Page 19 of The Hot Shot
“All right?”
A laugh leaves him in a huff of breath. “You expect me to beg?”
“No. Of course not. I just... that was easy.”
His big shoulders lift in a shrug. “I’m an easygoing guy.”
“At the risk of sounding paranoid, this all feels odd. Like you’re playing me.”
His lips quirk. “You do sound paranoid. Tell me, does this paranoia affect all areas of your life, or is it just with men?”
We cross Canal at a brisk pace before the light can turn. “I’ve never been walked home by a man without him expecting something, Dr. Phil.”
“You’ve been walking home with the wrong men, Chess.”
No one knows this better than me. But I slow my steps. “Look me in the eye right now,” I say to him. “And tell me that you have walked a woman home without intending to get in her pants.”
He halts, which has me stopping, too. From the bar on our right comes the sound of Elvis crooning about how he can’t help falling in love. It’s loud and sappy and fills the resounding silence between us as we stare at each other in challenge.
Guilt skitters over his expression, but he tries to hide it. “I have walked a woman home without intending to get into her pants.”
My eyes narrow, and his lips curl in a slow smile. “I’m doing it right now,” he points out.
“You’re impossible,” I tell him with a laugh and start walking again.
“Charming,” he counters. “You know, I don’t actually have sex with every woman I talk to, Chess.”
“You don’t?”
“So dubious.” He nudges me with his shoulder. “I do have some standards.”
“And they are?”
He gives me a cheeky look. “Whether or not I want to have sex with them.”
“Your vetting process is foolproof, I’ll give you that.”
Finn shrugs again. “Attraction is instant, for the most part. Whether it burns and grows or flickers out and dies after you talk to someone is the key.”
“Look at you, with your insight. And here I thought you had all the wisdom of a fortune cookie.”
“My wisdom is worthy of at least a pamphlet.”
“Tell me something...”
“Anything,” he says agreeably.
“If you only have one-night stands, how can you possibly talk to someone long enough to know if the attraction will grow?”
He opens his mouth and then shuts it. A reluctant smile tugs at his lips. “Okay, you got me. My criteria basically consists of, can I stand her for the next two to four hours? But it still holds true.”
“I want to call you a pig right now,” I say with a shake of my head. “But at least you’re honest.”
“Most football players are. Our world is pretty blunt.”
I’ve judged him. The realization is a slap to the face and not pleasant. Yes, he is blunt, which I knew from the start. And yes, his sex life is fairly shallow; he’s admitted as much. But he’s clearly intelligent and kind. Not the soppy sort of kindness that seems to be more about showing off than actual caring, but a quiet, unobtrusive thoughtfulness that’s unexpected and lovely.
Too soon, we’re at my building. Finn shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a gentle smile. “Well, then.”
