Flynn is in the far corner of the room, chatting with Jessica. She’s leaning toward him, her hand pressed to his chest, fluttering her long thick eyelashes. He spots me the minute I enter and smiles, quickly excusing himself from the conversation.
Jessica turns to find the distraction that has lured Flynn’s attention away, and our eyes meet. If looks could kill.
“There you are.” Flynn kisses me on the cheek. “I was starting to wonder if you were coming back.” That makes two of us.
“I think some people might be happy if I didn’t.” I smile and discreetly tilt my head in Jessica’s direction.
“Well, certainly not me.” He takes both my hands and pulls back to look at me. “You look incredible. I guess you got to relax a bit on the break finally.”
“Umm. Yes. How was your break?” Feeling guilty already, I change the subject.
“Good. Except …” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “I missed you like crazy.”
“All right everyone, let’s get started,” Miles’s booming voice saves me from having to respond.
Everyone takes a seat around the table. Flynn chooses the seat next to me. So, naturally, Jessica saunters over and grabs the seat on the other side of him.
Miles steeples his fingers as he begins to speak in the front of the room, reminding me of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. I study his face while he speaks, looking for signs of Cooper in his profile and mannerisms. He’s nice looking, physically fit, there’s definitely a physical resemblance. But it’s the way he commands authority that is vastly different. His is through intimidation and fear, whereas people seem to defer to Cooper out of respect and admiration.
After a fifteen-minute lecture, Miles walks around the room, distributing two-inch-thick packets containing information on our shooting schedule for the next two weeks. He stops and makes small talk with some of the contestants as he hands out the binders.
“What a beautiful tan you have, Kate. It looks like you’ve already spent a week on a tropical island.”
I swallow the water I’m drinking down the wrong pipe and choke. “Umm … thank you.”
“You okay?” he asks, although I don’t find true concern on his face. Instead I could swear I see something sinister in his eyes. Here comes the paranoia I’d forgotten all about.
“You okay?” Flynn asks, with something different in his eyes than Miles—sincerity.
“I’m fine,” I wheeze, my eyes watering. Miles has already moved on and is busy talking to Jessica’s cleavage.
“If you need mouth-to-mouth, I got you covered,” Flynn whispers, adding a smile that reveals his killer dimples.
His playfulness, along with his flirtatious charm, actually puts me at ease a little bit. Flynn and I spend the next two hours alternating between playing tic-tac-toe and hangman as Miles spews his vision for the next segment of the show. I seriously could have summed up the two-hour lecture in less than thirty seconds. Flaunt it if you got it, kiss the bachelor frequently with lots of tongue, and the camera loves catfights.
We break for lunch and, surprisingly, I feel a lot better than when I came in this morning. I’d forgotten how at ease I feel around Flynn. He’s a great guy, he really is. If I weren’t crazy about Cooper, a relationship with Flynn wouldn’t be such a stretch. Even though he’s pretty much the polar opposite of Cooper. He’s free spirited and easygoing, where Cooper is intense and driven. Even his look is everything Cooper isn’t—tattooed, long hair, tattered jeans and tall and lanky. Couple the whole package with a voice that can make women from seven to seventy swoon, and it’s no wonder the women vie so heavily for time alone with the bachelor.
“Wanna grab a bite?” Flynn asks close behind me as I exit the door.
“Sure, but there’ll probably be a tack on my seat when I get back, courtesy of our castmates.”
“No worries. I’d be happy to sweep the seat to protect your delicate ass from damage.”
The afternoon session is even more painful than the morning. Miles spends the entire time coaching us on “how to seduce the camera.” Halfway through, Flynn and I decided we should start a little drinking game—where every time Miles says the word “intimate,” we’d drink. I stopped counting at sixteen, figuring I’d have alcohol poisoning by then anyway.
Toward the end of the day, Miles announces we will be having one more group date before we leave for Barbados the day after tomorrow. We’re all going to the Film Critics Awards Banquet. Flynn and the four contestants are going to announce the nominees and winner for best supporting actor.
Flynn and I are the last ones to leave. Outside, the parking lot is nearly empty, and he insists on waiting with me for Sadie, who, of course, is late picking me up. We kill the time laughing as he entertains me by singing a rhyme he made up to mock Miles’s coaching advice.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for making a waste-of-time day totally bearable,” I say to Flynn as Sadie finally pulls up.
“No problem. Anytime I can put a smile on that beautiful face isn’t a waste of time for me.” Flynn leans down to kiss my lips and it takes me a minute to realize what’s about to happen. Shit. We haven’t even been put in a private romantic situation yet. I panic, feeling silly for doing so when the kiss feels almost innocent, but I turn my head just in time as Flynn’s lips come down to find mine. Flynn catches the corner of my mouth. I, on the other hand, turn my head and catch the glare of Cooper Montgomery.
chapter thirty-two
Kate
I’m sorry. I shot off a text as soon as I buckled into Sadie’s car. I wasn’t surprised Cooper didn’t respond right away. But it’s hours later now and he’s still silent. I visualize the moment over and over in my head. The almost-kiss on the lips, turning my head to find Cooper standing right there—eyes tempered with hurt. His curt nod and rapid departure leave me feeling unsettled.
Anxiously, I check my phone every five minutes until the minutes turn into hours and it becomes painfully obvious I won’t be getting a response. I attempt to clear my head with a rare trip to the gym, followed by two glasses of wine. But all it does is blur my thoughts and leave me wondering if everything I was so sure would work out when we were in Barbados was even real.
Maybe if there would have been a scene I’d be able to sleep, but the unknown is killing me. I stare at the television, waiting for something to take my mind off what his lack of response means. It doesn’t work. Around one in the morning, my lack of self-control wins out and I shoot off another text. Can’t sleep. The bed is empty without you next to me.
My phone rings ten seconds later.
“Hey,” I answer, uncertain as to what to expect.
“It’s intolerable,” he says with a breath of frustration.
“Sleeping alone?”
“Seeing him touch you.”
A few seconds of silence pass as I internally debate how to respond.
“I’m sorry.”
“You looked happy.”
There’s an ache in my chest. “I am happy. You make me happy.”
“Then I should be the one on the receiving end of your smile.”
“You are.”
“I wasn’t this afternoon.”
There’s no way to get through this conversation without a few bumps and bruises. “He’s a nice guy. I like him … as a friend. Even if we weren’t in this situation, I have guy friends—ones I’d occasionally share a smile with.”
“Maybe. But I’d be able to wrap my arm around your waist and pull you close to me when I’m near you and see you sharing that smile with another man. I wouldn’t have to walk away like you didn’t belong to me.”
“I’m sorry.” And we’re back to where we started. I have no idea how to make him feel better. “I really only think of him as a friend.”