Flipping His Script: A Loathing to Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  As far as tonight, I was surprised that we were dining out at all. Less than twenty-four hours had passed since that ugly incident at the gate, and today's news coverage had been nonstop and brutal, to me in particular.

  It hadn't been much kinder to Flynn, who'd come across as a world-class cad, watching Felicity sob outside his gate.

  As for myself, I was officially branded a homewrecker, even though Flynn and Felicity had never been married – and more importantly, they'd been broken up weeks before I'd appeared on the scene.

  But hey, I had a role to play, right? I glanced toward the car's digital clock. "What time are the reservations for?"

  "Seven-thirty."

  The current time was 7:15. I bit my lip as I smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles in my little red dress. If we walked into the restaurant now, we'd have fifteen whole minutes in a crowd of people who may or may not loathe me for "stealing" Flynn.

  It didn't help that according to the rumor mill, Felicity Saint Cloud had checked herself into a mental health clinic just this morning.

  Flynn said, "If you want, we can wait in the car."

  I smiled with relief. "Actually, if you don't mind, that would be great."

  Crowd or no crowd, the truth was, I could use a little relaxation time. Today had been a flurry of activity, and not all of it good. Oh sure, I'd enjoyed having cake with Randy. And the more I got to know Jack, the more I'd come to actually like him.

  Still, it was nice to be alone.

  And yet, I wasn't alone.

  I was with Flynn.

  In spite of everything, it felt surprisingly right. At the realization, something squeezed at my heart. Could it be right if it wasn't real?

  Flynn asked, "What is it?"

  Once again, I turned to face him. "What's what?"

  "Just now, what were you thinking?"

  Today at the house, I'd encountered Flynn only in passing as we dealt separately with the fallout from last night's events. For me, this had mostly involved answering phone calls from nearly everyone I knew.

  What Flynn had been doing, I could only speculate. But it wasn't hard to imagine that his day had been even more hectic than mine.

  And yet, the few times I had seen him, he'd said things that made me wonder if he was planning to end our arrangement early. It wasn't anything he'd said outright, just little hints about making some changes and starting over.

  Without me?

  It wouldn’t be a huge surprise, given how badly my performance last night had turned out.

  As these thoughts swirled through my head, I realized that I still hadn't answered his question about what I'd been thinking.

  Jeez, where to begin?

  To think, we hadn't even discussed yesterday's awful encounter with Mackenzie, much less anything that had happened afterwards.

  In the end, I decided to go in chronological order. "The thing is, I need a favor." I glanced toward the restaurant. "If we run into anyone I know, could we please not say that I'm not going back to the waffle place?"

  "Why not?"

  "I'm just trying to minimize any drama later on, you know?"

  His gaze grew troubled. "With Mackenzie?"

  "With anyone." Fumbling for the words, I tried to explain. "It's like if you tell the whole world that you're having a giant birthday party with a hundred people, but only one person shows up, you look like a total idiot. But if you don't say anything at all, you can actually have a pretty nice time with just the one person."

  "Anna—"

  "I know. It doesn't make sense. I'm just saying, it's a lot better that way, when the party's over."

  Was my party over?

  Probably.

  And now, there was something else I needed to tell him "By the way, I should've said it sooner, but I'm sorry for flipping out yesterday."

  "Don't be."

  "But I am." I tried to laugh. "Especially after you stopped me from playing in traffic."

  "Forget that," he said. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

  "For what?"

  He shoved a hand through his hair. "Shit, where to begin?"

  At some of the better memories, I couldn’t help but smile. "You weren't always so bad."

  "That's what you think."

  "But back to the job thing," I said, "I overreacted. I know that. It's just that things have been kind of rough, you know?"

  His eyes filled with pity. "Anna—"

  "I'm not asking for sympathy," I clarified. "I'm just saying that's why I acted like I did, and—"

  "Anna," he repeated.

  "What?"

  "The thing with Mackenzie, forget it, all right? You're done with all that."

  If only that were true. "I am not."

  "Yes," he said. "You are."

  Obviously, he wasn't getting it. "That's what you think."

  "It's what I know," he said.

  That was so easy for him to say. What did he think? That he'd be able to bully or bribe Mackenzie to leave me alone?

  Or was he simply convinced that with the bonus money, I wouldn't need to sling waffles anymore? Maybe I wouldn't. But I'd still be working somewhere.

  I didn't mind. It was part of life. But I would mind if he kept telling people otherwise. In the end, I'd look like a fool – as if I didn't already.

  But I didn't have time to further explain. Already, it was 7:27. I pointed to the digital clock. "I guess we'd better get going, huh?"

  "Fuck that," he said. "They'll wait."

  I didn't want to make anyone wait. We were here. We had reservations. And whatever was going to happen would happen regardless of how I felt.

  Suddenly, I just wanted to get on with it already. I pushed open my door and said, "Showtime, huh?"

  Chapter 77

  Flynn

  Showtime? What the hell did that mean? Didn't she get it? I didn't ask her out to put on a show. I'd asked her out for real.

  I gave myself a mental kick in the ass. But of course she thought otherwise. Why wouldn’t she? It's not like I'd told her that our deal was over.

  But it was.

  I was done. And wanted her to be done, too. No more faking. No more acting out for the cameras. No more saying one thing and meaning another.

  I'd been planning to tell her over dinner – or maybe afterward – when the time was right, when we had some distance from yesterday's shit-show, when she was relaxed and smiling.

  Dumb-ass.

  Not her. Me.

  Why would she be relaxed? To her, this was work. But to me, it was something else entirely. "Wait," I said.

  With her car door still open, Anna turned in her seat to face me. "For what?"

  "Shut your door."

  She frowned. "But—"

  "We won't be late, I promise."

  With obvious reluctance, she quietly shut her car door and sat staring straight ahead as if waiting for me to chew her out. The sight was like a punch to the gut. Had I really been that big of a jackass?

  The answer came hard and fast. Yes. I had.

  Shit.

  I thought of all the grief I'd given her over the past few months. All the digs. All the shitty little things I'd done to make her time with me more unpleasant than it had to be.

  You dick.

  Even that ugly-ass pink bedroom. It was no coincidence that it matched her work uniform.

  When it came to Anna, I'd royally screwed up.

  I'd spent the last week trying to make things right, looking to show her that I wasn't always a rude, obnoxious prick. The way it looked now, I hadn't done nearly enough.

  But there was still time.

  I told her, "Don't move."

  Without waiting for a reply, I exited the car and circled around the front of the vehicle to the passenger's side. I opened Anna's door and waited while she got out, looking confused and unsettled.

  By the end of the night, I vowed, she wouldn't be unsettled anymore. As far as the confusion, hey, welcome to the club. This was new
ground for me, too.

  I wrapped a protective arm over her shoulders and teased, "Don't worry. I promise to be on my best behavior."

  "Oh." She gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah. Me, too."

  And she was. In fact, she was almost too polite as we claimed our table and started with drinks – wine for her and beer for me. When the waiter offered us bread, she declined it entirely and glanced around as if looking for enemies in disguise.

  Or maybe she just didn't like that everyone was staring. By now, I was used to it. Until yesterday, she'd seemed to be noticing it less, too.

  But not anymore.

  As she sipped at her wine, her eyes roamed and her attention wavered. She wasn't having fun. That much was obvious.

  I reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. "Do you wanna go?"

  She gave a little jerk. "What?"

  I lowered my voice. "Anna, listen. There's something I wanna say, but I don't want to start now if you're not up for it."

  She bit her lip. "I bet I can guess what it is."

  "What?"

  "You're mad about last night."

  I frowned. "Last night? Why would I be mad?"

  She leaned across the table and whispered, "Well, I thought you'd want me to come out and make a scene, like a jealous girlfriend." She winced. "But then when I saw the coverage, it didn't turn out so great."

  I knew what she meant. Last night, Felicity had cursed up a storm. And yet, that footage had gotten only minor play while the other stuff, the footage of Felicity crying while I looked on, as if I didn't give a shit – which in truth, I hadn't – had gotten plenty of coverage.

  And then, there'd been the bit of Anna trying to lure me back into the house – that had gotten of plenty of play.

  But none of that mattered, and the worry in Anna's eyes bothered the piss out of me.

  "Forget it," I said. "You were great."

  "Oh, please. I was awful, and you know it."

  As far as acting, yeah, Anna wasn't the best. But I didn’t want an actress. I wanted someone real, someone who was genuine in every way that counted. "Listen, I owe you, okay?"

  And I wasn't talking about last night.

  Later on, we could discuss what I'd learned from Felicity. But this wasn't the time or the place, especially with Anna so off-kilter. I told her, "So the next time you want a favor, just name it, all right?”

  Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "But why would you owe me a favor?"

  "Hey, you went above and beyond."

  She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, in making a fool of myself."

  Maybe. She'd been so fucking adorable, I could hardly stand it. What the hell had she called me?

  Honey bun?

  At the memory, I had to smile. "Hey, the cameras loved you." As that word left my lips – love – I froze in my seat. The cameras didn't love her. But I did.

  I'd suspected this for nearly a week, maybe longer. But now, I couldn’t deny it, even to myself.

  Holy fuck.

  I was in love.

  With Anna Burke.

  "Actually," Anna said, "I’m pretty sure the cameras thought I was crazy."

  If she meant anyone who saw the footage, she might be right. But they didn't know her like I did.

  Hell, until recently, even I didn't know her. As I sat there, staring at the girl who'd turned out to be the opposite of everything I thought I knew, a slow anger built deep in my gut.

  That fucker.

  Chapter 78

  Flynn

  It was over a decade ago, but not so long that I couldn’t remember exactly how it went down.

  In the jailhouse interview room, the guy in the slick business suit said, "Do you know who I am?"

  He was short and soft with thick gray hair and sharp beady eyes. But he had clout, and plenty of it. Suit or no suit, I could tell by the way he'd just swaggered in like he owned the place.

  Yeah, well, if he wanted to own the county jail, the guy was more messed up than I was.

  As far as his question, all I knew was that he'd arrived out of the blue with my so-called lawyer, the useless jackass who stood a few feet away scrolling through his cell phone.

  I'd been arrested hours ago, and the guy had been no help. Thanks for the service, buddy.

  Now I stared up at the stranger, who was making a point to loom over me while I sat in the same wooden chair that I'd been occupying all day. I'd always been a smart-ass and saw no reason to stop now. I mean, I was fucked already. What was a little more?

  I gave him my favorite shit-eating grin. "No. Do you know who I am?"

  His eyes narrowed. "Yeah. You're John Archer, the guy who was messing with my daughter."

  I kept grinning, but inside, all I could think was, shit, I should've known.

  Putting two and two together, I recalled the guy's name, Gordon Burke. Bad luck for me. He owned the gas station where I worked. Rumor had it, he owned half the town. Maybe I should've recognized him right off, but hey, it's not like his picture was hanging on the gas station wall.

  When I said nothing, he loomed closer to announce, "And you're in big trouble."

  He was right. I was, which sucked balls, because for once in my life, I hadn't done a damn thing to deserve it. In fact, I'd spent the last two years going for a turnaround, with better grades and not so much time in detention.

  The way it looked, I shouldn't've bothered.

  I said, "You forgot to say 'Mister.'"

  He frowned. "What?"

  Doing my best TV dad impression, I said, "You're in big trouble, mister." With a scoff, I added, "If you're gonna say it, you should say it right, dipshit."

  His fists clenched, and his nostrils flared. He looked ready to haul back and smack me. If so, I was ready. Bring it on, fuckwad.

  But he didn't. Instead, he stepped back and smiled. "You know, you don't stink half as bad as she said."

  I stiffened. She. He had to mean his precious daughter. I recalled the sight of Anna Burke last night, hunkered down beside the road. There'd been a moment when the breeze had hit me just right and I'd caught her scent. It was flowery and nice. Clean, too.

  I gave a silent scoff. Yeah well, she could afford to smell nice, since she didn't have this thing called a job.

  Little rich girl. Probably, she'd never work a day in her life, not with daddy's money and her nose so far in the air, it was a miracle she didn't drown when it rained.

  As for myself, yeah, I sometimes stunk of gas. But so what? I thought of my jacket, the one I'd loaned to Anna just last night. She'd been nice enough when I'd given it to her. But not for long, huh? It was easy to guess why. She hadn't wanted to be tainted by the jacket's smell or the guy who'd been wearing it.

  Still, I forced another grin. "And how is little Anna Fucking Burke?"

  The guy's face reddened. "Hey, that's my daughter you're talking about."

  From somewhere the near the door, the sound of throat clearing made us look. The lawyer stepped forward and said, "Maybe we should turn the conversation to something more productive?"

  Productive, my ass.

  Together, they offered me a deal. I'd simply plead guilty to selling alcohol to a minor, and in return, I'd be given a slap on the wrist and sent on my merry way. All I had to do was promise to have nothing to do with Anna Burke ever again.

  As if I'd want to.

  Like a dumb-ass, I jumped on the deal faster than you could say, "Get me the hell out of here."

  On his way out, her dad turned back to say, "You're lucky you took the deal. And you wanna know why?"

  When my only reply was a loose shrug, he said, "If you weren't pleading guilty to this, you'd be facing charges substantially worse."

  And someday, you'll be facing a fist to your face – or worse. But I didn't say it, because I wasn't so dumb that I'd push the issue now, when I was on the verge of putting this whole clusterfuck behind me.

  When I said nothing in response, he kept on talking. "'What kind of charges?' you ask." He shrug
ged. "Kidnapping, maybe statutory rape, and that's just for starters. So count yourself lucky."

  Lucky, my ass. My jaw clenched as I stared at him, wondering what the fuck Anna had claimed. Rape? Shit, I'd barely touched her. Come to think of it, I hadn't touched her at all.

  I couldn’t stop myself from saying, "That's a lie and you know it."

  "Not according to Anna. And just so you know, this little deal? It's a favor to her, not you." He shook his head. "She's been through enough already."

  And with that, he left.

  I spent a few more hours in that shitty little room, contemplating everything he'd said. It wasn't hard to figure out what had happened. Obviously, Anna had been with someone last night.

  And when things had gone south, she'd pointed that manicured finger of hers straight at who? Me.

  But it wasn't until everything played out over the next few days that I realized how truly screwed I was.

  Instead of a slap on the wrist, I received nearly a year in juvie and no time off for good behavior – not that I'd been one to behave anyway.

  As far as Anna Burke, I decided right then and there, I was going to get her for this – and her father, too, while I was at it.

  And I had.

  When Anna knew the full story, would she hate me like I'd hated her? Not if I could help it.

  Now in the restaurant, as I studied her from across the table, I had to wonder how things might've played out differently, if only that fucker hadn't done what he did.

  What would've happened between me and Anna?

  Nothing?

  Or everything?

  But that wasn't the question, was it?

  The real question was, what would happen now?

  Chapter 79

  Anna

  Whatever he was thinking, it was making me nervous. Ever since Flynn and I had walked into the restaurant, he'd been all over the place – relaxed one minute and angry the next.

  Oh, it's not like he'd directed any of that anger at me. In fact, he'd been scarily polite, thoughtful even. But now I could literally feel the anger, coming off him in dangerous waves as I sipped nervously at my wine.

  Something was definitely going on.

  And whatever it was, it couldn’t be good, not for me, anyway.