Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
June
I finish drying my hair and open the door. “Oh! Jeez, you scared me,” I say to Ally, who’s right on the other side of it. She shoves me back into the bathroom.
“There’s a tall and very hot guy who just ran back down to his car to grab tools from his trunk to fix our leaky sink drain.”
“What?” I squint. “Doesn’t sound like Kevin, the handyman. He’s short and not so hot. A new guy?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s Flynn. He showed up with a bouquet while I was emptying the bucket under the sink. The next thing I knew, he was mumbling something about running back down to his car to get tools to fix it.”
I bite my lower lip.
“What’s that look about? I thought you liked him?”
I nod several times, and then I shake my head. “He’s been through it, if you know what I mean. And I don’t think I need that right now.”
“Been through it?”
I nod.
“You mean he’s had a rough life?”
Again, I nod.
“Well, that explains the dirty shoelace tied around the flowers.”
I scrunch my nose.
“What do you want me to do? I have to get to class. And honestly, if he can fix the leak, I say we let him do it before you kick him out.”
I roll my eyes. “Ugh! Whatever. I’ll take care of him. Just give me a minute.”
“Well”—she looks at her watch—“I don’t have a minute. I have to go. So hopefully he doesn’t rob us before you do whatever it is you need to do.”
I bristle.
“You’re the one who said he’s been through it. Oh!” Her eyes widen. “He’s back,” she whispers.
Ally closes the bathroom door behind her, and I check myself in the mirror again, opting for some lip gloss—not because I care what he thinks. My lips are just a little dry. I straighten the high waist of my floral linen pants and adjust my white crop top before opening the door.
“Toodle-oo,” she says, smiling at me before leaving.
Ally was right. Flynn looks good in his dark jeans and black graphic T-shirt with a bird and “Shindig revival” on it.
He’s clasping a freshly cut bouquet in one hand and a wrench in his other hand while standing by the sink. “Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” I say in a weak voice because I regret how I acted last night.
And he brought flowers … and a wrench.
Flynn holds out the bouquet. “I picked them myself. And I cleaned the sticky stuff off the car seat.”
I grin at the obvious. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”
He nods to the sink. “I’m going to fix this leak for you, then I’m going to suggest we start over. So just think about it. You know where I’ll be.” He lies on his back, the top of him under the sink.
I smell the flowers.
“I said too much yesterday,” he says. “You don’t know me well enough to understand I’m not a serial killer.”
“Excuse me?” I laugh nervously while untying the shoelace.
“I-I mean … shit, this is coming out wrong again. I’m not a serial killer. Not. A. Serial. Killer. Uh, can you hand me a towel?”
I stare at his abs peeking out from where his shirt has ridden up a few inches.
“June?”
“Huh?”
“A towel?”
“Oh yeah. Here.” I hand him the one hanging over the oven handle.
“Thanks. I’m gonna have to get some silicone caulk. I tightened it, but it needs to be recaulked.” He slides out from under the sink and stands.
I give him a nervous smile before filling a glass with water and putting the flowers into it.
“Listen”—he wipes his hands—“I’m not a bad person. That’s what I mean. I would never hurt you. If the Rawlings can trust me, can you give me another chance? I promise not to say stupid shit that’s scary.”
I set the shoelace on the counter next to the vase. “Stupid shit like not being a serial killer?”
He cringes, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Callie put too much stuff in my head, and I’m not saying the right things in the right order or at the right time.”
“Oh? You talked to Callie about us?”
“Yeah. She was having a bad morning. Rupert told me to go home, but I ignored him.”
“I’m sure he appreciated that.”
Flynn rolls his eyes.
“Did Callie suggest the flowers?”
He twists his lips. “Maybe. But I swear to God, I cut and tied them.”
I return a half dozen nods.
He holds out his hand. “I’m Flynn Morley, a full-time muse and part-time idiot who really likes you.”
I can’t think past my emotions. Every hint of uneasiness is quickly erased with moments like this. So I slide my hand into his. “Don’t forget part-time plumber. And I’m June Malone. Part-time tour guide. Lover of historical romance. Naps. And men with tools in their cars.”
His grin swells as he slowly shakes my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”
I disagree. The warmth of his big, calloused hand engulfing mine feels quite pleasurable.
His gaze drops a few inches, and he wets his lips, which is even more torturous.
I glance down for a beat, my hand still holding his.
You can see my nipples through my bra and tight shirt.
He has that effect on me, and I don’t know if I should turn and fix the situation or pray he feels powerless and relinquishes a kiss.
When his eyes shift, meeting my gaze again, he quickly releases my hand and takes a step backward. “So”—he swallows—“are we good? You know, to start over?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I overreacted last night. It was—”
“Too much,” he says.
“No.” I cover my face for a few seconds and sigh.
“I just had certain feelings for you. So I rushed things. And what you told me felt like a reality check. I needed to learn more about you before taking the next step. Really, I scared myself more than you scared me. I just took it out on you, and I’m sorry. ”
A tiny line forms between his eyebrows, and he offers a slow nod.
“So we take it slow,” I say, more to convince myself.
“Slow,” he echoes.
I’m dying. He must be bad for me because I’ve never felt this anxious and unhinged. “But …” I shrug. “It seems a little silly to start completely over. Maybe we can pick up where we left off and forget about that minor hiccup last night.”
“Where did we leave off?” Flynn asks, and I don’t know if he seriously doesn’t remember all the close moments or if he’s messing with me.
“Well, we held hands at the Rawlings’ house. So we can check that off the list.” I use my index finger to make a checkmark. “So I suppose next might be …” Clasping my hands behind me, I rock onto the balls of my feet and back down again as nervous energy threads through me.
“Next might be?”
I shrug.
“Sex?” he asks.
My face flushes faster than I can gasp my next breath.
Flynn smirks. “Joking. Listen, I’m perfectly content just being in the same room.”
“I’m perfectly content having sex.” I grin and let him decipher my level of sincerity. I don’t even know if I’m serious.
Flynn returns a nervous laugh, casting his gaze over my head for a second. “June, if and when we have sex, I promise content will not be a strong enough word for how you’ll feel.”
As if burning me to the ground with that statement isn’t enough, he takes a second gander at my nipples. I need thicker padding in my bra, new underwear, and a tall glass of water—maybe a cold plunge. My jaw slackens, but nothing except my labored breaths escapes.
“Cat got your tongue?” He throws my words back at me.
“Kiss. Me.” My restraint vanishes. Standards? What standards? Self-respect? That’s overrated.
“June, if I kiss you, it won’t stop there, and I think we both know it. And I’m working pretty hard at this manners thing.”
“Fine then. Say please, and when it’s over, say thank you.”
Poof!
There goes the last shred of my dignity.
The grin on Flynn’s face explodes. God, he has the sexiest smile.
“Actually, I should go. I don’t know if I am dismissed for the day,” he says, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I have a lot on my agenda today, too. So …” A lie. I have the day off and no plans. I love lazy days. Organize a few drawers. Read for a while. Take a walk. Grab lunch. Even squeeze in a short nap.
“Your roommate seemed nice,” he says.
“Ally is the best.”
“Have you been friends for a long time?”
“Only since I moved here. I met her through an app that matches roommates. She’s going to law school.”
Flynn nods, and I get the sense that he’s stalling. I hope it’s because he doesn’t want to leave me and not just that he doesn’t want to get back to work. In case it is for me, I take a step closer to give him options.
“Thanks for the flowers. And fixing the leak.” I take another step, sliding my hand around his wrist while lifting onto my toes so my lips reach his cheek. Before I kiss it, I pause, giving him the chance to turn toward me so our mouths fuse.
He doesn’t, so I kiss his cheek and linger a few seconds before dropping to my heels.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, blinking several times before ducking his head, lips brushing my cheek before kissing it. “And the leak isn’t fixed yet, but I’ll get it done.”
Plumbing has never sounded so sexy. This is torture.
It’s hot in here, so I swallow hard and pull my hair over one shoulder.
His gaze follows my hands, and suddenly it’s not only hot in here, it’s really quiet.
I still when he reaches for my hair, sliding a few locks between his fingers while dipping his head again.
This time, he teases his lips along my neck while his other hand skates to my waist and the bare skin between my crop top and pants.
My jaw slackens as I fight the unsteadiness in my knees.
Flynn kisses my neck from my shoulder to my ear, and I feel his grin when I shiver. How is it possible to shiver while on fire?
I tease his nape with my fingernails, and his grip on my waist tightens as his other hand cups the back of my head, angling it so our mouths line up. I lean in for a kiss, but he pulls back a fraction and grins.
I might kill him.
“Fuck you,” I whisper. That word rarely comes out of my mouth, but he’s pushed me to my limit.
His grin swells for a second before he comes back in and kisses me. A real kiss. How will I explain this kiss to Ally, my mom, or my grandkids one day? Sure, to everyone else, it would seem like just a kiss. It’s not. It might be better than sex, chocolate, and cocaine—all combined.
My only fear? It’s going to end. And Flynn has somehow made himself the gatekeeper of kisses. How long before I get another one?
Another hit.
Another high.
My free hand grips his arm to steady myself as he walks me backward a few steps until my back hits the wall. My lips part a little more to let him taste the inside of my mouth. A low moan vibrates between us, and I’m not sure if it’s me or him.
He ghosts his fingers along my ribs, thumb brushing the bottom of my breast over my shirt. Then he slides it a fraction more, and his thumb barely moves, almost like a twitch, but it does so along my nipple.
I might orgasm just from that.
And then … nothing.
He stands straight, hands at his sides while rubbing his lips together. I touch my lips as if I need proof that the kiss happened. In doing so, I grin.
Flynn’s shoulders pull back an extra inch. “It’s shaping up to be a pretty damn good day,” he says.
Why does his declaration make me blush even more? I chuckle and nod slowly. “Agree.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says.
I continue to bob my head as if it’s on a spring. He opens the door beside me, and I snap to attention as he steps into the hallway and turns.
“Thanks for letting me kiss you and touch your boob,” he says with the most matter-of-fact expression.
I roll my lips between my teeth and nod several times. He’s so … everything!
Confident.
Sexy.
Yet, vulnerable and funny.
In the next breath, he’s halfway down the stairs. I close the door and lean my back against it.
Don’t do it.
I can’t help myself. He’s gone, but I still feel his hands on me. I cup my breast over my shirt, grazing my nipple like he did, and my other hand slides down the front of my linen pants.