Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(18)

“Don’t suppose I am. But I do love a good mystery.” He slid a toothpick in his mouth, his lip curling around it. Joey was the last to break our staring contest as a parade of off-duty cops strolled in.

My sister pulled off her hat and waved at Joey, then did a double take when she spotted me. Her smile was wide, her cheeks flushed from the cold as she headed for our booth. “Hey look, everybody!” she called over her shoulder. “This is my sister, Finlay, the one who writes the books I was telling you about.” Her friends waved to us on their way to the bar. Joey drifted away from our table and melted into their group.

“Hey, Vero.” Georgia nudged me deeper into the booth and sat down beside me, shucking her coat. “What the heck are you two doing here?”

“We heard the cheesy fries were good,” Vero said, a little too enthusiastically.

“Hooligans has cheesy fries?” Georgia frowned as she reached for a plastic menu. “Huh. That must be new.”

The server set an open beer in front of my sister. When she was gone, Georgia set down the menu and slid the bowl of peanuts toward herself. “Let me take a stab at what you two are really doing here.” I opened my mouth to argue, but she held up a hand. “Look around you, Finn. No one comes here for the food.” I shut my mouth, having no reasonable argument for that.

“I think you’re here because you finally came to your senses about Nick,” she said, cracking a nut. “But you were too chicken to call him and agree to a date, so you decided to play coy and show up here with your friend so you wouldn’t be tempted to leave with him.” She silenced my protest with a raised finger. “Don’t pretend you didn’t know we all hang out here every Thursday night.”

“Damn, she’s good,” Vero whispered.

My face burned. “I didn’t come to see Nick. He’s not even here.”

My sister smirked around her beer as she looked past me toward the door. Nick limped into the bar, leaning on a metal cane. Sleet dotted the shoulders of his coat, and he shook it from his hair as the door closed behind him.

“Whoa,” Vero said, “Finlay’s doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Georgia asked.

“Manifesting dessert.”

Georgia’s face screwed up. “I don’t even want to know what that means.” She scooted sideways out of the booth, catching Nick’s attention as he lifted his head. His cane rattled to a sharp halt when he spotted me. “You two lovebirds have fun,” Georgia said, patting me on the shoulder. “Come on, Vero. I’ll introduce you around. I could use a partner for doubles.” I hardly noticed as Vero slid out of the booth.

Nick’s smile was tentative, and my stomach did a little flip as he shuffled toward me. He inclined his head toward Vero’s empty seat. “Mind if I take a load off?”

“Not at all.” I stole glances at him as he maneuvered onto the bench. He looked just as good as he had when I’d last seen him. The fitted Henley under his coat hugged his muscular frame, and the dark waves of his hair had grown out a little, framing his face, doing dangerous things to my libido.

He leaned his cane against the side of the bench and waved to the server across the bar. “Can I get you anything?” he asked me as she made her way toward us.

I’d hardly touched my drink, but given where Nick and I had left things after Christmas dinner, I’d definitely need some liquid courage for this conversation. I tipped my glass to our server, and with a nod, she was gone.

“I called you a few times,” he said casually. “Wasn’t sure you got my messages. Vero said you’ve been busy.”

I picked at the edge of my napkin. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you back. After everything that happened with Steven, I just needed some time. I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey,” he said gently, calling a time-out with his hands as he ducked his head low, capturing my gaze across the table. “You’ve been through a lot these last few weeks, and if that’s the reason you didn’t call, I totally get it. No explanations or apologies necessary. I just figured you were upset with me.”

I shook my head, confused. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“About all that stuff I said after dinner at your mom’s house. I didn’t mean to suggest that I was suspicious of you, or that you had anything to answer for. I should have kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t the time to bring that stuff up.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The answers to the questions he’d asked me under the mistletoe—about why my missing cell phone had turned up in Carl Westover’s house, or what I’d been doing there with a fugitive witness the night Feliks decided to gun us all down—would have ruined more than just the moment between us. That night, Nick had said he didn’t want to know the answers, but where did that leave us now?

As if he was reading my thoughts, he said, “I’m still hoping for that sympathy kiss.”

A surprised laugh burst out of me. “Still?”

He laughed, too. “Why do you think I’m still using the cane?”

The server came with our drinks. The break in tension left a sticky grin on my face. “It’s good to see you,” I confessed when she was gone, surprised by how much I meant it. “How are you feeling?”