My shoulders tensed. Finn’s Tavern had four walls enclosing a small space, a bed, booze, and Finn. Finn and a bed. My fantasy from the night before of the two of us, naked, sharing a bottle of wine, sprang to mind. But it was the only gig in town. “Is it BYOB? Because I don’t have anything.”

“I have plenty more where this came from,” he said, raising his glass.

I wanted what he was having, which wasn’t water after all. And if I was being honest, I really enjoyed Finn’s company, city boy or not. I was also dying to know about his “passion project,” but I’d wait until it fit naturally into the conversation before prying. “Count me in.”

He smiled and held the door open for me to walk through. His room was similar to mine, only the color scheme was a softer blue and gray, and there was an exposed brick wall behind his queen-size bed.

Focusing my attention everywhere except the bed, I stood awkwardly while he knelt over his mini-fridge.

“I have a six-pack of Heineken and small bottles of Tanqueray, Tito’s, Crown Royal, and tonic water.”

“Wow. That’s quite a selection.”

A flush crossed his cheeks. “This project drives me to drink sometimes,” he said, rubbing his neck. “But I keep it to one or two.”

I waved a hand. “You’re over the legal drinking age. No need to justify.”

He laughed. “Sorry. Been a long day.” He pointed at the refrigerator. “What’s your poison?”

“G&T. Thanks.”

“Lime?”

Accustomed to men back home pouring Two-Buck Chuck into a Solo cup and expecting me to drop my panties, I jerked my head back at Finn’s offering of fresh lime. “Yes, please.” I watched him prepare my drink. I also blatantly checked out his ass. My time with Garrett had done nothing to defuse my attraction to Finn.

“For you.” Finn handed me my drink and motioned to a wooden rocking chair with a pastel-blue seat cover. He sat on the edge of his bed and raised his glass. “Cheers.”

“L’chaim.” I took a sip. “Mm. This is good.”

“I aim to please. So, how’d it go at the construction site? My guys help at all?”

“Unfortunately not, but they’re great. Tell me about your time with Habitat for Humanity.” So much for easing into the topic organically, but I was a journalist. Asking questions was what I did.

Finn blinked at me. “What do you mean?”

“Your crew told me Andrew Hanes recruited you from there,” I said.

“What else did they tell you?” He stood and paced the room.

Had I raised a sore subject? “Um…something about a passion project.”

“Motherfucker. Do those guys know how to keep their mouths shut?”