Page 4 of Finn

We hit it off, and my crush took off from there.

Now I always tag along with my teammates when they’re heading over to Boots for dinner. This way I get to see Sammie as much as possible and not look like a creeper.

Despite our casual interactions, or maybe because of them, I’d like to get to know Sammie a whole lot better.

She is just so fucking gorgeous. The best part, though, is it’s she doesn’t even realize just how stunning she is.

If she does, she sure is humble about it.

I like that, too, along with her shiny, long auburn hair, green eyes that are a shade darker than my own, hot-as-hell body, and the cute smattering of freckles on the bridge of her nose.

Fuck, she is so my type in both personality and looks. It’s a damn shame she’s not interested in dating anyone. Not that I asked her out and heard it firsthand from her.

No, I checked with Nils for the 4-1-1, and he informed me that Sammie has no time for men.

“Her words to Ellie,” he said, “not mine.”

Supposedly, she’s too busy working her two waitressing jobs—the one at Boots and the other at Applebee’s.

That seems strange, though, seeing as Ellie works at the same two places in the same capacities and still had plenty of time to get to know and fall for Nils.

But hey, who am I to judge?

In any case, my crush may be unavailable, but I still fucking like her.

What can I do?

You could go into Boots right now and grab a drink.

Yeah, great idea.

Maybe Sammie is working.

If she is, not only can I say hi and talk to her some, but I can also fuel up a few new fantasies for later.

Shit.

That’s how bad I have it for this girl.

I’ve done my research, so I know she works at Boots a lot.

Dinner hours are long over, but she could possibly be helping to close up. She could even be covering for a bartender. Ellie mentioned to me once that Sammie does that a lot when the opportunity arises.

But she could be off tonight,I remind myself.

I don’t want to get my hopes up too high.

Aw, hell, whether she’s working or not, I’m going in.

I have nothing else to do, right?

Hitting the turn signal at the last minute, I swing into the Boots parking lot.

I park in a space right out front, cut the Escalade’s engine, and run my fingers through my reddish-brown hair.

Rapping my jean-clad thigh, I mutter, “Okay, let’s do this.”

Once I’m inside Boots, I scan the restaurant area. It’s dark and empty, which is no surprise.

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