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Nineteen
Sabrina and Flynn had been back at Monarch for a little over a week. There was plenty to do, so at first she barely had time to think about anything other than her burgeoning email inbox.
Last week the landlord had called her to let her know the plumbing had finally been fixed in her apartment. In addition to a hectic work pace, she’d been cleaning up the plumber’s mess and unpacking.
She didn’t enjoy having the space to herself as much as she’d anticipated.
She’d focused on laundry and preparing meals and definitely did not read any of the new romance novels Mrs. Abernathy had dropped off. Sabrina had also dodged a few questions from her well-meaning, prying neighbor about whether or not she and Flynn were in love. Mrs. Abernathy took Sabrina’s silence as confirmation, rather than assuming the relationship had imploded.
Not that Flynn knew things had imploded. Sabrina hadn’t exactly stated anything for the record.
Since they’d returned to work, the distance between them had come naturally. Flynn was doubly busy after his month off, staying at the office some nights until eight or nine.
She’d told herself that this was a good thing—that it was her chance to slot him back into the friend zone where he belonged. They could write off the last four weeks as a fling, and go back to normal.
Instead, she’d thought about how Veronica was right about Flynn’s new love being Monarch Consulting. Why did that hurt so much when she’d done exactly what she’d set out to do? Flynn was no longer stomping around like an angry ogre and the senior execs at the company were more accepting of him. Everything was back to normal.
Except for her.
She’d tasked herself with reversing the mistake of falling for him, but her heart wasn’t cooperating. Every night she lay in bed alone, her mind on Flynn and the way his mouth tasted. Missing the comfort of his body, big and warm and wrapped protectively around hers, or hearing his light snore in the middle of the night whenever her eyes snapped open and her mind was full...
“Hey.” Flynn’s low rumble brought her head up from her laptop. He stood in her doorway, dressed in an expensive suit with a silver-blue tie bisecting a crisp gray shirt. His jacket was buttoned, his shoes were shiny and he was the most delicious vision she’d seen all day.
There used to be a time she could look at him and think, “Hey, there’s my friend, Flynn.” Now she looked at him and thought about touching him and being close to him. Touching him and watching the raw heat flare in his eyes. Which made working directly across from him and keeping her hands to herself pure, unadulterated torture.
“What’s up?” She was aiming for casual, but the greeting sounded forced.
“Finally managed to poke my head out of the water. I thought Reid and Gage were supposed to handle my email, but I came back to about a million of them. Lazy bastards.”
That made her smile. “Yeah, nobody took care of mine while I was gone either.”
A heated smolder lit his eyes that was 100 percent intriguing and 1,000 percent out of place at work. He ducked his chin and stepped deeper into her office. “I’ve missed you.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she anticipated what he would say next. Would he ask her out? Invite her over? And how was she going to say no if he did?
How could she possibly say anything but yes when what she wanted was to be with him more than her next breath? Not only tonight, but the night after that and the one that followed...
Definitely, she was terrible at breaking up with him.
“How’s the plumbing?” he asked. “I’m talking about your apartment, not your person.”
“Har, har. I see that your sense of humor hasn’t improved.”
“Well, you can’t expect a month off to work miracles.”
“Thanks to you, my apartment is perfect.” Except that you’re not in it with me.
Those were the kinds of thoughts she shouldn’t be having about him and yet they boomeranged back no matter how hard she threw them.
Last night she’d sat down to add a female partner to the chickadee painting, her mind on Flynn and their conversation about those philandering little birds that were together only for the sex.
What a metaphor for how things had ended up. She couldn’t look at the chubby, charming, whimsical birds without thinking of what she’d lost.
Except Flynn wasn’t looking at her like he’d lost anything. Or like he wanted to change anything. More proof came in what he said next.
“What do you say we carve out some time for each other?” His eyebrows lifted in the slightest way, his sculpted lips pursed temptingly. “Tonight?”
“Tonight?” Her brain jerked to life and provided a handy excuse that happened to be true. “Sorry. Can’t. Luke is coming over. I’ve been ignoring him lately, so I promised to cook him dinner. You know my brother. He rarely indulges in any food outside of his gym rat diet, so when he’s ready for a cheat day, he calls me.”
