"Not enough." He gave a low curse. "Obviously."
From his end of the phone, I heard Anna's voice somewhere in the background. I couldn’t make out what she was saying, but the voice alone was a grim reminder that things had become more complicated than I'd intended.
Abruptly, Flynn said, "Thanks, asshole." And with that, he hung up.
He was angry.
This wasn't a surprise.
I didn't blame him. But I was angry, too. I'd meant what I'd told him. When it came to Becka, he'd fallen short.
And if I were the kind of guy to keep score, I might've told him that none of this would've happened – including my sleeping with her – if only he'd done a better job of looking out for Becka on his own.
After all, that was the reason I'd brought her along in the first place.
But even as the thought crossed my mind, I realized the stupidity of my logic. If Flynn had done a better job, Becka wouldn't be here with me right now.
And I wanted her with me.
As far as Flynn and Anna and everything else, well, I'd deal with that later. Now I had a warm bed and someone to get back to – someone who enchanted me in ways I hadn't thought possible.
Maybe I'd wake her. Or maybe I wouldn't. Either way, I wanted her back in my arms.
It was a nice thought. But it didn't happen. And why? It was because when I opened the bathroom door, I came face-to-face with Becka, looking decidedly less happy than she had last night.
Chapter 53
Becka
I glared up at him, wondering what on Earth was going on. He was still naked. Not me. On my way to the bathroom door, I'd grabbed the top sheet and wrapped it around me like a blanket.
But I still felt naked, and not in a good way.
I asked, "Who were you talking to?"
I knew the answer, but I still wanted to hear what he'd say. Would he lie to me? Or dodge the question entirely? He was good at that, as I'd seen so many times already.
He replied, "I think you know."
"What makes you say that?" I asked.
"It's written all over your face."
Great. As usual, I was an open book. But Jack? He wasn't an open book. He was the most complicated person I'd ever met. And he had more secrets than I cared to consider.
But his cell phone conversation? That hadn't been a secret.
I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but his voice had carried through the bathroom door, waking me from a blissful slumber. And, after I'd realized exactly who he was talking to, I couldn’t simply lie in bed waiting for the damage to be done.
And there had been damage, which meant that I had some serious fixing to do.
All that aside, I couldn't help but feel at least some embarrassment at being caught lurking outside the bathroom door. I explained, "I was just about to knock."
"You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure."
"But why knock when you can listen in?"
It sounded like an accusation, and I didn't like it. "So you don't believe me?"
He shrugged. "It's just a question."
Well, that was rich. I had questions, too – not that he was big on answering them. But that was an issue for another time.
I said, "Regardless of what you might think, I was going to knock. And I'll tell you why." I gave him a serious look. "I don't appreciate what you told him."
His expression softened. "Listen, he guessed on his own, okay?"
I made a sound of frustration. "I don't mean about us sleeping together."
That made him pause. "So you don't care that they know?"
"Okay, yes. I care. I mean, if nothing else, that's not the way I would've liked for them to find out. But you're missing the point."
"Which is…?"
"Why were you giving Flynn such a hard time?"
"Because he had it coming."
I recalled Jack's accusations, the things he'd said to my future brother-in-law. I hadn't enjoyed hearing them, especially because they weren't true. "In case you didn't realize it," I said, "Flynn and Anna have given me a ton of help, a lot more than I ever wanted."
In front of me, Jack looked less than convinced. "Is that so?"
"Yes. Definitely." I met his gaze head-on. "Do you know, Flynn paid for my last year of college? And he's offered to pay for the upcoming year, too."
From the look on Jack's face, he wasn't impressed. "So?"
"So that's a big deal."
"Not to Flynn."
I knew what Jack meant. Flynn was absolutely loaded. But Jack was missing the point. "It's a big deal to me," I said. "It totally changed my life. Do you know, he even paid for a dorm room?"
Before then, I'd been living off-campus and commuting. I wouldn't have minded if not for the fact that my car was unreliable, and driving an hour each way was no picnic, especially when it snowed, which it did quite often in Northern Michigan.
But Jack's expression still didn't waver. "Yeah? So why weren't you living in it?"
"The dorm?" I gave a loose shrug. "Because I was older than almost everyone else. And I didn't really fit in."
At the memory of it all, I sighed. "It was weird and awkward. Plus, everyone there knew about Flynn and my sister, and it made everything kind of strange. Everyone kept asking to meet him, and I guess I wanted to be a little more anonymous, that's all."
As I fumbled for the words to explain, I became increasingly aware that Jack was still naked.
With growing embarrassment, I looked down, skipping his pelvis entirely. At his knees, I did a double-take.
Last night, the suite had been mostly dark. But now, in the morning light, I saw something that I hadn't noticed before – deep, jagged scars running from his ankles to his knees.
On both legs, too.
Weird.
It took me a moment to realize that I'd stopped talking.
And so had he.
When I looked up, he frowned.
For a long moment, he said nothing, and neither did I.
Finally, it was Jack who broke the silence. "Go on. Finish what you were saying."
But now, I was almost too distracted to think. The scars – what were they from? They weren't burns. They were cuts. Or at least, I thought they were cuts. But from what?
Absently, I replied, "About the dorm thing? Actually I was done."
Was this true? I couldn’t say for certain. In fact, I was half-afraid that I'd stopped talking in mid-sentence.
Desperately I wanted to ask about the scars, but it seemed unbearably rude, especially now in mid-argument.
Into my silence, Jack said, "I fell through a window."
I blinked. "What?"
"A window," he said. "I fell through it." He glanced down. "I was wearing shorts. Cut my legs to hell. But it's not a big deal. Do you want breakfast?"
I did. But not this instant. I asked, "How old were you?"
"Maybe ten."
I tried to envision it. "But how exactly do you fall through a window?"
He gave me a rueful smile. "It's not as hard as you think."
I wasn't buying that for one minute. "Where was this?"
"Does it matter?" he said. "A window's a window, right?"
I recalled Jack's official bio. He'd grown up in a series of foster homes. No specifics were ever mentioned. That wasn't a good sign. What on Earth had happened to him?
Jack's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Don't."
"Don't what?"
"Don't think about it. Like I said, it's wasn't a big deal." As he spoke, he set his cell phone on the bathroom countertop. "So, how about breakfast?"
I glanced toward the phone. Distracted or not, I was still angry about that call. "But we're not done talking."
"About what?"
"The thing with Flynn."
"Don't worry. He can handle it."
"I know," I said. "But he shouldn't have to. You seriously need to apologize."
"All right. I'm sorry."
I rolled my eyes. "Not to
me. To Flynn."
He shook his head. "Forget it."
"But you were awful," I said. "And he's done so much for me. It's not right. Or fair."
"Yeah? Well life isn't fair." He gave a tight shrug. "Ask Flynn. He'll tell you."
It felt like a dig. Flynn and my sister had a history. The early part hadn't been so great. And yes, some things had been particularly unfair, especially to Flynn.
I asked, "Are you talking about that thing in high school?"
"No. I'm talking about now. What I said to Flynn, I meant every word." He gave a low scoff. "And a bullshit apology isn't gonna change a thing."
"You never know," I said. "It might."
"Not if I don't mean it."
Obviously, Jack still wasn't getting it. I tried again. "Do you realize, they try to pay for everything?"
Jack looked less than impressed. "Trust me. They can afford it."
"You mean Flynn can afford it."
He shrugged. "Same difference."
"Not yet," I said. "They're not even married."
"But they will be."
"Yeah, I know. But that's not even the issue. I don't want to be that relative – the one who can't stand on her own two feet. Do you want the truth? I wouldn’t have taken any help at all, except for the fact that Anna was so excited for me."
"Good."
"No. It's not good. And do you want to hear what Flynn said?"
"What?"
"That I wouldn’t need to worry about anything from now on."
"Good," Jack repeated.
"But don't you see? It doesn't work that way. Like what if I make a mistake? What am I supposed to do? Ask them for more money? That's not me. And it's not just about the money either. A couple of months ago, I ran into a problem on a date, and do you know what Flynn did?"
"What?"
"He almost kicked the guy's ass."
Jack looked at me for long moment before saying in an eerily calm voice, "Oh yeah? For what?"
From the look in Jack's eyes, I was almost afraid to say. I offered up the briefest explanation possible. "The guy just got a little aggressive, that's all."
"Yeah? And what's the guy's name?"
"If you think I'm gonna say, you're crazy."
"Why?"
"Because you've got that same look Flynn got after he learned what happened."
"Which was…?"
"Not as much as you'd think."
When Jack's only reply was a long, silent look, I sighed. "All right fine. The guy got handsy when I wasn't interested. And then, when I left in a hurry, I forgot my purse, which wouldn’t have been so bad, except that the guy refused to give it back."
Jack's gaze darkened. "Is that so?"
"Yes. But I'm sure he would've eventually. I think he was just giving me a hard time. But anyway, that night, I mention it to Anna, and she mentions it to Flynn, and the next thing I know, Flynn's knocking on the guy's door."
"So, you were there?"
"Sort of," I said. "I was visiting with a friend in the same apartment complex."
"And then what?"
"So the guy gets one look at Flynn, and practically throws my purse out into the hallway."
Jack gave a slow nod. "Smart guy."
"Yeah, a real genius. Anyway, like I said, it wasn't such a huge deal. I'm just saying, Flynn has really been there for me." I gave an embarrassed laugh. "Even more than I ever wanted. And Anna, too. So I think it's pretty awful what you said to him."
And with that, I clamped my lips shut and waited for a response.
Finally, Jack said, "All right. How about this? An apology for breakfast."
"You mean like a trade?"
"If that's what you want to call it."
I felt the hint of a smile. "So I actually convinced you?"
"You might say that."
"So, what did it?" I asked. "Was it because he showed up on that guy's doorstep?"
"Hey, it didn't hurt."
I wasn't sure what that meant. But I wasn't one to look a gift-apology in the mouth, so instead, I pointed to his cell phone. "So, will you apologize now? I mean, before breakfast?"
He gave me a wry smile. "What, you wanna listen in?"
"Maybe," I admitted.
"All right." And then, looking a lot more reasonable than I might've expected, he grabbed his cell phone and tapped at the screen. He turned it to face me, where I saw Flynn's name as the contact before Jack put the cell phone to his ear.
After a few beats, he said into the phone. "Hey, sorry I was a dick. You were right. I was wrong." And then, with a significant look in my direction, he added, "The way I hear it, you did your best." He flashed me a cocky grin. "But me? I'm gonna do better."
Chapter 54
Becka
Over breakfast, I said, "You never told me. What did he say?"
"Who?"
"Flynn. After you apologized, how did he respond?"
We were freshly showered and sitting on opposite sides of a cozy booth in a local pancake house within walking distance of the hotel. Sunlight filtered in through the nearby window, making Jack's golden hair shine like a halo over his gorgeous face.
But he was no angel. Of this, I was certain.
In reply to my question, he said, "Nothing important."
"Well, he must've said something."
Jack's eyes filled with mischief. "Nope."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, reaching for his coffee cup, "I was talking to his voice mail."
"What?" I sputtered. "Why didn't you just tell me?"
"Because I wanted breakfast."
"But what does that have to do with anything?"
He took a casual drink of his coffee. "You might've said it didn't count."
"The apology? Why wouldn’t it count?"
"Because he wasn't there to hear it."
Some might say that Jack had a point. But his claim had a serious flaw, and I couldn’t help but smile. "Just admit it. Breakfast had nothing to do with it."
He speared a piece of pancake off his plate. "Why do you say that?"
The restaurant was crowded and noisy with the clatter of dishes and the sounds of people talking. Still, I lowered my voice to say, "Because you weren't so eager to get down here, that's why."
He grinned. "Yeah? Well neither were you." He popped the bite of pancake into his mouth and winked. "Don't blame me if you're more tempting than breakfast."
I wanted to giggle. And, I wanted to toss something at his head, like maybe a napkin or possibly my panties.
He was quite literally the sexiest person I'd ever met. And he was flirting like crazy.
I'd never seen him like this, playful and happy.
I was happy, too. I loved spending time with him, in public and in private. Even now, my toes were tingling from our pre-breakfast distraction.
"Speaking of temptations," I said, "do you know how frustrating it is not to pummel you with questions?"
He arched an eyebrow. "You can't be too frustrated."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because you haven't stopped asking them."
"But that's not true," I protested. "You might not believe it, but I've been doing a pretty good job of keeping them to myself."
"You're right." He grinned. "I don't believe it."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Oh, stop it." I recalled our original deal, the one where I agreed to stay on as his guest under that "no-questions" clause.
I said, "Can I ask you something? It's about our deal."
"What about it?"
"Surely it doesn't mean that I can't ask you any questions." My face grew warm as I considered the events of the past day. "I mean, that would be a little unnatural, don't you think?"
He leaned back in the booth. "So what is this?" he said, looking surprisingly intrigued. "A renegotiation?"
"It's just a clarification, that's all. Like, let's say I wanted to ask you about the weather. Are you saying that I can't?"
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He smiled. "What's with you and the weather?"
"It's just something people talk about, that's all."
His gaze met mine. "I think we both know the weather isn't the issue."
"See?" I said. "That's my whole point."
"Is it?"
"Definitely." And then, before he could say anything in response, I added, "Like, you never did tell me why you stay on the lower floors."
"Sure I did." He shrugged. "I like the stairs."
Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn't. Still, I had to say, "But I've never seen you take them."
His lips twitched. "If you want, we'll take them after breakfast."
"But you're missing the point." I tried again. "Like, do you stay on the lower floors so you're harder to find?" I leaned forward to whisper, "So you can stay incognito?"
He glanced around. "I'm already incognito."
This wasn't quite true. Around us, more than a few people kept glancing in his direction – the women in particular. But of course, they might've been ogling him for reasons unrelated to his celebrity status.
After all, he was quite the specimen.
With a laugh, I said, "No offense. But I think you're wrong."
"Am I?"
"Definitely," I said yet again. "Everywhere we go, people stare at you. And I think most of them know who you are, too."
"Maybe," he said. "But they're never sure. That's the nice thing about being a writer. Now take Flynn, that guy's screwed."
I knew what he meant. Flynn had actually starred in the movies, which meant that his face was plastered everywhere. When Flynn had first moved back to our hometown, he'd caused a stir wherever he went.
Sometimes, he still did.
To Jack, I said, "You mean because everyone recognizes him?"
"Right," he said. "But me? I can fly under the radar."
I gave it some thought and decided that his logic made sense. At the book signings, he was absolutely mobbed. But away from all of that, he had a surprising amount of freedom and privacy.
Still, I had to say, "Yeah, but I recognized you right away, meaning when I first saw you at Flynn's house."
His tone grew teasing. "Did you now?"
"Oh come on," I laughed. "You know I did."
"Maybe. But you already knew that Flynn and I were friends. And you saw me in a place that made sense. But let's say you passed me on the street, you probably wouldn't've made the connection.
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