Page 39 of The Fling (Close Quarters 2)

Would that be the worst thing in the world?

At this point, I’m really not sure.

About an hour later, I’m sitting on the couch with Drew and she’s fast asleep. After our talk, she took a shower and I made us eggs for breakfast. Then we decided to chill on the couch and watch a movie. She barely made it past the opening sequence. Now she’s hugging a throw cushion and has her face mushed into the soft fabric. Her hair—that glorious, glorious hair—is like a tangled blond cloud around her body. She refused to give up my white shirt and damn if it doesn’t look delectable on her. She’s on her side, feet in my lap, and her glittery black toenail polish catches my attention.

We barely slept last night, because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. This insatiable desire is new. I’m cool with women—always keeping the upper hand and making sure I get what I want. Only nobody wants to commit to anything these days.

Yeah, yeah. Call me old-fashioned. And while you’re at it, get off my lawn.

I reach for the remote and pause the movie before scooping Drew into my arms. She stirs, her eyes creaking open for a second but drooping back down almost immediately. She’s exhausted. Wrung out from the emotional argument with her twin sister.

I take her to my bedroom and place her on the mattress. I hadn’t even made the bed yet, so the covers are a mess and I pull them up over her. She burrows in deep, wrapping herself up like a sexy blond burrito.

Shaking my head, a big goofy smile on my lips, I walk back out to the main area of my apartment and shut the door quietly. That’s when I hear someone outside.

“Drew?”Knock, knock, knock.“I know you’re in there.”

The woman, who I can only assume is Presley, isn’t knocking on my door. Shit. I donotwant to get involved in another family’s arguments. I spoke the truth when I said I would have the same conversation with my sister-in-law if I went back in time, but that doesn’t mean I want to break Drew’s family up, too.

But the knocking continues. Stifling a groan, I head to my front door and yank it open. Presley is in the hallway, her head resting against Drew’s front door.

“She’s not in there,” I say.

Her head snaps toward me, her expression morphing from sad to angry to confused. “Flynn?”

“Yeah, your sister and I are neighbours. Weird coincidence.” I shrug. I’m not sure whether I should tell her Drew is at my place. Our being together—in whatever impossible-to-label thing this is—is supposed to be secret.

Presley looks confused, but she shakes her head in a way that’s just like Drew. It’s striking how similar they look, even though their vibe is totally different. Presley’s in a neat pair of blue jeans and a baby pink jumper with ballet flats and a beige trench coat draped over one arm. She’s beautiful, obviously, but in a totally restrained, utterly controlled kind of way.

Nothinglike the wild, antagonistic sexiness of Drew.

“What happened to you two last night? You both disappeared and then I called Drew this morning and...” Presley’s face crumples. “Oh, God, this is turning into a huge mess. We both said terrible things and then I hung up on her and now I feel sick.”

“I brought Drew home last night. She was pretty upset.” I’m choosing my words very carefully. “And I suggested that staying at the party in her costume might make things worse.”

“Probably. Mike is so angry.” Presley sighs. Darkness rings her eyes, and I bet she and my cousin argued well into the night. “He always thinks Drew is trying to steal the spotlight from me. But it’s not true...she’d need to bearoundfor more than five seconds to do that.”

I consider whether I should go and fetch Drew from my bed, but my gut tells me that’s a bad idea. “What do you mean?”

“She’s a nomad, my sister. Flits from one place to the next, always packing her bags and running away from commitment of any kind.” Presley shakes her head. “Every time she moves back home it’s only temporary, and she usually leaves earlier than planned. I love her so much, but we’re very different, I guess. She’s allergic to putting down roots. I don’t think she’s ever held a relationship for longer than a few months and shealwaysleaves first. Even when it comes to her family. She never stays. I know I shouldn’t say that, but I just... I really miss her.”

The words are a cold fist around my heart. A timely reminder ofwhyI can’t let Drew get into my head—I’ve seen one too many free spirits crush those around them with their flightiness and their inability to commit. And I’m Mr. Commitment. I’m committed to my work, to my brother and my niece. To making a difference.

“Why don’t I walk you downstairs?” I reach inside the doorway to where a pair of my sneakers sit and I scuff my feet into them. Then I shove my keys and phone into my pocket. “When I see Drew next I’ll tell her you came by.”

If I fall for a woman like Drew, I’m at risk of repeating the mistakes of my father and brother. And what if I ever introduced her to Zoe...and then she left? I can’t have that.

Which means, no matter how drawn I am to Drew, I can’t let her get too close. I won’t.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Drew

FLYNNSUREDOESrun hot and cold. After he consoled me on Sunday morning, I woke up in his bed, the scent of him on my skin, and yet the man was nowhere to be found. He totally ghosted me.

There was a text on my phone in Flynn’s usual spare tone:

Sorry. Had to go to the office.

---