The Hot Shot

by Kristen Callihan

  His mom is definitely adorable.

  “She’ll have seen us together, which is probably why she called this morning. If I tell her we’re just friends, she won’t believe it anyway.” Finn ducks his head and makes a sound of frustration before looking back up at me. “If we say we’re dating, she’ll finally accept I’ve moved on with my life. And I can enjoy my mother’s company without wanting to run away screaming.”

  A reluctant smile pulls at my lips. Who am I to criticize how he handles his family? I love my parents but they annoy me so much that I haven’t even told them about the fire. Not something I’m proud of, but not something I want to remedy either. “So you want me to be your lady beard?”

  He blows out a breath. “I want you to go home with me because I want to spend my favorite holiday with you. Life is more fun with you in it, Chess.”

  I’m in serious danger of melting into a sloppy Chess puddle. Thankfully, he keeps talking.

  “But if you’re so inclined, then, yes, I would appreciate it if you could play the part of doting girlfriend for the duration.”

  “You know, it never goes well when people pretend to be in a relationship for the sake of the parents,” I tell him. “It’s rom-com law. Next thing you know, you’ll be on stage somewhere, confessing your well-meaning lies into a mic while dozens of strangers look on.”

  Wind sends the strands of hair whipping around the edges of his cap, and he steps a little closer, his body blocking the cold, as his eyes search mine. “It doesn’t have to be pretend, you know.”

  My breath halts then leaves in a rush. “What?” The question is more of shock than confusion. But he answers it anyway.

  “You and me. We could be real.” The blunt tip of Finn’s thumb, brushes back a wild lock of my hair and then lingers along my check. “We could stop dancing around this and enjoy each other.”

  Panic claws up my chest. “Finn…” I try to draw in a breath. “I’m living with you…”

  He smiles, his thumb still stroking. “Which makes things convenient.”

  “No.” I cup my hand to his and still his touch on my cheek. “It makes it stupid.”

  Finn’s expression shutters.

  “Most nights, I cry myself to sleep,” I blurt out.

  Finn sucks in a sharp breath, his brows knitting. “Chess—”

  I hold him off when he tries to hug me. “I’m not telling you for sympathy. I barely want to admit this to myself. But losing everything has thrown me, Finn.”

  “Honey. Fuck.” His other hand cups the back of my neck with a gentle squeeze. “You should have told me.”

  “I’m telling you now. Because the one bright spot in all this, the one anchor I have, is you.”

  A distressed, almost angry sound leaves him, and he rests his forehead against mine. “Honey, I can’t…” His eyes squeeze shut. He seems a loss for words.

  My fingers curl around his wrists, holding on. “I don’t want to risk that. Not when I feel so…” Lost. But I can’t say it.

  I don’t have to. He pulls me close, despite my protests and tucks me into the shelter of his chest. “It’s all right, Chester. I’ll never push you. We’re good, yeah? Everything will be okay.”

  “Don’t coddle me,” I mutter, even though I can’t find the strength to move away. “I don’t need it.”

  Finn hums in his throat. “Yes, I know. You’re a total badass. But you’ve got this wrong. You’re coddling me. I have needs, woman.”

  A broken laugh escapes me. “I’m already regretting my confession.”

  “Chess?”

  “Yeah?” My voice is a rough mumble in his sweater.

  “Shut up and let me hug you.”

  With a sigh, I give up the ghost and lean fully into him, because hugging Finn should be a total body experience. And, despite my weak-ass protests, he soothes the ugly jitters that have started up in my chest and belly.

  I’m not certain how long we stand there. Long enough for me to grow warm and soft in his arms. Then I clear my throat. “I’ll be your lady beard.”

  Finn draws away enough to look me in the eye. I hate that his expression is strained and worried. “No,” he says. “It’s a stupid idea.”

  “Well, it’s not your best,” I agree with a weak smile. “But I see the logic. If it helps your mom relax, and thus you, it’s worth doing.”

  Finn frowns, but I can see he wants to accept.

  “Come on.” I nudge his shoulder. “We can do this. A couple of cuddles. I’ll tell your family how much I worship you—”

  “I do like the sound of that.” With a laugh, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and turns us back down the walk.

  When I first met him, I’d have never had guessed he was easy going. I know his behavior had been caused by stress and panic. But even so, he seems to be another person with me. There’s no bullshit with Finn, just open honesty.

  He put his trust in me and revealed his pain. It isn’t something I take lightly.

  I wrap my arm around his waist as we walk along. “I’m sorry about the baby, Finn.”

  His step falters a bit, but he doesn’t let me go. “Yeah,” he says low. “Me too.”

  We walk a bit before his voice cuts through our silence. “It’s not going to go away for me.”

  My arm slides from him as I look up. “What isn’t?”

  Finn’s expression is solemn, but when he catches my eye, the corner of his lip quirks. “Wanting you.”

  I’m not aware of stopping but suddenly I’m standing still, unable to speak.

  The look in his eyes is almost self-deprecating. But there’s a thread of stubbornness beneath his gentle tone. “I said I wouldn’t push you, and I meant it. But one day, Chess, you’re going to feel safe enough to let go. And I’m going to be there to catch you when you fall.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Chess

  * * *

  Finn is waiting to catch me. The thought haunts me more than I want to admit. It runs through my head in the weeks that lead up to our trip to California. It looms large when James finally comes home and slyly offers to let me stay with him, both of us knowing full well that I’m not going anywhere.

  I like living with Finn. And though I want my condo back desperately, living anywhere else doesn’t appeal.

  Actual Thanksgiving rolls around. James and I spend it with Finn and his friends. Finn’s team plays that day, but he gets us tickets, which nearly makes James cry. Wrapped up in team scarves and woolen caps, James and I sit at the fifty yard line and scream ourselves hoarse.

  At one point, Finn taps his fist to his chest and salutes in our direction. Which causes the crowd around us to go wild and speculate why he’d singled out our section; James, however, wraps his arm around my neck and gives me a happy noogie.

  “Who’s caught the quarterback?” he sing-songs.

  I do a very bad job of pretending to be annoyed. And don’t even try to hide my joy when Finn and his team wins the game.

  Dinner is catered and better than any Thanksgiving meal I’ve ever had. Since Finn’s dining room is an unfurnished space he uses for exercise, James, Jake, a lineman named Russell, Finn and I crowd around his coffee table, sitting on the floor, to eat.

  Shoulder to shoulder, Finn and I laugh and eat and trade jokes. He is a warm presence at my side the whole time. But, true to his word, he doesn’t try anything. And his promise keeps spinning in my head. I’m going to be there to catch you when you fall.

  Now we are in San Diego where the sun shines lemon yellow and the sea air is a warm kiss on my cheeks.

  Finn has rented a lime green convertible jeep and put the top down.

  “This feels very nineteen eighties,” I say over the noise of the wind.

  His teeth flash white within the tan of his face, sunlight in his hair. Jeep could sell dozens of these vehicles just by using a picture of him driving. “Too much?” Finn asks me.

  It is; my hair whips around me like a lash, even though I started ou
t with it in a secure ponytail. But it’s also fun. After hours of being stuck in a stuffy plane, the open sky and fresh air acts like a balm. “It’s perfect,” I yell back.

  He laughs and then guns the jeep up the curving road hugging the coast. The scenery is stunning, with massive homes carved into the coastline, their endless glass windows glinting in the afternoon light, and the Pacific stretching west like a dazzling sapphire and gold studded canvas.

  Finn pulls up to a gated drive and punches in a number.

  “I had these installed after I was drafted,” he tells me, somewhat grim. “Dad didn’t like the idea, but I liked the idea of some crazed fan trolling around even less.”

  “Someone would do that?”

  “Someone did do that.” The gates slowly open. “Young woman last year tried to break in. She was looking for my old room.”

  “Jesus.”

  “She was harmless, but someone else might not be.”

  Finn heads up the drive. It isn’t very long but hides the house from view until we round a bend. Finn’s parents’ house is an L shaped, sprawling sixties California style ranch painted soft gray and trimmed in bright white that overlooks the ocean. As soon as we pull up, the double doors to the house open and a slim, tall blond woman comes out.

  “Finnegan,” she cries, hurrying over to him as he steps out of the car, not bothering to wait for him to come to her.

  His reply is muffled in her hug.

  I smile at the scene, shamelessly watching. But my car door opens, and I’m face to face with an older version of Finn. There are differences: this man’s eyes are light brown instead of blue. His skin is swarthy and weathered from what is clearly a life lived under the sun. And his posture is arrow straight even when apparently relaxed.

  He gives me an easy smile, more of a curl of the lips and a deepening of the crinkles around his eyes. “Ms. Copper, I presume?”

  “Yes, sir.” Because this man exudes authority without even trying. “You must be Finn’s dad, Captain Mannus.”

  He helps me out of the Jeep even though I don’t need it, and then shakes my hand with one firm pump. “Finn has never brought a woman friend home before. Which means you’re special, Ms. Copper. Call me Sean.”

  “Sean. I’m Chess.”

  With a nod, he gestures toward the house. “This way. Meg will be fawning over her boy for a good while more.”

  “I heard that,” Finn’s mother says from behind us.

  Up close, Finn’s mother is beautiful in that golden, eternally youthful way of Californian women. I don’t know if it’s something in the air or all the excellent plastic surgeons who live here, but I want to look half as good when I’m her age.

  “Finn’s been telling me all about you, Chess. I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Finn got his blue eyes from her. And her smiling mouth. We are of the same height, and when she shakes my hand, her smile is genuine, but her eyes search my face as if looking for internal flaws.

  I don’t resent her for being protective. I know she loves her son. But having never met a man’s family before, I find myself wanting to squirm. I can only imagine how she sees me, pale skin, black hair with colored tips, tattoo on my arm. My white halter top and rose patterned A-line skirt are feminine, but they’re no match for the casual elegance she manages to pull off with her cream-colored slacks and linen top.

  “Thank you for including me in your holiday.” There, that was polite. I can do polite and mannerly.

  Finn steps close and rests his hand on my lower back. “All right, all right. Can we get inside? I’m starving.”

  “You ate a fish taco on the way here,” I say with a half eye roll. In truth, it had been impressive the way he ate those tacos while driving. Not a drop spilled or his attention from the road compromised. But then his hand eye coordination is better than most. And Finn never wastes good food.

  “That taco was tiny, Chess. It was gone in two bites.”

  “Well, with the way you ate it, yes—“ I cut myself off, remembering belatedly that I’m meeting his freaking parents.

  But Sean merely gives me a wink so quick, I almost miss it.

  I let out a breath and tell myself to relax. I’m nervous, which is a new experience for me. Not one I like. Doesn’t stop me from wanting to make a reasonably good impression.

  Inside, the house is open and airy, with vaulted, beamed ceilings painted white, shiplap walls, and multiple picture windows framing the sea. The furniture is big and comfortable, California casual. It’s like we’ve stepped into a design magazine. And yet there are signs of a well-lived life everywhere. Framed pictures of family on the tables, knick-knacks from exotic ports of call.

  “It’s beautiful,” I tell Finn’s mom.

  She smiles wide. “Thank you, Chess. Let’s get you situated and then we can have drinks on the patio.”

  Finn is back at my side, proprietary hand on my shoulder. “I’ll show her, Mom.”

  There’s an awkward beat of silence in the room, and I truly want to elbow Finn in the gut. I have no idea if his mom had planned to room us together, but the fact that he’s made it clear that we are is mortifying. And, sadly, something I hadn’t really thought about with this whole relationship farce.

  “Ah…yes, of course,” Meg says, with a small smile my way.

  Wrapping my arm around Finn’s waist, I smile back like a dolt, even as I surreptitiously pinch his side. He twitches, then presses his arm against my hand to keep me from attacking again. Nice block, but I’ll get him in the room.

  Aware of his parents watching us go, I keep quiet as he leads me down a long hall and into a bedroom at the far end of the house. I have a quick impression of clean, white furniture, and blue sea views before I pounce, pinching his little nipple.

  “Ow!” He dances away scowling as he closes the door behind us. “What the hell is up with all the pinching?”

  “You might as well have peed on my leg back there,” I hiss.

  Finn rubs his peck and frowns some more. “What are you talking about?”

  “Out there.” I gesture to the door. “Did it occur to you that your mom might have wanted to place us in separate rooms?”

  “What are we, sixteen?” He looks appalled. “We’re supposed to be together. There is no way I wouldn’t be sleeping the same bed with my girl. Mom knows that.”

  “Are you sure about that? And your dad is military…”

  Finn laughs, looking genuinely amused. “Dad is a sailor at heart, Chester. He’s the last person who would try to put you in the guest room.” Finn peers at me as if noticing something, and I have the annoying urge to check my face for dirt.

  “You didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, did you?” he asks, smugly smiling.

  “I knew.” I glance at the bed. It’s a queen. Not nearly big enough for us to share. Not when Finn is the size of a tree.

  “Uh-huh.” He takes a step closer. I don’t like that twinkle in his eye. It spells trouble. “You know we’re going to have to be a little affectionate towards each other, right?” Another step. “Remember? Cuddle, gaze at me with utter adoration.”

  “I don’t think I’m that good of an actress,” I mutter, refusing to back up, though I want to. I’m beginning to feel like a juicy piece of steak, the way he’s eyeing me.

  His warm, slightly calloused palms lightly skim up my arms. Little shivers of pleasure follow the motion. His lazy gaze lowers to my mouth, and I swear my lips plump in happy appreciation. Finn makes a sound at the back of his throat. “I’ll probably have to kiss you a few times.”

  My lids flutter, my lips going soft and full, as I try not to sway. He’s close enough to feel his warm. My body wants him to breach the tiny distance and take. But my brain is filled with blaring klaxons. I suck in a breath, and hear him do the same.

  “If you were my girl, I’d definitely kiss you any chance I got,” he whispers, dipping closer.

  “Try to kiss me now,” I murmur, my lips nearly brushing
his. “And I will bite you.”

  A huff of laughter brushes over my skin. “Oh, Chester, you really shouldn’t dare me.”

  I lift my lids and our gazes clash. He hasn’t moved away. The heat in his eyes makes my thighs tight. For a mindless second I want to taunt him, really dare him to do it. Kiss me. Make me forget my name.

  But then his mom’s voice slices through the thick air between us.

  “Finn,” she calls from the hall. “Hurry up! Glenn is here!”

  Finn doesn’t move, but his grimace is swift and pained. Slowly he straightens, holding my gaze the entire time. “I’m beginning to think that woman has some sort of sixth sense.” With a wry twist of his lips, he takes a step back. “Come on then, you heard the woman. Glenn is here!”

  I should be grateful for his mother’s impeccable sense of timing. But I’m not. I glance back at the bed as we leave the room. She won’t be around at night. And I really don’t have much faith in my will power anymore.

  * * *

  Finn

  * * *

  Awkward is a grown man hobbling out of his childhood bedroom, trying to tuck away his hard-on so he can face his family without causing anyone mental trauma.

  And while part of me wants Chess to see the effect she has on me, I’ve pushed her enough already. I’m fairly certain Chess would have no compunction about kneeing me in my tender balls and taking the next flight home.

  I haven’t been doing a good job of keeping away from her. I know this. I’ve told myself this more times than I care to count. Problem is, I want her with a ferocity that aches low in my gut, and I find myself reaching for her without thought, only to restrain myself at the last second. Because she is not mine.

  My body insists otherwise and is fairly pissy with me at present. Aching dick, bruised heart, twitchy hands, I’m an undisciplined wreck.

  And then I had to go haul Chess off to my room. A stupid play. I have no idea how I’m going to keep my hands off her when we’re stuck sleeping in together in that small ass bed. Jesus, I haven’t been this torqued for release since the seventh grade, when I caught sight of Angel Ramirez’s boobs in gym class.