Heartthrob Read online

  “Are we gonna be sneaky about it?”

  “Yes.”

  I lean against him. “Good, cuz that bubble gum bazooka’d me right over the edge and I don’t wanna embarrass myself.”

  Finn brings me closer. “No worries. I’ve got your back.” He leads us out of the ballroom unnoticed. Phew.

  “Wait!” I untangle myself from his warm body. “I need a picsssure of you for Tom Sord, I mean Ford.”

  He looks around. Oh yeah, we’re being sneaky and don’t want to get caught. “Over here,” he says, gathering me by his side again. I like his hold. More than I should. He brings us to an alcove hidden behind a lavish floral display sitting atop a shiny round table.

  “Make it quick, Webster.” He hands me my clutch.

  I retrieve my phone without incident. When I go to snap the picture, though, Finn goes in and out of focus and I pray I got at least one decent shot. “How about a selfie, too?” I give myself a mental pat on the back. Even drunk, I’ve got some wits about me. Finn can see clear enough to take a good photo. Our fingers brush when I hand him my phone and a shock makes us both jerk in surprise. We laugh it off.

  “I like your laugh,” I tell him.

  He takes two selfies of himself, one smiling and one smoldering. I’m pretty sure both will melt the panties off thousands of women. “I like yours, too.”

  “Know what else? Don’t answer that. You don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “That I’m cursed.” Wow, I spewed that rather easily. Finn is like Captain Spill My Guts.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Buy me a burger and frenchy fries and maybe I’ll tell you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  #DrunkOnFinn

  Chloe

  “Thesearethebestfrenchfriesihavevereaten,” I say with a mouthful of potato deliciousness. Finn and I are sitting in his car in the parking lot of a drive-thru diner in Hollywood, takeout food in our laps. I’m glad to see my baseball player eats burgers and fries once in a while. If he’d ordered a salad I may have had to switch him for Giancarlo. Just kidding.

  “I’m happy you’re enjoying them,” Finn says. “So, about this curse…”

  My head falls back against the seat. “I was hoping you’d fuhgeddaboudit.” Apparently when I’m drunk I also try and talk with a New York accent.

  “I could, but I’ve got some indirect experience with them so maybe I can help. I’m not superstitious myself, but I have teammates who are and believe they’ll be cursed if they don’t do certain things.”

  He has a point. And maybe a fresh perspective will help with the wretchedness that is my love life. “Promise not to think it’s crazy?”

  “I can guarantee you I’ve heard crazier.” He turns and casts an understanding gaze on me. “I promise.”

  I take another bite of my burger. I’ve only confided in Jillian and my dad about this. And they both think it’s not me. A twist of fate, wrong guy, terrible timing—those are the descriptions they like to use. “I’m a reverse good luck charm. Every time I fall in love my boyfriends end up meeting the loves of their lives and drop me like I’m hot.”

  Finn fights a smile.

  “This isn’t sunny. I mean funny.”

  “I know. So, they drop you like it’s hot—” one corner of his mouth quirks up “—catching you by surprise?”

  “Yes.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Tell me aboudit.”

  Another quirk. “It’s happened every single time?”

  “Uh-huh.” I pop a fry in my mouth. “This last time was the worst, though. Leo broke up with me on our one-year anniversary. I thought he was gonna proposition me. I mean propose to me. Instead he introduced me to Adele.”

  “The singer?”

  “Yo funny.”

  He laughs lightly. “I could say the same to you. So, this is why you don’t want to date anymore?”

  “Yep. I’m done with men. Not this burger, though, so no more talking.” My cheeks burn from confessing something so embarrassing and hurtful. To be put in the same awkward position several times must mean there is something wrong with me, I don’t care what my dad and Jillian say.

  Finn obliges my request, finishing his food before I finish mine. I’m nearing the end of my hamburger, stuffing my face, and so engrossed in eating, that I don’t have time to stop the special spread from dripping out the bottom of the bun and landing on my dress. Normally, this wouldn’t be the end of the world. But not tonight. I look down to find a giant pink-orange splotch on the bodice of my gown.

  “Oh my God. Oh my God. No!” I drop what’s left of my burger into the paper bag holding my fries then gather up some napkins. What do I do? What do I do? I don’t want to accidently rub the sauce into the delicate material. I lightly dab at the stain, trying to soak it up, but I make it worse instead. “Shit!”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” Finn’s soothing words are not what I need right now.

  “It’s not okay.” Tears build behind my eyelids. “This is my bridesmaid dress for my best friend’s wedding. I’m the maid of honor and I’ve ruined the dress. She’s going to hate me. Then she’s going to kill me.” I lick a napkin then wipe at my chest some more because the stain has to come out. It has too.

  Finn takes hold of my wrist. “Slow down there. I’m sure it can be cleaned.”

  “What do you know about cleaning?”

  “I’ll have you know I did my own laundry in high school and if I can get dirt and grass stains out of my baseball pants, I can help with that stain on your dress.”

  I sniffle. “That is totally different. We can’t put this dress in the washing machine. Look at it.”

  “I have been. All night.”

  His cerulean-eyed disclosure burrows under my skin. The air inside the car grows heavy, Finn’s admission turning our discussion into something else entirely. Something I’m finding harder and harder to ignore.

  Thankfully, he breaks the heady atmosphere when he says, “Are you done eating?”

  I simply nod, the back of my throat clogged with emotion.

  He collects our trash and jumps out of the car to dispose of it. On the return he says, “Buckle up. We have a dress to save.”

  A single tear slides down my cheek as I watch him drive out of the parking lot. I’m a drunk, emotional mess and Finn has my back like he said he would. I want to climb over the center console into his lap and kiss him with our lips pressed firmly then softly, and my tongue stroking his until we’re both breathless. Then I want to do it a thousand more times.

  I don’t of course. I force my gaze out the passenger window and fight to keep my suddenly heavy eyes open.

  The last thing I remember thinking is I should have skipped the champagne and waited for cake.

  *

  I rouse from sleep surrounded by warm and cozy sheets that smell like the ocean and firewood. I snuggle in deeper, the soft pillow cradling the side of my face like a cloud of feathers. I think I’ll lie here for at least another hour or two. It’s been forever since I’ve slept in, and after the Burger Incident—my eyes fly open as everything about last night comes barreling back to me. Or, almost everything. This is not my bed. I lift the sheet and glance down my body. This is not what I usually sleep in.

  I bolt upright, pain spearing through my skull. Looking around the room I venture a guess I’m at Finn’s house. Muted light fills the space through a giant window left slightly ajar, an overcast sky in the distance. Straight in front of me is a wood-burning fireplace, small embers glowing yellow and orange.

  The bed is big. The armoire in the corner is, too. There’s a doorway that leads into a bathroom.

  I take another peek at myself. I’m wearing an extra-large Landsharks T-shirt and my underwear and that’s it. Think, Chloe, think. How did I get here? How did I get like this? Did Finn undress me? Did I do my Magic Mike impersonation and do a striptease for him? Mortification slams into me. I don’t see my dress anywhere, but
on the nightstand is my clutch. I quickly grab my phone.

  Jillian picks up on the second ring. “Hey, are you okay?” Her groggy voice tells me I woke her up. Shit. It’s seven a.m. On a Saturday.

  “Hey, sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep and I’ll call back in a couple hours.”

  “No, it’s okay.” Sheets rustle and then Robert’s muffled voice checking on his fiancée travels over the phone line. “Go back to sleep,” she tells him. “Chlo, hang on a sec…all right, I’m in the bathroom now. What’s up?”

  “Are you peeing?”

  “You know I have to go first thing when I wake up. What’s going on? How was the party last night?”

  Where to start? I give her a quick rundown—champagne in the car, champagne and a shot at the gala, spilling my guts to Finn, eating burgers and fries—but leave out the part about wearing and saucing my bridesmaid dress, then say, “And now I’m in Finn’s guest bedroom and I have no idea how I got here.”

  “That’s not so—”

  “Clarification: I’m half naked in bed in Finn’s guestroom.”

  “Ohhh,” she says, and I can picture her eyebrows raised in excited interest. She’s been to baseball games with me and has seen Finn in action. When I told her I was working with him she started planning our wedding and getting pregnant at the same time. She’s ridiculous like that. “Half naked how? No top? No bottoms?”

  “I’m wearing a shirt of Finn’s and have my panties on.” I wasn’t wearing a bra with my dress so that piece of lingerie is unimportant.

  “Pretty panties or no-one-will-see-these kind?”

  “Pretty.” My bridesmaid dress demands it. Where oh where is my dress and did Finn get the stain out? A vague memory floats through my mind. “I just remembered something! Oh crap.”

  “What is it?”

  “I think I invited Finn to your wedding. You know, since I’m dateless now.” I fall back onto my pillow. “God, I ran off at the mouth like it was a marathon. How much can I tell Finn before I take off my clothes and slide into bed. Please remind me never to drink champagne again.”

  “Maybe he took your clothes off?”

  “Not helpful,” I grumble.

  “Sorry, but here’s what I do know. You are a fun, smart, kind person and there’s only a fifty-fifty chance you pulled a Magic Mike.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “What are best friends for? Really, though, don’t worry about it. Just talk to Finn this morning and ask him what happened.”

  “I will, but…”

  “But what?”

  “What if he saw me in my underwear?”

  “Then he’s a lucky guy.”

  “It’s pretty unfair that I didn’t get to see him in his, though.”

  “Or you don’t remember seeing him in his.”

  “I’m pretty sure I’d remember that. Seeing him in nothing but his pajama bottoms is ingrained in my brain, remember?”

  “I also remember you asking me to talk you off any foolish romantic ledges.”

  I sit back up and cross my legs in my lap. “Exactly! So, go… Hello? Jillian?”

  “I’m here. Not talking. Because oh my God, Chloe, if Finn Auprince wants to get jiggy with you, get jiggy with him.”

  “Gah! Please don’t reference yours and Robert’s sex song ever again.”

  She giggles. “Well then please have some no-strings-attached fun. I get that you’re off men, but rebound sex can be very good for the soul.”

  “Says the girl who has never had to rebound. And you’re presuming Finn would want to do with that me.”

  “Does Finn have a penis?” she asks in her no-nonsense tone. I roll my eyes. “Stop rolling your eyes and answer the question.”

  “Yes, Finn has a penis. And from what I can tell, it’s spectacular.”

  “Thank you,” a deep, decidedly unfeminine voice says into the room. I fumble the phone in horrified surprise.

  “Jesus, you scared me.” I bring the phone back to my ear. “Jilly, I gotta go. Bye!”

  Finn stands in the doorway, leaning against the jamb with his legs crossed at the ankles, in black pajama pants and a plain white T-shirt. His hair is tousled, his smile is devilish. He’s holding a glass of water in one hand and something too small to see in his other. My phone pings with a text. ARE YOU OKAY? Jillian asks. I quickly text back, Finn is here! Talk later.

  “Can I come in?” Finn’s first-thing-in-the-morning voice is deep and raspy and my body perks up.

  “I guess, but you may not want to get too close. I could punch you for eavesdropping on me.”

  He walks into the room. “In my defense, I wasn’t. I only got to the door for that last part.”

  I cover my face with my hands. “We are not discussing the elephant in the room.”

  “You mean the anaconda, don’t you?”

  I drop my arms and seeing Finn’s waggish expression I crack up. A split second later, he’s laughing with me. We laugh for I don’t know how long, but it’s nice and cuts through my embarrassment.

  “I was coming to bring you some aspirin,” he says, arm extended, when we finally catch our breaths. “Thought you might have a headache this morning.”

  He passes me the glass of water and two tiny white pills. I could hug him. Instead, I down the meds. “Thanks.” I put the glass on the nightstand, the cold drink soothing my dry throat.

  “Want me to go? It’s early and you’re welcome to sleep as long as you’d like.”

  “Actually, if you could fill me in on a few things from last night, that would be great.” I scoot back to lean against the upholstered headboard.

  “Suffering from a few memory problems this morning?” He walks around the foot of the bed to join me on the other side, propping a pillow up behind his back.

  “Unfortunately. Please tell me I didn’t do a striptease for you to get out of my dress.”

  “That was an option?”

  “Oh, thank God,” I say under my breath. Not that I would necessarily mind Finn seeing me partially naked, but I’d rather it be because he wanted to get my clothes off me. I do have my pride.

  “Do you have a side profession I don’t know about?”

  I give him a side-eye. “No,” I say firmly. “I’ve just been known to dance my way out of my clothes when I’m drunk. Now, on to more important matters. Is my dress okay and how did I get out of it?”

  “Your dress—”

  “Step by step please.”

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  I think about it, the evening growing clearer as I concentrate. “I do remember agreeing to come home with you.” I peek at him. “Because you promised to help with my dress.” I reach up to twist my hair in my finger and find it’s still in a chignon. A messy one, I imagine. “We came inside and…and went into the laundry room. You gave me a clean shirt to put on, left the room, and I got undressed.” I let out a breath. Digging into my memory bank is exhausting.

  “That’s all I’ve got,” I finish.

  “That’s because you fell asleep literally standing up. I carried you up here and tucked you in. End of story.”

  “I can’t believe I don’t remember that. And hold up. You carried me? Finn! You’re not supposed to be lifting something as heavy as me.”

  “It wasn’t a problem.”

  If he’s hurt himself because of me I will add Oreos to his smoothie or something. I get up on my knees so I can take a good look at him.

  “What are you doing?” he asks.

  “Checking you out. Your shoulders look even. I don’t see any bump on your injured side.” I gently touch the area that was fractured. “Does that hurt?”

  “If I say yes, will you kiss it to make it better?”

  My heart rate gains momentum as we stare at each other. I’m afraid to move. Half of me wants to jump off the bed and keep as far away as possible from him. The other half, though, wants to climb into his lap and kiss every single part of him better. He’s teasing, but the
mischievous glint in his eye, like this is a dare he hopes I take, reminds me of the underlying attraction between us.

  I pick option number three and hold my position on the middle of the bed. “If I say yes, will you agree to whatever social media scheme I have up my sleeve for today?” I don’t have a plan for today, but it was the first thing to pop into my head and being crazy good at my job, I can think of something on the fly.

  His brows arch in retaliation. Game on. “If I say yes, will you show me your five favorite pictures on your Instagram page and tell me why?”

  That isn’t at all something I expected him to ask. I can’t keep the smile off my face. In my profession, it’s always about my clients. It feels nice to have interest in me even though I previously told Finn he didn’t get to automatically know about my life. “If I say yes, will you share a brownie banana split with me?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat and fires back, “If I say yes, will you play Operation with me?”

  Again, he’s surprised me. I think he means the game I played as a kid. “You want to play doctor with me?”

  “I do have an outstanding bedside manner.”

  “I guess you did bring me aspirin.”

  “In all honesty, it helps with hand-eye coordination so I include it as part of my off-season routine. The problem is, no one likes to play it with me.”

  “You do know you could play it by yourself, right?”

  “It’s better with someone else.”

  “Meaning you like the competition,” I state. Finn plays to win, every single time.

  We stare into each other’s eyes like perhaps we’re in the middle of a competition right now. It is, sort of, but it’s one with no loser, this exchange of things we’d like from each other fun for both of us. I lean forward so I’m on all fours and press a kiss to his collarbone through his shirt, conceding to this man because I want to.

  Before I can back away, he catches my chin with his thumb and finger, tilts my face up to his. A foot, maybe less, separates our noses. My blood catches fire waiting for him to make another move. Slowly, he inches forward, giving me time to pull free. Little does he know, the house could be falling down around us and I wouldn’t move, the tug toward him on some cosmic level I’m powerless to ignore.