Page 53 of Flag On The Play
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel out of place.
“Hey, get your sexy ass in here.”
I hate that I grin and hate even more that I listen.
I sit on the counter with his shirt falling over my knees, thankful for the coffee he hands me. I’m watching him frown at a frying pan like it’s personally offended him. Apparently, he didn’t have enough in his fridge to prepare a decent enough breakfast. A scrabbled egg that isn’t burning is good for me, but not so much for him.
“This is why I need to go shopping more often,” he mutters, poking at the small portion of eggs.
I stifle a laugh behind my coffee mug. “You act like scrambled eggs are high-stakes.”
“They are when you’re trying to impress your girlfriend.”
My heart stutters at the word, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy muttering under his breath and shoving toast into the toaster.
I try to play it cool. “Girlfriend, huh?”
That gets his attention.
He glances over his shoulder, smirks, then walks over and stands between my legs. “You slept in my bed. You’re wearing my shirt. I made you breakfast even if it’s not what I wanted. I feel like I’ve earned that title.”
I raise a brow. “Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”
He leans in, nuzzles my neck. “A little. But you’re still here, aren’t you?”
Damn him.
Damn that smile.
Damn, the way he smells like coffee and soap and everything I didn’t know I wanted.
I press my forehead to his. “For now.”
His hand slides to the back of my neck. “Then I’ll just have to give you a reason to stay.”
And God help me, I’m afraid he already has.
I’m curled up on Roxy’s absurdly green velvet couch, a throw pillow clutched to my chest like it’s armor. Delaney hands me a glass of wine, yes, wine, at one in the afternoon, and plops down beside me while Roxy lights incense in the corner because, of course, she does.
“So let me get this straight,” Roxy says, spinning around dramatically. “You went to his place. Candles, flowers, and wine were waiting. You had the best sex of your life, and now you’re panicking because what? He didn’t run screaming?”
I glare at her. “It’s not that simple.”
“It never is,” Delaney says softly. “But you’re not freaking out because you don’t like him. You’re freaking out because youdo.”
I exhale a breath I’ve been holding all morning. “Exactly.”
Roxy flops into the armchair. “So what’s the real issue? You’re scared he’s going to change his mind?”
“No,” I whisper. “I’m scared I will.”
Delaney gives me that gentle, knowing look that always makes me feel both exposed and seen. “Because of your job?”
“Because of everything,” I admit. “I’ve been on my own for so long. I don’t know how to let someone in. Not really. And Finlay? He’s intense. He’s all in, and I’m still trying to figure out if I’m even in at all.”
Roxy sighs. “Look, I’ve known you forever. And I’ve seen you hook up, flirt, brush dudes off like lint. But this? This is different. You don’t cook for guys. You don’t sleep over. You definitely don’t smile like a damn lovestruck idiot the next morning.”
I don’t argue, because she’s right.
