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“Ohhhkay. That’s enough.” I sat up. “Flynn’s an attractive man. I’ve never denied that. But we’re not… it’s not like that between us.”
As far as anyone in town was concerned, it never had been.
Reagan rolled his eyes. “You’re not subtle. I saw what I saw, not just today but every time I was at the Tavern with you this week. I kept waiting for you to make a move, but you didn’t, and I was like,since when is JT so lame?” Reagan examined his perfectly buffed nails. “But it occurred to me that you might not have realized Flynn looks at you the same way.”
I frowned. “Rea, I appreciate you trying to… comfort me in your uniquely insulting way—”
He snickered.
“—but I know for a fact you’re wrong. Flynn’s been ignoring me for a week.”
“Oh, I know.” Reagan leaned against the door. “But it’s impossible to ignore someone that completely unless he’s thinking of you constantly. Here’s what I know: Flynn is aware of exactly where you are at every moment. He looks everywherebutat you. Talks to everyoneexceptyou.” Reagan ticked the items off on his fingers. “But as soon as someone makes you laugh—like when Marta told everyone that story about her homicidal rabbit the other day, remember?—Flynn gets distracted from the not-looking for a second. And when hedoeslook at you, JT…” His voice trailed off into a small smile, and he shook his head.
“What?” I demanded, sitting forward and no longer pretending I wasn’t invested. “What happens?”
Reagan sighed. “I have never seen someone crave another person so deeply before. It’s, like, this tangible, electricthingthat stretches out between you whenever you’re in the same room. I’d give a lot to have someone look at me like that.”
I sucked in a breath, trying to imagine Flynn looking at me like that… before reason asserted itself, and I scowled. “No. Flynn doesn’t like me.”
“Craving and dislike are not mutually exclusive. If you think that, you really need to follow more celebrity gossip pages. But Flynn doesn’t dislike you, JT, even if maybe he wishes he did. You can see it on his face. And okay.” Reagan held up a hand to cut off my protest. “He probably doesn’t trust you. You have history. He doesn’t want your contract. Blah, blah. But you need to stop ignoring the giant horny elephant in the room, if not for yourself, then for the sake of the rest of us who are caught in your pheromone backwash. Besides, how can you two build trust when you’re both being dishonest about this huge, important thing? And for fuck’s sake, why are you letting him push you away? How is that gonna help anything?”
Whoa. When had mylittlebrotherstarted being so mature and observant? Since when did he make so much damn sense? But he was missing one crucial fact.
“I’ve tried talking to him. Repeatedly. Flynn refuses to listen.”
“Who said anything about talking?” Reagan demanded, exasperated. “Take action.Showhim how you feel. Show him how things can be different.”
I blinked at Reagan, stunned.
I’d been waiting for Flynn to give me a signal that he wanted me, either in business or in bed. To recognize that he could trust me.
But what had I done toshowhim that I was trustworthy? That things between us didn’t have to follow the same pattern they always had?
And since when did I wait around for shit to happen? That was the old, immature JT Wellbridge’s process, not mine.
How fucking ironic that it had taken a conversation with Reagan, a guy who seemed as stuck in his life as I’d ever been, to point it out.
“So, you’re suggesting… what?” I asked eagerly. “That I go over there and…”
“Let him take out his frustrations on your ass, then see where you are? Yes. Yes, I am.”
I shook my head. “Such a way with words.”
“It’s a gift.” He flashed a grin. “I’d better get back downstairs before Dysen and Brantleigh burn the house down for funsies. What areyougonna do?”
Good question. I thought of Flynn, all worn down and frazzled from dealing with a bunch of snobby assholes all evening and then closing the bar by himself. I wanted to help him, right? So… why wasn’t I helping? Why was I leaving him to do things alone?
I threw myself off the bed and shoved my feet into my sneakers. “I’m going out for a run.”
He ducked his chin. “A run… past the Tavern?”
“I might head in that direction, yes.”
“Iconic,” Reagan said in a spot-on imitation of Dysen’s voice.
I chuckled. “Thank you, Rea. I owe you one.”
He gave me a soft smile. “You’re welcome. I hope you stick around long enough for me to collect.”
