Flipping His Script: A Loathing to Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  Something squeezed at my heart. She was right, but not in the way she thought. "If you mean me and Flynn," I said, "that's none of your business."

  She crossed her arms. "So, should I just wait for the press release?"

  "What press release?"

  "Didn't you know? With celebrities, there's usually a press release." In a mock newscaster voice, she said, "Flynn Archer and…" She paused. "…what's your name, again, sweetie?"

  As if she didn't know. I gave her my snottiest smile. "Waffle Waitress."

  Her eyebrows furrowed. "Excuse me?"

  "First name – Waffle. Last name – Waitress."

  "Oh," she said with a little laugh. "Was that a joke?"

  Was it? By now, I wasn't so sure. Still, I said, "That's 'Waffle' with two f's, by the way."

  With a sound of annoyance, she said, "I know how to spell waffle."

  "Good. Then you're all set." By now, I was beyond ready to leave. But she was still leaning against the driver's side door, effectively blocking my path. I gave the door a pointed look. "Well, this has been lovely and all, but you need to move."

  She blinked. "What?"

  "Your ass is on my door."

  At this, her smirk returned with a vengeance. "But it's not your door, is it?"

  She was right. It was Flynn's door, which was part of Flynn's car, which belonged in his garage, which was attached to his house, where I was currently living. Cripes, even my clothes weren't my own.

  When I made no reply, she added, "Don't worry. If you're really lucky, you'll get to keep it when he's done with you." She leaned closer and said, "Because sooner or later, he will be done with you. You can bank on that."

  I forced a smirk of my own. "And if you're really lucky, I won't squash you when I leave."

  Her smirk disappeared. "What do you mean?"

  Without waiting for her reply, I turned and strode around the front of the car, heading toward the passenger's side. I yanked open the passenger's side door and climbed in. From there, I crawled over the center console and finally into the driver's seat.

  By now, she'd stepped away from the car and was glaring at me through the driver's side window. She didn't say anything, but her expression said it all. That's cheating.

  I lifted my hand and flipped her the bird. Cheat this. With my middle finger still extended, I fired up the engine and pulled away, leaving her standing in the same spot, looking decidedly disgruntled.

  Funny, I knew the feeling.

  When I returned to Flynn's, he was nowhere in sight.

  Good. I didn't want to see him, anyway. And apparently, he didn't want to see me either. At least we agreed on something.

  After leaving him a note on the refrigerator, I trudged up to my room feeling like the day had slipped me silly. In reality, it hadn't been that bad. After all, I'd had plenty worse.

  I let out a long, exhausted breath. Probably, I'd have plenty worse in my future, too.

  Plagued by that cheery thought, I spent the next few hours trying to read before I gave up and crawled into bed, where I fell into a fitful sleep, thinking of Gordon and Flynn, and even that obnoxious reporter.

  At that moment, I swear I hated them all. Unfortunately, there was no escaping them, not even in my dreams.

  Chapter 58

  Flynn

  I bolted upright in the bed. Someone was screaming. Anna.

  I threw off the covers and was halfway down the hall before she screamed again. She was in her room.

  Shit. Was someone in there?

  I hollered through the door. "Anna, you okay?"

  The only answer was a low whimper. I tried the knob. Fuck. It was locked. I rattled it harder. "Anna! You all right?"

  No response.

  I hauled back and slammed my shoulder against the door. It didn't budge. With a frantic curse, I stepped back and gave it a good, hard kick. The door flew open and slammed against the nearby wall.

  Through the filtered moonlight, I saw Anna, tossing back and forth in her single bed.

  Alone.

  Thank God.

  When she gave another whimper, I didn't stop to think. I bolted forward and loomed over the bed. I reached out and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Anna! Wake up!"

  She screamed again, and her eyes flew open, only to cloud with obvious confusion. "What?"

  "Shhhh…It's just me."

  She sucked in a ragged breath, and her gaze bounced around the room as if looking for monsters in the shadows. Her hair was rumpled and her face was wet.

  She'd been crying.

  She gave a choked sob that tore my heart in two.

  I didn't stop to think. I gathered her against my chest. "Baby, it's okay. It was just a dream."

  She clutched me like her life depended on it but said nothing as I rocked her gently in my arms, trying to soothe the nightmare away.

  She was wearing a thin, oversized T-shirt, and not much else. Her skin felt damp and cold against my bare chest, and I hugged her tighter, hoping the warmth of my body would seep into hers.

  We remained like that for a long moment, with me sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her close in my arms.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was a hoarse whisper, "I guess I woke you, huh?"

  "Me? Nah."

  She gave a trembling laugh. "Liar."

  Yeah. I was. I'd been sleeping, but not for long.

  Now it was the middle of the night, and I was holding Anna, the girl who'd been haunting my thoughts all day – and the day before that, and so on. It wasn't the first time I'd held her. And I found myself praying that it wouldn't be the last.

  She felt right in my arms, like she'd belonged there from the start, and I tried to ignore the feelings that I shouldn't be having. They weren't part of the deal.

  And damn it. I wasn't that kind of guy – the one who'd put the moves on a girl in her bedroom just because she'd had a nightmare – and because she was the sweetest thing I'd ever held.

  I waited for her to pull away. And when she didn't, I smiled against her hair. "I got your note."

  "Oh. Yeah." With a shaky laugh, she said, "I hope you called the police."

  I nodded against her. "They'll be here any minute."

  Anna's note had been the last thing I'd seen before coming upstairs to bed. She'd taped it to the fridge, where I wouldn't miss it.

  Dear Flynn: Bad news. Someone stole your waffle maker. And all the waffle mix. You should call the police ASAP. Trust me. They'll want to know.

  P.S. I fear the toaster may be next.

  I smiled in the darkness and not only because of the note. Her hair was soft, and her body was tight and sweet. I wanted to get closer, to make her whimper with something other than fear.

  As far as the screaming, hey I could fix that, too.

  I could replace all of the bad stuff with the good. I could make her forget the dream and whatever was bothering her. Hell, if I wanted, I could make her forget her own name.

  Cocky? Maybe. But that didn't make it untrue.

  Now Anna was saying, "Well, that's good. I mean, you can't be too careful, huh?" As she said it, she burrowed closer into my arms and leaned her head against my shoulder.

  I replied, "You're telling me."

  In a sleepy voice, she asked, "What do you mean?"

  My lips brushed her ear. "I'm being careful now."

  Her breath hitched, and she was quiet for a long moment before she said, "Flynn?"

  "Yeah?"

  "You need to leave."

  I froze. "What?"

  "Seriously, you need to go." As she said it, she softly pushed me away, breaking the contact between us.

  I moved back, giving her some room. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  It was an obvious lie. And now, I was torn. If she didn't want me here, it wasn't my place to stay. But the thought of leaving her alone when she was still upset – well, that didn't seem right either.

  I studied her face. "About your dream, do you want
to talk about it?"

  With a little frown, she shook her head.

  She looked so small and forlorn that I couldn’t let it go. "If you want, we could get dressed and talk downstairs."

  Her gaze drifted the door, the one I'd just busted through. She bit her lip. "I guess I owe you a new door, huh?"

  "Fuck the door," I said. "I broke it, not you." Deliberately, I softened my tone. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

  As I said it, I wanted to reach for her hand, or better yet, gather her once again in my arms. But all I could do was ask, "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "Oh yeah. Definitely." She tried to smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

  It was an obvious dismissal, a nice way of telling me to get the fuck out of her bedroom. I didn't want to leave her, not like this. But I didn't have any right to push the issue beyond a certain point.

  I wasn't her boyfriend.

  I was her employer.

  And I didn't like it.

  Chapter 59

  Anna

  The next morning, I woke tired and confused. When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was the shattered door and empty doorway.

  Memories of last night came flooding back, ending with Flynn holding me tight against his bare chest.

  In my bed.

  And I'd liked it.

  Too much, in fact.

  It was the reason that I'd made him leave. I'd had to.

  Like a total idiot, I'd been like two seconds away from repeating the horrible mistake I'd made in his back seat.

  Regardless of how I felt, or how tender he'd seemed at the time, I couldn’t let that happen. Not then. Not ever.

  I grabbed my phone and checked the time. It was just past eight o'clock.

  In a sudden hurry, I jumped out of bed, showered, and dressed as quickly as I could. And then, I left the house, taking the same car I always used.

  I needed some time to think, away from everyone and everything.

  Technically, Flynn was my employer, which meant that I was playing hooky, taking a day off that was unauthorized and unplanned.

  But today, I couldn’t bring myself to care. If he fired me, well, that was his prerogative, wasn't it?

  At noon, I received a text from him, asking me where I was and if I was okay. I replied only that I was fine and that I'd be back later on.

  And then, I'd turned off my phone, not wanting any distractions as I tried to push thoughts of Flynn and everything else out of my mind.

  I failed miserably.

  I spent most of the day in the car, driving around the countryside, going nowhere in particular. I picked up lunch from a drive-through and skipped dinner entirely.

  I didn't return until nearly ten o'clock that night. When I walked in through the front door, Flynn was standing there, waiting, looking troubled and wary, like he expected me to flip out or something.

  But didn't he know? I wasn't like that. Well, not usually anyway. I greeted him as nonchalantly as I could and turned toward the kitchen in search of pie or hot chocolate.

  Comfort food – I desperately needed it.

  I was just opening the fridge when, from behind me, he said in a quiet voice, "Do you want to talk about it?"

  With my hand still on the fridge handle, I turned to look. "About what?"

  His gaze probed mine. "You were gone all day."

  "Yeah, well, maybe I needed a day off. Is that a problem?"

  "No."

  "Good." I turned back to the fridge. "I wish we had pie."

  "If you want, I'll get you some."

  Was he joking? From the tone of his voice, I couldn’t tell. But it didn't matter. Glancing over my shoulder, I pointed out the obvious. "Actually, I’m pretty sure everything's closed."

  "So I'll get them to open it."

  "Open what?" I asked.

  "The bakery or whatever."

  This wasn't as ridiculous as it sounded. For him, people probably would be willing to do such a thing. And knowing Flynn, he'd make it worth their while. As for me, I didn't want any part of it.

  With a sigh, I shut the fridge and asked, "Do you care if I go to bed?"

  He frowned. "You don’t need my permission."

  I forced a laugh. "Well, that's good. So I guess you're not gonna dock me a day's pay, huh?"

  "For what?"

  "For playing hooky." At his perplexed look, I added, "You know, because I'm supposed to be working." I forced another laugh. "As the love of your life?"

  Damn it. I hadn't meant to put it that way. And now, his gaze was way too serious for my liking.

  He replied, "I'm not 'docking' you anything."

  "Oh. Well that's good." And with that, I turned to leave.

  "Anna."

  I turned back. "What?"

  "Tell me."

  "Tell you what?"

  "About your dream."

  By now, that stupid dream was the least of my worries. "It was nothing," I said. "Just a stupid nightmare, that's all."

  His gaze darkened. "Tell me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I want to know."

  I tried not to sigh. It was nice that he wanted to know. Really it was. But didn't he get it? This was a two-way street. Finally, I gave a useless shrug. "Yeah, well, maybe there's things I want to know, too."

  "Like what?"

  I almost rolled my eyes. "Like why you needed a fake girlfriend in first place." I had, after all, been asking this very same question for weeks now.

  After a long moment, he replied, "All right."

  I almost did a double-take. "What does that mean?"

  "It means, I'll tell you if you tell me."

  The offer caught me off-guard. "Seriously?"

  He nodded. "If that's what you want to know."

  I did. But as far as sharing my own secrets? I wasn't liking that nearly as much. Already, I'd given him far too much of my heart, even if that had never been my intention.

  I was still thinking when he said, "But you've got to go first."

  "Why me?"

  "I've got my reasons."

  It was a typical Flynn answer, and I was tempted to tell him to shove it. But damn it, I was curious. And for all I knew, this might be my only chance.

  So with a reluctant nod, I wandered to the kitchen table and sank down onto the nearest chair. When Flynn pulled out a chair of his own and sat across from me, I said, "Okay. My dream…it was about Gordon."

  Chapter 60

  Anna

  Across from me, Flynn grew very still. "Gordon who?"

  Talk about awkward. Still, I couldn’t exactly avoid it. "You know. Gordon Burke, the guy who owned the gas station where you worked in high school."

  "You mean your dad?"

  "No." I gave a decisive shake of my head. "He's not."

  "What do you mean?"

  "He's married to my mom. That's it."

  "So he's your stepdad?"

  A bitter scoff escaped my lips. "I guess."

  "But you have the same last name."

  "Hey, it wasn't my idea," I said. "I wanted to keep the last name I was born with." My tone grew wistful. "Sanderson. That was my real dad's name, my name, too, back when I was a kid in Wyoming."

  His eyebrows furrowed. "But I thought this was your hometown."

  "It is," I said. "I mean, we moved here when I was pretty young, so yeah, I consider this home."

  "When you moved, how young were you?'

  "Seven, just starting grade school."

  "So why'd you move here?" he asked.

  "Because that's where Gordon was." At Flynn's perplexed expression, I added, "He and my mom met through a dating service just a few months after my dad died. But Gordon was here, and we were there, so…" I shrugged. "You can probably guess the rest."

  Flynn studied my face. "So you moved."

  "Yup. Right after the wedding. I mean, Gordon wasn't gonna move. This was his kingdom, you know?" At a sudden recollection, my stomach lurched. "Funny to think he'll be ba
ck."

  Flynn shook his head. "I’m not following."

  "I mean he's up for parole in just a few weeks." I sighed. "Unfortunately."

  "What, you don't like him?"

  "Hell no."

  Flynn's voice grew very quiet. "Why not?"

  "He's just, well…." I forced a weak laugh. "I shouldn't have to tell you of all people. I mean, you don't like him either, right?"

  "Yeah, but I'm not his daughter."

  I stiffened. "Step-daughter. And even that, I should've changed a long time ago."

  "How so?"

  "I don't know," I admitted. "I guess, I could've at least changed my name back to the original." At the thought of my real dad, I blinked away unshed tears. "But that's not important…"

  "It is to me."

  It was such a sweet thing to say, and at that moment, I almost believed him. "Thanks."

  "So tell me," he said. "What was the dream?"

  I gave a useless shrug. "Just an old one. I used to have it all the time."

  "Tell me," he repeated.

  "It's nothing big." I glanced away. "He was chasing me, that's all."

  An edge crept into his voice. "Chasing you how?"

  I gave another shrug. "You know, the way people chase people sometimes, like in the movies." Yeah. Horror movies.

  Still, even as I said it, it struck me as stupidly funny that Flynn truly was in the movies, where he'd chased plenty of people, usually to their doom.

  From across the table, he reached out and gripped my arm. "Did he ever hurt you?"

  "No."

  His grip tightened. "Are you sure?"

  I tugged at my arm. "Actually, he didn't quite have the grip you do."

  Instantly, Flynn let go. "Shit, Anna, I'm sorry. I didn't realize–"

  "I know. But to answer your question, yes, I'm sure. He never touched me, but there were times, I swear, he wanted to. In high school, he kept talking about me 'blossoming' and stuff like that. And get this. One time, I found a nanny cam in my bedroom."

  Flynn's expression darkened. "What?"

  I tried to laugh. "Yeah. Crazy, huh?"

  Across from me, Flynn wasn't laughing. "You ever tell your mom?"

  "Oh yeah. She thought I was totally paranoid. She said I should feel 'lucky' that he'd taken such an interest in me and Becka."

  At this, I felt a surge of that old rage and hopelessness. If Gordon had taken any further interest in Becka, I would've done something. I didn't know what, but I did know that I was insanely glad it had been me who'd "blossomed" first.