How’d you think I pulled this guy?” He gestured at Finn.
Sawyer swallowed a nugget more or less whole. “Please. Imogen and I practically gift-wrapped him for you and you still almost fucked it up.”
Finn choked on his milkshake. Shame on him. Soon he’d learn not to eat while Sawyer was talking. When he’d cleared his airway, he asked, “So are you going to do it?”
“Dunno. I told them I needed some time and had to discuss it with my family.”
Sawyer flushed and abandoned his nuggets for the McFlurry. Finn shot Robbie the sweetest of bashful-princess looks.
