Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Whatever he sees on my face as he pulls back makes him smirk, but I’m too lost in the moment to care about his arrogance. Ever since he took his seat back from Nate, he’s been extra attentive—his arm on the back of my chair, his body moving closer to mine, his conversations reserved for my ears only. It’s as if he’s staking his claim on me, which is baffling. And thrilling. Every time a photographer comes around to take a picture, Finn confuses the hell out of all of us at the table by moving closer to me.
Damian and Will haven’t stopped staring. Livie keeps biting her lip so she doesn’t bust out laughing. Tiago hasn’t stopped scowling. Nate doesn’t give a shit, so he’s been carrying the conversation. Between dinner and the auction, there’s another break, and everyone gets up to mingle. Finn and I stay in our seats. I wait until Livie is gone before turning to him.
“What are you doing?” I ask quietly. He scoots his chair so close he might as well pull me onto his lap. I shoot him a warning look. “Finn.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
My eyes narrow. “You’ve been touching me all night.”
“And that’s a problem?”
I search his eyes for a moment because he has to be joking. He’s not. “You realize they’ve taken a million pictures of us, right? Of you all over me.”
He glances away and starts scanning the room.
“Finn.”
His eyes snap to mine. I hate that he’s so impossible to read. “I’m aware of the pictures,” he says finally, looking completely unconcerned. “I didn’t realize you cared.”
“I don’t, but I know you do.” I set my elbows on the table and turn my face to look at him.
He doesn’t respond, which drives me crazy. Tate was a no-show, so it can’t have anything to do with pissing him off. We had sex, so it doesn’t make sense for him to be acting this way unless there’s a reason. He’s been practically staking claim on me all night, and even though he never does that, I’m not going to kid myself into believing I’m special to him.
“Tell me about your dad,” he says suddenly, and my stomach drops for a different reason.
I lick my lips. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. Were you close?”
“Very.” I smile softly. “He’s the reason I got into basketball. He played pro for a few years.”
“Really?” His brows rise.
“It was his life,” I say quietly as I train my eyes on the white tablecloth.
“What happened?”
“He got hurt badly and ... never recovered.” I clear my throat to get rid of the knot forming there.
“Damn,” he whispers.
“He used to go to all my games. Sometimes, Mom couldn’t make it, but he was always there cheering me on, coaching my teams, driving me around...” I feel myself smile again at the memories.
“My parents have never seen me play.”
My eyes snap back to his. “Never?”
“Not once,” he says. “Not in person anyway.”
“How can that be?” I search his face, looking for tells that he’s joking, but he’s dead serious.
“They never took it seriously. I had drivers take me to games and practices. My grandfather and uncle were usually there, so it’s not like I had no family in the stands.”
I instinctively reach out for his hand and cover it with mine.
He tenses. “I don’t want your pity. Trust me, I was afforded many luxuries. Your pity would be lost on me.”
“I’m allowed to feel sympathy for little Finn Alexander Barlow, who was probably the cutest kid on the ice.” I run my thumb over his rough hand. “I would’ve loved to have been there.”
He stares at me for a long time, his eyes cataloging my face before meeting my gaze. I can’t read his expression, but when he turns his hand beneath mine and threads our fingers together, I feel like my heart might explode.
By the time we get home, pictures of me and Finn are everywhere. Thankfully, they mention the Alma Foundation, so the attention isn’t wasted. The comments, of course, are all over the place. I ignore my notifications and make sure my sponsored post is scheduled, then set my phone on Do Not Disturb and put it away.
“Do you ever get tired of doing that?” Finn asks, as we step into the elevator in our building.
We haven’t even been able to discuss the event since I was on the phone with my mom the entire car ride home, trying to explain that Finn and I aren’t together as inconspicuously as I could with him beside me. I watch as he takes off his bow tie, stuffs it in his pants, and unbuttons the top two buttons of his crisp, white dress shirt. He looks mouthwatering like this. I make myself look away and focus on the doors.