Page 46 of My Merry Mistake
“That sounded—” Even in the darkness, I see him wince, laughing gently as he looks away. “Ah, shoot. I didn’t mean . . .”
A nervous laugh escapes, and I hear myself say, “Oh, sure you didn’t. . .”
He laughs. “Honest! For once, I wasn’t . . .”
Flirting?I think.
He shakes his head, cutting himself off. “I was thinking of my favorite hike—this great place in Glacier. Everyone should do it at least once. And there’s kayaking in the mountains and a really quiet part of the ranch with a hidden lake I think my brothers still haven’t found.” He smiles.
“It sounds pretty amazing,” I say, wondering how hard it is for him to be here, in the city, when he’s so clearly built to be somewhere else.
“I’ll show you someday.” He smiles, backlit by a streetlight dimly shining into the garage. “But for now—get inside and put yourself to bed. You need rest.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s about to go, but I stop him.
“Finn?”
He turns back. “Yeah?”
“Thanks,” I say, turning my keys over in my hands. “For making sure I got home safe.” I meet his eyes and laugh lightly. “Again.”
He smirks, and for the first time all night, I see a trace of the playful Finn Holbrook I know. “Sometimes I think it’s my calling to make sure you’re safe, Hart.” He backs out onto the driveway, holding his hands out to his sides. “Lucky me.”
I smile, watching as he gets into the Jeep Cherokee. He starts the engine, then rolls down the window, pokes his head out, and shouts. “I can’t go until I know you’reinsidethe house!”
I shake my head and wave both arms, hoping that will shush him. He flashes his brights at me, and I give one last wave, escaping through the side door into the house.
My phone buzzes in my bag, so I reach in and pull it out to find a text:
Finn
Sweet dreams, Hart.
I stare at the words, not sure how to respond. I walk into the living room and stand in the darkness, watching as his Jeep backs out into the street, then slowly drives away.
And the butterflies in my stomach finally start to land.
Chapter Twelve
Raya
“You wanted to see me?”
I don’t have to look up to know that Finn is making his daily appearance at the door of my office. It’s been almost a week of home games and practices since the night he followed me home from Dallas’s, and every day, he’s shown up here. At my door.
I was used to the occasional drop by, but there’s been a definite uptick since that night—almost like he feels responsible for me.
Which is weird, considering how self-sufficient I am.
Another feeling I’m wrestling with is that I’ve come to expect—and slightly enjoy—these daily check-ins.
Each day he shows up with that same lazy smile.
Most of the older women in the administrative offices enjoy his visits too—though they show it more openly than I do, if the hushed chatter in the office is any indication. I pick up pieces of conversation, and it usually involves the wordcharming,and occasionally,adorable.
I glance up, barely, and find him leaning against the doorjamb, dressed in black Nike joggers and a Chicago Comets hoodie, his stick bag slung over his shoulder.
