Page 96 of Three Bossy Boyfriends
“Harrison is correct. And just to clear the air, my sister can be a little prickly, Evan, so no hard feelings that it didn’t work out for you with her.”
I’m fucking floored. Anything that I thought he might say was nothing like that. I thought he’d be defending Finley, not agreeing she somehow earned my disloyalty. Christopher stiffens next to me, and I think he’s about to give Ford his best change-your-attitude speech that I’ve heard him give unruly clients.
But this feels like my time to stand up for Finley. “There is nothing prickly about Finley. She’s passionate and vulnerable and intelligent and feels a little bit like she’s all alone on an island in your family. Not that it’s anyone’s damn business, but Finley knew Christopher and I had feelings for each other. This—I point between me and Christopher—didn’t happen without her knowledge. I don’t know what she’s told you, but I think Finley is an incredible and giving woman, and I care about her as a person and as a friend, so none of you need to feel sorry for her. If anything, you might want to reconsider your own relationship with her instead of worrying about mine.”
I don’t dress people down ever. It’s not in my nature. I succeed as a lawyer with research and a calm personality that allows clients to feel safe in my presence.
But I’m angry on Finley’s behalf and I’m so pissed off, my hand is actually shaking on my thigh. “Finley deserves to be treated like fucking gold,” I add emphatically, then force myself to shut my mouth.
I realize it appears I didn’t exactly do that, so who the fuck am I coming in here and popping off, but they don’t know the full story. They don’t know that I’m falling in love with Finley.
Ford’s hard stare eases up, and he nods in approval. “Okay, then. I believe I have my answer about how you feel about Finley.”
My jaw drops, and when a small tumbler of bourbon appears in front of me by the staff bartender, I quickly lift it to my lips and take a hard swallow. The burn is as hot as my emotions right now.
“Webothcare about Finley,” Christopher says, covering my hand with his. “We want the absolute best for her.”
“It seems so does Tucker Hastings,” Harrison says, moving smoothly down the backside of the bar and pulling out a bottle of Raw bourbon. “This is our wheaten bourbon that I told you about. Then we have our straight barrel, and a rye, which is peppery and spicy. We’ll serve that last for you with the dessert course because the vanilla in Frannie’s butter cookies will balance out that spice.”
I barely hear a word about Tucker Hastings. I just take the plate that is put in front of me with some sort of prosciutto-wrapped something and shove a piece of it in my mouth. I don’t even really look to see what it is.
Of course I knew Finley was with Tucker last night. Christopher told me they had a date. But I hadn’t taken that to the conclusion that other people would know about it. Which, of course they would. All of her siblings work together. This is a small town. People talk.
“Holy shit, that’s smooth,” Christopher says, sipping the bourbon. “Caramel, honey, I’m getting it all. It’s delicious.”
Christopher doesn’t even drink bourbon as much as I do but right now, it just tastes like liquid to me. My boyfriend doesn’t sound at all rattled by Harrison’s comment about Tucker.
Which begs the question, why am I overreacting? I already knew Finley was out with him.
“Speak of the man,” Ford says. “Here’s Tucker now.”
This is exactly why I didn’t think being here was a good idea. I would have much preferred a night out in Charleston with Christopher. Just him and me. I know that vibe. I feel good about our dynamic.
Even if I can’t get Finley out of my head half of the time.
None of this is helping.
Christopher has set his glass back down half full, and I pick it up and throw it back. He raises his eyebrows.
“Babe,” he says.
Then he leans in, cups my cheek, and kisses me softly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll figure this out.”
I know what he means. He means we’ll figure out how we’re feeling about Finley and what to do about that going forward. We’re a team.
It instantly calms me down.
So when Tucker comes up behind us and claps us both on a shoulder and says, “Hey! My favorite lawyers!” my warm reaction is genuine.
“Tucker. Good to see you.” I hold my hand out to shake his.
But Tucker clasps my hand in his and gives me a shoulder bump. “Bring it in here. You guys saved me so much damn money. Let me buy you a drink.”
“Hey, Tucker. Great to see you,” Christopher says, accepting the same hug. “Damn. I always forget how huge you are.”
Tucker laughs. “You should see my sister.”
Harrison snorts.
