Rugged(91)

“No.” Flint is shaking his head slowly. “Charlotte showed up the day you left. We got some coffee, talked things over. We’re both still the same people, Laurel. And those people do not work together in a relationship. Afterward she went back to New York. Where she wants to be. Where she belongs.”

Flint’s eyes blaze as he takes my face in his hands. My heart is pounding, my head swimming as I try to make sense of the nonsense words coming out of his mouth.

“That ring you saw? She’s engaged to someone else now. I hear he’s a great guy. It took that trip to Mass for Charlotte to realize it, but what we had is over and done, and we can’t go back to what it was. That closure helped her take the next step in her life, and I guess that means marrying someone else. But I’m happy for her. And when she said she wanted to come out for the premiere, of course I said yes. I swear to God, I never connected the dots. I didn’t realize you’d left because of her until you said it last night. I was so shocked, I didn’t even think straight. I couldn’t get the words out before you left.”

Shocked. Not together. Charlotte has a fiancé that’s not him. My brain is finally starting to process the headlines, but my mouth doesn’t know what to do. Until Flint leans in again, his lips brushing against mine—

“It doesn’t matter!” I jerk back. “I can’t be around you, I told you that. I can’t be around you because this will never work—”

“I love you,” Flint says. This time, when he pulls me into his arms, I don’t try to break away. “Dammit, I’ve loved you almost since the moment you showed up at my door and then chased me down a mountain before crashing my favorite bar. I don’t want to live my life without you in it, Laurel.” There’s a determined look in his eyes, and then that vulnerable flash of uncertainty I always find so irresistible.

I place my hand on his chest, take a deep breath, and look up at him. “What about everything else? Even if it’s not Charlotte, you’ve still got the hardware business to worry about. You can’t afford to lose focus right now.”

Flint covers my hand with his. “The business is solid. That’s another thing I wanted to tell you tonight, but you peeled out of the party. My business manager called; the promotion machine’s worked perfectly. Just like you said it would. McKay’s Hardware is seeing three times more traffic in one week than it’s seen all year. We’re not selling to Smith & Warren now.” He pulls me close, and this time I don’t resist. “I’m sure about you, Laurel. More sure than anything else. I don’t want Charlotte. I don’t want an empty house in the Berkshires. I want you,” he whispers.

“I want you too,” I say, leaning into his chest, my hand still pressed against the warm, strong beat of his heart.

And then we tiptoe off to bed.



I startle awake to find Flint’s head between my thighs, his hot tongue licking me hard through my panties, which are the only stitch of clothing I’m wearing after the marathon sex we had a few hours ago. I take his head in my hands and hold him steady where he is, bucking against his open mouth until I’m completely soaked. He peels off my underwear, kissing his way up my body as I moan softly, and when he finally settles his weight on top of me, his cock pressing deliciously against my hip, I reach for—



Bzzzt bzzzt. Bzzzt bzzzzzt.

My phone. I reach for my phone. Which is, apparently, blowing up directly underneath me and Flint, vibrating angrily against the faux hardwood floor, right where I left/threw it a few hours ago. I hop off the bed, peek into the land of dust bunnies below, and spot my cell glowing in the dark as the screen lights up with yet another batch of fresh text messages. After I grope around a bit, I manage to get the phone in my hand and blow the dust off the screen. I’ve got about twenty texts from Suze, Raj, and even Tyler, all reading some variation of:

‘Where the hell are you? Are you dead? In Tijuana? After party? After party!’

“Ain’t no party like a Hollywood after party,” I say, turning the screen toward Flint. “They’re still going strong. Sorry you missed your own premiere, though.”

“It was worth it,” he says, pulling me back into bed, up onto his chest. His eyes never leave mine as he lazily trails his hands down my back, over the curve of my ass, squeezing the backs of my thighs. “This is the only show I care about.”

“Never to be canceled again,” I say, enjoying the rumble of his laughter as it reverberates through his body. Still, that’s enough of the Hollywood jokes. Enough of jokes in general.

It’s time to get serious.





35


“Suze, we’re almost there. Walking in right as I speak,” I tell her, shrugging out of my coat and handing it to the check girl. Flint takes my hand—it feels like the most natural thing in the world—and we head back to the ballroom. Everyone is really celebrating now, drinking champagne like it’s the end of the world. I guess that means the show was a hit. Either that, or it was a total bomb and people are doing their best to forget it in a haze of oblivion. Either way, there’s drinking.

Maybe this means no one will notice that my makeup is off, my hair is down, and my Dior gown is wrinkled beyond repair. Or not. A girl can dream.

“Where the hell were you two?” Callie asks, throwing her arms around us one at a time. “You missed the best show of the year!”