“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.
I’m the only real defense he’ll have.
“That I can promise,” I say slowly, letting the words sink in, and meaning them.
“Can you really?” he asks, his voice gruff.
“Normally, I’d say no.” Being honest usually works, and Flint nods warily. “But this time, this time I’ll make sure. It’s the one thing that will always stand. It goes on the top of the production notes for every episode: no making Flint look like a fool.” I almost lean my head against his shoulder, which is completely insane. But there’s something comforting about standing out in the crisp air, having a beer and talking. Just talking. But it’s not just that. It’s him. It’s so easy being with him.
“I trust you, Laurel,” he says. His voice has gone deep and soft.
“You do?” I shouldn’t sound so surprised; not great for instilling confidence. But Flint smiles.
“I saw you wrestling with telling me the truth. Then you did. You passed the test.” He clinks bottles with me.
“Well. I always did great on tests,” I say, weakly smiling.
“I’m sure,” he says, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingers warmly, tracing the edge of my ear, pinching the lobe between his fingers in a move that sends a hot shock straight between my legs. “Laurel.” His voice is low. I’m dizzy.
“Flint—” My breath catches in my throat, but he quickly pulls his hand back and turns away.
“Sorry,” he says, suddenly distant. “I didn’t mean to—”
The back door flings open, and Callie stands there with her hands on her hips.
“Do I need to come out here and get you—” She pauses, looks from her brother to me. A sly smile creeps onto her face. “What’s going on, kids?”
“Nothing.” Flint and I say it in unison, which isn’t weird at all. Meanwhile, my heart feels like it’s skidding around from the top floor to the bottom, squealing all the way.
“Well, come on inside. It’s dinnertime.” She turns and leaves, and Flint and I take up our beers and go, neither quite looking at the other.
The meal goes by way too quickly, and soon after the homemade apple crumble (with vegan caramel, courtesy of Jessa), I’m wrapping my rarely used scarf around my neck to head home.
“Sure you don’t need me to drive you?” Callie asks as she sees me to the door. I shake my head.
“The inn’s actually a ten minute walk away. One nice thing about not living in the back of beyond,” I say, playfully shooting a look at Flint, “is that you can just walk places.”
“Fancy that, a Los Angeles girl who likes to walk instead of drive. I think I’ve seen everything,” he returns. To my surprise, he grabs his jacket. “Come on. I can’t let a young woman walk home all by herself at night.”
“I have pepper spray on my keychain,” I say, my back going up just a little bit. I took two years of Krav Maga; I can look after myself.
“Pepper spray and bottle opener. You’re like a Swiss Army knife,” he says, sounding impressed.