Page 22 of My Merry Mistake
“No.”
He sticks out a hand. “Well, we tried.”
I shake his hand. “I appreciate your time.”
“Good luck on your search.” He stands, and as he starts for the door, my gaze catches on a familiar face seated at another table.
Of all people.
My shoulders drop, and I blow out a breath. Finn watches Eric as he walks out of the café, then saunters over to my table, like he has a secret he can’t wait to tell me.
He doesn’t, of course. That’s just how he looks. Unbothered. Easygoing. Unruffled. I would be annoyed if I weren’t so jealous. I could use a tiny dose of nonchalance every once in a while.
“Well, well, well,” he says, sliding into the booth across from me. “I didn’t know you liked this place.”
I press my lips together and pin him with a look. “I come here almost every day.”
“Interesting.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask, starting to get a little nervous that Candidate Two is going to show up before I can get rid of him.
“I heard they have good iced chai.” He holds up his cup, a rich, caramel brown color swirling with white, but doesn’t look away. “Who’s the suit?”
“The suit?” Playing dumb might buy me time, but I know it won’t matter. I’m a terrible liar. I cannot let Finn—or anyone at work—find out about this plan.
“The stiff guy who looks like he applauds when the plane lands,” he says.
I let out a laugh, and do my best to stifle it.
“You’ve got a pretty smile, Hart,” he says. “You should use it more.”
At that, I stiffen and look him straight in the face. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“Happy,” I say.
“You say that like it’s a disease.” He smirks.
“No, I say it like it doesn’t feel real,” I say. “Nobody is happyallthe time.”
“Well, I’m not happy twenty-four seven.” He pauses, then adds, “Only like seventeen seven. The other seven I’m asleep.” He pauses, and it’s like I can hear the gears turning in his brain. “But I usually have great dreams, so maybe, yeah—like twenty-four seven.”
He holds up a pinky as he takes a loud sip of his drink.
“Something is definitely wrong with you,” I say.
His eyes narrow slightly, like he’s thinking about that, but then he shrugs and nods in agreement. “Eh. You’re probably right.” His face settles, and I’m struck by how easygoing and self-deprecating he is. It’s different.
It’s nice.
But I don’t want to be thinking nice things about Finn Holbrook, so I say, “Are you still dating the yoga instructor?”
“No,” he says, and I admit, I’m surprised.
“You got bored of her already?” I shake my head. “Wow.”
“We were never serious,” he says.
