Picking it up, I move over to my board and find a spot for it, pinning it on the tiniest bit of visible cork. I’d like to think that fear doesn’t rule my life. Well, not completely, anyway. I do have that very real concern of what will happen when Tony gets out of prison. It won’t be for years, but even then, I worry that his gang affiliations will mean that someone tries to make me pay at some point. Thanks to these books and my inspiration board reminding me daily to keep on keeping on, I feel strong enough to live my life despite my fears. I still go out in public, I walk down the street alone. I might be hypersensitive about everything happening around me when I do—I think there will always be this feeling of wariness following me around—but I do it. I keep going.
Most of the time it works. Sometimes, I even catch myself feeling normal. But then there’s an unexpected knock on my door and I’m right back in the middle of a field of butterflies—not the nice ones but those harvester butterflies that eat the skin off dead bodies. So I’m scared shitless.
Flynn is seriously the first person who has been able to approach me and catch me off guard ever since I recovered and started going outside again. It’s probably another reason he bothers me—my guard is down around him.
Holding the two books together, I flick the pages, feeling the breeze brush up and touch my face. I’m not sure how much they’ve helped, or how practical their advice has been. The one about fatherless daughters spends a lot of time focusing on different types of relationship breakdowns but doesn’t focus enough on each specific one. I kind of feel like it’s telling me that meeting the right man will fix all of my issues.
I don’t think it will.
Well, I did think that. I’ve been dating the ‘right’ kind of guy for a few months now, thinking that finding him would somehow magically cure me. But it hasn’t. I feel just as lonely and rejected as I always did. Only now, I also feel undeserving. How does that make any sense?
Flicking to the index, I try to find some entry that will explain away my feelings. When I don’t find it in the first book, I look in the second. There’s nothing. I’m a bundle of nervous energy who questions absolutely every decision in my life and the motives of everyone around me.
I flop back on the bed, sighing. I feel messed up.
Picking up my phone, I scroll through my contacts list. I need to talk but I'm not sure who to call. Most of these people are acquaintances at best. The only people I can talk to, really talk to, are Coral, who's in a different time zone, and Brad, who is probably at work or with his family.
My finger stops and hovers over Joel’s number, then skims straight past. He's not ready for my crazy yet; besides, he's probably busy with work by now and will find me needy for wanting to talk to him again so soon.
See, I’m worrying about stupid things, like the time I should wait between phone calls to my boyfriend. I’ve never cared about those things before.
Everything that is right feels wrong, and everything that is wrong feels right. My internal compass is off.
I think I blame that angel and devil duo I’ve been listening to.
Pushing everything aside, I head into the kitchen in search of food to feed my soul. There's nothing I want in the fridge or cupboards, so I make a tray of brownies instead.
“Are you a cat or a dog person?” Flynn asks, walking out of his room wearing a grey tracksuit, no shoes and holding a blue flyswatter.
“Uh....” I hold the bowl above my prepared tray and slop the buttery chocolate batter on the baking paper. “Both, I guess. But I'm allergic which is why I have neither. Why? And what does it have to do with a flyswatter?”
He looks at the swatter with a frown and I wonder if he realised he was holding it. “Nothing.” He sets it on the counter and runs a hand through his dark mess of hair. “And you can't say both. It has to be one or the other?”
“Why?”
“Because it says a lot about a person.”
“If I answer incorrectly, will you move out and forget this whole two-week thing?”
“Probably not.”
I let out my breath. “Fine. Which do you prefer?”
“Dogs.”
I slide the tray in the oven and start the timer. “Then I like cats.”
“OK.” When I turn, he has the bowl from the brownie mix and is licking the wooden spoon. “This is good,” he states, taking the bowl with him to the couch.
“Don't you have a job or something to go to?”
He swings his leg back and forth where it hangs over the armrest and shrugs. “I'm weighing my options right now.”
“Does that mean you don't even have a job? How are you supposed to pay rent?”
“Same way you do—with money.”
I put my hands on my hips, not liking how cryptic he's being.
“Seriously, Flynn. If you're involved with any underhanded shit, I'll get the cops on you myself.”
He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound that seems to tickle my ears.
I snatch the bowl and spoon from his hands. “I'm serious,” I snap.
Sitting up, he inspects his hands for wayward brownie batter. “Yeah. Constantly.”
“What's that supposed to mean.”
He turns and flicks on the TV. “Add it to your list of things to figure out.”
23
“AND NOW HE'S lying around the place as if he owns it. I can't imagine what possessed Coral to hand over her keys.”
“I think it's a fairly decent arrangement.” Brad walks through the kitchen, checking on tonight's prep with me following along behind him, complaining.
“How?”
He tastes a soup base and makes a face. “For the same reason Coral and Shane said—to share the rent while you look for someone permanent. I also think it’s good that you have someone we all know already there while you interview potential roommates. And”—he grinds some salt and pepper over the pot while he speaks—“I agree that it will force you to deal with whatever the hell is going on with you two.”
“There is nothing going on. Why is everyone so in love with this guy? Need I remind you all how he came into our lives?”
Tasting it again, he makes a noise of approval and heads toward the industrial ovens, still carrying on with our conversation. “Of course I remember.” He laughs. “And you have to admit that what he did is kind of funny.”
“Stealing an officer’s hat is both illegal and childish.”
“Yeah. But those guys on the bikes?” He makes a face, pulling the corner of his bottom lip downward to expose his clenched teeth. “They kind of piss everyone off.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It’s like they’re not real cops or something.” He opens the oven and pulls out a tray of ribs.
Steam billows out of the foil and I wave my hand to clear it from my face. “Not real cops? That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But they take themselves way too seriously.”
“I’m sure they don’t choose to be a bike cop. They probably get assigned.”
“Either way. I don’t think taking one of their stupid hats is something we need to hold against him forever. Besides, the guy immediately replaced your phone.”
“And he used my phone to stalk me and take over my friendship group.”
He pauses, basting brush in hand, dripping with barbeque sauce and just looks at me. “Stalked you? In what way? Why haven’t you told me about this?” I see the protective side of him flare the sides of his nostrils. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t get a kick out of knowing that there’s someone out there who will go to bat for me. But on top of that, I feel kind of bad for my choice of words.
“Well, not literal stalking-peeping-Tom thing. Just the way he got my details off Siri and has basically been in our lives ever since. I feel like every time I turn around the guy is there.”
“Like, on the street?”
“No. Every time I go somewhere with all of you. It’s just this crazy fast progression. First, he wa
s at my house giving me a new phone when he’d scared the shit out of me. Then Shane decides he’s awesome and invites him surfing, so he goes. And then he goes to brunch once, and then he’s at, like, every single social event I go to. I even saw him at the bottle shop.”
“Did he follow you there?”
“No. He lives somewhere close by, I think. But still....”
He shakes his head, and I can tell he thinks I’m a bit crazy. “He’s a cool guy. And you two seem to have some unmistakeable chemistry.”
“We have chemistry?”
“That’s what Cody calls it. It’s the buzz in the air when you two are around each other—everyone can feel it. Anyway, I thought you two were getting along now. I saw you with him a couple of times at Coral and Shane’s going-away party. You were talking his ear off.”
“I was probably telling him to go away.”
“And didn’t he look after you when you started puking?”
“I could have looked after myself.”
He lifts the tray of hot meat and puts it back in the oven. “Rubes, you were puking. Clearly you were in need of help.”
“I kind of thought nobody saw that,” I mumble.
“We didn’t. We were too busy having a good time ourselves. We just heard all about it after.”
“He told you?” That bastard!
“No. Coral did.” He turns to me, pressing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Ruby. I know you don't want to hear this, but I think you protest a little too much over this guy.”
“Excuse me?” I fold my arms across my chest and adjust my stance, waiting to hear the next gem to come out of his mouth.
“I know you. And this guy is under your skin.”
“That's exactly what I'm saying. The guy is pushy and he doesn't listen. He is always around and when I tell him to go away, he keeps coming back. Now he’s organised this stupid ‘two weeks to get to know each other’ bullshit and for some reason, you are all on his side. But he drives me insane.”
“Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.”
“What?” I scoff. “No. I said in-sane. As in I hate the guy.”
“Really?” He pushes his sleeves up his tattooed arms and crosses them over his chest, smirking.
“Yes, really. His ability to show up and just....” I pause, trying to find the right words to say. Then they pop into my head all at once. “He takes up space. It's like he walks into the room and all the air is sucked out. I can't breathe around him.” My words come out in a rush of air.
Brad is grinning, looking like that cat who got the cream. “You just proved my point.”
My cheeks burn, and my stomach twists and turns. I don't want him to be right. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
But, I’m pretty sure he does.
24
WORK GOES BY in the usual flurry of orders and clean-up. By the end of it, my legs are aching and I can't wait to get home and put my feet up.
After saying goodbye to everyone, I clock out and grab my things from my locker. When I check my phone, there's a message from Joel.
Joel: Thinking of you. Call me when you get off work. I'll be up until 11
Looking at the time, it's ten minutes past. Instead of calling, I send a message to be safe since he's probably exhausted from travel and his own work.
Me: Just finished. U still up?
My answer comes when the screen lights up with his call. “Hey, gorgeous,” he says, his voice a little croaky.
“You weren't already asleep, were you?”
“Just dozing and hoping you'd call. How was work?”
I wave at Dakota’s mother who is behind the reception window when I leave the restaurant and head toward the main doors.
“I got a new roommate.” During my shift, I made the decision to tell Joel that Flynn was staying in Coral’s old room. It felt dishonest not to. And if I want anything serious with Joel, I can’t be hiding men in my house from him.
“That was crazy fast. I thought you were going to wait on that.” There’s a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“I was. But Coral had already organised this one.” I neglect to tell him that I supposedly asked Flynn to move in while I was drunk on Saturday night. As far as I’m concerned, if I can’t remember the specific details, it didn’t happen.
“Without telling you?”
“It’s only temporary—just a friend of a friend staying to help with the rent while their house gets fumigated or something.”
“That was good of her.” I hear the slide of sheets against bare skin as he shifts in bed.
“You think so?” I walk through the main doors and stop dead in my tracks. Flynn is here. He’s parked right in front of the building and is standing on the curb waiting for me, leaning against his car.
Grinning a slow and sexy grin, he nods instead of waving. My heart beats a little faster and I can’t help but smile. He looks like he was just pulled from the footage of a rom-com.
The moment that thought passes through my mind, my smile drops and I kick myself. There is nothing endearing about Flynn. I need to remember that.
“Sure. Saves you some cash until we can sort out your living situation.” The voice in my ear shocks me. Seeing Flynn caused me to forget that I was holding the phone connected to Joel against my ear.
“We?” That word catches me off guard.
“Yeah. You’re still holding off placing that ad, aren’t you?”
“Well....” I pause, suddenly feeling guilty and a little selfish for going against his wishes.
“You posted it,” he states, his voice a little flat.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to get the ball rolling.”
Flynn is looking at me with his brow raised, he obviously wants to know what’s going on. I hold up my finger to ask him to give me a minute and then turn away from him, taking a few steps to create some distance, despite the fact he’ll still be able to hear my side of the conversation.
Meanwhile, Joel is still talking. “Can you take it down, please? I’d like to help you with this, and I can’t do that from where I am.” I can tell he’s a lawyer, his argument coming through calm and concise, if a little cryptic.
“Help me how?”
“I’d rather have that discussion in person.”
“Why?”
“Please, Ruby.” He laughs, perhaps out of frustration, perhaps because he actually thinks I’m being funny—I’m not sure. “You’d be doing me a favour if you did.”
Releasing my breath, I fold my free arm across my middle and turn away from Flynn. “This isn’t making any sense. But fine. I’ll take it down.”
“Thank you.” I can hear the relief in his voice. “So, what is she like, this houseguest of yours?”
“Uh....” I move further away from Flynn and lower my voice. “It’s actually a he.”
“A he?”
“Yes. His name is Flynn.”
There’s a brief pause before he responds. “What’s he like?”
Turning back around, I lock eyes with Flynn before responding. “He’s annoying.”
Flynn mimes a knife going through his heart. I attempt to refuse a smile.
“That bad, hey?”
“Yes. He keeps eating all of my fruit.”
Flynn’s lips curve upward but he doesn’t look away. Most people would at least pretend they weren’t listening but he looks me straight in the eye, knowing I’m talking about him and taking in every word.
“What a nightmare. Is that all he does?”
“Pretty much. He eats fruit and watches TV.”
Flynn’s chest bounces with a chuckle.
“So, have I met this guy?”
“Do you remember our first date?”
“Of course.”
“He’s that parkour guy.”
“Oh yeah. The one who ran through the parking lot. I didn't realise you two were friends.”
“We aren't friends. We aren’t really anyt
hing.” I say it so Flynn understands that nothing has changed, nor will it. I quite frankly can’t let my life get derailed again. His eyes darken and he finally looks away, spinning his key chain on his index finger.
“That's not going to make living together easy.” Joel’s tone is even. I expected a hint of wariness but I’m not getting anything. I can't tell if he’s concerned or totally cool with some guy moving in with his girlfriend.
“It’s only two weeks.”
“Just as long as he keeps his hands off you.”
I smile. This is more like it. “And if he didn't, would you want to come and kick his arse?”
Joel chuckles. “If I had to. You keeping up your self-defence classes?”
“Always.”
“And do I need to be worried?”
Flynn turns back, meeting my eyes just before I scan him from head to toe. He's in a pair of well-fitting jeans and a white ribbed long-sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up his forearms. His black hair falls forward and brushes the brow above his right eye. My fingers tingle with the desire to brush it back for him.
“No.” The word feels a little thick in my throat. “You don't need to be worried at all.”
“Good. I'll see if I can't get you out of the house for a bit. You think you could get your vacation time to start this coming weekend?”
“I'm sure they could manage without me.”
“OK. I'll work out the details. Talk soon?”
Pulling at my bottom lip with my teeth, I turn away from Flynn who’s still watching me intently. He’s making me feel as though I’m under a microscope. It’s distracting. “Can't wait.”
When we disconnect, I turn my full attention to Flynn.
“Did you have to stare like that?”
He smiles. “Is lover boy whisking you away from big bad ole me?”
“Not that it's any of your business, but yes.”
Lifting his eyebrows, he steps to the side and opens the passenger door. “Is he jealous?”
A Beautiful Danger (Beautiful #7) Page 15
