I watched in fascination as she tugged off her mittens, unzipped her coat, and stuffed them down one sleeve.
“Why do you do that with your mittens?”
She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “So I don’t lose ’em.”
It was such an elementary-school move, and I loved it. Sassy, sardonic, take-no-prisoners Chessly Clarke needed to tuck her mittens into her sleeve. I grinned.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Resting my elbows on the table, I set my chin on my hands and gazed at the gorgeous girl seated across from me. “But you are terribly cute.”
Chapter Fifteen
Chessly
“Terribly cute? What’sthat supposed to mean?” I asked.
“It means I like how you’re such a badass physics major who still does what her kindergarten teacher taught her to do after coming in from recess.” Finn’s warm smile held a hint of teasing.
What was I supposed to do with that?
With all the talk about showers on the drive to the bar, my thoughts kept straying to naked Finn. The effort I’d expended to stop myself from crossing my legs to cover my body’s reaction to mental images of water sluicing over his big, sexy body had almost worn me out before we even arrived. I had the idea he’d brought it up on purpose to send my thoughts in that exact direction. Now he was gently teasing me about how I liked to keep my things together. My libido might be suffering from whiplash, and my cheeks were flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with coming in from the cold to sit in a warm bar.
The server’s timing was a mercy.
“What can I get you guys?”
“An extra-large chicken and artichoke pie.” Finn flashed a grin my way. “With extra cheese, a couple glasses of water, and—”
“I’ll have a pint of the chocolate stout,” I finished for him.
“Make that two.” Finn emphasized his request by holding up two fingers.
“Got it. Anything else?”
With a shake of my head, I said, “I’m good.”
“Better add an order of wings with hot aioli.” His eyes twinkled. “Bring it first. I don’t want my girl here to gnaw off her arm or something.”
“Seriously?” I huffed.
He lifted his hands in a what-can-I-say? gesture. “Hey. I’m not the one whose stomach sounded like a jet taking off when we were studying.”
Glaring at him from beneath my brows I said, “But you were the one whose stomach sounded like a pride of lions in the jungle on the drive over from the Union.”
He grinned at the server. “Yeah, don’t wait on those wings.”
The guy laughed, gave a salute, and headed back to the kitchen to place our order.
“Gnaw my arm off, my ass,” I muttered.
Finn put his hand to his ear. “What was that?”
“A gentleman would have ignored my rumbling stomach, not proclaimed it to the waitstaff.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pretended to pout.
“If I’d have ignored your stomach, you might have talked yourself out of sharing a pizza with me, and that wouldn’t do at all.” His smile was positively puckish, and I couldn’t suppress an answering twitch of my lips.
Since the place was about half-full, only a couple of minutes passed before the server arrived with our waters and beers. Grateful, I drank down a healthy swig of my stout, enjoying the bitter tang tickling my tongue.
