Page 7 of A Hard Fit (Falling Hard #2)

Open Table

Finn’s stomach swooped when he looked up from his desk Tuesday morning. Rory was framed in the doorway, in an outfit Finn hadn’t seen before—black pants with silver-buckled leather straps down one side, and a half kilt wrapped around the other side. Their beautiful eyes, crinkling at Finn, were lined with a touch of smoky eyeliner. Impossibly hot.

“You look nice,” Finn choked out. He quickly looked back down at this sketch, knowing his eyes were much too wide. “Big date tonight?”

Rory chuckled. “Ha, no. Dinner out with my parents.” The answer reassured Finn more than it had any right to. “It’s their anniversary. I try to step it up a notch.”

“Well, you, uh—you did.” Finn cleared his throat. “Several notches. And happy anniversary to them.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass that on.” Rory fiddled with one of the straps on their thigh for a second, cheeks flushing a faint pink. Then they gave their belt a tug and straightened their shoulders. “Did you see that email from Markos? He confirmed our meeting for next week.”

“Terrific.” So far they had only exchanged a few emails with the owner of Thrill Island, but Markos seemed like a nice enough guy who was excited to work with them. “Do you want to meet one more time before that to make sure we’re ready?”

“That would be great.” Rory pulled out their phone and they made a plan to meet Friday at two o’clock. Finn spent the rest of the day with visions floating through his head of him walking into a restaurant with Rory on his arm dressed like that.

* * * *

You can do it, Finn. Just ask Rory to go for a drink. A simple drink. It was four o’clock on Friday and they’d been huddled together in Finn’s office putting the finishing touches on their presentation for Thrill Island for the last two hours.

“We still need a better name than ‘Undercover Romantic Boat Ride’ for the Haunted Lagoon,” Finn said, tapping his chin.

“I know, why is it so hard?” Rory replied.

“What about…” Finn frowned, trying to think of a suitable boat pun “…Taking the Sea -nic Route?”

Rory half-laughed, half-groaned. “I don’t think that’s it.”

“Hmm… okay,” Finn continued, undeterred. “Ferry-tale Ending?”

“Finn. Stop,” Rory said with mock seriousness. Then they grinned. “Harbor-ing Strong Feelings?”

“A-boat Time?”

“Feeling Nauti!”

And so it went, until their shoulders shook with laughter, and their knees bumped together under the table.

“Okay, seriously,” Rory breathed, wiping a tear threatening to escape. “Maybe boats aren’t the angle here. Back to heists…” They flicked their bangs back, eyes alight. “And the romance angle. I don’t care what anyone says, drifting along together in a boat is romantic. How about…Stolen Kisses?”

Finn blinked. “I love that! It’s brilliant.”

Rory’s eyelashes fluttered as they looked down. “Thanks.”

Finn dug through the stack of mock-ups, found the one for the lagoon ride and got to work sketching out the new sign.

Rory leaned over to watch, arm brushing against Finn’s. “That looks great,” they murmured as it took shape under Finn’s pencil.

Their breath smelled like mint. Goosebumps swept over the back of Finn’s neck. His heart was a bird beating its wings madly against his ribcage, desperate to take flight. Then the bird busted right out. “Do you want to go grab a drink tonight?” Finn asked.

Rory looked up, eyebrows bunched. “A drink?”

Oh fuck. They look confused . Because obviously, why would he ask that? Fuck fuck fuck. “We should round everyone up, head over to the Exchange after work,” Finn covered quickly.

“Sure.” Rory relaxed. “Yeah, sounds good.”

Ass , Finn scolded himself as he got back to work on his drawing. Rory doesn’t want to go out with you. He had to let go of that stupid idea. But at least their time together today wasn’t ending just yet.

* * * *

Finn tracked down Tawney, who was stoked to go for drinks, and got to texting a few others. Then he ran into Thomas refilling his water bottle in the kitchen. Once again, Finn considered how appropriate Thomas’ nickname was, watching him move around in his gray suit, smooth and powerful, with a calm dignity.

“Hey, Wolf,” Finn said, then froze. Shit. It slipped out.

“That’s okay,” Thomas said with a hint of a lip curl when he saw Finn’s panic. “I don’t mind the nickname. I’ve certainly been called worse.”

“Haven’t we all,” Finn said, relaxing. “Hey, a bunch of us are heading for a drink after work. The Bitter Exchange, just down the block, if you haven’t been yet.”

“Mmm,” Thomas said, glancing at his watch. “I’m not sure…”

“You should come,” Finn said. “Get to know everyone a little better.” Like Luka. “It’ll be fun.”

Thomas considered a moment longer, then nodded once. “Yes, thank you. I have a few things to finish up here, then I’ll come for a drink.”

Finn tidied up his desk a little—very little—then barged into Luka’s office at 5:01, shrugging on his jacket. “Moreno! It’s quitting time.”

Luka didn’t look up, in the middle of madly scribbling notes in the margins of a report. “I just have to—”

“Nope!” Finn snatched the papers out from under his pencil and held them aloft. Luka would work all weekend if you let him. “Everyone’s going for drinks.”

“Finn!” Luka reached for his work, then paused. “Everyone?” he asked, in the most obvious way possible.

“Everyone,” Finn said, trying to rein in his smirk.

Luka chewed his lip and eyed his monitor. “Okay.” He stood and grabbed the papers back so he could file them away. “Where are we going? Do not say Exchange.”

Finn grinned. He had to admit, as the Bitter Exchange had become the usual afterwork hangout, it was rather amusing how much Kazio, the owner, seemed to actively dislike Luka—handsome, charming and liked by literally everyone else.

“Why do we have to go there?” Luka groaned.

Finn clapped him on the back. “Ten-dollar pitchers and the best wings in town! What’s not to like?”

“Were you wanting a list, or…?”

With a playful shove, Finn turned to charge out. “Last one there buys the first round!” He didn’t want to keep Rory waiting.

* * * *

Finn and Rory walked to the pub with Tawney. It was her turn for a joke—“Why do walruses love a Tupperware party?”—then they grabbed a few tables in the corner. The place buzzed with the usual Friday crowd, and their tables filled up with Breakpoint coworkers. Luka arrived, giving them a wave and heading straight to the bar to battle with Kazio.

Finn was draining the last of his first beer, feeling pleasantly warm and admiring Rory’s exquisite profile, when his phone rang.

It was his mom.

Mel was all the Caller ID said.

What the fuck? She never called.

His finger twitched over the screen, a whispered curse escaping his lips. There was no way he was going to answer.

Except, fuck. She never called.

“Excuse me,” he muttered to Rory.

He swiped to answer and pressed the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, wiggling between tables to slip out through the front door.

There was a pause, entirely too long, coming from the person who had placed the call. “Finn,” his mother finally said.

“Mel,” he replied, already tired of her bullshit.

“How are you?” she asked.

Finn leaned against the brick wall of the pub. Wow, acting like she cared and everything.

“Busy,” he answered. “What do you want?”

“Liz was saying you’re a hard guy to get a hold of.”

“Yeah, well…” Finn shook his head, wanting to laugh. “Here I am.”

“Look, Finn. I just wanted to tell you…” She paused again, the silence on the line louder than the traffic rolling by at the end of the block. “Things haven’t been great for Liz lately.”

A twinge in Finn’s gut. “What do you mean?”

“She’s splitting from Neil. He’s dragging it through court. She’s a mess, so are the kids.”

“Pretty sure I said not to marry that asshole.”

“Christ, Finn. What good does that do anyone right now?”

Finn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “What do you want, Mel?”

“I wanted you to know about Liz. Maybe you should reach out. She could use some support. So could her kids.”

Finn’s eyes snapped open. No. There’s no way… “Are you asking me for money ?”

“Your sister needs some help, Finn. You got the house, no kids—”

A laugh choked from his throat. “Which you both love to remind me, endlessly.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“You are un-fucking-believable. The last time I saw Liz in person she told me I was a selfish prick, and you—I’ve gotta go, Mel.”

“Finn—”

He hung up.

He was going to need a lot more beer.

When he got back to their tables, it looked like everyone was there now. Luka and Tawney were throwing darts, and Morgan was throwing himself at Thomas.

“Everything okay?” Rory asked, watching Finn grab the pitcher and slosh another round into his glass.

Finn took a long pull, heart racing. “Yeah,” he said, once he had thumped his glass back down. “Fine.” And another drink.

“It’s just that… I don’t mean to pry, but you don’t really look okay.”

Finn drained that glass and poured another. “Yeah.” He shook his head, then jammed a curl behind his ear. “That was my mom.”

“Oh.” Rory didn’t say anything else, just waited.

The words bubbled up his throat. “Remember how I said things weren’t great with my sister? My mom is like…a whole lot worse than that.” He took a gulp of his beer. “She was barely around, she never gave a shit about me and Liz but Liz was always on her side, like I was the one being a dick and I—” He shook his head. Another gulp. “I try to keep them out of my life now.”

“That’s fair,” Rory said softly. “It’s up to you who you want in your life.”

“Right. I want people…who care, you know?” He looked up to meet Rory’s eyes. They were soft and warm and he tumbled right into them.

“I know,” Rory said. They placed their hand on Finn’s forearm and squeezed.

Finn had to look away when the eye contact threatened to send his heart throbbing right out of his chest and into a quivering pile on the table. As his gaze wandered, he caught sight of something new in the back corner behind the bar.

“You like pool?” he asked Rory.

“I’m not great, but yeah,” Rory said, turning to see what Finn was looking at.

Finn got to his feet, clutching his glass and maybe swaying a bit. He eyed Luka and Thomas, huddled together over at the bar looking cozy as fuck. “I’ve got an idea.” Finn barreled across the pub and threw his arm around Luka.

“We challenge you, Big Bad Wolf!” he bellowed, waving his beer at Thomas.

“We challenge him to what, darling?” Luka asked, a wary eye on the sloshing liquid.

“Pool!” Finn announced. Now he pointed his beer at the new table. “Me and you versus Thomas and Rory! We’ll crush them.”

Luka laughed. “If you say so.” He looked at Thomas, who appeared skeptical. “What do you say, Thomas?”

Thomas frowned. “Probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?” Finn squinted at him. Thomas was a little blurry. And apparently not much fun at all.

“I don’t want to listen to you whining when you lose,” Thomas said, completely straight-faced.

Finn blinked at him then burst out laughing. Oh, yes. I knew I was gonna like him. “Loser buys the next round, pretty boy.”

Thomas’ eyes twinkled. “Deal.”

Finn went to collect Rory and a pitcher, then carefully topped up his glass while Luka racked up the balls.

The call from his mom was a distant memory. Or it would be, soon enough.

“You guys can break,” Finn said to Thomas and Rory, ever the gentleman, even several beers in.

“Go ahead.” Thomas gestured to Rory when the balls were ready.

Rory approached the table much like a deer—timid, lithe, eyes liquid and steps careful.

“Give us a good spread!” Finn called as Rory lined up their shot. The way they bent over, aimed so carefully… Finn tugged on his collar, like one of those cartoon characters releasing a burst of steam.

The triangle of balls exploded and clattered all around the table, but none went in. Rory groaned.

“Excellent work, Rory!” Finn tore his eyes away from their lovely ass. “Open table.” He squeezed his cue and admonished himself to focus, skittering around the table like an idiot. If Rory was a deer, Finn was a baby giraffe, all flapping limbs and knobby knees. “Three, corner pocket,” he decided. He breathed a sigh of relief when he sank it. “We’re solids. Don’t let me down, Moreno.” He picked up his pint and collapsed onto a stool, happy his turn was over and he had managed to look competent.

Luka, however… He lined up his shot, then flinched for absolutely no reason whatsoever, and the cue slipped off his hand and bumped a nearby ball.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Finn asked after a moment of incredulous silence.

“Sorry,” Luka said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck .

Finn shook his head. “Brutal.” A little too brutal. He watched Luka, whose gaze flicked to Thomas, pulse jumping in his throat. Oh. He is gone, Finn decided, smiling into his pint. Head over fucking heels. His gaze danced over to Rory, stomach swirling. Who was more pathetic, him or Luka?

“I guess it’s me,” Thomas rumbled. With the precision of a sniper’s bullet, a striped ball slammed into a pocket.

“Ah, fuck. I picked the wrong partner,” Finn moaned, as if it wasn’t apparent to all of them.

“Mmm,” Thomas agreed.

Luka didn’t even bother to argue.

Thomas and Rory won the game easily.

“All right, all right,” Finn muttered, signaling their server for another pitcher. “Rematch. Get it together, Moreno! You’re breaking. I swear to God…” He took a swig, hoping Luka wouldn’t embarrass himself too badly.

Luka’s break didn’t have much power, but he managed to sink a stripe.

“That’s my boy!” Finn cried, proud of his friend. He slapped Luka on the back.

“Well done, Luka.” Thomas nodded. “You were bound to sink one eventually.”

Luka gasped. “How dare you, sir? Just for that, we’re going to destroy you!”

“Starting when?” The corner of Thomas’ mouth twitched.

Luka’s cheeks were pink. “Just you wait!”

Too fucking cute, Finn thought, brain fuzzier than the green table felt. He sank another ball and an easy shot was waiting for Luka that he managed not to mess up.

“Scared yet?” Luka asked the other two as Finn lined up his next shot.

Rory perched on a stool in the corner of Finn’s eye, pant cuff sliding up, revealing an exquisite ankle. “Fuck!” Finn swore as the cue ball followed the other into a pocket.

Rory grinned. “Nope. Good try, though, Finny.”

His stomach fucking packed a bag and began hiking up his esophagus at the nickname. “It’s still early. I’m not worried,” he choked out. Finn pushed his curls off his forehead and reclined against the table, willing his heart to calm down.

“Well, I’m going to need you to move,” Rory said, pointing at a shot.

“What if I don’t want to move?” Finn asked, cranking a wretchedly bold eyebrow at Rory.

“I could make you move.” Rory took a step closer, eyes glimmering with amusement.

Make me, Finn wanted to say, picturing Rory grabbing him, hands soft and yet firm… But his courage faded. He cleared his throat and stepped aside. “Still going to beat you,” he mumbled.

Rory slammed another ball home. “We’ll see.”

Rory and Thomas won again. They high-fived each other.

“Good game.” Rory smiled at Finn, offering a hand.

Finn took it. Their eyes met. His heart got into a kick line with the rest of his internal organs. Rory’s grip was as firm as he imagined it, but with impossibly smooth skin. Their hand was warm, nail beds pink and shining. Rory’s hand flexed as they leaned a little closer, a smile soft on their lips.

Finn took a deep breath, inhaling Rory’s scent. “Good game,” he said, with a nearly imperceptible shake to his voice.

He didn’t want the shake to end but he forced himself to let go when Rory stepped back.

Thomas cleared his throat. “Thanks, everyone. I think I’ll be heading home.”

Luka nodded. “Have a good weekend.”

“You too.” Thomas headed to the bar to settle his tab before making his way out into the night. Luka stared after him wistfully.

“Wanna play again?” Finn asked Luka.

“Nah, I think I’ll head home, too. You two enjoy your weekend.”

Rory watched him go, head tilted. “Is it just me, or are they totally into each other?”

Finn snorted. “Oh, absolutely. I’m wondering how much time those two idiots will waste pining after each other.”

“Yeah,” Rory said with a chuckle. “Me too.”