Page 60 of Better Luck Next Time

I tried not to respond immediately so I wouldn’t look too eager, but this was as long as I could hold out.

I suppose I shouldn’t have confessed that, huh?

She laughed to herself, then saw he was still typing.

Maisie wants to meet at the rescue at one to discuss the show. You up for going with me? I think you’ll like her.

She would have been up for going to the city dump if it was with him. Finn was exactly what she needed this morning.

As your assistant, it seems like a given that I should go with you. Plus, puppies? Can we go sooner?

He immediately sent back:Who said you were my assistant? More like co-chair, and how about I swing by and pick you up so we can get lunch before we head over?

She was still in her pajamas, so she started typing—Give me a half hour—but then she deleted what she’d written and sent:I’m not dressed yet, so give me time to put on some clothes. A half hour?

He started typing, stopped, and then started typing again. For as much time as he was taking, he could have written a novella, but when he finally sent the text all it said wasOkay.

She laughed again. Before last night she would have presumed he hadn’t caught her innuendo or wasn’t interested. Now she suspected he was imagining her naked.

She very much liked that.

She was putting on her ankle boots when he knocked at the door. When she yelled for him to come in, he opened the door, but he stopped in the entryway when he saw her sitting on the sofa, tugging the zipper on her boot. He just stood there, staring, uncharacteristically not saying a word.

Oh, God. Had she chosen the wrong thing to wear?

She’d put a lot of thought into her outfit, deciding on jeans since she hoped to play with some of the dogs…and also because they hugged her butt pretty well. The ankle boots because they were cute and easy to walk in, and since the air had a chill today, she’d put on a black long-sleeved T-shirt and a khaki jacket—both washable and practical for playing with dogs. But she was starting to think Finn didn’t have a single dressed-down look in his wardrobe. He had on a pair of chinos, a pale blue button-down dress shirt, and loafers.

She got to her feet and took a step toward him. “Should I have dressed up more?” She thumbed toward the stairs. “I can go change.”

He seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “No, Addy. You look amazing.”

He glanced down at his outfit, as if realizing why she’d asked, and…had Finn Hamilton just blushed? “My mother refused to buy me jeans when I was a kid. I guess it kind of stuck.”

“You don’t have any jeans?” she asked, genuinely shocked. “Are you Amish?”

“No, I do have some,” he said quickly. “It’s just not my default. And no, I’m not Amish, as far as I know.”

She smiled and closed the distance between them. “Well, you’re lucky that I like your one look.”

And, because she could, she pressed a kiss to his lips.

She started to pull away, but he wrapped an arm around her back and tugged her closer, deepening the kiss.

When he leaned back, he cupped the side of her face and stared down at her with gleaming eyes. “While your text this morning has been driving me crazy, and I can’t stop thinking about you naked, if we don’t go now, we might not be able to fit lunch in before we need to be at Maisie’s.”

“I would say we should skip lunch and/or Maisie’s,” she confessed, giving him a wicked grin, “but one, I haven’t had anything to eat today, and two,puppies.”

He laughed. “Maisie doesn’t always have puppies. Sometimes she only has older dogs she’s struggling to adopt out.… In fact, be prepared for her to try to convince you to foster a dog.” He slid his hand down to her upper arm and squeezed it. “Be strong.”

She gasped. “Oh, my God. Those poor dogs.”

He grinned. “Maisie can sense weakness from a mile away. You’re a goner. But you should probably wait until Jack gets home before you commit to anything.” He glanced around. “When does he get back, anyway?”

“Late tonight, I think.” She’d thought about calling him, hoping he’d maybe open up about whatever was going on in his life, but that would have required her to do the same. Shaking it off, she said, “But we’re moving off-topic. I was promised there’d be lunch? I have to warn you that I’m not some delicate eater who picks at my food.”

He laughed. “I went on a date with a saladatarian once. Trust me, I’m good with that.”

“That’s not a thing,” Adalia said bluntly.

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