Page 8 of Finn

Finn Norath really came to my rescue tonight. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were getting more aggressive and saying a lot of suggestive shit.

I like to think I have a thick skin and can handle myself, and I generally do, but this evening just wasn’t the night for it.

I’m feeling too fragile.

All because of what happened on this exact date so many years ago.

To me, though, it will always feel like yesterday.

That’s why when Finn says, “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” for this crazy moment, I think he means this whole city, the entire state.

And I’m ready to say yes.

Even though Atlanta will always be my home, God knows I could use some time away from just…everything.

I sit and blink at him as I put together that he really means “let’s get out of Boots,” which is a great idea.

I’m done with this place for the night.

But now there’s another problem—Finn looks concerned that I misinterpreted him.

It’s funny in a way, as I initially did misunderstand what he was asking. But not in the way he’s probably thinking. I was in no way assuming he meant anything sexual.

Then again…

I could get into that.

Whoa, this is so not me.

Or is it me?

It could be today.

I have no time to debate with myself, as Finn begins to backpedal. “Er, uh, I didn’t mean that in any kind of a suggestive way,” he says sheepishly. “Shit, Sammie.” Running his hand down his chiseled features, he adds, “Fuck, I just meant that you clearly spent enough time in this place today. I was thinking a change of scenery might be nice. Anyway, I swear I’m not trying to hook up with you.”

Damn, I kind of wish he were. Finn Norath is a damn fine man, what with his messy reddish-brown hair and striking green eyes. Not to mention that body of his.

Oh, my!

I mean, come on, just look at how solid and strong his chest is in his too-tight black tee. And those biceps, his corded forearms…

Yeah, his body is perfection.

I sigh.

I bet he could make me forget everything, at least for a little while.

He’s apologizing again, so I place my hand on his forearm. Really, I kind of want to touch him. That hug earlier felt amazing.

Smiling, I reassure him, “No, you’re fine. I wasn’t even thinking that. I just got lost in thought for a moment. That’s all.”

“Great.” He winces. “Now I feelreallystupid.”

“Stop, you’re good.” I remove my hand from his arm and wave it around. “I am actually more than up for getting out of here.” I down the little bit of beer I have left in my glass and ask, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well.” He blows out a breath. “Unfortunately, I think a lot of places are closing for the night. That is, if they’re not shut down already. So, again, don’t take this the wrong way, but my house is only about a mile or so from here. We could hang out there, shoot the breeze, have another beer, or maybe even a shot.” He cocks a brow. “I can make you a famous one that was invented in my hometown. It’s pretty touristy to take one nowadays, but it does taste fantastic.”

I’m intrigued, more about him than this shot that requires being “made.” That’s piqued my interest as well, but not more than wondering where Finn is from.

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