Page 11 of The Best Friend Problem
Her round face and slightly upturned nose gave her the appearance of one of those pixie things in that movie they’d seen as kids, the Spanish one where the monster had the creepy eyeballs in his hands. Finn had to sleep with the lights on for a week after watching it. And though she always complained about the static quality of her fine, chestnut brown hair, he thought it fit her perfectly, tightly pulled back and controlled in her trademark ponytail, but crazy and wild whenever she allowed herself to let it down.
Pru to a T.
“We’re friends. End of story.”
“As much as I hate agreeing with Ward on anything,” Díaz said, ignoring the middle finger Ward sent her way, “I have to agree—even I think she’s a catch.”
“Ditto,” Turner chimed in.
What the hell? Why were all his friends on his ass today?
“Aren’t you married, Turner? To James?”
“Hey, just because I’m married doesn’t mean I’m dead. Or stopped being attracted to other genders. Monogamy does not erase sexuality.”
Finn shook his head. His coworkers were all crazy. He and Pru were friends. Friends! Men and women could be friends and nothing more, despite what every Hollywood rom com ever made said.
“Are we playing or what?” he asked.
His fellow firefighters shrugged, returning to the game. His eyes shifted to the clock as nerves cramped his stomach. Outside, he played it cool as Turner dealt a new hand, but inside, worry consumed his mind. This was going to be the longest end of shift ever.
…
Why was she so nervous?
Pru sat in a back booth at City Tavern, a bottle of locally made hard cider in front of her, its label shredded into a pile on the table. When she got anxious, she fidgeted, and her anxiety was so high right now even Mo’s deep yoga breathing techniques couldn’t help her.
She didn’t understand. Why did it feel as if she was about to jump out of her skin? All she was doing was informing her bestie of her decision to use a sperm donor to get pregnant. It wasn’t like she was asking for his sperm.
A flush heated her cheeks at the thought of Finn and sperm. Where had that come from? She didn’t think of Finn and sex in the same sentence. Okay…maybe she’d had one or two inappropriate sex dreams over the years, but she’d also had a sex dream about Mr. Clean once, so her dreams clearly didn’t mean anything.
It was just nervousness about discussing an important life decision with someone she held very dear manifesting in…strange ways. That’s all. Finn was a guy, so of course her baby-obsessed brain would see his potential and subconsciously draw conclusions. Had to be it. No other reason.
“Hey, did you already order?”
She glanced up to see Finn smiling down at her. His sandy blond hair was slicked back, indicating he’d grabbed a shower before heading over. The dark gray T-shirt he wore clung to his muscles and showed off the colorful artwork covering his arms from his wrists to where the tattoos disappeared behind his sleeves. He’d once tried to convince her to get a tattoo, but she could barely handle the flu shot. No way could she sit still for hours while some sadist poked at her with a needle gun.
“Just a drink.” She lifted her naked cider bottle.
Finn’s dark blue gaze shifted to the pile of paper bits in front of her. His lips turned down, concern filling his face. As he took the seat across from her, he nodded to the pile.
“So, what’s wrong? What did you want to talk to me about?”
“Nothing is wrong. I just—”
“Hey, Finn.” Laura stepped up to their table. “Need a drink?”
Finn smiled at the woman who’d become their regular server. Pru knew the younger woman was working on her pre-med degree at CU Denver. They always left her a generous tip to help her pay for school, and she always gave them top-notch service.
“Yeah, do you have any new IPAs?”
“We have a limited run of Naked Faust from 14er Brewing.”
“Sounds good.”
Laura left to get Finn’s beer, and Pru chuckled softly.
“What?”
