He intended to nope the hell out of that one for the rest of his life.

Fortunately, right now they were both stuffing their faces, so neither of them were talking, which suited him just fine.

After they ate, Mia put her plate and glass in the dishwasher. “I need to pack.”

Amelia frowned. “You’re heading back to Texas tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Fortunately, though, I’ll see you in just a couple of weeks.”

Amelia slid out of her seat and pulled Mia into a hug. “I’ll miss you. Text me.”

“I will. I want that recipe for the corn chowder.”

“I’ll e-mail it to you.”

“Awesome.”

Flynn looked over at Mia. “I’ll probably drive Amelia home, so I’ll be back later.”

Mia nodded. “Not a problem. I intend to pack, then I’m going to put on my pajamas and pass out. So I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night, Mia,” Amelia said.

“Night.”

After Mia walked out, Amelia looked at him. “Is that my cue that you’d like me to hurry up and finish my pizza?”

“No. It was me telling my sister that if she happened to wander back over here, I might be gone.”

“Good. Because I intend to finish this piece. It’s really good.”

He ended up eating another slice of pizza, too.

“I’m glad you get along so well with Mia.”

She gave him a quizzical look. “I love your sister. Why wouldn’t I get along with her?”

“I didn’t mean it like I was surprised or anything. It just makes me happy. My girlfriend and my sister get along. You know. It’s like a good thing.”

She crinkled her nose. “Oh. I see. And now I’m your girlfriend? First we were just dating.”

“Are you being cranky or is that some kind of problem?”

“Which part? The girlfriend or the dating?”

He rolled his eyes. “Both, I guess. Which part were you talking about?”

“Neither. I just didn’t know I was your girlfriend. Then again, I didn’t know we were dating, either, until you told me.”

Amelia confused him. “Okay. I’m . . . sorry?”

“You don’t sound sorry.”

It had been a long day. He was tired. He knew Amelia was probably tired, too, and this was the wrong damn time to have this conversation. But now he was irritated. “So because I called you my girlfriend I’ve pissed you off.”

“No . . . I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe I’d just like to be asked once in a while instead of told.”

Flynn dragged his fingers through his hair and dragged in a deep breath, then let it out. “Okay, so you don’t want to be called my girlfriend. How about the woman I’m fucking?”

She leveled a glare at him. “Now, that was insulting.”

He widened his arms. “Then I don’t know how to talk about us, Amelia. What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything from you, Flynn. We’re just going out. We’re having some fun together. Isn’t that enough? Why do we have to put labels on it? Why do you have to attach yourself to me? Or why can’t we talk about it before you announce that I’m your girlfriend? You don’t own me, you know.”

And now it was ownership. He had no idea how this conversation had taken such a wrong turn. He’d had enough and before things got ugly between them he needed to put a stop to it. “Okay, I think I should take you home.”

“That sounds like a really good idea.” She got up and grabbed her purse and headed toward the door, obviously as ready for some separation as he was.

They went outside and it was clear she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, because she shot around to the passenger side of the SUV in a hurry, so he didn’t even bother trying to go over there to open the door for her. Instead, he slid into the driver’s side.

The short drive to her place was made in tense silence. When he pulled in front of her house, Flynn struggled to say something, anything to break the tension between them. But Amelia unbuckled her seat belt and opened her door, apparently in a hurry to get away from him.

“Thanks for letting me come to the game today. I had a good time.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Good night, Flynn.” She shut the door and headed inside her house without even a backward glance.

He thought maybe the short drive would have cooled off her temper. He guessed not.

Fine. This wasn’t his fault. Calling Amelia his girlfriend wasn’t some kind of crime. He put the car in gear and headed home.

TWENTY-ONE

Amelia stared into her cup of coffee, looking for answers. Or maybe a cure for the raging headache that throbbed incessantly between her temples.

Never again was she going to drink that much wine, because it obviously made her behave like a complete bitch.

She was so glad today was her day off, because if she had to go to work tonight it would be brutal.

She’d come home last night, tossed her purse on the sofa, then opened a bottle and had yet another glass, which had only ended up tasting sour to her. In the end, she’d gone to bed but had been unable to sleep, convinced she’d been in the right. Her subconscious, on the other hand, had other ideas. She’d lain awake for hours, unable to sleep while she’d replayed the conversation between Flynn and her.