The Mckennas: Finn, Riley and Brody: One Day to Find a Husband. Shirley Jump

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      Could she be thinking of hiring someone else? He hadn’t heard rumors of anyone considering a job at WW, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a prospective candidate. Finn had always prided himself on having an ear to the ground in Boston’s busy and competitive architecture world, but that didn’t mean he knew everything.

      “Knock, knock. Time for lunch.”

      Finn glanced up and saw his brother standing in the doorway, grinning like a fool. Every time he saw Riley, his brother looked as happy as a loon. Probably because he didn’t have a care in the world. Or maybe because things had gone better for Riley with women last night than they had for Finn. “Sorry. Maybe another time. I have a ton of work to do.”

      “Yeah, yeah.” Riley waved that off. “And last I checked you were human …”

      Finn dropped his gaze to his hands, his feet, then back up to Riley. “It appears so.”

      “And that means you need to eat on a regular basis. So come on.” Riley waved at him. “Hey, I’ll even treat.”

      Finn chuckled. “Considering that’s almost a miracle in the making—”

      “Hey.” Riley grinned. “I resemble that remark.”

      “You’re the poster child for it.” Finn shook his head. Then his stomach rumbled and overruled his work resolve. “All right. You win. But let’s make it a quick lunch.”

      “You know me. I’m always ready to get my nose back to the grindstone. Or rather, ready to get your nose back to your grindstone, and mine back to lazy living.” Riley laughed at his joke, then walked with Finn down the hall to the elevator. “You know it wouldn’t hurt you to take a day off once in a while. Maybe even enough time off to have a date or ten.”

      The doors opened with a soft ding sound and Finn stepped inside, followed by Riley. “We’ve had this argument before. Last night if I remember right.”

      “Yep. And we’re going to keep having it until you admit I’m right and you’re lonely.”

      “I’m fine.” Finn punched the button for the lobby.

      “You tell yourself that enough and you might even start to believe it someday, big brother.”

      Finn ignored the jab. “So how’s the waitress?”

      “I don’t know.” Riley shrugged. “I ended up leaving with the brunette.”

      Finn rolled his eyes.

      Riley grinned. “What can I say? The world is filled with beautiful women. Like the one you were supposed to talk to last night. How’d that go?”

      “It didn’t go quite the way I expected.” Had he come on too strong? Too weak? He found himself wondering what she was doing right now. Was Ellie having lunch at her desk? With a friend? Or alone in a restaurant?

      She’d been on his mind almost every minute since she’d walked out of the diner. That alone was a clear sign he needed to work more and think less. He wasn’t interested in Ellie Winston on a personal basis, even if his hormones were mounting a vocal disagreement.

      “What, you struck out? Didn’t get her phone number?” Riley asked.

      “Her office number is in the yellow pages. I didn’t need to ask for that.”

      Riley shook his head. “And the Hawk strikes again. Always business with you.”

      The elevator doors shimmied open. Finn and Riley crossed the lobby and exited onto Beacon Street. In the distance, rowers skimmed their sculls down the rippling blue river.

       The Hawk strikes again.

      Maybe it was the too sunny weather or maybe it was the rejection last night, but Finn found himself bothered by that phrase. He’d never much liked the moniker, but he’d always thought that he, of all people, combined humanity with business. He had never seen himself as quite the cold fish the media depicted.

      His brother didn’t understand what drove Finn. What kept him at that desk every day. What monumental weights sat on his shoulder, even as he tried to shed them. The one time he’d tried to live a “normal” life, he’d been burned. Badly. More than enough reason not to make that mistake again.

      A slight breeze danced across the Charles River, tempering the heat of the day with a touch of cool. They walked for a while, navigating the rush of lunchgoers, heading for the same place they always went, in unspoken agreement. That was one good thing about lunch with Riley—the kind of common mind that came from being siblings. Even though he and Riley were as different as apples and oranges, Finn had always had a closer relationship with him than with Brody. Maybe because Riley was easy to talk to, easy to listen to, and the one who—though he kidded often—understood Finn the best. Even if their minds often moved on opposite tracks.

      They reached the shadowed entrance to McGill’s. Finn paused before tugging on the door. “Do you ever wonder …”

      Riley glanced at his brother. “Wonder what?”

      “Nothing.” Finn opened the door and stepped into the air-conditioned interior. The last person he needed to ask for personal—and definitely business—advice was his brother. Riley’s standard answer—get a girl, get a room and get busy.

      He wanted to ask Riley how his little brother could give his heart so freely. And whether doing so was worth the cost at the end when his heart was broken. He’d seen how much it hurt when the one you were supposed to love no longer felt the same. He had watched that pain erode the happiness in his mother’s face day by day. As the youngest, Riley had missed those subtle cues.

      Finn shrugged off the thoughts. It had to be the spring weather—and the overabundance of lovey-dovey couples out enjoying the sunshine—that had him feeling so maudlin. He liked his life just the way it was. He didn’t need anything more than that.

      It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim room, and to take in the space. McGill’s had a warm interior—dark, rough-hewn plank walls, sturdy, practical tables and chairs and a worn oak floor that had been distressed by thousands of customers’ shoes. The food was hearty and good—thick sandwiches, handcut fries, stout beer. Finn and Riley came here often, and were waved over to the table area by Steve McGill himself, who was working the bar this afternoon.

      Finn waved off the waiter’s offer of beer, opting for water instead. “The usual, Marty.”

      Marty MacDonald had been there for as long as Finn could remember. He had to be nearing seventy, but he moved twice as fast, and had twice the memory of the younger waiters at McGill’s. Marty nodded, then turned to Riley. “For you?”

      “I’ll have my beer, and his. No sense in wasting it.” Riley grinned. “And a corned beef sandwich on rye.”

      Marty chuckled. “In other words, the usual?”

      “You know me well, Marty.” Riley waited until their server had left, then turned back to Finn. “So what do you think went wrong with the grand plan last night?”

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