Chapter Seventeen
Katie
“I don’t even think Davenport made it home after, either,” Flynn says, bringing his beer to his lips as he talks.
He takes a sip, and I watch the way his throat works as the liquid slides down.
“He was all over the place the next day at practice. Coach sent him off to the trainers’ room, which meant he was told to go sleep it off. ”
“Why didn’t Jeff just tell him to go home?”
“We get fined for missing practice if it’s not for a really good reason.
” He places his glass down and rests his forearm on the table.
His crisp shirt is tight over the muscles in his upper arms, and it just fits over his broad chest. I’m already thinking about how I want to rip it open later so I can run my tongue over his abs.
“I barely remember New Year’s. I vaguely remember laughing with Ivy in the bathroom, and being on the dance floor, but anything after that is a bit of a blur.
” I take a sip of my wine and shake my head.
“If that’s what their wedding will be like with most of the team there, I think someone should warn Ivy. ”
“The wedding won’t be as bad. Scott’s already warned them they have to behave.
” Flynn turns his hand over, his palm facing up.
I stare at it for a moment before sliding my hand over his.
He entangles our fingers together and relaxes into his seat.
“So, you’re telling me that you don’t remember ambushing me in the bathroom on New Year’s and asking me to make you come exactly at midnight? ”
“Shh,” I hiss, feeling my face go bright red.
I look around the restaurant, but no one seems to be paying us much attention.
We’re tucked away at the back of the steak house in a booth, sitting side by side.
Flynn told me to take the night off and get dressed up, that we were going for dinner at a place Hollie had booked for us.
But when we got here, Flynn used his real name and not the alias Hollie normally books under.
They also sat us at the back of the restaurant, in a very private, very out-of-sight booth.
My instinct tells me that if this had been a booking Hollie had made, we would be sitting directly in front of the window, and the flashing of cameras would’ve served as a side.
“So you do remember?” He flashes me a grin and leans over, kissing my cheek, then the spot just below my ear. I press my thighs together and sigh.
“Of course, I do. I don’t know what you’ve done to me, but I apparently like sex in public places now.” I take another sip of wine as I watch his thumb gently rub the back of my hand.
Flynn laughs, leaning close to my ear as he murmurs, “I bet this place has a nice bathroom. Want to go have a look?”
“Stop it,” I say, using my free hand to slap his chest. His eyes drop down my body, again.
I pulled an old red dress from my closet for tonight.
I don’t think I’ve worn it since college.
It’s tight, dropping to mid-thigh, but with long sleeves.
It’s got a low back, with a tie that lies across my shoulder blades, the loose strings falling down my bare skin.
The front cuts across my chest in a straight line, and because the dress is so tight, my boobs are pushed up every time I breathe.
I’ve caught Flynn watching my chest rise and fall a number of times this evening.
He looks just as good. Dark gray slacks and a crisp white shirt with the collar open.
He wore a jacket as well, but took it off when we got to the restaurant and slung it over the top of the booth when we sat down.
The steak house is a pretty fancy place.
The low lighting casts a romantic atmosphere over the dining room, and there’s gentle music playing in the background.
It’s the perfect date.
At least, I think it is. I hope it is. We’ve been dancing around talking about the whole fake dating thing for a while now.
Flynn doesn’t believe in it, and truthfully, neither do I.
Will I admit it aloud? No way. Do I sometimes throw it out there to gauge his reaction and see if he says anything? Yes. Does it ever work? No.
Both of us have obviously decided that bringing it up is too hard, that it’s better to just keep pretending.
Like this date. He said it was a booking Hollie made, but all signs lead to him being the one to have booked it.
I haven’t slept in my own bed for well over a month.
I haven’t bothered denying it whenever Ivy accuses me of liking him; instead, I just shrug my shoulders and gently draw her attention elsewhere. We act like a couple, a real couple.
Except my phone still rings every few days and reminds me that I still haven’t dealt with my past. And the notifications on my YouTube channel are still a reminder that I haven’t been totally honest with Flynn about what I want for my future, either.
In all honesty, I haven’t been totally honest with myself.
“Katie?” Flynn asks again, gently guiding my face to meet his with a finger beneath my chin.
“Huh?” I ask, confused and lost in my thoughts.
“Do you want dessert?” I blink at him and cock my head. What kind of dessert does he mean? I open my mouth, but, as if he can read my mind, he shakes his head and looks to the edge of our booth, where one of the wait staff is waiting. “The waiter wants to know.”
My gaze snaps around to them, and I blush. “Sorry. Lost in my own world. Uh—” I look back at Flynn. “Are you having any?”
Flynn studies me for a moment and then smiles. “I will if you will.”
“Okay, sure. I’ll get whatever you have that’s chocolate on the menu. Thank you.” The waiter nods and then looks at Flynn.
“Same for me. Thank you.” He smiles at the waiter and waits for him to leave before he untangles our fingers and snakes an arm over my shoulder, pulling me closer to him so our thighs press together.
I shift, turning into him. He leans down, his free hand dipping beneath the table to grab my thigh.
In one easy move, he lifts my legs so they’re draped over his under the table. I’m practically sitting in his lap.
“What are you doing?” I ask in a low voice, a smile playing on my lips as the hand draped over my shoulder begins to play with my hair.
“What were you thinking about? You were a million miles away,” he asks.
“You. And how you’ve gotten me addicted to sex.” He huffs at my words, looking offended, and I laugh. “You have. I think I’ve had more sex in the last month and a half than I ever have. Even in college.”
Flynn frowns. “Don’t talk to me about all the other guys you’ve slept with.”
“Why? Does it make you jealous?” I ask.
“Yes.” I laugh again, but he cuts me off with a kiss. He tastes like beer and peppercorn sauce. I smile against his lips. He tastes like home.
“Flynn?” I ask, pulling back from his mouth. He frowns a little again.
“Yes, Rockstar?”
“You know this whole—” I get cut off by my phone ringing in my clutch.
Normally, I would ignore it and just call whoever it was back later, but the ringtone is the specific one I apply to all the guys who work for me at the bar.
If they’re calling, it’s for a reason. “Sorry,” I say as I lean across the table a little and reach for my clutch. I fish out my phone and answer.
“Justin? Are you okay?”
“Hey, Katie. I’m really sorry to call,” my youngest bar staff says into the phone. He’s twenty years old. Old enough to work in the bar but not to drink. He’s a good kid, trying to save money to go back to school next year to study engineering.
“It’s okay. What happened?”
“It’s, uh—” He pauses, and I press the phone to my ear hard.
I can hear something going on in the background.
Someone is yelling, then someone else yells back.
I flinch when I hear a glass shatter. “Grant is here. He’s kind of …
Well, he’s drunk and he’s demanding we call you and get you to come and see him. ”
“What?” I sit up straight, and the arm Flynn had around my shoulders falls down my back. He catches himself, and his hand presses into my hip as he sits up with me.
“What’s happened?” he asks from my other side, but I just shake my head.
“How drunk is he? Have you served him?” I ask, already sliding out of the booth. Flynn follows me, even with the confused look on his face.
“I don’t know. He turned up here, tried to order a beer, but we refused him service. He’s pretty messed up already,” Justin explains down the phone. “Then he just started demanding to see you. We tried to tell him you weren’t here, but he didn’t believe us.”
“Okay. It’s okay. Just tell him to calm down and drink some water. I’m on my way,” I say as I stand up. “If he breaks anything else, call the police.”
“Okay, thanks, Katie.”
“See you soon.” I hang up the phone, and my hand drops to my side. “Fuck. Fuck.”
“What is it?” Flynn’s hands cup my cheeks, and he bends a little, trying to catch my eye.
I shake my head and close my eyes. A vision of Grant, drunk and angry and stomping around my bar, fills my head. “This is all my fault. I should’ve just answered his fucking phone calls.”
“Is this about Grant?” Flynn asks, and I open my eyes to find his green ones waiting.
“He’s at the bar, drunk out of his mind and demanding to see me.”
“No.”
I sigh as I sag in his hold a little. “Flynn, I have to. He’s putting my staff at risk. The least I can do is go over there and back them up.”
“Call the police. They will be there faster than us, and I’m sure they’re great at backing up staff,” he says, his thumbs gently stroking my cheeks.
We stand by the table in silence, only breaking when the waiter appears with two molten chocolate cakes in hand. He looks between us, confused, and I just shake my head at Flynn.
“Sorry, can we get these two to go? There’s been an emergency. I’ll need the check and the car brought round if I can,” Flynn says, not looking away from my face.