Chapter Four
Flynn was confused. On one hand, he wanted to see Bristowe again. On the other, he didn't really date. She'd made it clear she was interested in sex, but he didn't know if that was as far as she wanted to go. It was for him; that was the sum and total of his desires at that stage in his life. Nothing and no one was worth disrupting his time with his brothers, which he squeezed into any space when he wasn't working. If he had a girlfriend, she’d end up more alone than if they weren’t together.
Pretty sure women want more than that, he thought. Then again, what did he know? He had nothing to compare it to, except maybe Barb and Mitch. They weren't what he’d consider role models, but they were miles apart from his own fucked up parents. So maybe they were a couple to look up to; maybe it was just about surviving. Maybe life wasn't meant to be complicated with sweeping someone off their feet and creating a movie star kind of love. It could just be about comfort, someone to turn to when shit hit the fan, and knowing the other person had your back.
That was kind of what he had with the boys, though. He knew if the world ended tomorrow, he could fall back on them as his family. They had each other’s backs, truly caring what happened to each of them. Figuring out how to survive in a cold-hearted bitch of a world was all they’d known. It was too difficult to picture adding another person into that mix, much less a female.
But this female could be different. She was tenacious, that much he’d discovered. Nothing indicated she had a weak stomach or the need to cower at bad news. If they fell apart and he had to walk away, would she be the type to break down and make a scene? Couldn't tell if she was a drama queen from such little interaction.
All the pondering in the world wouldn't make things easier on him, he supposed. He had to ask to know the answer. He had to man up and call the number on the card she’d given him. Days had passed, and still he only stared at the writing on the little rectangular paper stuck to his fridge with a magnet from the local pizza place. Her name was partially covered with the logo of a slice of pizza, but he had it memorized.Bristowe Hill. Detective. Hottie. Extraordinary woman. Maybe. Hopefully.
Fuck. Threading his hands through his hair, he bit the bullet and picked up his phone. He needed to grow a pair and just call her already. Nothing was going to happen otherwise, except maybe the grass would grow under his feet. Or the concrete, since he didn't have the luxury of grass where he lived.
“Hello?”
Good God, he’d forgotten precisely how smokey her voice was. She was slightly breathless, as though she’d had to cross her living room to grab the phone before it stopped ringing. Or like she was banging someone else and answered on the third ring. That was a thought he didn't need to have running through his head, both because of the green-eyed monster popping up and because picturing her naked and sweaty conjured the dirtiest thoughts.
“Hey, doll.”
“Flynn, what a pleasant surprise.”
“Is it?” Sitting in one of the two rickety chairs in his miniscule kitchen, he tried to picture what she looked like right that minute.
“I wasn't sure if you’d actually call, but I wanted you to.” He heard the sound of a door closing.
“Are you in the middle of something?”
“No, just came in from the balcony. I was reading, but it got too noisy with the street traffic.”
“Oh.” Now he pictured her curled up on a lounge chair in shorts and a tank top, her nipples straining against the fabric as her shorts rode up her creamy thighs. Shifting, he tried not to groan. “I don't know what you had in mind when you gave me your number, but I thought I’d call.”
“Why are we dancing around the subject?” She gave a little laugh. “Like we’re virgin teenagers or something.”
“Yeah, I don't know.” Flynn wished he had a beer, but he’d run out the night before and hadn't hit the store yet. “I know what I want, but I don't want to run you off in my bluntness.”
“It’s not that hard to figure out, Flynn. You want to fuck me and then never call me again.”
He nearly choked on his next breath. “I mean—”
“I get it. The idea of more scares the panties off me, too.”
God damn. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
“I sure hope so.” Her voice had changed to a purr, and he realized she was fucking flirting with him. Trying to tip him over the edge. And it was working.
“The night we met, I thought it was gonna be a fuck and duck. But talking to you at the laundromat . . . let’s just say it changed.”
“I thought I pissed you off at the laundromat.”
“You did.”
That time, her laugh was full and throaty. “Pissed you off, but didn't run you off.”
“Exactly.” Rising, he moved to the window to see what the weather was doing. “It doesn't look terrible outside, you want to actually get out and do something?”
