Chapter Fifteen

Chessly

" T erribly cute? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means I like how you're such a badass physics major who still does what her kindergarten teacher taught her to do after coming in from recess." Finn's warm smile held a hint of teasing.

What was I supposed to do with that?

With all the talk about showers on the drive to the bar, my thoughts kept straying to naked Finn. The effort I'd expended to stop myself from crossing my legs to cover my body's reaction to mental images of water sluicing over his big, sexy body had almost worn me out before we even arrived. I had the idea he'd brought it up on purpose to send my thoughts in that exact direction. Now he was gently teasing me about how I liked to keep my things together. My libido might be suffering from whiplash, and my cheeks were flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with coming in from the cold to sit in a warm bar.

The server's timing was a mercy.

"What can I get you guys?"

"An extra-large chicken and artichoke pie." Finn flashed a grin my way. "With extra cheese, a couple glasses of water, and—"

"I'll have a pint of the chocolate stout," I finished for him.

"Make that two." Finn emphasized his request by holding up two fingers.

"Got it. Anything else?"

With a shake of my head, I said, "I'm good."

"Better add an order of wings with hot aioli." His eyes twinkled. "Bring it first. I don't want my girl here to gnaw off her arm or something."

"Seriously?" I huffed.

He lifted his hands in a what-can-I-say? gesture. "Hey. I'm not the one whose stomach sounded like a jet taking off when we were studying."

Glaring at him from beneath my brows I said, "But you were the one whose stomach sounded like a pride of lions in the jungle on the drive over from the Union."

He grinned at the server. "Yeah, don't wait on those wings."

The guy laughed, gave a salute, and headed back to the kitchen to place our order.

"Gnaw my arm off, my ass," I muttered.

Finn put his hand to his ear. "What was that?"

"A gentleman would have ignored my rumbling stomach, not proclaimed it to the waitstaff." I crossed my arms over my chest and pretended to pout.

"If I'd have ignored your stomach, you might have talked yourself out of sharing a pizza with me, and that wouldn't do at all." His smile was positively puckish, and I couldn't suppress an answering twitch of my lips.

Since the place was about half-full, only a couple of minutes passed before the server arrived with our waters and beers. Grateful, I drank down a healthy swig of my stout, enjoying the bitter tang tickling my tongue.

"You said something about early-morning training. You do that even in the offseason?" I drew patterns in the condensation on my beer glass as my eyes traced the path of Finn's tongue licking beer foam from his upper lip.

Against my will, my core tingled with thoughts of that tongue licking me, and beneath the red gingham-topped table where he couldn't see, I clamped my thighs together.

"The offseason is where the magic happens." He waggled his brows. "Strong, conditioned bodies are more durable and harder to play against."

I chuckled. "Is that you or your coach talking?"

"Both." A cloud fell over his features. "But I could build that strong body equally as easily in the afternoons as in the dark hours of the morning."

Right then, a basket of steaming chicken wings landed on our table, courtesy of a smirking server. "Got 'em to you as quick as I could. Wouldn't want to be responsible for any carnage at your table."

The corner of Finn's mouth quirked up. "It was a near thing, but you did good. Thanks, man."

As I passed an appetizers plate across the table to Finn, I didn't bother to leave the snark out of my tone. "You're hilarious, you are. Both of you."

They exchanged a chuckle, and I seriously considered pulling the basket of wings to my side of the table beyond Finn's reach.

"Don't even think about it, Miss," Finn warned.

"What?" I batted my lashes at him.

"Keeping all those wings to yourself. There's not enough of you to eat 'em all."

I stuck my nose in the air. "You're the one who said I was hungry enough to gnaw my arm off." For emphasis I snagged three wings and put them on my plate. "Just sayin'."

His laughter filled our booth. "Gorgeous, smart, and fun to tease. You're the whole package, Chessly Clarke." Leaning forward, he added in a conspiratorial whisper, "And the way you kiss can make a man forget himself. Just. Sayin'."

That last comment stopped my hand mid-dip and my wing dripped aioli back into the bowl as my gaze took yet another tour of his full lips. His whiskey-colored eyes didn't leave mine as he covered my hand with his, raised the chicken wing to his mouth, and snapped off a bite right at the edge of my fingertips.

"Hey! No fair distracting me like that, wing thief."

He stopped chewing for long enough to toss me an unapologetic grin, finished chewing, and swallowed. "All's fair in love and dinner."

"Love?" I snorted. "You're a piece of work, Finn McCabe," I growled with none of the sarcasm I intended.

"Yeah? Like a Greek sculpture or Michelangelo's David ?" He sucked some sauce from the tip of his finger and winked. "I can get on board with either."

I drew in a long breath and let it out with a lip-fluttering sigh. "It's the football player thing, right?"

He downed another wing then asked, his tone all innocence, "What is?"

"The over-the-top ego."

Twinkling eyes met mine. "You're the one who said I was a piece of work. I was curious about which one is all." Stuffing another wing into his mouth, he grinned at me around it, his expression utterly unapologetic.

Though I answered with a slow shake of my head, I couldn't help smiling back at him.

In much less time than I would have thought possible, all that remained of the basket of wings was a carnage of bones in the bottom of it. It stood to reason that most of the wings had gone into Finn, but I'd managed my fair share of the lot, much to his amusement.

Right as he dropped the last bones into the basket, the server arrived with a steaming pie.

"Exactly on time, my man," Finn said as the server slid the pizza onto the table.

Eyeing our wing basket, he smirked. "Looks like you were right about arms being in danger here."

With a sage nod, Finn said, "I know, right?" Chuckling, he added, "It was a near thing, let me tell you."

Under the table I gave his shin a little love tap with the toe of my boot.

"Ouch!" He slipped a hand beneath the table to massage his owie. "What was that for? Telling the truth?" Laughter danced in his tone as I tugged the pizza toward me.

"I shouldn't share any of this with you since you barely left me a wing."

The server chuckled at our antics before asking if we needed a refill of our beers. I asked for one. Finn didn't.

"Why didn't you order another beer?" I asked when the server moved off.

"The roads are slick, and I'm driving." The corner of his mouth quirked up as he tugged the pie back to the middle of the table.

Something in his tone told me what he truly meant, and it warmed me from the inside out. If someone had told me I'd end up with Finn McCabe after my usual coffee date with Jamaica today, I would have said they were nuts. Yet I'd spent most of the afternoon and early evening with the guy, and I had to admit to myself that he might not be what I thought he was on the night we met. Or, more correctly, what I thought he was when he dropped me off at the dorm that night.

I pinched off the cheese stretching from my slice to the rest of the pie, wrapping the excess around my finger then sucking it off. Across the table Finn's jaw stopped mid-chew as he watched me enjoy the gooey mozzarella. It was only cheese, but with the way his eyes darkened, it could have been something else. The second that thought entered my head, I shut it down by shoving food into my mouth.

I bit off a massive bite of my slice and immediately regretted it. Extra cheese meant extra-hot, and I panted through parted lips over the searing bite.

"Serves you right for not blowing on it first." Mischief danced in his eyes, telling me that his mind had definitely gone to the same place as mine.

For cripes' sake. Why did my mind keep going to naked Finn?

If I weren't careful, I'd give myself away and then I'd be just another football groupie, a jersey chaser. I loved the game, and I was a lifetime Wildcats fan, but I'd be damned if I'd ever stoop to chasing a football player. Even one who kept presenting himself as a genuinely nice guy. Even one as hot as Finn McCabe.

When the check came, I snagged it and pulled out some bills to cover my half. Finn pulled off his ball cap, ran a hand through his thick, wavy hair, mashed his hat back on his head, and spun it backward. A sheepish expression crossed his features as he cleared his throat.

"Um, I have an NIL with Stromboli's."

"I know. I've seen your ads on local TV."

"Yeah, well, I also get a discount on food here." He tugged the receipt from my fingers. "This is the actual price of our meal." He pointed to the small print at the bottom.

I knitted my brows. "Then why list the price everyone else would pay?"

"To make sure the servers receive their correct tips. It's, uh, something we all asked for." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck as if he was embarrassed about being a decent person who didn't want to stiff the wait staff.

I pushed my money toward him. "Well then, that covers my half of the tip too."

"Chess."

"What's the deal, Finn? My friends and I always split the check." I tilted my head. "You didn't think I expected you to pay for me, did you?"

"I kinda wanted to."

Narrowing my eyes, I said, "This is not a date. It's two people who spent the afternoon studying together having something to eat afterward. That's all."

The wounded look that flitted across his face made me feel like I'd stolen his birthday cake. Before I could process it, he'd replaced it with a sunny smile.

"All right. That means I can plan a proper official date."

"Um—"

"We've hung out together a couple of times. We've already made out once—which, for the record, was a glorious experience." The wattage of his smile as the memory of that night was like a beacon in our booth. "Now we've studied together and had dinner together. The next step is an official date."

The comical way he waggled his brows tugged a reluctant half-smile from me. "I'll think about it."

He pulled out his wallet and added some bills to mine, stood, and held out his hand to me. "You bet you will."