Page 52 of Enticing Her Love

“You think you’ve got it all figured out.” Flynn pushed to his feet and paced, worried about what his self-made billionaire brother who stuck to a strict code of business conduct would think of him if he told him the truth.

“Tell me I’m wrong. Don’t laugh it off or thwart the question like you always do. Just tell me I’m wrong.”

Flynn raked a hand through his hair. He couldn’t make himself lie to the brother who had always had his back. “Yeah, about that. The company fucked up. We only had one tent.”

“Oh, man.”

“A fucking pup tent.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughed again. “That must’ve made it hard.”

“Seth,” Flynn warned.

“What? I meant hard to keep a professional distance.” He barely got the words out without laughing.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m not the one who slept with my subordinate.”

“And you don’t think I feel like shit about that?” He ground his back teeth against that statement. He didn’t regret sleeping with her. Not one iota. But she was his subordinate, and that was flat-out wrong. “I don’t know why I thought I could talk to you about this.”

“Because you can,” Seth said more seriously. “I’m just giving my kid brother shit. I can’t believe you took that risk, but I’ve seen it coming for months. Anytime someone mentions her name, you look like you’re going to shred your skin like the Hulk.”

Felt like it, too.

“I’ve tried to get you to open up to me about it, but you’re so damn obstinate.”

Flynn clenched his jaw. How could I open up to you about it when I was lying to myself? “I think you need better glasses.”

“Ah, I see Denial is with us. Man’s best friend. He shows up when you least expect it and sticks with you through thick and thin until you damn near lose your mind. Want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Just know that I didn’t make the first move.”

“That’ll help a little if she sues you, but it’s not going to win the case.”

“She’s not going to sue me. She’s not like that. We knew what we were doing, and we agreed that whatever happened there stayed there. We’re done messing around. Come Tuesday it’ll be business as usual.” Whatever the fuck that means.

“Good luck with that, Hulkster. Just remember, workplace hookups rarely end well.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re done. You know I don’t like complications in my life, and I have no patience for drama. Listen, man, do me a favor. Can you keep this between us? I don’t need to catch shit from Clay or Noah.”

“So, it’s safe for me to tell Vic?”

“Fuck no.”

Seth laughed again. “You know I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thanks.” He was too agitated and hungry to stay on the phone. “Listen, I’m starved. I’ve got to go rustle up some food. Thanks for the therapy session.”

“Anytime, brother.”

Flynn ended the call and went inside. He walked through his bedroom into the main, open living area and headed for the kitchen. Maybe some food would take the edge off. The sandwich he’d gotten on the way home from the airport hadn’t nearly been enough.

He opened the fridge and stared at the nearly empty shelves. Shit. He grabbed a bottle of water, making a mental note to hit the grocery store in the morning, and went to the pantry, which was just about as bare. Being a fairly clean eater who cooked his own meals had its downfalls in the snack department. He grabbed a box of crackers and a jar of peanut butter, thinking about Sutton and those damn prepackaged peanut butter crackers she’d hoarded in her bag and how furious she’d been when he’d tossed them in the trash. He’d seen her eating them when she worked late in the office and when they were on assignments, like she had an endless supply.

He snagged a plate and knife and went into the living room, setting his meager feast on the rough-hewn coffee table. As he opened the accordion-style doors to the deck, night sounds trickled in, keeping Sutton in the forefront of his mind. On the surface, they were wildly different. She’d walked out of the airstrip bathroom looking like a million bucks, despite not showering, and while he’d washed up, he wasn’t about to go crazy for a twenty-plus-hour travel day. He imagined her packing her bags before they’d left for Ecuador, picking out a travel outfit for the return trip and stashing it away, not to be touched until they were on their way home. She would probably spend her day off tomorrow—well, technically today given the time—getting her hair and nails done and having lunch with her girlfriends or sisters, while he’d catch up with his family on the phone, but he’d be happy not to see a single person.

Except her.