Chapter 8

 

With Flynn on her heels, Gabby walked into her small ranch house and set the keys on the entryway table. She eyed her big, cozy blue chair by the living room window with longing and then frowned at her clothes. Shower first. Drop dead after.

She turned to tell Flynn she’d be right back, but the tension in his shoulders and around his eyes gave her pause. He’d been acting strangely for two weeks. And she was no idiot. Between the heated stares and his attempt at avoidance, she was past suspecting his attraction.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, making his T-shirt stretch over his biceps, and studied her hardwood floor as if he’d find the answers to solving world hunger between the dark-stained planks.

Tired, she toed off her boots and kicked them near the door. It had been a long day. Brent had dressed her like a prostitute, Zoe had done her makeup in drag fashion, she’d been forced to kiss every available male in Redwood Ridge, and then compete on behalf of the clinic in a silly set of games. She was over it. She wanted a hot shower, a cup of cocoa, and two hours of uninterrupted reading.

Present company or not. She didn’t care. Hanging out with Flynn had always been easy. Lately, not so much. She missed...them.

At least the next five Friday nights looked hopeful. Her kissing booth a success, she’d been asked out on a date many times. But instead of relief or giddiness, disappointment tightened her chest. The guys in question never would’ve made a move if she hadn’t dressed differently or if Brent hadn’t pimped her out. She wanted someone to see her as she was, without the muss or frills. Which, let’s face it, hadn’t happened since puberty, so why bother hoping?

And the man in front of her? Her best friend? For some unknown reason, he suddenly began noticing her not as his buddy, but a woman. She could tell in the way his breath rasped, the dilation of his hazel eyes, and the bumbling conversation whenever they got within ten yards of each other that he was fighting his desire. As if wanting her was wrong.

She’d admit, she didn’t know how she felt about the shift, had barely slid past denial on the matter to know if she wanted him, too. He was an incredibly attractive man, both physically and his personality. But that was moot. Because when push came to shove, at the end of the day, she deserved a man who wasn’t ashamed to want her. To be with her. Someone who didn’t act like he had to fight off his feelings.

And it was blatantly obvious Flynn didn’t want to want her.

Her chest squeezed and his form blurred as tears misted her eyes. Drawing a deep breath, she shoved down the ball of hurt.

Finally, he met her gaze, apology and regret in his eyes. “Can we talk?”

Worst phrase in the history of the spoken language. It was right up there with let’s be friends. Except they already were. That was the hardest part. He was her best friend, knew damn near everything about her, and he was ashamed of his desire.

She jerked her chin toward the hallway. “I need a shower first. Give me five minutes?” She grabbed the hem of his sweatshirt he’d loaned her at the park and pulled it over her head, handing it to him.

His throat worked a swallow and he nodded, taking the shirt from her while managing to keep his distance. For all his James Bond stoicism, he sure looked not only shaken, but stirred to boot.

She shuffled down the hall. Avoiding the mirror, she quickly showered, not lingering under the hot spray as she would’ve liked, and put on a pair of boxers with a T-shirt. Feeling more like herself, she reached for the doorknob and hesitated.

Flynn wanted to talk. She didn’t know if he planned on coming outright with the truth or if he intended to feed her a line, but either way, her heart couldn’t take the blow. Not from him. She gave herself a moment to think of what she should do and then opened the door.

After she made her way to the living room and saw him, it confirmed her decision to evade. Sitting on her couch, hunched over with his head in his hands and her tabby cat, Popsicle, doing her damnedest to get his attention by kneading his rigid back, Flynn was apparently in full guilt mode.

Was it too much to ask to have a man want her guilt-free, too?

His head jerked up, gaze colliding with hers. The impact hit her square between the ribs. The sheer honesty alone was staggering. It was hard separating him as a man from the friend she’d known too long, hard to imagine they were the same person. If possible, he seemed even more wary than before. Which gave her an idea on a way to dodge their much-needed conversation, at least for tonight. Tomorrow, they could deal with things.

“Are you still nervous about the first dance for Cade’s wedding?”

He rose, but came no closer, his expression indicating he didn’t know how to answer. His strawberry blond hair stood on end from his fingers fisting the strands moments before and his jaw was ticking to the beat of her heart.

Maybe she hadn’t thought this through. Okay, definitely hadn’t. She could pinpoint the exact moment things went screwy between them and it had been when she’d tried to teach him to slow-dance. Getting all up close and personal again was about as good an idea as skiing the Klamath in December. Naked.

Popsicle pawed at his pant leg, little attention whore that she was, and he bent to pick her up. His large hand stroked her back, gaze focused on the movement, and Gabby could all but hear the gears turning in his head.

After a beat, he set the cat back down and tentatively looked at her. The ten feet between them shrank to one without either taking a step. “I think we should talk.” He winced as if realizing what he’d said and raked a hand through his hair. His eyes fell closed. “I’m about three seconds from losing my shit.” He opened his eyes and sighed, imploring her to make this right.

And just like that, the tension evaporated and he was her best friend again, wanting to discuss a problem. Regardless if she was the issue. Talking about it wouldn’t change anything because he obviously still didn’t like the idea of being attracted to her. But she softened. Right then, he needed her, and she’d never deny him anything.

“I know. We don’t need to dissect the situation, though, do we? Just understand that...I’m aware.” She’d meant it as an out, a way to acknowledge what was there without him having to rake himself over the coals. Give them some time to adjust and see what happened.

But...hurt clouded his features as if he thought she’d dismissed him. Slowly, his brows drew together, understanding filling his eyes and firming his lips. She had a sinking suspicion his version of understanding and hers weren’t on the same dictionary page. She stepped forward, the need to comfort fierce, but he looked away and she stilled.

He ran a hand down his face. “What do we do? How...?”

She closed the distance and took his hands, waiting for him to look at her so he could read her lips. It seemed to take an increasing amount of effort, but finally, his gaze drifted to hers and lowered to her mouth.

“We dance. That’s what we do. Dance.”

A little V formed between his brows. His shoulders dropped like a tremendous weight lifting, and he stepped flush against her. His heartfelt sigh teased her hair as he pulled her in, one hand behind her head and the other low on her back. She pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing in his scent of soap that mingled with the outdoors from their day.

She wrapped her arms around him, palms flat on his warm back, and they stayed that way for a few moments until he gently set them in motion. A careful sway as if he were tentative to move. Following his lead, she shifted with him. A step left, another one back, all while he kept her secure against him.

There was no music, but something close to magic wafted around them. Through them. The rest of the world faded, leaving only him and her. If she believed in such things anymore, she’d think it was almost fairytale-like the way he seemed to be protecting her, even if from himself. His arms banded tightly around her, cocooning her between two solid biceps.

After a couple of minutes, she became readily aware of two things. One, he didn’t need dance lessons. And two, her girly bits were cheering at his nearness. They’d never been close like this, where she could feel every ridge of him, burrow into him.

With her breasts crushed to his hard wall of chest, her nipples pebbled at the stimulation of moving with him. An ache. A burn. His chin rested on the top of her head as if holding her were the most natural thing. Their thighs brushed, his denim to her bare skin, and she eased closer when one of his legs worked its way between hers. The muscles in his back shifted under her hands, a delicious play of strength, and need coiled in her belly. Heat sizzled a path from her core to between her legs.

That answered her question on whether there was any spark on her end. He’d obviously been feeling...something, but she’d kept denying what had been in front of her, thinking she’d read too much into nothing.

This wasn’t nothing. And she had no idea what to do.

“Gabby...”

Oh, his voice. He didn’t speak often, and due to his lack of hearing, her name sounded more like Gob-bee. But the strain, the need riddled in that one word, tore a shiver from her roots to her toenails and didn’t bother passing Go.

They’d stopped dancing, she realized. Her hands were fisted in the back of his shirt, clinging for dear life. She’d unconsciously pressed her forehead against his throat, her mouth millimeters from his warm skin, and when he swallowed, her lips grazed him.

He stilled at the touch, all but his fingers clenching in her hair. Then, as if testing the waters, his other hand moved from the small of her back to her waist, a slow yummy glide. Her breath hitched and, taking that as permission, he slid his palm over her ribs and splayed his fingers so that the tips caressed the underside of her breast through her shirt.

Her lids fell closed and she went molten in his arms. Liquid fire. Nothing else mattered, not her reasons for refusing to act on the desire, nor the rift that could possibly split their relationship. All that filled her head was him against her, making her heart stutter and her body crave. Ache. No man had ever made her want like this, left her mind spinning and her knees jelly.

He dipped his head to brush his cheek against hers. The rasp of his five o’clock shadow grazed her and she moaned. Rough against soft. He must’ve felt the rumble in his chest because he let out a groan in response. His chest expanded with a sharp, shallow inhalation Hot, erratic breath skimmed her ear, her throat. His mouth whispered against her flesh, a ghostly caress hovering...so...close.

Yes. God, yes. She buried her face under his jaw, parting her lips and darting her tongue along his throat. He smelled so good, like warm aroused male. The salt from his skin had her wanting to taste him everywhere. He clasped her neck as if needing to hold her against him or afraid she’d stop. The fingertips over her ribs dug deep, branding her with heat. His hips jerked forward, his thick erection thrusting against her belly, and...

He pulled away.

She reeled at the sudden loss and the rush of cool air hitting her skin.

Hands on her shoulders at arm’s length, he held her away. His breaths soughed like a man dying. He glared at her like he’d never seen her before. Wide hazel eyes that held of myriad of emotion. Then his lids slammed closed, heavy as a door shutting her out, and a pained expression twisted his face.

Rejection punched her stomach and she wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to hold herself together. Trembling, dangerously close to tears, she stared at his chest because looking at the regret on his face a moment more would drop her to her knees.

God, did that hurt. She’d been passed over countless times. Had been in a room full of people and rarely seen. Shoved into the good girl friend zone. But Flynn dismissing her like he’d just made the largest error of his life thrust the lump of pain from her chest into her throat. They’d barely done anything and she’d been reduced to...a mistake.

He straightened, ramming both hands through his hair and stalking away, only to come right back and cup her cheeks. Rigid desperation radiated off him. Shaking, frustration marring his brow, he stared at her through pleading eyes. As if realizing he was touching her again, he lifted his hands in surrender and took two steps away.

He rubbed the back of his neck. Glanced around. “Christ. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Yeah, she got that. How pathetic was it that the only thing she was sorry about was that he’d stopped? She tried to draw in a ragged breath, but she could still smell him in her space and it made things worse. Her stomach cramped and her stupid, stupid arms wanted to be around him again.

“I won’t...” He stepped forward, dipping his chin to look in her eyes. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

She nodded like an idiot because what was she supposed to say?

Popsicle wound her way between her ankles as she stood frozen on the precipice of shattering to millions of tiny pieces. Only when the front door closed quietly she did realize he’d left.

Stumbling to the couch, she plopped down and rubbed her forehead. Numb shock settled in, and she had no idea how long she sat there with Popsicle butting her arm to be petted and her staring at the sweatshirt Flynn left behind. She blinked.

Her phone rang and she jumped, startling the cat and earning a hiss. Hoping it was Flynn, she reached for the cell on the table and checked the ID.

Brent. Any other time she would’ve answered, but tonight she needed...What? Something. One of the girls. Avery or Zoe to talk out what just went down because she didn’t know her ass from her elbow right now. How were she and Flynn going to work together? Would it be awkward? And what about their friendship?

With trembling fingers, she ignored Brent’s call and unlocked her screen to scroll through her contacts. She passed Avery, thinking she might be putting her daughter Hailey to bed. Choking back a sob at Flynn’s name, she kept going and hesitated over Rachel. Her sister had buckets of experience when it came to sex, but nada when it pertained to friendship or dating. Zoe’s mother had been diagnosed with early-onset dementia four years ago. Her mental state was rapidly declining and poor Zoe was doing everything she could to keep her mom at home. Since they’d been at the Spring Fling all day, Zoe was most likely attempting to put order back at home to keep her mother calm.

She scrolled back up. Avery was relatively new to town. Maybe she could offer Gabby a fresh perspective, a new set of eyes. Avery had moved into Cade’s house last month, and Cade was very active in Hailey’s life. Perhaps Gabby wouldn’t be intruding if she reached out to Avery.

She couldn’t sit around all night in this state or she’d climb the walls. Or hold up the Ben & Jerry’s plant. Give me all your brownie batter ice cream or else...

“Hey. Am I interrupting anything? You got a minute?”

Avery made a sound of dismissal. “Not interrupting at all. What’s up?”

She barely held it together long enough to tell her friend what had happened. After a thought-filled silence, Avery said, “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“If I’m being honest, I’m surprised something hasn’t happened before now. You guys are...I don’t know. There are sparks. Definitely.”

Sparks, an inferno. Tomato, tomahto. And up until recently, if there had been anything romantic, she’d been oblivious. Had the rest of the town seen something she hadn’t?

Avery sighed. “Aside from the obvious, what’s keeping you from acting on the attraction? I mean, I can’t see you guys hating each other if it doesn’t work out.”

Hate? No. But the friendship and close working unit, never mind their circle of friends, could collapse. “He acts like this chemistry is the worst possible thing.”

Avery laughed. “To him, it probably is. Face it, Gabby. You’ve known each other since kindergarten, you work every day together, and he depends on you more than you realize. And for a guy, that last part’s pretty emasculating to admit. I’m willing to bet he’s kicking himself thinking he’s ruined everything.”

That much she understood. But she couldn’t be with a man who felt guilty for touching or desiring her. And since that man happened to be Flynn, everything as they knew it had changed. Because he wasn’t just anyone. If they acted on their feelings, there was no going back. Out of everyone in her life, he had the potential to truly hurt her bone-deep, not on the superficial level others had inflicted.

She petted Popsicle and stared at Flynn’s sweatshirt. “What do you think I should do?”

Avery blew out a breath. “You got asked out a lot today, right? Go out with someone else. Flynn hasn’t really seen you with another guy in a dating sense, not since realizing he’s attracted to you. Maybe being with someone else will show you both what you want. Who knows? Maybe there is nothing there between you two and you’re getting worked up over what amounts to little more than interest. Either way, it’ll force him to act.”

She chewed her lip, not wanting to force him into anything. She just wanted...what Avery and Cade have. What Drake and Heather had before she’d died. She wanted to be loved, to mean something to somebody.

“And Gabby? In my opinion, ignoring the situation is only going to cause an implosion.”