"The hell I don't," I countered. "Don't you get it, Cole? I want you. Whatever or however that means, I want you."
Something flickered in his eyes, something that looked a bit like hope. But it was gone before I could be certain.
He took a step backward, and I had never seen him look more sad. "I may not have a lot of self-restraint. But I have enough. And I'm not taking you down with me."
"Cole, please."
He turned to leave, then paused at the door to look back at me. "I tore your dress."
I fingered the rip in the neckline that exposed the lace of my bra and the swell of my breast. Despite my confusion and embarrassment and total frustration, my impulse was to rip it further. To rip the whole goddamn dress off. To stand naked in front of him. Tempting him. Testing him.
Instead, all I said was "Yes."
"I'll have Red drive you home," he said, referring to the driver he shared with Evan and Tyler.
"Fuck that. I can find my own way home."
Our eyes met, and for a moment I thought I saw regret. Then it cleared, and he simply nodded. "Take a jacket if you want," he said, indicating a coat tree on the far side of the room.
Then he left, leaving me standing alone in his office, my dress ripped and my emotions equally in tatters.
five
"Avocado, salmon, and cream cheese," Flynn said as he slid a plate loaded with the world's biggest omelette in front of me. "Orange juice," he added, following the plate with a champagne glass. "Of the mimosa variety. And--because what is breakfast without bacon?--a nice, crunchy side of pig fat."
I lifted a brow as he put a plate of bacon on the small wooden table that took up most of the apartment's minuscule breakfast area. "And I'm supposed to eat all of this how?"
"One forkful at a time." He filled his own plate, then plunked himself down in the chair opposite me. "Consider it guilt food. I was out getting laid last night while you were home doing the morose girl routine."
"When you put it that way," I said, then dug in.
There are many benefits to rooming with Flynn. He's the best cook I've ever met. He's diligent about paying the rent on time. He works as a flight attendant, so he's often gone for long stretches, thus fulfilling my need for alone time. And when he's in town, he often picks up a shift at John Barleycorn, a local pub, which also fulfills that solitude thing, but has the added bonus of providing a place to go for drinks with good service guaranteed.
He's been friends with Angie for years and gets along great with Sloane, so there's none of the awkwardness that sometimes comes when circles of friends overlap. More than that, he's easy on the eyes. And he's straight.
It was that last characteristic that had intrigued me the most when I woke up that morning. Not because I wanted to sleep with him, but because he could provide insight into Cole. At least, I'd hoped he could.
I'd shared the basic overview of what had transpired at the gala while he cracked eggs and fried bacon. Once I had the lightly edited sordid tale out there, I asked him to play shrink and get into Cole's head for me.
"Like anyone could get inside Cole August," he said. "Or any of them, for that matter. But Cole . . ." He trailed off with a shrug and a shake of his head.
"What?"
"I've known him for as long as Angie has, although I didn't hang out with him or the others as much, especially once Jahn started spending most of his time in the condo instead of the house," he added, referring to Angie's uncle and the downtown condo that she'd inherited when he'd passed away a little over a year ago.
"But?" I pressed.
"But I know him well enough to know that I don't know him at all." He shrugged. "He's not one for oversharing."
"Neither am I. For that matter, neither are you."
He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm not criticizing. I'm just stating a fact. And as for me, you know all my dark secrets."
I tapped the omelette with my fork and grinned. "Which is why I get such good treatment."
"True that." He sucked down some of his mimosa. "I'm just worried about you. It's like he's become an obsession. And you're not the kind of girl who obsesses."
Because he had a point, I said nothing.
"You ought to just walk away. I mean, for one, he pretty much told you to. And for another, there's nobody in the world worth all the mental energy you've tossed toward this guy."
I frowned, turning his words over in my head. "Do you really believe that?"
"Believe what?"
"That no one is worth it." The thought made me sad. And made me think that Flynn felt more alone in the world than I'd realized.
He lifted a shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I guess the real question is whether Cole is worth it." He flashed a wicked grin. "I mean, if you're just looking to get laid, I'd be happy to oblige."
I rolled my eyes. "Not in a million years. Your professional expertise would make me self-conscious."
He smirked. "I'm retired, remember?"
"And I'm glad." For a few months, Flynn had supplemented his income by sleeping with bored, older society women. I think Angie suspected the truth, but I was the only one who knew for certain, primarily because I'd become suspicious and called him on it.
But while I might know his secrets, he still didn't know mine. And I didn't see any reason to alter that status quo.
"Even so," I continued, "it would be weird. I know how tempting it must be to see me day in and day out, and not have a piece of me," I added airily. "But I know you'll survive the blue balls."
He grinned. "That's why I love you, Kat. You don't take my shit."
"I don't take anybody's shit."
"Except Cole's."
I frowned, because I had to silently admit he had a point.
Because this was Pity Katrina Day, Flynn gave me a pass on our usual deal where he cooks and I clean. So while he gathered the plates, rinsed, and loaded the dishwasher, I looked idly on, my mind wandering over the conversation.
The truth was, even if there wasn't the whole awkward friend thing hanging between us, I still wouldn't sleep with Flynn. I rarely slept with anyone, actually, because I knew damn well what would happen. How I would react. How I would shut down.
That's the main reason I knew that this craving for Cole was legitimate--and why I had to either pursue it or shut it down hard and fast and forever. Because even though I knew what would happen--even though I knew what I would remember, and even though I was certain that the shadows would creep up and consume me--I still wanted him more desperately and more tangibly than I'd ever wanted any man.
I caught myself shivering, and I hugged myself to ward off the memories.
Flynn caught the movement and frowned. "You okay?"
"Just a chill. I slept crappy last night."
"Big surprise there." He finished off his drink and looked at me hard. "You need to talk to him, plain and simple. You know that, right? If you're not going to just drop it, then you need to suck it up and have the conversation. The guy wants you. You want him. You've come damn close, and yet he hasn't laid you out and tossed up your skirt. You need to ask why."
"I've tried."
"Try harder."
I shrugged. I was getting tired of this being all about me. "You're still cool with renting a room in the house, right?"
He didn't answer for a second, and I was afraid he was going to comment on my very obvious tactic to change the subject. To my relief, when he answered it was to say, "Hell, yes. But you really should let me split the mortgage."
"No way. It's my house. Or it will be next week. You're renting a room. We already made this deal." I knew that money was tight for him. The airline kept cutting his shifts, and the tips for tending bar only went so far. I really didn't want him to go back to the gigolo thing, but if money got tight, I was afraid that he'd do just that.
I pushed back from the table. "Thanks for the breakfast and the conversation. I should get out of here. I have errands and then wedding
planning and then I'm going to crash early, because tomorrow I'm spending the pre-dawn hours slinging coffee. My life is so freaking glamorous."
"I know I've said it before, but it's pretty damn cool the way you managed to pull together buying a house on a barista's salary."
"I'm the kind of girl who gets what she wants," I said, not mentioning that my plan had required faking a job at the gallery and pulling the down payment from the safe deposit box where I stored the cash I'd saved over the years from my various cons.
"Is that what this is about?" he asked.
I looked at him, baffled. "What are you talking about?"
"Cole," he said. "Are you pushing so hard because he's something you want but didn't get?"
"No," I said automatically. "Of course not." But as I walked to my room to finish getting dressed, I had to wonder. Was everything I thought I felt for Cole just tweaked pride? Or was it truly something deeper?
And when you got right down to it, how the hell was I supposed to know the difference?
Since I thought that Flynn might be right, I decided to blow off a few house-related errands in favor of going by the gallery to see Cole.