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Sixteen
At Chuck’s comedy club, Sabrina pulled up to the valet. “We’re here!”
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m completely serious. All of the kidding is done inside the building.” She looked completely pleased with herself at his surprise. She should be. She’d surprised him, all right. Flynn climbed from the car, catching up to her as she handed the keys to the valet.
Chuck’s was not a new establishment, but it was under new ownership. The club’s facade was fresh and stylish rather than its former seedy dive-bar state.
“We came here, what, three or four times?” Flynn smiled at the memories. “I don’t remember it ever looking this nice. When did they get a valet?”
“I know, right? I was flipping through one of my journals and there was an entry about us going to Chuck’s one night when you were dating someone and I was dating someone else.” She made a show of rolling her eyes. “Blah, blah, blah, details, details. Anyway, I checked to see if it was even open, and not only is Chuck’s still open, but I found a coupon online for tickets tonight!”
There was an argument about her using coupons for comedy clubs on the tip of his tongue, but he’d digress. It was bad enough she insisted on surprising him and paying for this evening. He’d argued and argued and had finally given up. He’d buy her something to repay her—painting supplies maybe.
Since she’d had those brushes in hand, she’d been more focused on what brought her pleasure instead of trying to help him. She always did things for other people, but didn’t do enough for herself. He was struck with the need to make her life easier, better.
He reached for her hand. Their fingers wove together as easily as if they’d been holding hands since the day they met. He’d touched Sabrina in the past, but never in an intentionally sexual or romantic way. Until the kiss happened.
The kiss that changed everything.
Earlier today they’d had feisty, playful, incredible sex against the wall in the laundry room, and then he’d added her discarded clothes to the washer. Through the clear glass lid he’d watched her shirt and pants mingle with his clothes, twist around each other in an almost...intimate way. Which was how holding her hand felt now. How had he never noticed that before?
Sabrina wore an A-line red dress that flared at the waist. Her knees were exposed, her high-heeled shoes tall and sexy as hell, and the simple gold chain at her throat was distracting to the nth degree. When she’d stepped out of the bedroom ready for their date he could think of nothing other than getting her out of the dress. If it was up to him, she’d keep on the shoes and the necklace. Something to look forward to tonight.
Their seats were at a table in the middle of the room rather than up front. He’d been heckled by comedians a time or two in the past when he’d had front row seats, so the middle was fine with him. The headliner was someone he’d never heard of, and Sabrina admitted she hadn’t either. He ordered a beer and she ordered a cosmopolitan, and they made it through the opening act. Barely.
As they pity-clapped, he leaned over to whisper, “If that was any sign of what we can expect from the headliner, we should cut our losses and leave.”
“Nope. We’re here for the duration,” she whispered back. “That’s half the fun.”
It came as no surprise that she could enjoy even bad comedy. Sabrina enjoyed everything. He took a sip of his lukewarm beer and mused that she’d probably found a redeeming quality in her watered-down drink. Her superpower was that she found joy everywhere. Even in a formerly seedy club where the tickets were overpriced and the acts should’ve hung up their jokes years ago.
That same knot that had loosened in his chest before loosened a bit more. He pulled in a deep breath and took her hand again, shaking his head in wonderment at how lucky he was to touch her this freely.
The headliner was introduced and Flynn decided that no matter what crap joke the guy trotted out, Flynn would enjoy the show because he was here with Sabrina. She was contagious in the best possible way—infecting the world with her positivity. That, he’d known for years. That she enjoyed sex and he enjoyed it with her was a surprise.
This sort of ease with a woman shouldn’t be simple. Nothing was.
He applauded the opener, shutting out the thought that had the potential to ruin his optimism. Halfway through the guy’s set, which was much funnier than his predecessor’s, Flynn’s phone buzzed and buzzed again. A third insistent buzz had him reaching into his pocket to check the screen.
As if he’d tempted fate by wondering how things could be this simple, there sat Veronica’s name on his phone. Simple, she was not.
He read through the texts, wanting to ignore them and brush her fears aside as Veronica being Veronica—dramatic and attention seeking. Except he couldn’t. Even though he was 90 percent positive there wasn’t a decent bone left in her body, there was in his.
Under his breath he muttered an expletive before leaning close to Sabrina’s ear. He whispered that he had to step outside for a moment. When he stood, the target landed squarely on him and the comedian on stage ribbed him for getting up in the middle of his show.
Flynn amiably waved a hand as he exited the room, taking the insults in stride. Go figure. Outside the darkened club, he walked past the ticket counter and bar, forgoing a return text to call Veronica instead.
“Flynn, oh my God. Thank God you called.” Her voice was frantic, hushed. Part of him suspected that the text messages were merely to get his attention, but she sounded legitimately frightened.
“What’s the problem?” Other than a few veiled words about how his mother’s estate was big and Julian was gone and she was hearing things, Veronica hadn’t come out and said what she wanted.
“Julian is away at an art show in California and I’m stuck here in this massive house by myself.” Her voice shook. “I wasn’t sure if the sound I heard was someone breaking in, or if the house was settling.”
In that house a break-in was pretty damned unlikely. The neighborhood was gated, and the house itself armed with a security system.
“It’s a big house, and it’s old. Probably the latter. What do you hear?”
