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I laugh. “You’re buying meonedrink, Hawthorne. You’re gonna need to do better than that to beat the cheap allegations.”
He drops his elbow onto the bar and leans in slightly, a teasing grin on his lips. “Like buy you a very comfortable and not at all cheap beanbag?”
The lunches too.But I don’t say that out loud.
“That doesn’t count,” I tell him. “You only got that to make me come back upstairs. Ulterior motives don’t negate cheapness.”
Hawthorne’s smile dips slightly. “I didn’t mean to drive you away.” He pulls away and rubs a hand around the back of his neck. That pink tinge to his cheeks is back. “I meant what I said on Friday. Your designs are good.Greateven.” He nods, to himself or me, I can’t quite tell. “They’re great. Honestly. And I’m sorry that I’ve said some things to make you think otherwise.”
The warmth from when he briefly held my hand has somehow spread to my chest. I can feel his praise spreading from within, slowly crawling over every inch of me until I feel like I’m buzzing off it. The bartender places our drinks in front of us and Hawthorne wordlessly hands his black card over.
“Thank you,” I murmur. And I’m not sure what I’m thanking him for. The drinks or his words?
He shrugs like it’s no big deal, picks up both our drinks, and nods to a corner of the pub. “Want to see if we can find somewhere to sit?”
I should say no. Tell him that we can just stand at the bar because as soon as Bailey messages me, I’ll be leaving. But I don’t. I nod and follow him again as he carves another path through the crowd for me.
Despite the area being marginally quieter than the rest of the pub, we still can’t find an empty table, so we end up tucked away in a corner holding our drinks. It’s…It’sintimate. My back is flush against the wall and Hawthorne is hovering over me, one hand cradling his drink, the other pressed against the wall, bracketing me in slightly.
He takes a sip from his beer and when he pulls the glass away from his lips, he’s got a slight foam moustache. I force down the giggle I can feel threatening to erupt and keep my face as neutral as I can.
“This is pretty good,” he says, going in for another sip.
“Sure looks it.” My chest is practically vibrating from the threat of laughter, and I take a big gulp from my drink to disguise it.
Hawthorne throws me a suspicious look and it’sso hardto take him seriously with that foam moustache still going strong. “What’re you and your friend up to tonight? Anything fun?”
I shrug and glance down at my drink. “Not much.” It’s not like I can tell him that we’re heading back to her place to commiserate my truly awful and embarrassing love life, starting with my date earlier tonight. “Probably just catching up. Nothing special.”
“Oh.” He looks me up and down again with hooded eyes and the action almost makes me shiver. His gaze is intense, and I can feel it on me as he methodically inches down my body. “I thought you’d be going out or something. Because that skirt is…because you look so…”
He swallows and leans in some more. We’re so close now, I would barely need to reach up to splay my hand against his chest. I can’t say that it’s not tempting. I’m eyeline with his upper body and the thin T-shirt he’s wearing does so little to mask the quiet muscles rippling underneath.
“You look really nice,” he finishes, his voice barely more than a whisper.
My breath gets caught in my throat.
“Not that you don’t look nice every day,” he says quickly, misinterpreting my stunned silence as something else entirely. “Because you do.”
“You been checking me out, Hawthorne?”
I think watching the tips of his ears turn pink might just be my new favourite thing. It’s remarkable how quickly the blush spreads to his cheeks, and I wonder if he knows this about himself. How easy he is to read. To tease.
“In a strictly professional sense,” he says, and I’ll do him this favour and pretend like I don’t notice how his voice is slightly gruffer than before.
“You’ve been checking me out in astrictly professional sense?” I bring my drink back to my lips and take a slow sip, enjoying the way I can plainly see panic and regret spasming across his face. Am I evil? Maybe a little bit. “That sounds like something HR should be all over.”
“Or.” His tongue darts out for a brief second to run along his bottom lip as he leans in even farther. We’re so close now, his short blond locks fall forward and brush against my forehead. “Or we could keep it between us.”
What is happening here?
This is not how I expected my Saturday night to go. Tucked away in a dark corner of an expensive pub with Finn Hawthorne dangerously close to me.Flirtingwith me. Because he is flirting, isn’t he? Toeing the line between professional and most definitely not.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, drawing my attention away from him. I pluck it out and look at the screen.
BAILEY
I’m outside
