Rugged (35 page)

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!”

Flint and I glance at each other. I don’t think we did. Callie must sense the heat between us, because she lifts an eyebrow.

“Well, well. I’m going to find a place where my brother isn’t involved in a boatload of unspoken sexual tension. Which is anywhere else but here.” With that, she kisses my cheek and heads out. Flint and I walk around the room, and I tug at his arm.

“There’s one stop I have to make.” Over by the left corner, I spot Davis and Tyler talking. At least, Tyler is talking. Davis is staring at his shoes and scowling. “Come with me?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” Flint says. He and I head over, and Davis frowns at us.

“You two disappeared. Everything all right?” he asks. Tyler sneers.

“Young Laurel probably got her period or something. Isn’t that right?” He guffaws as if he’s actually made an amusing comment. Davis pinches the bridge of his nose and looks like he’s got a serious migraine coming on.

“I’m reneging on my resignation,” I tell Davis. I ignore Tyler’s scoffing, and when Flint catches Tyler in his death glare, the idiot shuts up.

“You’re reneging?” Davis echoes. But he looks interested.

“I had a personal issue arise that I’ve since dealt with. It made saying yes the first time impossible, but that’s no longer the case. However, there are a few things that are not happening. I will not appear on camera again. We are not going to Alaska. But if your offer’s still good, and you put the reins back in my hands, I
can
promise you another great show. Just say the word.” There’s no doubt in my mind when I list my demands, only confidence. Davis’s eyebrows go way, way up.

“Are you high on estrogen, Young?” Tyler says, cringing a little when Flint gives him another look. “This isn’t how professionals do it.”

“I think the only professionals
you
know, Kinley, are the poor women unlucky enough to take your money for sex,” Davis says. He’s so blunt, so offhand about it, that we all kind of freeze up. For the first time this evening, a genuine smile appears on his face. “I would still like you on camera, Young.”

“Not happening. But you won’t regret your decision to have me return.” I wait a minute, and he nods.

“I was hoping you’d start hitting back. It’s what I like to see in a producer.” Davis laughs. “All right. You’re rehired. Kinley, you’re out.”

Tyler is spluttering, and continues to splutter as Davis hands him his drink. “Be useful for once, won’t you, and give this to a waiter. I’ve got to go visit the john.” Davis pats my shoulder, looking pleased, and heads off.

“What…what am I doing now?” Tyler asks. He looks down at the empty glass, then up at me, his eyes round with confusion. If it were anybody else, I’d have some compassion.

“Put your resume in at a few places. I’d say McDonald’s, but those people work too hard to put up with your bullshit,” Flint tells him, taking a step closer. The little asshole practically squeaks, and runs away into the crowd. Flint looks down at me, a huge smile on his face. “That felt good. I’ve never loved watching an ass get wiped so much in my life.” He’s quiet for a moment. “You sure about coming back to work?”

“Why not?” I shrug. “Heading back to Massachusetts for a few months will be all kinds of hectic, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Flint nods, cupping my cheek gently in his palm. I turn my face just enough to press my lips to his wrist and then notice the thoughtful expression crossing his face.

“Hey!” Charlotte walks over to us, beaming. “Did you two make up?”

“We did.” Flint smiles at her, a genuine, kind warmth in his face. But there’s no lust there; when I pay attention, I see it now. Charlotte looks between the two of us and breathes in relief.

“I’m sorry I stole him away from the premiere,” I tell her.

“When you stormed out, I told him to go. Ordered him, really.” Charlotte takes my hand. “I’m so sorry I gave you the wrong impression.”

I blush. “Look, this whole thing could’ve blown over a lot sooner if I’d used my big girl words and just freaking asked Flint what was going on. That mistake won’t happen again.”

She brightens. “Good. If you’re ever in New York, I hope you’ll visit. Paolo and I love taking people around town.” Damn, she’s kind and thoughtful as well as beautiful. I almost feel sorry for Flint, like he made a mistake. But when he slides his arm around my waist and kisses my cheek, eh, I’m not so worried.

“Get you a drink?” he asks.

“Love one.”

Charlotte leaves to go talk with Jessa and Ed, and Flint and I sidle away. We pick up a couple of martinis at the bar, bumping into an attractive woman with dark hair in a black cocktail dress. As it turns out, she just so happens to be a reporter for
LA Tattle,
covering the after party with her photographer.

“There you are! The actual stars of the show,” she says, sounding relieved. The camera flashes in our faces, but I don’t mind. I don’t think Flint does, either. “You both left so long ago, I was afraid I’d missed my chance. I’m Consuela Barnes. I’ve got just a few questions, Mr. McKay. What do you think the best part of filming this first season has been?” She adjusts her bra strap and hits play on a recorder. The photographer grabs another picture. This time, I manage not to make a weird face. I think.

“Best part of the job was meeting new people. And keeping my business afloat.”

It’s true; we did save the chain. I’d love to jump in the air and do a freeze frame victory cry, but this isn’t the 80s. Consuela nods and asks,

“So what’s next? I know this is only the first episode, but the response around town has been phenomenal. I’m assuming there’s a season two in your future. Am I right?”

“There
is
going to be a season two,” I chime in. “I’m producing again, though not starring this time. Thankfully.” Consuela laughs.

“Sounds good. And you, Flint? You’re staying on board the project?”

“Yes, if they agree to my demands.” He looks down at me. “As the producer, you’ll probably have a hand in it.”

“What do you need?” I ask, frowning. A lap dance? Because I can provide that. Handily.

“We have to relocate production to Los Angeles,” Flint says, never taking his gaze from mine. “I’m moving out here to be with Laurel.”

For a moment, I think my heart actually stops. At any rate, I’m speechless.

Consuela oohs and aahs and asks some more questions. The photographer continues to snap our pictures. As far as I’m concerned, no one else is here right now. I’m holding onto Flint’s hand so hard I think I’m actually losing circulation.

“Are you sure?” I ask Flint quietly, feeling my eyes filling with tears. Damn it, hold it together, nerd. There’s no crying in show business.

“Incredibly sure,” Flint says. So we give the paparazzi exactly what they want; a long, passionate kiss.

We look damn good on the front page.

36

Hard to believe it’s already summer, and we’re back in the Berkshires. Happy as I am that Flint’s moved into my condo with me, I know he doesn’t want to abandon this place completely. And I don’t want that, either. What can I say? Revolutionary War reenactments grow on you. We’re back at the diner with Callie, David, and the kids. I keep fidgeting with my engagement ring—not that I don’t love it, I’m just not used to wearing one yet. But I plan on getting very comfortable. Callie eyes it proudly.

“Did I tell you it used to belong to our mother?” she asks. I refrain from telling her she’s mentioned this eighty seven times. I have actually kept score on my phone. Instead, I smile.

“Oh really?” I bluff. “Tell me all about it.” Flint’s hand covers mine. He takes a sip of his coffee, smiling and waving at Lily who’s perched in David’s lap. David looks like he’s gotten some sun recently, and he’s a little more in shape. He and Callie share a happy look.

“I didn’t think I’d say this, but I am so glad Flint moved out to California,” Callie says, poking her brother’s arm. “We miss you, of course, but how else was I going to learn what a great manager I am?” She takes a bite of toast. “I was a drill sergeant in another life, I know it.”

“Well, it wouldn’t surprise me,” David says with an easy grin. “I love a dominant woman.” It turns out a lot of their relationship problems had to do with David stressing about money and Callie feeling cooped up. With her picking her own hours at the store, the kids are taken care of, she gets to work and see people, and David’s money concerns are eased. I’ve never seen either of them happier.

“Oh, check this out,” Callie says, handing me something. “Can you believe it? An actual postcard. When I found it in the mailbox, at first I thought it was a joke.”

The picture shows the giant Redwood forests up in northern California. On the back, I read Jessa’s loopy scrawl:

Am enjoying the blessed companionship of a masculine energy source. We now live in a camper and gaze at the stars each night. He would like to say that he sends his regards, and to mail him your schedule C forms for taxes.

Masculine energy source means Ed French. Apparently they fell hard for each other at the premiere party. Opposites attract, I suppose.

“We’ve got to run,” Flint tells his sister, giving her a kiss on the cheek and paying the check. “I want to show Laurel something.”

“Please nothing dirty, please nothing dirty,” Callie says, closing her eyes tight.

“Of course not,” he scoffs. “We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

“Tonight, though, it’s gonna get hot,” I tell Callie, giving her a hug. “I’ll text you during.” Flint and I walk out to the sounds of her fake vomiting. Ah, family.

We get into Flint’s truck and drive, rolling the windows down and blasting all the classic rock we want. We both miss Flint’s dog Chance, but he’s been living it up at Callie’s house with Lily and Callum. Maybe we’ll trade my condo for a house and Chance can move back in with us. Then again, maybe he won’t want to leave the twins.