“I’m good. I’m so sorry to hear of your lo—“
There’s a low growl from Finn, and Russell stops mid-sentence. Finn does a small chin jerk toward Winnie, who’s watching him closely. They only met a few times during the months we dated, and he was never interested in our girls’ nights.
Russell understands the silent communication to watch what he says in front of Winnie and clears his throat with the decency to look embarrassed. “What I meant to say was I’ve been thinking about you and your family.”
“Thank you, Russell. That’s nice of you.” I swallow the lump in my throat.
He turns his head and extends his hand. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Russell Wayne, a close friend of Presley’s.”
Finn doesn’t remove his hand from my shoulder but lifts his other in greeting.
“Finn Black. I’m Presley’s date.”
Russell’s eyes grow wide in shock, but he doesn’t say anything as Winnie chooses this moment to interrupt.
“Hey, what about me?” She puffs and waves at herself.
What happens next will stay in my brain forever.
Finn reaches across the table and takes her small hand in his, at the same time his grip on my shoulder tightens.
“Pardon me, little miss, I meant I’m lucky enough to have two dates tonight, Presley and Winnie.”
Her little face lights up, and she nods approvingly at me.
Instantly, my heart melts.
Chapter 6
Finn
Who wears a fucking tie to Chick-fil-A on kid’s night? Russell fucking Wayne, that’s who. No matter how hard I try, I can’t block out the way he looked at Presley last night. The desire and heat in his gaze was undeniable. He wants her.
Too fucking bad, asshole.
“One more,” I grunt and push up hard, landing the bench press in the cradle. My arms are on fire and sweat drips down my face as I breathe in deep to steady my heart rate.
Robbie stands behind me, spotting me close with the additional weight I added.
“You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?” He throws a towel on my face.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit. You can either tell me, or I’ll call Ember and have her trot her ass down here and make you spill.”
“It’s seven-thirty in the morning. She’d kill you for waking her up.”
“She’s already been woken up, but after the workout I gave her, she’s no doubt back asleep. So, yeah, she’ll be pissed, but it’ll be aimed at you.”
“Asshole,” I mutter, sitting up. “But at least you’re a lucky asshole.”
“I know, and I tell her that every damn day. When I wake up with perfection sleeping in my arms, I wonder how I got so lucky.”
“This can’t be happening.” I shake my head at his pussy-whipped philosophy on his new life. “Did you really just say that?”
He gives me a sideways grin and nods. “But don’t change the subject. The threat stands.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I had a date last night with Presley. Not sure it went well.”