Page 75 of The Attraction

“Holy shit, Forrest, this is good. I mean, not as good as mine, but it’s pretty damn close. Nic, check this out,” Flynn calls across the room, and I can’t help but smile as I see the look of pride in Forrest’s eyes at Flynn’s words. He stands just that little bit straighter, and his shoulders are pulled back as he takes in all the praise that I don’t think he actually knew he’s been longing for.

“I have to disagree, buddy, I think it’s better than yours, just slightly of course, but the texture and taste of that sauce is just perfect.” Nic winks at me as Flynn explodes with reasoning for why his is better.

No matter what they are doing, these guys are so competitive.

After we all finish tasting the lobster thermidor and stand back to enjoy a glass of wine that was paired with the meal by the vineyard, Flynn claps Forrest on the back of his shoulder.

“All jokes aside, why am I only just finding out that you are one hell of a cook?” And it’s a strange look on his face, like he is a little hurt that Forrest never shared this with him.

“It’s no big deal. Just something I enjoy, but I’m not stupid enough to give up having you cook dinner for me.” Forrest shrugs his shoulders a little.

“Well, you can bet that the next dinner at your place, I’m sitting on my ass and letting you do all the work. And I can’t wait to see what you come up with.” Flynn lifts his wine glass toward Forrest’s, but I can see the hesitation on Forrest’s face at the thought of cooking for more than just me.

“You will be amazed. His food is to die for,” I say, leaning up and kissing Forrest on his cheek and holding my glass up as well, waiting for him to join us.

He doesn’t speak but just raises his glass and gives a little clink against mine and Flynn’s.

For all the incredible achievements Forrest has had in his work, I suspect they mean nothing compared to this simple acceptance from Flynn for such a small thing.

Our minds work in strange ways. The things that mean the most in our life are not always big and grand; instead, they can be the small moments that make our heart flutter just that little bit harder.

* * *

As we ride back in the car with both Flynn and Felisha, I have a full belly and a nice buzz from the beautiful wine that we sampled today.

“I was proud of my cooking today.” I lean my head on Forrest’s shoulder. “I mean, if I had to rate it, I would be in the bottom half of the class, but hey, it was edible, and that’s a big achievement for me.” Both Felisha and I start to giggle as she high-fives me from the seat beside me.

“Same, sister, same,” Felisha replies.

“I just think it means you both need more practice. What do you say, Flynn, we have the girls cook for us from now on, and the next dinner party is all theirs.” With my hand on his chest, I can feel Forrest’s deep voice in his chest as I snuggle back into his side. I could get used to this touching each other.

“Sounds good, Brother,” Flynn replies from the front seat.

“You are both delusional. Cooking is your love language, and we are happy to reap the rewards of that,” Felisha answers, and her words hit me hard in the chest.

I know she is talking about herself and Flynn, but it has me thinking that she might mean Forrest too. That’s not possible. I mean, I know he likes me, and I can’t deny there is some strong pull toward him, but love is totally out of the question. That’s not what we agreed to.

He is my man of many one-night stands. That’s what he said.

That’s a casual fling, you know, almost like a friend-with-benefits thing, although half the time, I wasn’t sure if we were even friends.

I sit up straight again, and I know that Forrest has noticed my reaction. Taking my hand, he squeezes it hard enough to get my attention, but I don’t want to look at him right now.

The drive back to the villa is full of Flynn and Felisha talking, with Forrest joining in, but I don’t say much. I can’t, as my mind is racing too fast to make any sense.

As we get close to the villa, Forrest dips his head down next to my ear and whispers ever so quietly. “Stop panicking.” His words aren’t soft, instead coarse and demanding. And I try my hardest to listen, but my mind has a different idea.

By the time we pull up in front of the villa and the small van the others are in is behind us, I want just to get out of the car and be on my own for a few minutes to breathe.

But there is no way Forrest is letting go of my hand. It’s like there is superglue between us.

“Call the pilot and tell him to delay the flight by thirty minutes,” Forrest grumbles to Flynn, and his brother doesn’t even ask any questions, just nods at him that he understands.

Being dragged through the villa annoys me. I’ve gone from feeling unstable to agitated, and we all know that is never a good emotion between Forrest and me.

“Stop walking so fast,” I complain, but he isn’t listening. Climbing the stairs is going to be fun at this rate. I try to pull my hand from his. Just as we are about to go up the first step, he drops my hand, but before I can move or say a word, he bends and throws me over his shoulder. My squeal echoes through the place, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else is inside yet to hear it.

“Forrest. Put me down!” I yell at him.

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