Throb
Page 69“I’ve bored them to death.”
“You are kind of boring.” She chides and unloads her bags. One bag from the liquor store, the other is lingerie.
“That’s some combination you have there.” My eyes point to her purchases.
“Isn’t it? The funny thing is, too much of one leads to the removal of the other.”
“I’m just glad you’re wearing underwear again these days at least.”
“Jared gives me a hard time if I don’t.”
“Which is pretty funny since that’s how you met.” Sadie’s new boyfriend, Jared, is an entertainment correspondent who was filming out front of our apartment after the finale. The media went into a frenzy after I won Throb, setting up camp all over our building to try to catch a glimpse of me and Flynn. One afternoon it all got to be too much and Sadie was tired of people screaming questions at her as she navigated to our door. So she pulled up her skirt and mooned the cameraman—she wasn’t wearing any underwear. That got the cameras off my back for a little while. But Jared, the reporter who’d caught the entire thing on the camera behind him, was hot on Sadie’s trail instead.
It’s been less than two weeks, but the two of them are already inseparable. Somehow he’s even got her to do the unthinkable—wear underwear under her skirts.
There’s a knock at the door. “That’s Jared,” she yells over her shoulder as she heads into her room. “Tell him I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
I open the door and find Jared. And Flynn. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Just met him in the parking lot.” Jared smiles and I step aside for both men to enter. “Figures. I don’t have a camera with me.”
“No one is really interested in us anyway. We’re just a boring old couple now, right, honey?” I say to Flynn.
“Yep.” He slings his arm over my shoulder.
“Sadie will be out in a few minutes. You guys want a glass of wine?”
“We have to get going, we have reservations,” Jared says.
“You two have fun.” Sadie blows a kiss in our direction.
We hear their muted conversation as they reach the door. “You do have underwear on, right?”
“Sort of,” Sadie elusively responds.
“Do I even want to know what that means?”
“You will later.” The door closes behind them.
I tuck my feet under me on the couch and sip from my glass. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?”
Flynn gets up and tops off my wine glass, even though it’s not even near empty. “Drink up.”
“You came here to get me drunk?” I tease.
“No. But you’re going to need that drink for what I came to tell you.”
My head pounds, whirling with questions. I make Flynn repeat everything twice, even though I heard every word he said loud and clear the first time.
“Why would Miles tell you this now?” It doesn’t make any sense.
“He had too much to drink. We were celebrating my signing on to do another show with Mile High.”
“Beat. He’s going to follow my band on our upcoming tour. Sort of a day-in-the-life with a rock band … that lasts three months.”
“He has to be lying.”
“I don’t think so. He was pretty proud of himself. Taking credit for breaking you two up so I could have you.”
“But if it’s true, why would he do it?”
“He said the finale needed to be between you and Jess. The audience loved the vixen-versus-virgin angle.”
“I take it I’m the virgin.”
“His words, not mine.”
“And Cooper agreed to dump me, just like that?”
“Miles said he had leverage. He was pretty drunk, none of it really made sense … but he babbled about a video of the two of you at a guest house in Barbados and your brother’s trip to the emergency room.”
“My brother? Kyle?”
“Yeah. Something about causing trouble with a clinical trial.”
I barely make it to the bathroom when the two glasses of wine empty from my stomach. Flynn strokes my back gently. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
“I’m sure he has feelings for me too. Some pretty powerful ones after watching that finale.”
Chapter forty
Cooper—
1 week later
“There’s a Mr. Beckham here to see you,” Helen’s voice announces over the intercom in my office.
“Who?” I had to have heard that wrong.
“Flynn Beckham. He was on your …”
“I know who he is.”
“Would you like me to tell him you’re busy?”
I’d like you to tell him a fuck of a lot more than that. I hit the button to respond. “Tell him …” I say angrily, but then think better of how I want my message delivered. I’ll definitely take more joy in doing it myself. “Send him in.”