“You’re all fired up about eating at the Oven in the boondocks when New York City is home of the best pizza in the country. And I will go to the mattresses with any Chicagoan over the title.”

I shared his opinion. Deep-dish pizza was disgusting. “You’ve had it? New York pizza?”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Once or twice.”

I cringed. Of course he had. Pleasant Hollow was less than two hours from the city, not in Siberia.

He raised a hand to Cousin Number One. “I’ll close out.”

So soon? I was hit with a pang of unexpected disappointment.

He pointed at me. “Her next one is on me.”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you. I wish guys in the city were as generous.”

He grinned. “You’re probably just hanging out in the wrong places.”

“Perhaps.” Not a chance. “You’re out of here, then?”

“Early-morning meeting.” He stood and removed some bills from his wallet.

“What do you do?” If he said he was the town mayor or veterinarian, I would fall off my stool.

As he slid his arms into the sleeves of his leather jacket, the bottom of his sweater rose to expose a hint of his flat lower abs and a trail of sexy hair leading downward.

I gulped and quickly averted my eyes.

“How about we save that for our next encounter?”

I lifted my chin and smiled up at him. “Sounds like a plan.”

Another brush with Finn Adams worked for me. It was fair to say he topped my list of favorite things in Pleasant Hollow. Currently, the list was otherwise blank, but that would change in time.

I’d have left when Finn did if Cousin Number One hadn’t promptly put a fresh new beer in front of me. At least the service was good. I took a photo, figuring it would look more inviting with the right filter, then drank the first half while eavesdropping on the cousins’ conversation. I quickly discovered they were addicted to Minecraft and were avoiding their fathers’ pleas to bring more variety back to the menu. Apparently, the original owners’ passion for beer making had not been passed on to their grandsons, who, from what I’d gauged, were in it for the free beer in exchange for the least amount of labor. It was too bad, because a motivated chef or mixologist could do something special with this space.

I realized with an instinctual loyalty to the underdog that Andrew Hanes might be thinking the same thing and probably had connections to the right people to make it happen. I debated asking the cousins if they were afraid the developer would extend his interest in Pleasant Hollow beyond the construction of a condominium and put Brothers out of business, but decided against it.