Page 10 of Finn

Aww, I think he’s a little embarrassed.

How sweet.

Looking back up, he says, “I think it’s too much, though. I had the house built after I bought this land. But I probably should have gone smaller.”

I shake my head. “Nah, I think it’s a good choice for the future. I’m sure someday you’ll have a family. Then you’ll be glad you went big and spacious.”

“Maybe,” he says quietly, looking away.

He seems kind of sad, so I ask, “What? You don’t think so?”

Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know, Sammie. Nothing in life is guaranteed, you know?”

That’s for sure, I think but don’t say.

“Anyway,” he continues, “I’m already twenty-seven, and I haven’t met the right one yet. Not to complain, but being a professional athlete makes it even harder. You just don’t know who you can trust, or if someone’s intentions are genuine or not.”

“I can see how that could happen,” I agree.

“But hey.” He blows out a breath. “Enough griping from me. You’re the one who had the long day. Let’s go in, and I’ll make you that shot.”

I laugh. “Okay.”

We head inside, and, since it’s late, he gives me an abbreviated tour. From what I get to see of the inside of Finn’s house, I conclude it’s even more impressive than the exterior.

Every room is just so nicely decorated. I tell him that once we reach the end of his tour in the entertainment room.

Laughing, he replies, “I have to be honest. I had no idea what I was doing when the house was done and I moved in. It was justso vast and empty. I had no clue where to start, so I just took the easy way out and hired a bunch of interior decorators.”

“Well, they certainly did a great job,” I reply.

“They did,” he agrees, chuckling.

I take in the slate-blue walls and the sleek black accents in this entertainment room. There’s a masculine feel to it, yes, but not overtly so. The space is somehow still warm and welcoming.

There’s a black leather sectional sofa that looks really comfy, a massive TV on the wall, a long bar on the opposite side of the room, and a well-placed electric fireplace.

Nodding as I glance around, I remark, “Very nice. I love the vibe in here.”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “I really like this room, as well. I spend a lot of time in here, so I guess that’s good, huh?”

“It is,” I agree, smiling.

There’s a sudden lull of silence, and though it’s not uncomfortable per se, it is a tad awkward.

Clearing his throat, Finn says, “How about that shot I was telling you about? Do you want to try it?”

“Absolutely.” I release a relieved breath that we’re back on track. “You said you’d make one for me, so I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that it’s a layered shot of some sort.”

“You would be right,” he confirms as he heads over to the bar.

Following him, I take a seat on a high-backed black wooden chair.

“What’s this shot called?” I ask as he steps behind the bar. “You said it was invented in Alaska, right?”

“It was. It was first made in Juneau.” Finn takes out two tall shot glasses from a cabinet above the counter running along the wall. “As for what it’s called…” He turns to me and raises a brow. “Are you ready for it?”

“Uh-huh.”

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