“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. But 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, 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’s 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 Finn and Jake, 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 anticipation of hooking up, maybe finding someone who I’d actually want to stick around afterwards. 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. “You want me to take you home?”
“No,” I insist, needing 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 my jacket, I slide off the stool. Finn, who has been mobbed by women, wrenches around and 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 get away. The longer I linger, the more I’ll like him. And 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 would 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 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. “And 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.”