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T W E N T Y T W O
- Finn -
She offered me a skeptical side eye, her lips curling like a Cheshire Cat. “Let me guess. He smells good.”
“Fantastic,” I said, matching her smile.
“And his chest hair?”
“Downy soft and evenly spread.”
She burst out laughing and the sound squeezed my heart as the waitress appeared at our table. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?” she asked, her notepad and severely painted brows poised at the ready.
“I need a few more minutes,” Maeve said apologetically.
I looked up at Morticia. “Would you bring us the spinach dip and the crab cakes to share in the meantime?” I asked, my eyes pinging off Maeve’s glass. “And another round of drinks.”
“Good call on the starters,” Maeve said after the waitress excused herself with a bow. “I was feeling a bit paralyzed by indecision.”
“Hope you’re happy with those choices.”
Enthusiasm lifted her cheeks. “They’re perfect.”
I was relieved to be in such good company. The last few women I took out sat back and gave off the vibe that it was my job to impress them. But Maeve seemed determined to have a good time whether I joined her or not, and I liked that. She didn’t need to be here. It was a choice. And that made me feel lucky, which was a feeling I hadn’t enjoyed in a long time.
“So,” she said. “This guy you have in mind…”
I leaned back in my chair as the saxophonist leaned into his solo.
“The one who can help me.” She cast her eyes down so her long lashes fanned across her pink cheeks. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked, lifting her gaze.
“Don’t panic,” I said, feeling a sudden urge to pull away from the warm swell in my chest. “I’m not suggesting I’m the suitable donor you’re looking for.”
She blinked at me.
“I just meant I could help you choose.”
Her brown eyes narrowed.
“Seems the least I can do considering the fact that you helped me with my new year’s resolution.”
“I did, didn’t I?” she said. “Though I’m not sure how you mean to help me?”
“Well, you have to narrow down profiles, right? Don’t you think it would be wise to get a guy’s opinion?”
She lent me an ear.
“I mean…” Fuck, what did I mean? Think. “You know how realtors use shady jargon to sell houses?”
“Go on,” she said, lifting her drink.
“You know how they say ‘quaint’ and ‘charming’ when they really mean ‘old’ and ‘small?’”
Her expression drew a discouraging blank.
C’mon, Finn. Don’t blow this.“Or how they say ‘private’ when they mean ‘middle of nowhere’ and ‘good access to transport’ when they mean ‘noisy.’” I couldn’t tell by her face if I was even speaking English anymore. “Never mind. Forget I mentioned it.”
“Actually,” she said. “I think you may have a point.”
