Off Chance

  My answer is evasive and Nix knows it is. The look of distrust in his eyes magnifies more. "Where are you from?"

  "Brooklyn," I tell him.

  "And before that?"

  "Texas... Lewisville to be exact."

  "Why did you come to New York?"

  "Just wanted to see the world... got sidetracked by the glitz of The Big Apple."

  "Family still there?"

  "To my knowledge," I answer, starting to get irritated by his questions.

  "To your knowledge? You don't know?"

  Okay... I've had it with his nosiness. "Is this a job interview because I was under the impression I already had the job?"

  Glancing at Emily, I can see she's worried by the way I snapped at Nix. By all appearances, he was making casual conversation, but I know he's rooting around because he's skeptical of me.

  Nix just casually shrugs his shoulders, completely at ease with my bitchy attitude. "You have the job. I was just curious, is all. You start tomorrow... eight to five with an hour for lunch. You're more than welcome to eat with me in the house if I'm here. If I'm gone, you're on your own but there's sodas in that fridge. And don't be late."

  I'm not sure I like Nix very much... or at all. But he is now my employer, and he's my new bud and roommate's cousin, so I try to play nice. "Got it. Anything else you need to show me, Emily? Because if not, I think I got it."

  Emily pulls her puzzled gaze from Nix and looks at me. "That's it. I'll show you Nix's stockroom and then we can go in the house and have a drink while we wait for Flynn to come back."

  Nix doesn't say another word, just turns around and heads back through the door from which he had just exited a few moments ago.

  "I'm sorry," Emily says. "Nix wasn't being nosy; he was just trying to get to know you."

  Yeah, those are one in the same, I think to myself.

  "No problem," I assure her. And it isn't a problem. I'm pretty sure I put Nix in his place and he'll be avoiding share time with me from now on.

  Flynn takes me out to dinner, to celebrate, he says, for getting a job. He's in good spirits the entire time and it eventually rubs off on me. It's so hard for me to maintain my surly distance when he's constantly smiling and joking around with me. He's like a drug that makes me happy, and once again, I offer up a small prayer of thanks for bringing him into my life.

  After taking a sip of his drink, Flynn looks at me. "So, I wanted to ask...what was the deal with you and Juice? How did you end up with someone like him?"

  I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I knew he was bad news but I was drawn to him. It was part of the rebel that still existed inside of me, I guess. And knowing I wouldn't ever be good enough for someone better than a guy like him, I sort of just settled."

  "Now, that's just not true. You could have anyone you wanted," Flynn says with admonishment. "But he definitely wasn't good enough for you."

  "It took me a while to figure that out. Plus, he just became so possessive. When I tried to leave, I didn't even have any grand plan. I just quietly packed a bag, hooked Capone's leash on, and tried to sneak out of the house. He wasn't as sound asleep as I thought he was."

  "And that's when he chained you up?"

  "Yeah... but after I told him that I would just leave again the next opportunity I got. Dumb move on my part, I suppose, but I never thought he'd keep me prisoner."

  "Was he on drugs or something?"

  "Actually, no," I tell him. "I tried to stay pretty removed from his drug deals, but from what I did see... at that level, you don't really use the stuff yourself. He treated it very much like a business and I guess you got to have a sharp mind to be successful at it."

  "And stay one step ahead of the cops."

  "That is definitely a good reason not to let your mind get clouded with that shit."

  Flynn gives me a knowing look. "You've overcome a lot, Rowan. I'm proud of you."

  My insides warm from his words... the first time anyone has said that to me. They are said with such sincerity, I have no doubt he truly means it.

  When we get back to the apartment, Flynn offers to take Capone for his evening walk and I acquiesce, wanting nothing more than a long, hot shower and to get to bed so I can be fresh for my first day of work tomorrow. I let the hot water soak into me as I reflect over the day.

  Nix is certainly a piece of work but I really like Emily. I think in my old world, she and I probably would have been friends. In my new world, I've only just accepted Flynn as a friend and that's enough for me right now.

  When I finish the shower, I dress in the t-shirt and shorts that Flynn had given me my first night here. I've commandeered them as my pajamas but he hasn't asked for them back so I'm not going to worry about it. Besides... I like wearing Flynn's clothes to bed. It's a way to be close to him without really being physically close to him. It's a way to touch him without ruining our friendship.

  I step out of the bathroom, running my fingers through my wet hair. In the kitchen, I grab a bottle of water and twist the cap off, taking a long swallow. Glancing over, I see Flynn left his breakfast dishes in the sink so I put the bottle down and start to wash them.

  "You don't have to do it." Flynn's voice washes over me, warm, comforting, and even exhilarating. I hate that my body reacts to him this way.

  I turn around and give him a casual shrug. He's standing in the doorway with Capone beside him. "No biggie. But tomorrow, once I start working, we're sharing in the cleaning duties, fifty-fifty, right?"

  "Right," he assures me. "But will you still clean the toilet? That gives me the heebie-jeebies."

  Rinsing the last plate and wiping it down, I turn around to him. "Seriously? You get freaked out over a toilet? You're a freakin' firefighter. Aren't you supposed to be all macho or something?"

  Flynn puts on his most hurt look and places a closed fist on his chest. "You wound me, Rowan. You seriously wound me."

  I lean my hip against the kitchen sink, rolling my eyes at him. "I seriously doubt that wounded you."

  "It did," he proclaims as he walks to the kitchen sink. Pulling a glass out of the cupboard, he fills it with water and takes a sip. "And when people make fun of me, I tend to retaliate, so I'd be careful if I were you."

  His tone is light and teasing and I instantly smile at him. I fucking just can't help myself. With a laugh, I playfully punch him on the arm. "Oooohh... I'm so scared. What could you possibly say to me that would wound me?"

  Swallowing the last of his water, he sets the glass in the sink and turns the water on. He picks up the sprayer and starts rinsing the glass out. "Well, on occasion... well, really only once before, when someone dared to question my masculinity... I did a little something like this..."

  Without warning, Flynn turns the sprayer my way and sprays me right in the face. I'm so stunned, I can't even react, and he takes the opportunity to wave the sprayer up and down, soaking my entire shirt in the process. Capone sees the water flying and scurries out of the war zone with his tail tucked between his legs.

  I finally snap out of it and my first thought is payback. I lunge for him and wrap my hands around his, trying to wrestle the sprayer from his grip. He starts laughing and raises his hands higher, now spraying water down on the top of my head.

  "I'm a firefighter. Look at me!" he exclaims as water rains all around me.

  I shriek in mock outrage, and decide I'll never be strong enough to rip it away from him, so I go in for a secondary attack. I drop my arms to his waist and, taking a big gamble, I start to tickle him. I have no clue if he's ticklish or not, but if he is, the sprayer... and thus victory, will be mine.

  The minute my fingertips dig into skin, he jerks almost convulsively. The sprayer drops but I can't make a grab for it because Flynn now has my hands in his and he's trying to push me away. He's now laughing hysterically while I try to tickle him and we are now engaged in a battle to keep my fingertips away from his stomach. As we push and pull against each other, both of us out of breath from laughi
ng, our feet start slipping and sliding on the wet linoleum.

  My eyes lock with his, just for a brief moment, and I see pure happiness and joy radiating from his face. Then our feet fly out from under us and we start a free-fall to the kitchen floor. I'm not sure if it's his firefighting skills, or he's just a damn good rescuer, but Flynn's arms wrap around my waist and he manages to turn both of our bodies so he's underneath me as we go down. We land with a jarring thud, with Flynn taking the impact from the floor and my body on top of his. He winces and exhales loudly.

  "Oh, shit," I say. "Your ribs."

  I sit up immediately and straddle his thighs, my knees coming to rest against the wet floor on either side of him. I carefully lift his shirt up from the hem, revealing his torso. The purple bruise on his ribs is fading and is now a lovely yellow-green. I skim my fingers lightly over it. "Does it hurt?"

  His voice comes out gruff. "Not in the slightest."

  I move my eyes to his and they are filled with such intensity and longing, my heart stops cold in my chest. When it resumes its life beat, it starts hammering so hard I think I can hear it.

  "Flynn," I say, but then I trail off, words failing me.

  "Kiss me, Rowan." His hands come up and rest warmly on my thighs. His gaze travels down briefly to my chest and I glance down to see what has caught his attention. My shirt is soaked through and my nipples are pushing hard against the material. When I look back at Flynn, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip while he stares at my breasts.

  When he looks back to my eyes, he merely says, "Please" and it's all over for me. I lean forward, bringing my hands to cradle his face. When my lips meet his, his mouth is already open and waiting and my tongue dives straight in. The kiss is instantly molten and desire rockets through my body.

  Proving that Flynn's workouts clearly focus on strong abs, he sits straight up, bringing my weight up with him. Without breaking the kiss, he wraps my legs around his waist and pushes me down onto his lap. I'm met with the thick bulge that is pressing against his fly and I can't stop myself when my hips move to run myself against his hardness.

  Flynn answers my move by gripping my waist and pushing me down even harder against him, all the while ravaging my mouth. My head is spinning, lost in the sensation of this kiss, the way our hips moving against each other causes moisture to flood between my legs.

  Tearing his lips off mine, Flynn pushes his nose into my neck and whispers his lips against me, "Fuck, Rowan... I want you so bad. Tell me you want me to."

  Somewhere--deep down in my brain--something is yelling at me to stop. I push it away from me, refusing to listen. My body is taking over and my brain has no business butting in.

  "I do," is all I say and then he's kissing me again.

  Flynn's hands grab the bottom of my shirt and he peels it upward. Our faces break apart so he can get the offending material up and over my head. He throws it carelessly aside but rather than kissing me again, he merely leans back and looks at my breasts. Bringing his hand up, he lightly runs his knuckles over the swells and valley. "Christ... you're perfect. Absolutely perfect."

  His voice is so reverent I have to close my eyes so I can just revel in it for a moment. No man has ever looked at me with such worship.

  My eyes snap open when I realize Flynn has leaned forward and flicked his tongue over my nipple. I gasp in surprise and pleasure. He peeks up at me with a mischievous smile, his hazel eyes barely showing through his lashes, and places his lips back against my breast.

  "You're so responsive," he says, while his lips graze my skin. It causes a ripple of pleasure to shoot through me. I've never been this reactive with a man before, but with the barest of touches or a few sensual words, my body almost explodes in pleasure.

  I remember the dream I had about Flynn--the orgasm that fired through me with him just kissing behind my knee, and I realize that I'm responsive to Flynn because there is a deeper connection there than any I've ever felt before.

  It is born of a relationship that was forged under very unique circumstances, and then cemented due to the fact that Flynn is a genuine soul. He's been about the most perfect friend I could ever wish for.

  And that thought douses me with cold water. Because it all comes flooding back to me. Flynn is my friend, and that is all I want him to be.

  Right?

  Yes, right. That is all he can be. If we make this sexual, then friendship is excluded. I think that is the way things work, at least to my limited knowledge.

  Even though Flynn's mouth is working at my nipple and I want nothing more than him to fuck me into oblivion, the voice in my head is now screaming so loud, I can't ignore it.

  Grabbing Flynn's head, I gently push him away.

  "I'm sorry," I say, as I scrabble up from his lap. Grabbing my t-shirt, I hold it in front of me. I look down into Flynn's confused expression. "I can't do this."

  Then I turn and run for my bedroom.

  I'm sitting in the driveway outside of my parents' house. We're having an impromptu family dinner to which I invited Rowan, but she declined. It's been a tiny bit awkward between us for the last few weeks, and I'm awash in frustration.

  Closing my eyes, I lean back against the headrest and think of the kiss we shared in the kitchen. It was filled with as much passion as the first kiss but with added sexual intensity. There is no doubt in my mind that we were headed for a full-blown fuck-a-thon when Rowan pulled away from me.

  When I think about the look she had on her face, my stomach twists into a painful knot. It was filled with longing and sadness but even worse, there was fear.

  I followed her back to her bedroom to find her sitting on her bed, hands by her side, head hanging down. She had put the wet t-shirt back on and didn't look up when I walked in.

  "Rowan... what's wrong?" I had asked.

  She shook her head, refusing to meet my eyes. Not to be deterred, I stepped right up to her and knelt at her feet. Placing my hands on her knees, I asked again, "Please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something to upset you?"

  I held my breath while I waited for her answer, because honestly, the only thing I could think of--the most terrible thought that was running through my head--was that Rowan had suffered from some type of sexual trauma.

  Her eyes met mine and they were still sad, but there was no longer fear there. I'm assuming because there wasn't an ounce of sexual tension between us right at the time. "No, you didn't do anything wrong."

  "Did I misread your signals?" I asked, wanting to know fully why she pulled away.

  Again, she shook her head. "I wanted you as much as you wanted me."

  "Then what's wrong?"

  Rowan brought her hands up and placed them over mine. She looked at me with such sincerity I knew that whatever she was getting ready to lay on me would be a belief so rooted into her very fiber, that there would be no swaying her from it.

  "Flynn," she said, her voice filled with resolve. "I can't risk my friendship with you. Turning this into something sexual would do that. It would ruin our friendship and frankly, you're the first real friend I've ever had. I don't want to lose that."

  "But it wouldn't--" I started to insist but she cut me off.

  "It would. Things always change when sex is involved."

  They get better, I wanted to shout at her. It would be fucking fantastic if we could build this relationship higher.

  But Rowan wasn't having any of it. She just leaned forward and laid a very chaste kiss on my cheek, and murmured, "I'm sorry. But I can't."

  Rowan woke up the following morning, and greeted me with exuberance. She chattered away about being excited to start working for Nix, and that we were out of laundry detergent but that she'd pick some up on the way home, and that she appreciated me looking out for Capone during the day while she was gone. It's like nothing had ever transpired between us and the kiss was forgotten.

  The only small measure of satisfaction I got was from throwing the friend card out and slapping her in the face with it.
We had a small argument the next morning when she got ready to leave. I grabbed my keys off the counter and tossed them at her.

  "Take my car," I had said.

  She caught them deftly and then tossed them right back. "No way. I'm taking public transit."

  "Rowan," I warned, tossing the keys back to her, "as your friend, I am offering you my car and saving you forty-five minutes on your commute. Don't be an ass--be a friend. Just take the damn car."

  She caught the keys and opened her mouth to argue, but then she snapped it shut. "Fine. But I'm filling your car up with gas each week."

  "Fine," I muttered and turned away to go take a shower.

  Opening my eyes, I look out the windshield to my parents' house. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone so I need to shake off my morose thoughts. I need to accept things the way they are between Rowan and me.

  She's absolutely right. We have a great friendship, and while I've known the joys of close friends throughout my life, I'm honored that I'm her one true friend.

  The only problem is, I want to be more than friends, and I know she does too... she's just too scared to take the risk.

  "How's it going with your new roommate, Flynn?"

  I swallow the last bite of apple pie before I answer my mom. "Going great. We get along well."

  And I want to get her naked and worship her body for hours on end, but I don't voice those thoughts out loud.

  "Next time we get together, you have to bring her."

  I smile as I relish the faint Irish lilt my mom still bears, even though she's lived in the States for the last twenty-seven years. Nora Caldwell, with her fiery red hair and vivid green eyes, is forever gracious and has always opened up our family home to my friends.

  "I will, Mom," I assure her, hoping she drops the subject.

  "Nix told us all about how you met her." This from Nick Caldwell, my dad.

  I glare over at Nix, who is staring hard at his empty plate. Emily is sitting next to him and tries to suppress a grin.

  "He did, did he?"

  "It's kind of romantic, don't you think?" my mom asks.

  Still glaring at Nix, I answer, "We're just friends, Mom. Nothing more."

  "Oh," my mom says, clearly disappointed I haven't found the love of my life yet. Although who knows if that's Rowan. She won't give me the time of day to see if we can have more than a friendship.