Page 27 of Finn

He doesn’t realize it, but he’s better off staying away from my sad-ass self. I’m bad luck.

As if to accentuate that point, I round the corner to go into the kitchen at Applebee’s, and a plate slides off my tray, crashing to the floor.

Right in front of my boss.

“Shit, Barb.” Setting the tray on a counter, I reach for a broom that’s leaned up against the wall, along with a dustpan, and bend down to start sweeping up shards of white ceramic. “I am so sorry,” I go on. “I should have seen that plate sliding and grabbed it before it fell.”

Barb gently takes the broom away from me.

I look up at her as she tucks a strand of graying hair that’s escaped from the bun on her head behind her ear.

“Sammie,” she says as she leans against the handle, “stand up.”

“Okay.”

I do as she asked, and she takes the dustpan from my hand, emptying the little bit I had swept up into a nearby garbage can.

“Listen,” she says, setting the dustpan on a counter. “Everything is fine. Nobody was hurt. Just let me get this cleaned up. You did me a big favor by coming in tonight, andnow it’s almost closing time. What do you have left? Like one table?”

I nod. “Yeah. These were actually their dirty dishes. I was going to take the plates into the back, and then give them their check.”

Barb waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it from here. And this too.” She nods to the broken pieces of plate still on the floor. “Like I said, I got it. You go home. Get some rest. You look tired, hon.”

I am beat, so I nod and say, “Thank you, Barb.”

She replies with a kind smile. “No, Sammie. Thank you.”

After I grab my belongings from the back, I head out to my car. But as I’m walking across the lot to where the employees park, I notice a dark gray Escalade, one that looks remarkably similar to Finn’s.

Hmmm.

It looks like it just pulled in, seeing as the parking lights are still on.

But then they go out, and sure enough, Finn hops out of the vehicle.

I stop, and my heart skips a beat.

Stupid heart.

He looks good in faded jeans and a black hoodie, better than he should for having on something so casual.

I bite my lip as I consider if I should say something, or just make a run for it to my car.

No, he’ll see me. The only reason why he hasn’t yet is because he’s checking something on his phone.

But then, like he senses my presence, he looks up and over at me.

Stopping in his tracks, he says, “Hey, Sammie.”

I want to walk over and jump into his strong arms. I want to repeat last night all over again. But even thinking these things makes me mad at myself.

What’s worse is that he looks like he’s thinking something along the same lines.

I’m about to cave, but I can’t, so I do the next best thing and take my frustration out on him.

Striding over to this man who drives me nuts, but stopping a few safe feet away, I cross my arms and snap, “What are you doing here where I work? Are you stalking me now?”

His green eyes narrow as he scoffs. “Like I have time for shit like that.”

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