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“She’s talking about Nellie,” Owen teased.
“Nah,” Tyler replied. “That she-devil doesn’t need a reason to bite.”
Bless Rue and his abuela-isms. Finley pulled his hood up and slid his sunglasses on before pushing off the wall. He entered the room right as Owen asked why salad had been added to the menu.
“Colon cleanse,” Finley replied, “because some of you are full of shit.” Owen’s cheeks turned pink, and he looked embarrassed. Finley offered a playful wink to let him know there were no hard feelings but remembered he wore the dark shades. He probably deserved to squirm a little anyway.
“Nah,” Tyler replied. “The meat lover’s pizza is dripping in fat, and it will grease the gears.”
Ivan chuckled and shook his head. “Pretty sure Finley meant you two idiots will shovel shit until the end of time for talking smack about him.”
Finley hooked an arm around Owen’s neck in a one-armed hug. “They know better. I don’t have a vindictive bone in my body.”
“Damn good thing,” Tyler said as he loaded his paper plate with everything but salad. “You could really make things difficult for the last boyfriend if you outed him.” Tyler looked up and smiled. “But you’d never do anything so cruel.”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
“I saw him today in town,” Rueben said. “He was protesting near the casino with a group of Salvation Anew members.”
Finley felt Kieran’s intense focus and turned to face him.Yes, that’s right. I chased my last lover straight into the arms of religious fanatics.Kieran’s expression was curious and pensive, but Finley didn’t expect him to voice his thoughts, especially about anything as personal as Finley’s relationships.
“What the hell are you wearing?” Kieran asked, his lips quirking at the corner.
Finley was grateful for the subject change and played dumb. He looked down at his body, though it was more difficult to do with his dark sunglasses on. “A ratty old hoodie and a pair of jeans.”
Kieran snorted. “I can see that. I’m talking about your hood up and the dark aviators, Eight Mile.”
Owen leaned closer to Ivan and said, “I was thinking more Unabomber.”
The Eminem reference made Finley want to smile, but he crossed his arms over his chest instead. “This might come as a surprise to you since you’re new, but I wear my heart on my sleeve, which means I’ll tip my hand with my expressions.”
Kieran arched a brow so high it nearly disappeared. “But you said you were pretty good at playing poker.”
This felt like a continuation of their flirty conversation in the laundry room. Finley wasn’t sure what surprised him most—that they’d picked up where they’d left off or that they were doing it in front of everyone else. God, that sounded dirty. “No, I told you I was damn good. And that’s because I take extra measures.”
Kieran narrowed his eyes as if he could smell the bullshit Finley was peddling across the room. After a moment, he shrugged and said, “Guess we’ll see.”
“Guess we will.”
“What’s happening?” Tyler whispered to Owen.
“If he has to tell you, then you don’t need to know,” Ivan informed him.
A round of snickers met the foreman’s reply, and Kieran tore his gaze away to glance around the room. Finley couldn’t tell by his expression if he’d picked up on the subtext of the exchange. The last thing he wanted was for Kieran to feel uncomfortable around him. Finley felt like he should say something to divert attention when Dylan took care of that with a perfectly timed remark about the food offerings.
“Mmmm. Is that chicken bacon ranch pizza? And what’s the kind with white circles and leaves on it? Looks like abstract art or something.”
Finley shook his head and walked over to the guy who had a mad crush on his sister. “It’s called Margherita pizza. The white circles are melted slices of mozzarella cheese, which is usually higher quality than the shredded stuff. The green leaves are fresh basil. It just so happens to be Harry’s favorite pizza,” he said.
Dylan looked at him with a hopeful puppy expression. “Will she be here tonight?”
“She has a date,” Tyler replied. “Don’t worry about it, Dylan. She’s as unlucky in love as her brother.”
Dylan’s cheeks flushed with heat, and Finley felt sorry for the guy. “Why would you say that? It’s nothing to me.” Yet he added two pieces of Margherita pizza to his plate and a heaping serving of salad.
Finley pushed his sunglasses down his nose and pinned Tyler with a dark look. “Harry is having a girls’ night with some friends in town. She’s not on a date.” He didn’t want to give Dylan false hope, but he’d seen the furtive glances Harry sent Dylan’s way when he wasn’t looking. “I don’t see anyone beating a path to your door, Ty. Maybe we cut the chitchat about our dating lives and eat so we can get down to business.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rueben said.
