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“Yes.” I glared at him. “My date had an emergency. I’m just trying to enjoy my glass of wine.”
“Great. I’ll join you.”
Before I could protest, he had taken Blake’s chair and was leaning over to clink my glass with the lip of his bottle. I held my middle finger up against my wineglass.
He ignored my rude gesture, instead looking around the space. “I’ve never been here,” he said, bringing his beer to his lips and looking around.
I watched the muscles of his throat contract and raised one eyebrow. Why was he being so nice? Had he used all his dad’s money to buy a better personality? I was in no mood for chitchat, especially with this overgrown frat boy.
Briefly, I fantasized about whipping off one of my heels and throwing it across the table so it lodged in the middle of his smooth, tan forehead. My aim was impeccable. There was a reason I had won so many axe-throwing tournaments. And I knew I could do serious damage.
But then I dipped my chin, taking in my flats. Blake was self-conscious about his height, so I’d stopped wearing heels—though I had quite a collection—in order to appease him.
I smiled to myself. Fuck, he was such a dickweasel. I wanted to go back to my shop, invent a time machine and travel back six months so I could decline his offer to buy me that first drink. Because what the fuck had I been thinking?
Clearly, I had hit the desperation stage. Perhaps I should call it a day and adopt some cats.
“Are you laughingatme orwithme?” Finn said, interrupting my thoughts.
I pinned him with a sharp glare. “Obviously at you. I was planning my upcoming cat adoption. I’m prepared to fully embrace my spinster identity.”
“Seems a bit premature.” He dropped his forearms on the table so his hands rested not far from mine. “I’m single, in case you were wondering.” With that admission, he gave me a wink. His posture was relaxed, and despite my better judgment, I was curious. What had led this big, intimidating guy with all the tattoos, a young daughter, and a cocky smirk back to Lovewell?
“I’m not,” I snapped a little too eagerly, “interested.”
He shook his head and leaned in. “You single? I suspect you may be after that Poindexter stormed out of here earlier.”
I shrugged, not willing to give him the satisfaction of being right.
“Good. He’s not good enough for you.”
I snorted. “He thinks otherwise.”
He took another sip of his beer. “Guys like him always do. Not a great loss. Someone better will come along.”
I tipped my wineglass back, desperate for a refill. “Not likely,” I said, catching the server’s eye.
“You’re a strong, blond goddess. On what planet are you not good enough for him? You’re basically a superhero.” He scratched his chin. “I get a strong She-Ra vibe from you.”
I laughed, secretly flattered. Most of the time, I felt tall and unwieldy. I was far from one of those tiny, delicate women. Nope, I was more like the large monster lurching through the city as bodies fell in my wake.
“Definitely. Can you keep a secret? I’m a bit of a comic book nerd. And trust me, you are definitely She-Ra.”
Shit, he was good looking. And he had the good sense to compare me to a beautiful, powerful feminist superhero. I had to be careful, though. Because beneath the serious Viking facade, Finn Hebert was a charmer.
And in my just-dumped, vulnerable state, I could not afford to be charmed.
* * *
“Let me drive you. I’m heading there anyway.”
I shook my head, signing the credit card receipt. He had fought me on paying for dinner, but I’d insisted we split it. The last thing I needed was to be indebted to a Hebert. It was bad enough I’d eaten dinner with him. I’d pay for my own rainbow trout.
“I’m good,” I said primly, digging my phone out of my bag. “I’ll call a rideshare.”
“You will not. It’ll take forever to find someone willing to take you out to the sticks. Plus, carpooling is better for the environment.”
I gave him a dramatic eye roll.
