A Beautiful Danger (Beautiful #7)

by Lilliana Anderson

  “He’s above jealousy, Flynn. He’s a very successful man who doesn’t need to concern himself with an unemployed man-child.”

  A burst of laughter escapes his throat. “I never said I was unemployed.”

  “Well, you never said you have a job either. The options we’re left with are dole bludger and drug dealer.”

  “How are those the only options?”

  “Experience tells me it’s one of the two.”

  His brow knits tightly. “What kind of guys have you dated in the past?”

  “All of the wrong kinds, Flynn. I attract trouble.”

  “So that means because I’m attracted to you, I’m trouble. I get it.”

  “As long as we’re on the same page.”

  “We aren’t. But I’m starting to understand you.” He nods toward the open car door. “Are you getting in or not?”

  “You don’t need to come and pick me up after work.”

  He shrugs. “I noticed you don't have a car. Public transport isn't exactly the safest.”

  I point toward the main road. “The bus home picks me up right there and drops me off in front of my building. It's perfectly safe. Probably safer than a dark parking garage, or a....” I look to the bonnet of the car, reading the unfamiliar brand name from the badge. “What the hell kind of a car is a ‘Tesla’ anyway? Aren’t they some sort of energy coil?”

  His head quirks a little to the side like a curious bird. “You’ve never heard of Tesla cars?”

  “No. Should I have?”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “No. It’s actually better that you haven’t.”

  “Why? Do they have a terrible safety rating?”

  Lifting his hand, he literally wipes the smile from his face before he speaks. “I guess you don’t want a lift home, then.” He moves to shut the door and I jump forward to block him. This puts me right in his personal space. I can smell his clean skin and a hint of peppermint on his breath.

  “Since you’re here and all.” I smile up at him and duck beneath his arm into the passenger side.

  “Tell me about that pinboard in your room,” he asks once we’re on the main road.

  I turn to him with my mouth open. “You were in my room while I was at work?”

  “No.” He laughs. “I saw it when I was in there earlier—with you.”

  “Whatever. It’s not like I have any secrets in there.” I wave my hand dismissively.

  “So what’s it about?”

  “It’s my inspiration board.”

  “For?”

  “Inspiration, obviously.”

  “I get that. I’m asking what you want inspiration for.”

  “Getting on track and staying on track. I don’t know how much of my guts I spilt to you while I was drunk, but everything fell apart a bit over a year ago and I realised I needed to make some changes. That’s why I put all that stuff up there.”

  “Does it help?”

  Shrugging a little, I pull my lip to the side. “I think so. When I was a kid, I used to find a lot of meaning in the lyrics of songs. It was all very dramatic, but the music helped me come to terms with all those crazy teenage feelings. The inspirational quotes are sort of a grown-up version of that. I think about how I want my life to be and I find quotes that match to help keep me on track.”

  “I saw one about living a quiet life. Is that what you want—quiet?”

  “In a way.”

  “That sounds very... boring.”

  “To you.”

  “To everyone”

  “Listen, Flynn. You know me as this uptight by-the-rules kind of girl. I get that you think I should loosen up and be a little wild.”

  “Because I see glimpses of that in you and it’s when you’re at you’re happiest. This version of you, it seems forced.”

  “A lot happened to get me to this point. I was the wild girl. Crazy decisions were the only ones I made. But a life like that has costs. I’ve already paid a heavy price. Right now, all I’m trying to do is take all of my broken pieces and turn them into a mosaic instead of just gluing them back together in the same old shape they always were.”

  “Is that on your board?”

  “No. I just came up with it. But it should be. It was pretty bloody poetic, wasn’t it?”

  He grins. “‘When life breaks you, make a mosaic out of the pieces.’ It’ll go viral if you put it online.”

  “Absolutely.” I laugh at the silliness of it but play along. “It kind of puts the whole lemons and lemonade saying to shame, don’t you think? I’m surprised I came up with something so profound.”

  He turns to me briefly. “Nothing surprises me about you, Ruby. You really are one in a million.”

  “That’s not so rare.”

  “One in a million?”

  “When there are nearly eight billion people on the planet, that means there are thousands of Rubys running around.”

  He laughs. “OK. Then I’ll think of something far more rare as comparison.”

  “You do that,” I say with a smile, wriggling a little to get comfortable in the plush leather seat. Come to think of it, this car is really nice.

  Please don't be stolen. I don't think the cops would believe me if I pleaded ignorance a second time in my life.

  25

  THE NEXT MORNING, I wake up a ball of energy. With the sun barely up, I’m fizzing with the need to do something—to move. That’s why I pull on a pair of leggings and a fitted T-shirt, then go and bash my hand against Flynn’s door.

  He’s yawning when he pulls it open, his forearm leaning on the doorframe, his other hand rubbing back and forth through that dark mess of his hair. And he’s shirtless. There are names for all the muscles I can see defined in front of my face, but I can’t for the life of me name one of them. I’m not even going to let myself look down.

  “Yes?” he asks, his voice husky from sleep. This whole scenario is doing things to me that I didn’t want it to do.

  I really didn’t think this through.

  “Jumping.” That’s the only word that manages to fall from my lips.

  He frowns and cocks his head slightly.

  Pressing my eyes closed, I shake my head a little, clearing the fog that’s creeped into my brain so I can focus on the words I need to say. “I thought you could show me how to jump.” I open my eyes again and meet his. They’re looking down at me, amusement and interest dancing around inside them. “You know, like you suggested yesterday?”

  “I remember. Give me a minute to change.”

  He steps back and closes his door. It almost touches my nose because I’m an idiot and don’t move out of the way. I guess I’m in some sculpted-ab fog. For some reason, I wasn’t expecting him to look so appetising without his shirt on.

  Did I just say appetising?

  Sitting at the kitchen table, I grab a banana from the fruit bowl and peel it, breaking off pieces like I did in high school so the guys didn’t look at me and imagine me giving head.

  Flynn’s door opens. He’s dressed in black track pants and a charcoal grey T-shirt. “Ready?” he asks, pulling on a hoodie against the cold.

  I set my banana back on the table, unable to eat something so phallic-shaped when I’m struggling to see him with a shirt on even though he’s now wearing two layers over his skin. There’s something wrong with me.

  Joel has a great body too. Joel has a great body too.

  I chant that to myself internally, wondering why my angels have gone silent now that Flynn is in my house. It’s like they’ve both given up and are making me do this on my own.

  “Ruby?” He’s standing in front of me, holding out my jacket.

  “Oh. Thanks.” Taking it, I slip my arms into it. “I just need my bag.”

  Nodding, he pulls his phone from his pocket and starts messaging someone while I grab my things. “OK, I’m ready,” I tell him, just as the doorbell sounds.

  I stop in my tracks, my breath in my ears, heart in my throat. I’m sweating.
It seems the only thing that can move is my eyes.

  “You expecting anyone?” he asks.

  But I don’t answer. Reaching out, he touches the top of my arm and squeezes reassuringly. Then he turns and answers the front door.

  “Wow,” he says to whoever’s there. Then, “I can sign.”

  When he returns, he’s carrying a large bouquet of flowers. The air leaves my body and I relax. “I’m guessing you haven’t told Jim that you don’t like answering the door.”

  “His name is Joel,” I remind him.

  “I know.” He smiles in that way that people do when they are the exact opposite of happy and holds out the flowers. All purple and pink with local native foliage mixed in, they look and smell divine.

  “Thanks,” I whisper, taking the flowers and setting them on the table before finding the card.

  Thinking of you, Joel xx

  “Doesn’t get jealous, huh?” Flynn states, arms folded.

  “I’m sure he just misses me.”

  “After one day?”

  “Considering you’ve gone to great lengths to spend two weeks with me so you can sell me on your virtues, I’d assume it’s entirely plausible that my actual boyfriend might miss me after only one day in another state.”

  He finds a vase and fills it with water. “He’s jealous,” he says with authority.

  When he holds out his hand, I hand him the flowers. “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because it’s how I feel whenever I think about you with him. So yeah, he’s jealous. I’m jealous. And both of us want you. The difference being that he actually has you and is afraid of losing you. Hence, the flowers.”

  “Oh.” I have nothing more to say to that comment, just a whole bunch of heat rising up and pushing out my cheeks.

  “Let’s go,” he says, dusting off his hands while looking at the flowers like they’re prone to giving off poisonous gas.

  ***

  “You're back.” The girl with the two-toned hair is all smiles when Flynn and I enter the warehouse. She doesn’t have any pushy questions for me this morning.

  “Guess I want to find out what this is all about,” I respond, smiling at her even though I’m not a fan of her work.

  “You getting on the floor today?”

  When did we become friends? Am I missing something?

  “She sure is,” Flynn answers for me, leaning over the reception desk to pick up the book and sign us both in. “How are you this morning, Delilah?” When I see the way her eyes track Flynn’s movements, it dawns on me. Of course, she’s into him—who wouldn’t be? He’s gorgeous and charming. I’m sure there are any number of girls lining up to do the horizontal parkour with him.

  Pity he wants the one thing he can’t have....

  She bats her lashes. “Been better. But I’m taking each day as it comes, trying to stay positive. I can take your friend to the beginner’s section if you like. That way you don’t have to give up any of your training time.”

  I smile. She’s clever.

  “I’d like to show Ruby the ropes. But thanks for your offer. We might see you around.” Flynn reaches out and takes my hand, leading me away from her.

  “You two have fun out there,” she calls after us.

  I hear her. But in my mind the only thing I can focus on is the fact that his hand is covering mine and that it feels... good. Too good. I should probably snatch my hand back.

  He releases me before I have the chance to make a decision. “This is where you’re working out today.”

  He gestures to an area which consists of boxes of different sizes, low-lying rails and a gap in the floor that is filled with foam cubes. On top of that there’s padding everywhere. I guess they don’t want people hurting themselves on their first visit.

  “Delilah’s a lot more chirpy when you're around,” I note, mimicking him as he loosens his limbs, shaking his legs and arms out, jogging on the spot, bouncing on his toes.

  He grins and stretches his quads. “Jealous?”

  Maybe. “I don’t have that right.”

  “You could have it if you wanted to.” Placing his hand on my lower back, he directs me to a row of square stools that are set up like stairs, dropping his hand once we’re in position. It’s strange, the fizzing in the air around us. It must be what everyone keeps talking about. I feel it when he touches my skin, his fingers taking root like they belong there, leaving my skin feeling as though I’m missing a limb when he tears it away. I’ve never felt that before.

  My mind is a bit of a mess when he stands in front of me, gesturing to the stools. Does touching me affect him in the same way? “Start from the smallest, then work your way up.” If it does, he doesn’t show it while demonstrating what he wants from me, making each leap from the ground to the stool and back down with the ease of a skipping stone on a pond.

  He runs his hands through that unruly hair of his, then turns to face me. “Everything all right?”

  I’m quick to snap out of my thoughts. “Yeah. So, I just copy you?”

  “But stop when they get too high. I need to see where your confidence is versus your ability.”

  Positioning myself, I jump up and down, sidestepping until I get to a stool as tall as my mid-thigh. “This is too high.”

  He steps closer. “You took that last one pretty easy. Here.” Holding out one hand for me to take, he places the other on my hip for support.

  It’s a little hard to breathe. This is why. This is why I keep pushing him away. I knew he would make me feel like this. I knew. So I pushed. I pushed. I need to push.

  “I can do it myself,” I snap, letting go of his hand, forcing my discomfort out through my thighs to make the leap. It continues like that all throughout the session. The moment I feel like I can’t do something, he offers to help. Then I dig a little deeper and do it myself to keep him from touching me.

  “Is there anything you can’t do when you put your mind to it?” he asks when we’re done and he hands me a cold bottle of water.

  “Such as?”

  “Surfing. Parkour. And I hear you’re pretty badass when it comes to kickboxing as well.”

  “That’s more self-defence than kickboxing, but I do OK.”

  “Not to mention your ability to push people away when they get too close, and that other great one where you convince yourself that you should be with someone you’re not suited too.”

  Shaking my head, I set my bottle on the ground beside me. “Why do you have to do that?”

  He shrugs and drinks his own water, emptying the bottle by half.

  “We were having a nice time and you have to go and ruin it by pushing your agenda on me. It’s not fair. This whole thing isn’t fair.”

  “You can always walk away.”

  Picking up my bottle, I take a mouthful before answering. “That’s the problem, Flynn—I keep walking away and you keep coming back. We made a deal. I need to make sure you stay away this time.”

  He doesn’t respond to my words, just sets his jaw and says, “I’ll go sign us out.”

  “You do that,” I snap.

  26

  BACK IN THE car, the quiet gets to be too much. I feel a little shitty over the way I spoke to him and figure I should make things right. “Listen, Flynn. I'm sorry for what I said in there. I shouldn't have been quite so blunt.”

  His hands grip the steering wheel, using it like a stress ball as his eyes focus on the road ahead. “It's fine. I get it. We made a deal, and you're sticking around to get what you want. I can’t fault you that.”

  Looking down at my palms, I ease a breath out of my lungs. “It sounds so horrible when you put it like that.”

  “It’s true though. This whole time you’ve been telling me to fuck off in no uncertain terms and I keep doing the exact opposite.”

  “I don't hate you, Flynn. You need to understand that. I just don't want to be around you.”

  “I know all of that. And if you were any other girl, I’d take off in the opposite
direction. But for the same reason you've always been so sure of my motives, I'm also sure of yours. I will win you over, Ruby.”

  His words put a pressure in my chest, suffocating me. I need air.

  With clumsy movement, I tap my hand against the armrest, trying to find the button to lower the window. When I click it, there is no relief. The tightening in my chest continues and I click the button in quick succession. Nothing.

  “I. Need. Air.” I slap my hand against the window and it finally lowers with the aid of Flynn using the driver control.

  Fresh air flows into the car and I gulp it into my lungs, my breathing steadying.

  “Better?” he asks when I’ve calmed down.

  I nod. “I couldn’t get it open.”

  “The lock was on it. I had my sister’s kids in here the other day and they were playing with the windows.”

  The information is enough to snap my mind back into focus. I calm down. “You have a sister?”

  He nods. “I have two.”

  “Wow.” I rest my head back, feeling much more settled now.

  “Surprised?”

  “Yeah. I don’t know why, but I never thought about you having a family.”

  “I kind of had to come from somewhere.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  He takes a deep breath before he starts. “They’re both older than me.”

  “You’re the baby of the family?”

  He grins. “I am. Tash, the one I’m closest to, has three kids all under eight.”

  “Wow. Is she the oldest?”

  “Yeah. She’s thirty-seven.”

  “Ten years older? That’s a big gap.”

  He nods. “Five years between us all. Amelia is the next one along.”

  “That makes her thirty-two.”

  “Yes. She’s married, no kids though. And I don’t see her much because she’s living in the US for work.”

  “What does she do?”

  “She’s the head of global distribution for an Australian-based liquor company. She comes back here a few times a year for holidays and what not.”

  “Is her husband Australian or American?”

  “American. His name is Logan.”

  “Logan. That’s a very American-sounding name.”