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She nodded, applying pressure as she continued to lose blood. Finally, they reached his door and he turned the key. He didn’t bother saying ‘excuse the mess’ like she was accustomed to in the South, though his place certainlywasa mess. Empty beer bottles lined the countertop behind her, dress shirts had been thrown lazily over the back of the couch, and there was a pizza box on the coffee table. Maybe it was just a bachelor’s pad. Blythe had never been in one, so she wouldn’t know the difference.
The man held out his hand. “Wait here,” he said, disappearing down a hallway and appearing a few moments later with a bottle of alcohol and some bandages. “I don’t have a whole lot, but this should help until you can get home.” He took hold of her arm, twisting it cautiously so he could see the wound. He pulled her toward the kitchen sink, which was just across the open room, and grabbed a towel from his drawer. He wiped her arm, stopping as she winced.
“It’s okay,” she assured him through gritted teeth, ignoring the sting as he poured the alcohol onto the cut. “What’s your name, by the way?” she asked, feeling like she should at least know that.
He smiled up at her from behind a strand of dark hair. “Finn,” he said. “I’m Finn.”
Finn.She turned the name over in her head. It was unique. Unconventional. She wondered if it was short for something—Finley, perhaps. He didn’t look like a Finley, but Finn seemed to fit. “Well, thank you, Finn, for saving me.”
He let out a soft laugh as he wrapped the bandage around her arm. “I’m not sure I technically saved you, but I’m happy to help anyway…” He trailed off, raising his brow as if to ask for her name.
“Blythe,” she introduced herself.
“Well, I’m happy to help, Blythe.” His touch lingered on her arm, though he was done with the bandage at that point. He tucked a piece of his dark hair behind his ear, and she smiled at him, noticing the way his gaze burned into hers.The smolder,she would dub that look.
He let go of her arm suddenly, wadding up the paper from the bandage and tossing it into the trash. “So, do you live around here?”
She shook her head. “This is actually my first time in New York.”
He nodded, as if she was confirming something he already suspected. “Nice. I figured. You seem…Southern.”
“Well, that’s not hard to assume, with the accent,” she said, trying to mask it. “I’m definitely Southern. What about you? You’re from here, obviously. But…have you always lived here?”
He smirked. “No, not always.”
He wasn’t giving her anything else, and neither was she. They were at a stand-off, staring into each other’s eyes and feeling the electricity pulse between them. At least,shewas feeling the electricity pulsing. Was it just her imagination?
He closed his eyes for a half-second, and when he opened them, his lips parted. Time seemed to stand still, as she, being the Southern Belle that she was, waited for him to make a move. He didn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“Well, I…um, I was going to go grab some dinner when I ran into you. Do you…want to join me?”
She took a breath, suddenly out of her trance. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Come on,” he dared her. “It’s just dinner. Then I’ll walk you to wherever you’re staying.”
She didn’t agree, but before she knew it, he was leading her out of his apartment anyway, his hand on her arm. His touch felt good to a girl who’d been untouched for so long. She followed him down all four flights of stairs and back onto the street.
“So,” he said, turning to look at her, “what do you like?”
The answer in her head was a resounding‘you,’but that wasn’t what he was asking.
* * *
An hour later,they were finally sitting at a table in a small Italian restaurant where the owner knew Finn by name. A happy-looking waitress brought over a plate of bread and took their orders. Finn recommended a type of pasta and a drink she’d never heard of, and she gladly took his advice.
When the waitress left, Finn leaned forward, tearing off a piece of bread and staring at her as he popped it into his mouth. “So,” he said once his mouth was empty, “tell me what brought you to New York.”
She laughed. “Ahh…The Big Apple?”
His forehead wrinkled in a playful scowl. “Yeah, no one calls it that.”
“Point taken,” she said.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, not buying into her distraction.
She nodded, taking in a breath. “Well, I’m from Texas.”
“Of course you are,” he muttered under his breath, not breaking eye contact.
