The Love Coupon (Stubborn Hearts 2)

“We moved around a lot. And when my mom died, I think Dad was terrified we’d end up living in squalor. We didn’t accumulate stuff. If I left something lying around, he’d throw it out or give it away. Didn’t matter what it was. I lost a bike, shoes and a lot of great band T-shirts that way. I learned to put things away, tidy up after myself. I know it’s anal. I got lucky Josh was a neat freak too.”

“Poor Tom. I offend your very sense of how your home should be.”

“It’s why I plan on living alone. It’ll suit me.”

She didn’t respond. But she did take her earrings off and put them on the counter. He glared at them and frowned. “What was the prong you left on the counter?” She gave him a quizzical look. He was going to be sorry he’d asked. “Curved metal.” He held up two fingers to indicate the prongs.

She put her hand up to the back of her head, and her hair tumbled out of its place. “This.” She held the prong. “It’s a hair fork.”

“Ah.” Ties and clips he was familiar with, hair forks were a new one on him.

She put it beside the earrings. “What did you think it was?” She took her suit jacket off and draped it over a stool. “I’m pushing your buttons right now, aren’t I?”

He made a face. He was ridiculous. He turned away to serve the food and so he didn’t stare at her. With hair everywhere and the hot pink silky shirt held up by little strings, she was nudging his body back to the state of arousal he’d found himself in at 3 a.m.

“I’ll put it all away, I promise.”

“It’s fine.”

“Like waking you last night.”

“That was fine too. What else could you have done?”

“Taken note of your instructions about the door and worn more clothing.”

“We were both guilty of that.”

“It was an emergency. The normal rules were suspended.”

He smiled at that. He put a plate of the casserole in front of her along with a serving of crusty bread that’d been hot earlier.

“Thank you. This is fantastic. I can almost forgive your dad for turning you into a—”

“Eat your tuna casserole.” He forked a serving into his own mouth and pulled a stool from beneath the counter to sit opposite her. “Did you get your thinking done?”

“Partly. Haven’t told my family about the new job.”

“And that’s an issue?”

“You wouldn’t think so, but while your dad was teaching you to be disciplined, my dad was stealing cars and dealing drugs and my mom was busy raising five kids, being domestically terrorized and deep in denial about everything.”

That was an issue. “I see.”

“You don’t. My home life was pretty chaotic. I left at fifteen. I had an older friend and I lived with him. I finished school, got a part-time job, worked my way through college. I don’t go home often. Thanksgiving is ugly. Dad went to jail, so did my oldest brother. Mom never left. No one has a steady job. Money is tight. They don’t understand the work I do and they resent me for getting out, being different.”

He let her eat while he digested that. He’d had order and she’d had chaos. It accounted for their different worldviews. “You were young to make the call to leave home.”

“It was that or get pregnant young. It’s what everyone in my neighborhood did. I have two sisters. They have six kids between them and three deadbeat ex-husbands, the kind of men who think giving your wife a black eye is reasonable and child support is a scam.”

Flick’s ambition wasn’t a game, it was her life force. He’d long acknowledged her professional competence, now he admired her will and tenacity.

“How much older was your friend?” He swallowed a mouthful of pasta trying to imagine what Flick would’ve looked like at fifteen since she could almost pass for that now.

“Drew was thirty.”

Tom flinched. Her friend was a grown man. His age now. Jesus fucking Christ, twice Flick’s age. He could no sooner be with a woman—a girl—half his age than he could give up the condo. Flick’s choices were hard. That light and energy inside her wasn’t brittle and fractured, and it might’ve been. If her edges were a little sharp that was nothing on what she’d had to cut through to get where she was.

“Don’t do that. He was good to me. Gave me a stable home, supported me financially while I went to school.”