Rugged(25)

“Everyone, be calm. The leaves start to wilt if there’s tension in the air,” she says.

“How the hell did we come from the same family?” Flint wonders, but he kisses her on the back of her head. Callie slaps him on the shoulder and mimes something. It’s probably an in-joke, something about whoever she’s on the phone with, because they burst out laughing. Jessa gives me some pine nuts to toast ‘gently.’

I really like it here. Moments later, I’m chatting with David while flipping the nuts around in a skillet. I was an only child growing up, and there used to be many long nights when my parents were working in their study. I’d be left to ramble around the house all on my own, so this much energy in the evening is kind of overwhelming. But wonderfully overwhelming.

“Are you ready for your flight? Got your Airborne and your Dramamine?” Callie asks Flint when she gets off the phone.

“Dammit, that was one time!” he says. She smacks his arm.

“Please, you used to hurl chunks whenever we drove more than thirty minutes in the car.” Callie knocks him on the back of his head, playfully.

“The 90s called, and they actually don’t want the phrase ‘hurl chunks’ back. They say it’s been kind of an embarrassment for a long time, and they’re glad you’re taking it on,” he drawls. He steps gracefully out of the way when she kicks at his ankles. “Teaching your children violence. I approve.” He grabs two beers out of the fridge and tosses one to me. I catch it; no broken glass this time, baby. “Come on, Young. We’ve got business to discuss outside.”

No, we don’t. But when Jessa bumps into me while opening a cabinet, and I knock into David, I see what he’s trying to do. With six bodies in the kitchen—seven if you include an in again, out again Chance—it’s a little crowded. Plus, would I rather drink beer, or would I rather have Jessa hover over me, making sure I show her salad the proper amount of deference?

“Business things. Yes. Much business. So wow,” I say, following him out the door. We head onto the back porch, looking over the yard in the twilight. “Question. Does everything in the northeast smell like pine and heaven?” I ask, taking in a deep lungful of air. I’ll have to bring some back with me to Los Angeles, after all.

“Pretty much. Except for February. Then it smells like exhaust fumes.” He looks at the beer and laughs. “Damn, I forgot the bottle opener.”

“Allow me.” I pull my keys out of my pocket. I’ve got a handy mini beer opener attached, always good for parties. I break open the refreshments. Flint’s eyebrows lift in approval.

“I always like a woman who’s well prepared,” he says, clinking bottles with me. I take a drink.

“I didn’t do too well in the Nature Girls’ school of forestry, but I picked up a few tips in the wilds of college.” I relax against the porch railing, and Flint relaxes right alongside me.

“You don’t really strike me as a party girl,” he says, but looks at me with a grin. “Were you much of one?”

“No, you’re absolutely right. I was always the go-getter. Perfect grades, clean dorm room, perfect boyfriends.” I sigh, remembering all the not-fun I had in college. Well, it wasn’t terrible. It was just kind of boring.

“Why didn’t any of those perfect boyfriends stick?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks. Instead, he studies the label of his bottle. Friendly curiosity, that’s all.

“They all wanted a girl who worked hard, but not as hard as them. Who got good grades, but not as good as theirs. I kept hoping I’d meet someone who didn’t go in for all that cave man logic, but he never showed.” I shrug, trying to get away from the memories. “Then afterwards, I thought the big, wide world would have some surprises in store for me in that department. And boy, did it ever.” Even the memory of Tyler touching me makes me sick to my stomach at this point.

“Men who need their partner to be weak aren’t really men.” Flint says this with a decisive tone. He sounds kind of disgusted, actually. “It’s because they know they aren’t strong enough to compete.”

“I wish there were more people who shared your enlightened point of view.” I laugh, but he doesn’t.

“So do I. Besides, I’m lucky you’re the fierce go-getter who talked me into doing this.” He brushes against me as he turns to look out into the yard. “If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to save my business.”

“You’re more than welcome.” Our elbows touch as we stand side by side, but neither of us moves away.

“Look, there is an actual reason I wanted to talk to you out here,” he says. That shouldn’t make me flush, but it does. Damn it, this is a business meeting. Nothing more.

“What do you want to talk about?” I say, grinning easily. But the smile disappears when I notice how intently he’s looking out at the yard, the fierceness of his gaze. Those shrubs he’s glaring at are probably pretty nervous right now. “What’s wrong?”

“Promise me,” he says, looking over at me. A muscle in his jaw pulses. “Promise me that you won’t make a fool of me.”

I don’t know how to react to that for a minute. My instant reaction is to brush it off, tell him that of course I won’t let that happen. But will I? Even if they take our pitch, Davis and the others might want to sex things up. Make Flint work without his shirt on, even in the fall, put him in ‘compromising’ situations with young, airheaded women. Those are stunts we’ve pulled before, and when executives look at Flint, they’ll see pure beefcake. Granted, Flint could put any of them through a wall, but it doesn’t matter. He’ll be vulnerable in ways he’s never been before.