“That’s true enough.”
Complicated or not, the pair have been linked at the hip since the earthquake.
Finn leans back against the counter, smiling up at me. “Thanks for tonight,” she says. “It was…it was really nice.”
“Nice?” I tease.
“Would you rather I say mediocre?”
I laugh. “No, Stitch.” I move closer. “I’d rather you say it’s not over yet.”
Twenty-Five
Finn
He steps closer,those brown eyes burning into mine.
And suddenly…I’m nervous.
No.Panicked.
What if I mess this up?
What if?—
“Do you want me to make you a drink?” I blurt as he strolls over to me, his movements confident.
And predatory.
He pauses. “Scared, baby?”
I swallow, lie, “No.”
He prowls closer and crouches a little, and…there’s no hiding from him, not when it seems as though he can see into my very soul.
“Yeah, Stitch, I’d like a drink.”
“A-anything in particular?”
His head tilts to the side and he runs the backs of his knuckles over my cheek. “Whatever you feel like making.”
I nod jerkily and slip out from between him in the counter, moving to the fridge.
And maybe it’s boring.
Maybe I just made them.
But I pull out the ingredients for a lemon drop.
It’s simple. It’s my favorite. And I can make it with my eyes closed?—
Or when I’m distracted by a very sexy hockey player.
“Do we need to pick Chloe up tonight?” I ask as I squeeze the fresh lemon juice into the container.
“No, she’s having a sleepover with the kitties…” His mouth kicks up. “And maybe also Chrissy, Mia, and Rome.”
I smile as I measure out the vodka. “That sounds right.”
