“Are you implying I’m not when I’m not?” I release my chin and stand taller, accidentally knocking my clutch off the table. “Oops.”
“Not at all,” Finn says, bending to pick up my purse and the spilled contents. He hands me the bag, my peach lip oil and my phone, which is lit up with a text from Leo.
I let out an irritated breath as I shove it back into my bag. “What does he want now?” I mumble.
“Problem?” Finn asks with concern.
I wet my bottom lip with my lip oil. Finn watches, mesmerized it seems, by the glossy brush and the way I’m moving it back and forth.Huh.I do an extra swipe for his benefit and when finished say, “No. Not really. It’s just my ex-boyfriend.”
“Is he bothering you?”
Elbows back on the table, I palm my cheeks. My head feels too heavy for my little neck. “You’re so handfum.”
He frowns, which makes him no less handfum. “I mean handsome. Silly ‘s’ and ‘f’ mix-up.”
“I understand.”
“Because you’re a smarty marty,” I tell him.
“Oh-kay. I think it’s time we get out of here.” He makes sure my clutch is securely closed, palms it with his big, strong hand, and then links his arm with mine.
I look up at him. “No, no. You can stay. I have Benny.”
“Ben—?” He shakes his head in amusement. “Benjamin will appreciate being relieved of his duties. Besides, you’re my early escape.”
“Are we gonna be sneaky about it?”
“Yes.”
I lean against him. “Good, cuz that bubble gum bazooka’d me right over the edge and I don’t wanna embarrass myself.”
Finn brings me closer. “No worries. I’ve got your back.” He leads us out of the ballroom unnoticed.Phew.
“Wait!” I untangle myself from his warm body. “I need a picsssure of you for Tom Sord, I mean Ford.”
He looks around. Oh yeah, we’re being sneaky and don’t want to get caught. “Over here,” he says, gathering me by his side again. I like his hold. More than I should. He brings us to an alcove hidden behind a lavish floral display sitting atop a shiny round table.
“Make it quick, Webster.” He hands me my clutch.
I retrieve my phone without incident. When I go to snap the picture, though, Finn goes in and out of focus and I pray I got at least one decent shot. “How about a selfie, too?” I give myself a mental pat on the back. Even drunk, I’ve got some wits about me. Finn can see clear enough to take a good photo. Our fingers brush when I hand him my phone and a shock makes us both jerk in surprise. We laugh it off.
“I like your laugh,” I tell him.
He takes two selfies of himself, one smiling and one smoldering. I’m pretty sure both will melt the panties off thousands of women. “I like yours, too.”
“Know what else? Don’t answer that. You don’t know.”
“Know what?”
“That I’m cursed.” Wow, I spewed that rather easily. Finn is like Captain Spill My Guts.
“What are you talking about?”
“Buy me a burger and frenchy fries and maybe I’ll tell you.”
Chapter Eleven
#DrunkOnFinn