Rules of Contact

  Either way, she'd been honest when she'd told them she was happy right where she was. Here at Ninety-Two. In San Francisco. With Flynn.

  Speaking of Flynn, she really wanted to find him to tell him about Blaine's offer. He'd probably laugh. Her on television? She couldn't even imagine it.

  She found Ken, who was closing out for the night.

  "Hey, Ken."

  Ken turned to her and grinned. "Great night, right?"

  She smiled back at him. "It did turn out well. Have you seen Flynn?"

  "Oh, he left. Said he had something he needed to do."

  She frowned. "He left?"

  "Yeah, about twenty minutes ago. But he was really happy about tonight. He said it went well."

  "I see. Okay. Great. Thanks, Ken."

  She went back into the kitchen and finished cleanup with her crew, then grabbed her keys and went to her car. When she slid in, she rubbed her stomach.

  Flynn wouldn't have left unless something was wrong. Now she was worried about him, and there was no way she'd go home without checking on him. She pulled out her phone and texted him.

  Where are you?

  She waited, hoping she'd get a response right away. She got nothing, which only made the panic rising up within her worse. She drove off and headed the few miles to his house. His SUV was parked in the driveway so she got out and went to the front door and rang the bell.

  He answered within a minute.

  "I texted you."

  His expression was flat, emotionless. "Yeah, I got that."

  He got that? She walked in and he closed the door behind her. She turned to face him. "Why didn't you answer me? I was so worried about you. It's not like you to leave the restaurant without seeing me."

  He shrugged. "Seemed to me you were plenty busy."

  "Busy? I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "With Paul and Blaine, planning your new future."

  "With . . . what?" She laid her purse and keys on the nearby table and walked over to him. "Flynn, I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "I overheard you, Amelia. I heard you and Blaine talking about the TV show."

  "Oh, you did? Wasn't that ridiculous? Can you imagine me doing a TV cooking show?"

  "Yeah, I can imagine you. You were amazing today. Natural and perfect on camera."

  She had no idea why he seemed so pissed about it. "You're angry with me. Why?"

  "Because this is what you wanted all along. And now the perfect opportunity has fallen in your lap and I didn't see it coming."

  "Didn't see what coming? I really wish you'd be more clear, because I'm confused."

  "Oh, you didn't see it coming? That's hilarious considering the way you set me up." The anger coming from his face scared her.

  She took a step back. "I never set you up, Flynn, and honestly, I don't know what you're talking about."

  "You planned this from the beginning. Be nice to Flynn, let Flynn think you're vulnerable. Tell him this bullshit story about how broken you are from your past. Then, when he's totally open with you, when he's ready to give you everything, that's when you strike. I've never seen anyone manipulate someone so perfectly, Amelia. Did you know about the network showing up or was it just the right opportunity at the right time? How far were you planning to take this? All the way, or were you just planning to string me along, playing the 'let's take this slow' card until the right score came along for you?"

  Realization struck, and every word he said to her was like a knife stabbing at her heart. "You think I planned this? That I used you? That my past was a lie?"

  "I don't know. Was it?"

  "Of course it wasn't. I've never been anything but honest with you. And the network thing? I don't know what you thought you heard--"

  "I heard and I saw. I heard them offer you a TV show, and then saw you take them into Ken's office for some privacy. How convenient to strike up a deal with them where I couldn't see you."

  Wow. He thought she manipulated him, that she used him to advance her career.

  She felt sick to her stomach. It was like the past had come back to slap her across the face all over again.

  He didn't trust her.

  "No, I took them into Ken's office because I needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I wanted to make sure I was being polite and professional because your restaurant--your reputation--was on the line. So I wanted to make sure I said all the right things when I turned them down."

  He laughed. "Sure you did. An opportunity like that comes once in a lifetime, Amelia. And I'm supposed to believe someone with your talent is going to turn them down."

  "Yes, you are supposed to believe it, because it's true. And I did turn them down. Because I thought you knew me. I thought you believed in me. In us. In what we have together. Which is one of the main reasons I did turn them down."

  He didn't say anything and she knew she wasn't reaching him. Because he didn't trust her. It was Frank all over again.

  What was it with her and men? Did she have a distrustful face? Did she give off some lying aura?

  No. This wasn't about her. This was not her fault. This was about Flynn.

  "You know what? Fine. Believe what you want." She went and grabbed her purse and car keys. "You know who was the wrong person to trust in someone again? Me. Because I gave my heart to you and you just crushed it under your giant, stupid feet. So maybe I will take that job after all, because I can't work for someone--I can't love someone--who has so little faith in what we have."

  "See, I knew it. You are taking the job."

  She was so frustrated right now she wanted to pick up the nearest lamp and throw it at him.

  "Go fuck yourself, Flynn."

  She walked out the door, her entire body shaking with rage and hurt and the need to scream into the night. She held it together while she drove home, opened her door and tossed her purse and keys on the sofa. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and a bottle of wine. She poured a glass, went out onto her porch and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

  She texted Laura.

  Flynn and I broke up. I need you. Stat.

  Then she started drinking, forcing back the tears that pricked her eyes.

  Because she damn well would not cry over that asshole.

  THIRTY-ONE

  In game situations, focus was everything.

  For this game, Flynn's focus was shit.

  "You've missed easy tackles out there," his coach had told him at halftime. His coach had never lectured him about missing tackles. Flynn was always the leader in tackles on his team.

  He needed to pull his head out of his ass or they were going to lose this damn game. They had to win today. They could win today and Flynn knew it. There was no way he was going to be the cause of losing this game.

  "Something on your mind?" Mick asked him while they made their way out of the tunnel for the second half.

  "Yeah. Woman trouble."

  Mick grimaced. "That's the worst. We'll go out after we win this game and you can tell me all about it. In the meantime, get your head in the right place."

  Flynn nodded. "You got it."

  The second half went much better. Flynn put one hundred percent of his focus on obliterating the offensive line. He ended up with two sacks and six tackles.

  They won by ten points, because the Sabers offense had fired up hot in the second half. And fortunately, the defense had managed to pull it together. He'd managed to pull it together.

  Flynn was just relieved he hadn't fucked it all up.

  A group of them decided to go out for steaks. Tara had flown in for the game, but she had Sam with her and he was tired since it was a night game, so she was taking Sam back to the house. Mick was going to head out for steak with them.

  They waited in the bar while their table was prepared. Mick and Flynn sat next to each other. Flynn grabbed a beer and Mick got a soda.

  "You pulled it out in the second half," Mick said.

  "Yeah, defense got it
together. Offense kicked some ass."

  Mick took a long swallow of soda and grinned. "Next week will be even better."

  "It will."

  "Wanna talk about your woman trouble?"

  Flynn said. "It's Amelia. We broke up."

  Mick frowned. "Sorry to hear that, man. Tara and I really liked her."

  "So did I. But she wasn't who I thought she was."

  "Yeah? And how's that?"

  "She used me for the prime promotion opportunity--a network show."

  Mick looked surprised. "Really? That doesn't seem like Amelia."

  "I didn't think it was possible, either. But I overheard her talking to the network people about it."

  Mick turned around in his chair to face him. "Are you sure that's what you heard?"

  Flynn shrugged. "She told me she was trying to let them down in a professional manner, but I heard her tell them she wanted to talk somewhere private. They went into the restaurant manager's office."

  "Okay. And?"

  "And, nothing. She used me."

  "You verified this with those network people who filmed your show?"

  "Well . . . no."

  Mick rolled his eyes. "Look, Flynn. The last thing I want to do is to get in between you and your woman. But trust me, the one thing I do know is misunderstanding, and it almost cost me my relationship with Tara. Before you lose her, verify it."

  Flynn took a long swallow of his beer. "Fine. I'll do that."

  Flynn had a lot to think about, and he did that the long night after the game. The next morning, he got up and made a phone call to Paul Birch, the producer of the show. He started out by thanking him for including his restaurant, figuring that accusing him of trying to steal his head chef wouldn't go over well, and he did have Ninety-Two to think about.

  "We were glad to do it, Flynn. The footage came out great, by the way. Did Amelia tell you we offered her a TV spot?"

  He was glad he didn't have to bring it up. "She mentioned it."

  "She was extremely professional when she turned us down. I've never seen anyone more uninterested in being in the spotlight than Amelia." Paul laughed. "You would have thought we were making her an offer for jail time."

  "Really." He felt a stab to his gut.

  "Yeah. But she was sweet about it. Hey, I gotta run. We'll send you a link to your spot on the show when it's available."

  "Okay. Thanks, Paul."

  He dropped his phone on the sofa and dragged his fingers through his hair.

  "Shit." He'd fucked up. Not only had he fucked up, he'd done it badly, and he'd ruined his relationship with Amelia.

  Everything she'd said to him had been right. He hadn't trusted her, hadn't believed her when she'd told him the truth.

  The things he'd accused her of, the things he'd said to her . . .

  He was a total asshole, a complete douche.

  But why had she turned the job down? It was a great opportunity for her. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  He had to talk to her. The problem was, she hadn't been to work in a week, and he wasn't even sure she was still in town.

  He grabbed his keys and drove to her house, figuring since he'd been such a dick, she wouldn't answer her phone if he called. He knocked at her door.

  No answer. He rang the bell. Still no answer.

  Fuck. He got out his phone and scrolled through his contacts, landing on Laura's number. He was so glad he'd gotten it the night they'd had dinner at her place. He punched the button.

  Laura answered. "You are an asshole, Flynn."

  "You're right. And I deserve every terrible thing you want to say to me. But I need to find Amelia."

  "Why? So you can break her heart even more?"

  "No. So I can make things right between us."

  Silence. Like, a really long silence.

  "Please, Laura."

  He heard her sigh. "She's here at my house. But if you make her cry again I will hurt you."

  "I believe you. And thanks."

  Now he had to gather his shit together and figure out what the hell he was going to say to Amelia. Because even he didn't know how he was going to fix this just yet.

  He only knew he was about to head into the most important conversation of his life.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Amelia was fixing chicken marsala in Laura's kitchen when the doorbell rang.

  "I'll get it," Laura said.

  Jon was at a meeting downtown and was going to be late coming home tonight, so Amelia wanted to fix something he could easily heat up. She knew this was one of Jon's favorite dishes and he'd been so great about letting her hang out here the past few days. She just couldn't be alone in her house--alone with all her thoughts and her tears. Crying wasn't doing her any good and she was tired of having headaches from crying so much.

  Laura had finally convinced her to come stay with them. At least with Laura there was conversation and laughter and she had people to cook for. Cooking was therapy to her, and being alone and cooking for herself wasn't working. Here with Laura she had someone to talk to about the mess that her life had turned into. She didn't know what she would have done without Laura over the past week.

  Now she didn't have a job and she didn't know what she was going to do about that, because there was no way she was going back to Ninety-Two. Not after all the awful things Flynn had accused her of.

  "Amelia."

  She stilled at the sound of Flynn's voice, certain she'd imagined it. He'd been in her head a lot the past several days.

  She turned to see Laura standing next to him.

  "Don't be mad," Laura said. "I thought the two of you should talk."

  All the hurt came rushing back, all the things he'd accused her of.

  She shook her head. "I don't want to talk to him."

  She turned the stove off and walked away, needing to get away from Flynn before he said something else to crush her heart.

  She walked out onto the back porch and zipped up her hoodie, wrapping her arms around herself and fighting back the tears that sprang forward just seeing him again.

  The back door opened and she knew it was him. Laura was a peacemaker and she would want her to have closure, if nothing else.

  Screw closure. Closure was a stupid concept someone who'd never had their heart ripped out of their chest had come up with. She didn't need closure. She was pissed, and righteous anger felt a whole lot better than closure.

  "Go away, Flynn."

  "I have to talk to you."

  She blinked away the tears and turned to him. "About what? About how you accused me of using you to become a famous chef?"

  He looked pained. Good. She hoped he developed an ulcer over it.

  "Yes. I was wrong."

  "No shit." She went and sat on one of the cushioned love seats out there. It was cool outside, so she grabbed a blanket and laid it over her legs.

  Flynn grabbed one of the folding chairs and placed it across from her, then straddled it so he faced her. "I freaked out when I overheard you talking to Paul and Blaine. When they offered you the job, I expected you to turn them down."

  "I did turn them down."

  "No, you asked them into Ken's office for privacy."

  "Yes, so I could turn them down while still being professional and polite. I was doing that for you. For the restaurant."

  "At the time I didn't know that. All I saw was you looking excited and smiling at them and . . . it doesn't matter what I thought. I was totally off base and I should have known you better."

  She nodded. "Exactly. You should know me. You should have trusted me. God, Flynn, the things you said to me really hurt. All those women I watched you with before we got together. I knew what they were about. They were about using you to advance themselves. And you thought I'd do the same thing to you? It's like you never knew me at all."

  He looked down at his feet, then back up at her. "I know. I guess I got burned one too many times and trust has been a big issue for me."

  "So y
ou lumped me in with them the first chance you got?"

  "I did, and I'm sorry." He reached for her but she shook her head and stood up.

  "No. I've been through this before with a man who had no faith in me. I can't do it again. I won't do it again. You need to leave."

  "Amelia."

  She had turned away, refusing to look at him. Because if she did, she might weaken and fall into his arms, begging him to hold her. To love her. Because God, despite everything, she still loved him.

  "Go away, Flynn. Leave me alone."

  "I'm not giving up on you. On us. I need you. I love you, Amelia."

  She couldn't hold back the tears and they fell down her cheeks like a river.

  This was the first time he'd told her he loved her. Now, when her heart was torn in two.

  She swiped at the tears, needing so badly to feel the touch of his hand, to feel the strength of his arms around her. But she couldn't trust him anymore. And without trust, they wouldn't work.

  "Please just leave." She could barely get the words out.

  "I'll find a way to make this right."

  She heard him walk away and after the porch door closed, she fell onto the lounge, choking out a sob. She shoved her fist against her mouth, hating that she was crying--again. But this sense of loss went deep, so deep that even her bones ached from it.

  When the porch door opened again, it was Laura who came and sat down in the love seat with her, put her arms around her and held her while she cried.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The first note arrived the day after Flynn had showed up at Laura's house. Amelia had decided it was time to go home and face her life, though Laura had told her she was welcome to stay with her and Jon as long as she needed to.

  But she was stronger than her emotions, and she needed to move on. She needed to find a new job and learn to live in her silent, empty house with her sadness.

  The envelope had Flynn's handwriting on it and she'd picked it up with her mail.

  She hesitated, then opened it.

  I love the way you smile. It always hits me right in my heart, because it's so genuine.

  I miss your smile, Amelia. I love you.

  F

  That's all the note said. She ran her fingers over his handwriting. It was a little messy, which made her lips tick up.

  No. He would not make her smile. He would not win her back. She tossed the note in the trash.

  An hour later she went and pulled the note out of the trash and left it on her kitchen counter.