Finn, Benji, and Jacks were drowning. Mark had joined the bartenders and was moving faster than I thought possible for the burly guy. Still, they struggled to keep up.
I finished my food, drained The PK—which had lived up to the description because I could barely feel my cheeks anymore—and pulled out my wallet.
There was no way Jacks would be able to visit my table anytime soon. If I wanted to leave at a decent hour, I had to take control of my own fate, but getting to the bar to settle my tab was going to be a challenge.
I wedged my way through the crowd until I found an opening at the bar. It wasn’t really a seat, more like a sliver of space next to a mountain of a manin a Lightning jersey with the sleeves cut off and a scissor-slit down the front that showed off approximately seventeen pounds of chest hair.
“S’cuse me,” I said, squeezing onto the stool.
The guy grunted but shifted to give me room.
I sat there for what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes, trying to catch Finn’s attention. He was in constant motion, pouring, mixing, serving, talking to customers, and somehow managing to smile even though he looked exhausted.
Finally—finally—he looked in my direction.
His face lit up.
God, that smile.
He made his way over, dodging Jacks and his buckets of ice, until he stood directly in front of me.
“Hey, you,” he said.
“Hey.” I slid my card across the bar. “I need to settle up. Early morning tomorrow, ya know.”
Something flickered across his face. His brows knit together, but for only a second before smoothing out once more. “Yeah, right, of course. Let me just—”
Before he could turn away, before I could think better of it, I leaned forward. “I had a really good time tonight.”
He mirrored my lean from his side of the bar and shout-whispered above the din, “Even after Iattacked you in my office?”
“Especiallyafter you attacked me in your office.”
His cheeks flushed, and he smiled. “Good. That’s—good.”
We stared at each other for a moment. The bar was chaos around us with noise and bodies and demands for drinks, but right there, in that small space between us, everything was quiet.
Then Finn did something I didn’t expect.
He leaned across the bar—all the way across, ignoring the sticky surface and the half-empty glasses—and kissed me.
And holy shit, it wasn’t a polite, quick peck one might give a friend who’s calling it a night. Oh, no. This was arealkiss, just like we’d seen at the end of the TV show, deep and thorough and very public.
The bar erupted.
“AWWWW!”
“GET IT, FINN!”
“THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!”
“WHO NEEDSHORNY RIVALSWHEN WE HAVE HORNY BARTENDERS?”
That last one drew a round of cheers I felt in my bones.
“YO, BOSS!” Jacks’s voice cut through the noise, loud and enthusiastic. “ABOUT DAMN TIME, MAN!”
“OH MY GOD, FINALLY!” Benji was shrieking from somewhere down the bar. “I’ve been watching this slow burn for weeks, and it was killing me!”
