CHAPTER 5

"Just get your bags out first. Our garage elevator is tiny and we're going to be forever shuttling bags."

I resented that he was helping me. Resented that I was flustered enough to have been accepting said help. And I resented having a disheveled look about me at all of this happening.

Flinn got out, tossed all six of my suitcases and duffel bags onto the sidewalk, and stopped a burly A****n delivery guy and got him to shift the lane so he could push my car into the building's parking lot. They both pushed the trunk, rolling it into the garage underneath. I put Gravity onto a suitcase, her legs hooked over the handle, and dropped her iPad, covered in a butterfly-shaped sleeve, into her hands. I put her kitty-ear headphones on her ears. Her face lit up as she saw Caitie's Classroom. Then I went and fetched my broken phone from the pavement.

With a mix of mortification and humiliation, I watched Flinn and the delivery guy work. When the car was wedged into the garage, Flinn once more came out from behind the lobby. He looked even more together than before, one silky hank of sandy hair dislodged from his man bun and drifting above his eye. His cheekbones were covered in pink marring. I almost felt guilty as he approached us. I began to open my mouth to tell him thank you.

"Why is the child holding a penis?" He flicked his eyes to Gravity, who hugged Mr. Mushroom on the suitcase while she fixed her eyes intently on her show.

The child. He spoke of her as if she were a fixable problem.

"It's not a penis. It's Mr. Mushroom," I corrected loftily.

He gave me a flat look punctuated with a half-moon smirk that threatened to light my panties aflame.

Despite my aversion to him now, I'd always had a thing for Flinn Coltridge.

A happy-to-get-on-all-fours-for-you-at-a-moment's-notice kind of thing.

Which obviously didn't help matters.

"It's a long story, okay?" I picked up my daughter again, cradling her head in the crook of my neck. "Thanks for the help, though. You can resume being New York's favorite fuckboy." I mouthed the last word under my breath so Grav wouldn't hear it, shooing him away with my hand.

"Am I shaming you for being a sex worker?" He raised a thick eyebrow, one color deeper than his hair.

"No. I'm shaming you for being a douchebag."

"Why? History says it's your go-to taste in men." He brusquely laughed.

1–10 to the home team.

My ex, Tucker, was certainly a walking, talking condom advert.

"You know, Flinn." I rested my hip on an enormous suitcase, drawing on all the acting skills in the world to be calm and untroubled. "There aren't quite enough synonyms in the English language to say how much I hate you."

This was not opposite of my wanting him. I wanted three Valiums and all of a mango key lime cheesecake too and still remembered they could kill me.

"Flattered." He put a hand on his chest, bowing low theatrically. "I believe there isn't a word for what I feel for you, but it's somewhere between disdain and utter boredom."

"Indifferent," I filled in generously.

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "See? And everyone thinks you're just a pretty face. Klaus Casablanca, a walking dictionary, ladies and gents."

"All I took away from this is that you think I'm very pretty, and while I agree with you, you stand no chance. I'm done with dating losers."

"That's a bit of a dilemma, sweetheart."

"Why?"

"I seriously doubt anyone other than a loser would have you.".

Just as I was going to punch my brother's best friend on my first hour in Manhattan, we were blocked by a literal cowboy. He was approaching, accompanied by another suited guy, waving at us.

"Howdy, Coltridge."

The man was as misplaced in New York as a Disney princess at a BDSM club, his Western hat and fancy shirt, cowboy boots, and worn denim. He gulped at the sight of us-the suitcases, Gravity, me, and Flinn-and his wide-set mouth broke into a beaming smile. He looked to be about early sixties and in fine fettle. A thick gold ring sparkled on his wedding finger.

"Cole," Flinn replied with a careless grin, but I saw him clear his throat. "You're early."

"The early bird catches the worm." The man winked, holding back a few feet from us and rubbing his longhorn buckle. "Well, ain't that something? Flinn Coltridge, I had no idea you were a taken man. With a kid, no less. That surely gives you brownie points in my book."

What?

I opened my mouth to tell him that he would not be able to find any lost love between Flinn and me, even if he used a microscope, when I heard the latter laugh in good spirits.

"Never judge a book by its cover, Bruce."

To my horror, his arm wrapped around my shoulder too. I was a statue, my eyes consuming my whole face. What in the world was going on here?

"And who do we have here?" Bruce fawned over Gravity, who dangled her feet off the suitcase, clutching Mr. Mushroom. At least she was holding the stuffie so tightly that it couldn't be seen.

"That's Gravity." Flinn brushed aside the way I pushed his touch away, easily removing his arm from my shoulder and lifting my daughter up, cradling her in his chest. He smiled down at her. Gravity's eyes stayed obliviously glued to the screen. "A.k.a. the light of my life."

"You're living in the Dark Ages then, I guess," I growled under my breath, folding my arms over my chest.

Flinn glared at me.

"Bruce Marshall." The man held out his hand with a friendly smile. "Pleased to meet you, ma'am. And you are?"

"Not a ma'am." I struggled free and shook his hand in mine. "And nor Mrs. Coltridge, thank God."

Bruce Marshall's smile disappeared, and Flinn inserted himself between us, barking a laugh. "She means not yet," he clarified. "But as you can see, we can't wait to marry."

Bruce's gaze dropped to my ringless fingers. "I ain't seeing no ring."

What was Flinn doing? More to the point, why was he doing it?

Flinn gave him a casual whack on the back. "Don't spoil all my surprises, Brucey boy. She wanted something else than I gave her. She's a hard woman to please."

"No," I drawled. "You just suck in bed."

Bruce's eyes ping-ponged between me and my daughter. I caught his judgment then. Even though I knew there was nothing wrong with having a child out of marriage-especially since I was the one who was dumped-I still felt exposed and naked.

"Gravity's not mine," Flinn moved swiftly to explain, pulling her away from me. "Though she feels like mine in every way that matters."

What a mountain of hooey. Flinn disapproved of children and, as a consequence, always stood on the opposite side of the room when Gravity and Rosemary were around. Even Gravity gave him a "do I know you, sir?" glare.

Bruce moved to give his friendly, approving smile to Flinn, nodding slowly. "Didn't figure you'd be the kind of man who'd offer to do extra work if he doesn't have to.".

"Very well, there is much that you still have no idea about me and my nature," Flinn said in an enigmatic manner. Asshole not only dumped on me, but was also making sure he rode back and forth several times, which left skid marks on my body. Why was he rolling around with his teeth?