Off Chance os-5 Read online

  “Just because I can cook, doesn’t mean I want to. This is the twenty-first century pal... get with the times. Women have shed the chains of slavery and we no longer serve you menfolk.”

  Flynn throws his head back and starts howling with laughter, then he pitches forward, holding the hand with Capone’s leash to his stomach while he laughs, with the other holding onto his hot cocoa. It’s infectious and I start laughing along with him.

  He looks at me and our eyes meet.

  Then it happens... there is almost a crackle in the air, like electricity is flowing between us. Flynn’s laughter immediately dies away and the smile slides from my face. The same happens to me and nothing is left in our expressions except a focused intensity on each other. It’s almost as if I can feel heat swirling all around us, and the backdrop of the world fades to black.

  Until nothing is left but just Flynn and me.

  I call it “The Happening” and it represents those few times when the resolve to just be friends seems to melt away into oblivion. It occurs at the weirdest of times and I have no control over it. When I’m in that moment with Flynn, I want nothing more than for him to grab me and kiss me like I was the oxygen his lungs crave. I want to strip him bare and use just my fingertips to trace every inch of skin on his body. I want to get lost... deeply lost, in Flynn.

  “The Happening” hits Flynn just as hard as it hits me. I see the desire light him up from within. I feel the sexual tension pouring off him with visceral awareness, and I swear I can feel his heart moaning for me.

  When “The Happening” occurs, I am powerless to fight it. In fact, if Flynn ever made a move to touch me during the event, I would completely submit to him body and soul. But thankfully, Flynn is a stronger person than I am, and he is clearly the more responsible of the two of us. He’ll usually snap out of it first, and bring me crashing back to reality.

  Like he does right at this moment.

  Reaching out with his hand, he tweaks my nose. “You’re adorable when you start spouting your feminist viewpoints.”

  I blink my eyes hard, still a little under his spell, and offer him a smile. He gives me one back that is sad and understanding all at once. To lighten the mood, he takes my hand, tucks it into the crook of his arm, and starts walking again. My feet have no choice but to move and keep up with him. He starts chattering about his Fantasy Football League... something innocuous that will make my mind... my heart... my body, forget about “The Happening”.

  He is always looking out for me.

  My heart swells up, huge and pulsing, with Technicolor love for him.

  Yes... I love Flynn. He is my dearest friend in all the world.

  And I will have to be satisfied with that.

  “Whatcha doing?” Flynn asks as he plops down on the couch beside me. I have his laptop open and he leans in to look at the screen. It never even occurs to me to hide what I’m doing so I turn it a little so he can see it better.

  “I’m doing a torture session.”

  He just looks at me with one eyebrow raised.

  Turning the laptop back toward me so I can type, I enter in new search terms, and when the results are displayed, I turn the screen toward him. I watch as he skims his eyes down the screen, and I notice how long and thick his lashes are from this angle. Why I never noticed it before is beyond me.

  “Who’s John Cleeden?”

  I click on the article about the charity donation and when the picture appears, I point at it. “Meet my mom and dad.”

  Flynn’s head snaps toward me and his eyes are soft as he holds my gaze. I give him a quick smile and point back toward the screen.

  He reads the entire article and then looks back to me. “John and Susan Cleeden? Where does Page come from?”

  “Rowan Page isn’t my real name. It’s Anne Marie Cleeden.”

  “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  He surveys me closely and even runs his eyes down my body. I can’t help the tingle of awareness that his gaze brings upon me, even though his look isn’t sexual at all. “You don’t look like an Anne Marie,” he muses.

  “And I’m not. My name is Rowan Page now.”

  “When did you change it?”

  “The minute I stepped on the bus that brought me to New York.”

  “But when did you change it legally?”

  “I haven’t... never needed to.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “How do you get anything done? You don’t have a social security number. How do you pay taxes? Or rent an apartment? Have a bank account? How do you even get a driver’s license for that matter?”

  I’m so enjoying this. The look on Flynn’s face is a mixture of comedic horror and respect. “Well... I’ve never paid taxes as I’m always paid in cash, including by your dear cousin, Nix. I’ve never had to sign an apartment lease because the lease has never been in my name and I’ve never needed a bank account because I’ve always paid my roommates just my share of expenses. Oh, and I don’t have a driver’s license.”

  “You don’t have a driver’s license?” he asks in disbelief.

  “I don’t have a driver’s license... at least not in Rowan Page’s name,” I confirm.

  “But... you drive my car.” He cracks me up because he actually sounds a little affronted.

  “Lighten up, serious sally. I haven’t been caught, have I? Besides... I technically have a valid Texas license. I just think I may have been required to get a New York license after I moved here.”

  I shrug my shoulders. Oh, well.

  “Criminal!” he accuses me with a pointing finger. “I’m living with a criminal.”

  I start laughing and assure him with concession, “I know... I really do need to get it done legally at some point. I even got my birth certificate last year just for that reason. I just never got around to doing it.”

  Flynn is shaking his head in disbelief and wonder. “You are unbelievable, do you know that?”

  I close the laptop and lay it on the coffee table. Curling my feet up underneath of me, I turn to face him. “Is that a good unbelievable or a bad unbelievable?”

  “It’s a good unbelievable. A crazy, wonderful unbelievable. You’re not exactly the most law-abiding citizen, but you are amazingly inconceivable and I love that about you.”

  The blood in my veins sings out with happiness over Flynn’s compliment. My heart does a mad dance that he used the “L” word. Peace settles in my heart that I don’t have to fight for his attention. That he finds true interest in me, and he likes what he sees.

  I know I’m not perfect, and I know I’ve done things that aren’t admirable in the past, but I try to do good. I try to live my life without intentionally hurting others. It would be natural to expect some people to look at me with some measure of disgust because I haven’t paid taxes, or because I drive without a license.

  But not Flynn. He doesn’t admire that behavior but he does admire and like the way I have survived. I’m finally getting validation from someone that I am more than what my father ever believed I would amount to.

  Flynn is staring at me with genuine affection twinkling in his eyes. I want to reach my hand out and ruffle his hair with my fingers, trail them down his temple and feel the scruff of his beard along my nerve endings.

  I’m in danger of falling prey to “The Happening”, and if I do, I am in danger of falling hard for Flynn. I want it... badly. But I’m as equally afraid of it. It pulls me left and right, turns me upside down, and ties my stomach in knots. My heart tells me to let go and enjoy the free-fall. But then my brain pulses images of my dad’s face as I walked out the door five years ago. I can hear the click of the lock as clear as a bell and my chest seems to cave inward upon itself.

  I need space and I start to stand up. Flynn’s hand jets out and grabs a hold of my fingertips. “Hey, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  His face is so serious that my stomach flips. Oh, God... is
he kicking me out? Did I do something wrong?

  I lower my butt slowly to the couch, afraid of the words that will come out of his mouth once I get settled in. It reminds me of the time that I was trying to teach Capone how to sit. He was so stubborn and didn’t want to do it at first. He would lower his butt to the floor at the speed of molasses, staring at me intently. It’s like he was waiting to see if I would change my mind before ass met linoleum.

  I feel that way now. Maybe Flynn will release my hand and change his mind before my butt hits the cushion.

  But no such luck. I sink down and Flynn gives my hand a quick squeeze before he lets go. He angles his body more toward me and flips his arm over the back of the couch.

  “So...” he says slow and drawn out, which tells me that he’s nervous. “You know Nix and Em are getting married over Christmas in St. John, right?”

  “Duh... it’s all she talks about when I’m around her. Which reminds me... I better start looking for a gift for them.”

  “Well... you know it’s just for family, but since I’m the only single person attending, Nix and Em said I could invite someone. I was kind of hoping you’d come with me to the wedding.”

  I know I heard Flynn wrong because I just stare at him, my mouth hanging open. This is wrong on so many levels, but mainly because the minute he invited me, a freakin’ fantasy image of him and me kissing on a sandy beach flashed through my mind.

  Before I can answer, Flynn says, “And I’m only talking about as friends. I actually thought about asking Tim if he wanted to go... you know, get away for a quick vacation, but then I remembered he’d never leave Sam on Christmas. So I thought about you... because next to Tim... you’re my closest friend.”

  Flynn’s words hit the mark and cause me pain at the same time. I’m happy to know he was only asking as a friend, but I can’t help that it hurts my feelings just a tad that he considered Tim first.

  And being the woman that has repetitively held up a barrier to Flynn’s feelings for me, I am one seriously twisted chick to even be offended by that.

  Still, it’s not possible for me to go. “It sounds great, Flynn. Truly. But I don’t have that type of money to spend and before you even open your mouth to offer to pay for my expenses, I just want you to know I’ll punch you in the face if you do.”

  Flynn’s mouth was halfway open to argue with me about the expenses but my threat to punch him has it snapping shut.

  I stand up from the couch, giving in to the urge I had a few minutes ago... to ruffle Flynn’s hair. I reach down and do just that, his eyes burning into me with frustration and affection. “Now, I’m going to go get some sleep. See you in the morning.”

  I turn away before the brief touch of my hand against Flynn’s head induces “The Happening” to occur and content myself to allow my dreams to give me what I really want.

  18

  Tonight is going to be interesting. Emily has talked a group of us into going out to a new nightclub, called Grind. She cooked this up with her roommate, Fil, because both of them love to dance. She wanted Nix to go, who would rather have his right nut cut off, so I got roped into going with him so he would have someone to talk to while Emily and Fil tear the dance floor up.

  Of course, I wasn’t going to leave Rowan at home by herself. When I told her about it, I expected her to balk because she doesn’t seem like the time to go clubbing, but she jumped all over that, even exclaiming, “I love to dance.”

  That obviously sent my brain into overload with vivid scenes playing out before me of her dancing. I imagine it would be provocative and sexy, and yeah, my dick perks up in interest just thinking about it.

  The past several weeks have been amazing in a unique way, just not exactly in the way I want. I’ve developed a very strong bond with Rowan. She’s the first close friend that I’ve had that was a girl, and Renner doesn’t count because she’s my sister and a pain in the ass more than fifty percent of the time.

  Rowan is never a pain in the ass though. She is always there to listen to me, and even though she is only twenty-three years old, her life experience has made her wise with sharply honed common sense. She’s given me advice that has been sound, well thought out, and fair on more than one occasion. She is patient and thoughtful, and my day brightens when I’m in her presence.

  Best of all, I have watched Rowan morph into an amazingly confident and self-possessed woman. It’s not that she wasn’t confident before, because she was. But it was a confidence that was bordered with sharp angles and deep edges. It was built from a tough life and by being rejected by her parents. Rather than breaking her down, her dad’s final rejection of her emboldened her to become everything he said she would not be.

  And she survived.

  But Rowan’s new confidence is something to behold. It’s softer, and it’s bright. It comes from deep inside a woman who has decided to let go of her misery and forge a new path. I truly believe that has come about after Rowan opened up and told me about her parents and their lack of affection or interest.

  Now, while the past several weeks have been spectacular as I build a solid friendship with Rowan, I feel absolutely empty at times because I want so much more. I want to take this friendship we have, and I want to build on it. I want to take it to the next level, and yes, that means I want to make love to her.

  I believe she wants it to, and I truly believe she will come around. I only have to wait until that day when she can trust fully that it’s okay to take the risk.

  So I am patient.

  Now, when Rowan steps out of her bedroom and I see how she’s dressed to go clubbing, I don’t know that I am so patient. In fact, all the resolve that I have been manifesting in respecting her friendship barrier seems to be disappearing at this very moment.

  She’s got on a black and white dress that fits her body like a glove, and it’s the first time that I’ve actually ever seen her body outlined in such sharp relief. The top portion of the dress has thick, black stripes across her breasts, which only serves to draw my eye to the deep cleavage she’s showing. Thin, black straps hold the dress onto her shoulders, and she’s got it all topped off with some killer black heels that have little straps that wrap around her ankles.

  I try to stop myself but I cannot help the way my eyes travel slowly up and down her body. If my dad were here right now, he’d knock me up against the back of my head for the way my gaze is molesting her. When I reach her eyes, she’s looking at me with amusement, which shakes me out of my lust just a tiny bit.

  “Like what you see?” she teases.

  “I’d be dead not to,” I quip. “You look amazing.”

  Rowan is so brashly confident, I would expect her to maybe spin around and show off all her assets. But my compliment actually has her eyes lowering to the floor and her cheeks heating up with a blush. That actually strikes a chord of hope inside of me, because that means she was affected by my perusal of her.

  Sometimes... I think there are moments when Rowan wants to give in to her feelings. I can’t describe it but it’s a look we share. I feel we are on the verge of connecting but then her words come back to haunt me.

  I’m not brave enough to want it the way you do.

  When the memory of those words penetrate my brain, I push myself away and try to shield my heart. I make myself be brave for Rowan, because she is the one that has suffered in the past, and like I said, I’m willing to wait for her to come around.

  This club is packed and it’s like one seething, waving mass of bodies on the dance floor. Luckily, Emily, Fil, and Rowan are dancing near the edge so Nix and I can keep an eye on them. In fact, Nix all but demanded to Emily she stay within his line of sight, to which she just snorted at him and walked away without a backward glance.

  However, I notice she did what he asked and I’m sure it’s because Emily had been attacked by a guy that couldn’t take no for an answer at a nightclub before Nix came to her rescue. Thus, she’s being respectful of his worry and gives him what he wa
nts. I suppose relationships are supposed to be like that, right? It’s about trying to give the other person what they want without sacrificing too much of yourself. In return, the other person does the same for you.

  I think in today’s day and age, we call that compromise.

  The throng of people actually pulses as a whole, looking like a massive, beating heart under the disco lights. But then I focus on Rowan, and everything else ceases to exist. My girl loves to dance, and yes, I’m aware I just referred to her as my girl again. And she’s fucking good at it. Her body moves with a natural rhythm and she undulates her hips in a way that is like a walking orgasm. The only problem is, that show isn’t just for me and every horny male within eyesight of Rowan dances their way toward her.

  I curl my fingers into my palms and dig in, trying to force my attention away from her, and one particular looking sleaze bag who is staring at her ass while he pumps his hips back and forth behind her. I swear... if he touches her, I’ll go ballistic and knock his teeth down the back of his throat.

  Just as the douche is getting ready to touch her, I start to stand up from the table. But then I watch in amazement as Fil intercepts the guy and gets right up in his face. I obviously cannot hear what she’s saying but she is laying into him. He looks pissed at first but the longer she yells at him, the more his shoulders sag and I swear he looks like he might cry. He finally turns around and slinks off.

  Fil merely turns around and starts dancing again, as if nothing happened.

  Leaning over, I yell at Nix. “Looks like you weren’t needed tonight, buddy. Fil apparently can keep Em and Rowan safe.”

  Nix smirks at me. “Yeah. I’ll deny it if you say anything but I’m a little afraid of her.”

  We both turn back to the dance floor, watching the women work it, and I have a hard time keeping my eyes off Rowan.

  After several songs, they return to the table—which apparently it’s the men’s job to protect—and order more drinks. We’ve been here a few hours and all of us are sporting a nice buzz. It won’t be too long before it’s time to leave.