Page 75 of Better Luck Next Time

“I read the article inFortunewith great interest,” she said.

“Oh?” he asked. “Are you in the industry?”

She made a face that suggested he might as well have asked if she starred in pornographic movies. “No. I’ve never been to a brewery, but I admire that you were able to read the market well enough to cater to the lowest common denominator.”

Ouch. It was an insult wrapped in a compliment, which confirmed everything he’d suspected about her. No wonder his father had hand-selected her for him. “Not a fan of beer, then?”

“Oh, you’re too funny,” she said, laughing, and touched his arm. He inched away, wondering what he’d said that was humorous. “You’re wasted out there with the hillbillies.”

Hillbillies? Whowasthis woman?

“Finn, would you like any of the goat cheese crostini?” his mother asked brightly. “I can ask the server to bring the plate back out.”

His parents always hired a server when they hosted anyone outside the family for dinner. Even one person. It had always seemed crazy to him. Wasn’t a private chef enough? Did they really need a person to carry things from one room to another like they lived in a castle instead of an oversized house?

“No, Mom. That’s not necessary. Why don’t we just move on to the next course?”

The sooner they could get through this nightmare, the better.

By the time they got to dessert, Finn was seriously contemplating staging an accident for himself. Dessert fork in the eye, maybe? Even though he’d disagreed with pretty much everything Charlotte had said, openly, she’d written off his responses as jokes. According to her, he was the most hilarious man alive—and judging by the way she kept finding excuses to touch him, she was interested despite his “provincial” background.

“Finn, Chef made your favorite dessert,” his mom said, “chocolate soufflé.” Which would have been great if it had been his favorite and not something he’d complimented once after getting tired of the silence at the dinner table. His mother had latched on to the comment, though, and he hadn’t had the heart to correct her. Plus, he could tell this was her attempt at an apology. While his mother preferred it if everyone liked her, she didn’t actually like everyone back, and he could tell she did not share his father’s approval of Charlotte. (And in all honesty, his father probably approved more of Charlotte’s looks and her father’s connections than of any sort of sparkling personality on her part.)

“That’s great,” he said, “but I’m actually really tired. I think I’d better go to bed early tonight. Get a fresh start in the morning for my talk with Bud and the team.”

“Oh, my father willloveyou,” Charlotte said. “He has a great sense of humor just like you do. But are you sure you need to go to bed? I was hoping to lure you out for a nightcap.” She put her hand on Finn’s leg, and he jerked away so vehemently, he almost fell out of his chair.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yes, yup,” he said, springing to his feet. “I have a medical condition that requires me to get at least ten hours of sleep a night.” He glanced at his watch. “It’ll be a close one tonight. Take care, Charlotte. See you in the morning, Mom and Dad.”

His father was scowling at him again, a look that had become very familiar, during this meal and over the course of a lifetime. But if he wasn’t pleased, it was a problem of his own making for trying to set Finn up—and with Charlotte, no less—just days after he’d told him about Adalia. His mother wouldn’t have okayed this ludicrous setup if she’d known about Adalia, but then again, she likely didn’t know. Neither was exactly the sharing type. Maybe he’d have a talk with her over breakfast.

Finn hurried away, waving at Charlotte, who was muttering something about him being “so brave.”

He didn’t feel very brave. He wouldn’t dare leave his room until he saw her drive away. In retrospect, he should have noticed a car was parallel parked near the driveway—a sporty silver Mercedes-Benz.

In the safety of his room, he pulled out his phone and texted Adalia.

I think my dad just tried to set me up with a human robot (literally...her father is funding Charlotte Robotics and her name is Charlotte. Coincidence? I think not.) Okay, maybe that’s not nice, but neither is she. I deeply regret coming home.

Those three dots appeared again, then disappeared, then reappeared.

He started to type out an explanation of what had gone down—how he’d told his father about Adalia, and then his dad had tried to manipulate him into doing what he wanted, and…

Her message appeared before he finished, and he deleted the essay he’d written.

Adalia:I always deeply regret going home. Want to watch the end of Pride and Prejudice with me? We can video chat so I can see the tears you will inevitably shed at the end. You will, of course, have to pretend you didn’t finish it the first time.

Finn found himself smiling as he wrote his response:I do want that. So much so that I skipped the chocolate soufflé for dessert.

Adalia:Amateur move. You should have grabbed it and run.

And Finn finally let himself write what he’d wanted to write earlier:I miss you.

Chapter Twenty-Five

So introducing Tyrion to his new home hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but Adalia had learned a lot about Finn from his reaction to the whole disaster. He’d seen the humor in it, just like she had, even when the smoothie had sprayed all over his expensive clothes and shoes. She’d laughed at him—hysterically, in fact—and he’d just grinned back, his eyes sparkling.

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