Now he knew all those things. Now the inside of his car smelled of her tropical-scented shampoo. The softness of her hand bumped againsthis where they shared the center console. And their conversation in the ten-minute ride from the Gorse to her house had beenlight and flirty like he used to have with women back in Chicago. Before his life imploded. Before he stopped talking andbasically communicated in grunts and scowls.
So now? Flynn was miserable in a whole different way. Mad at himself for letting their friendship slip over that line in thesand. For having lost the strength to resist her ease and fun for her own damn sake. Succumbed, selfishly, to the temptation of her that he’d tried so hard to keep in the friend zone for weeks.
Also? Frustrated that he had to be guarded, to think before every response so that nothing about his old life slipped out.Pissed that he didn’t have a shot in hell with this woman because she deserved two hundred percent more than he could possiblygive. Sierra didn’t deserve to be lied to day and night.
But then, because he was so weak and selfish, Flynn pushed all those thoughts to the side. This was the best car ride he’dhad in months.
“This isn’t Carlos’s truck,” Sierra said. She reached up to run her fingertips along the seam of the classic Camaro’s T-tops.
“I brought my car tonight. In case you needed a ride home again.” He’d had to negotiate for it. Now he’d have to make timetomorrow to detail the whole thing. Not to mention putting up with Rafe’s ribbing about how Flynn needed a “coach” for his“lady.” His brothers didn’t buy that he was just being a good coworker, taking care of Sierra.
Probably because they’d known him for twenty-seven years.
And God knew Flynn sure as hell wasn’t even fooling himself.
“Well, I didn’t need a ride. But I do appreciate it. Why don’t you drive to work every day?”
“I share the car with both my brothers. This is Rafe’s baby.”
“That’s unusual.”
“When we moved, it seemed stupid to bring all three cars to a town this small.” Shit. Did that come off as an insult? Flynnwas under strict orders from Delaney not to insult this zit of a zip code in front of anyone but his brothers. “I mean, atown this, ah, walkable. So we thought we’d make do with one while we got the lay of the land.”
“How’s that working out?”
“Crappy.”
Sierra giggled. The sound tickled along his skin like the bubbles on top of a gin and tonic. Flynn could listen to that allday. “You’re not a fan of walking?”
“On the beach with a beautiful woman tucked under my arm? Sure. When I’m jonesing for Doritos and want to make a fast runto the store? Hell, no.”
“What flavor?”
Flynn gave her a cool glare for asking a question with such an obvious answer. “Cool Ranch. None of that new double-layered,jacked-up shit.”
Another giggle. Damn if just the sound of it didn’t make him want to smile, too. “You’re a purist, then,” she said.
“I know what I like. I know what’s right for me.” And wasn’t that the biggest load of bull that had ever come out of his mouth?
Yeah, Flynn knew what he liked in chips and clothes and movies. But he hadn’t managed to pick a new baseball team yet.
More importantly, Flynn had no clue what was right as far as the whole rest of his life went. He’d always assumed stickingwith his brothers was the best path no matter what. Now, though, Rafe had Mollie. Kellan seemed way past done with the attitudeFlynn hadn’t managed to shake.
Well, except for when he was around Sierra.
She gave a happy sigh. “Doritos are kind of a treat for me. Something not at all in my weekly grocery budget. So when I geta chance to gorge, it doesn’t even matter the flavor.”
That was rough. Flynn couldn’t imagine being on a budget so tight that frickin’ tortilla chips were special. He risked anotherlook over at Sierra. What was her story, anyway? He knew there was one, since Carlos refused to tell him.
Flynn wanted to find out. Why she was scrimping so hard. He wanted to fix it, to make her life easier. Given her comment aboutthe chips, her bike-riding made more sense now. Foot power was way cheaper than gasoline.
Why couldn’t Sierra afford to drive? Talk about a basic right that most of America took for granted. Shit. Was she in trouble?
Flynn parked in front of her stupidly tiny house. Once again, he didn’t give her a chance to open her door. Just scooped hisarms under her knees and behind her back and pulled her across the seat into his arms.
Sierra’s arms curled around his neck. “Flynn, you don’t need to carry me.”
“You were on that ankle too much tonight. You should stay off it now.”
That was what he said, anyway.
What he thought? Was that he’d take any chance to have her warmth tight against his chest. To cradle her soft curves. To breathein the dick-hardening scent of coconut coming off of her hair. To stop thinking and bitching and worrying about everythingelse in his life.
Because when he held Sierra, it all melted away. There was only her. It had only happened twice so far, but that wasn’t nearlyenough.
“A girl could get used to this.”
“A guy wouldn’t object.”
What the hell?
Flynn was seriously flirting with her. Again. Still. The thing he’d sworn to himself not to do, again. Because he was no good for her. Because she deserved better than a lying ex-mobster.
God knew he didn’t deserve her sweetness.
Couldn’t fucking seem to stop himself, though.
After a quick fumble with the keys, they were in. Where Flynn promptly banged her foot against something. He was too busyducking and angling to tell. “Sorry.”
“It wasn’t my sore foot. But you should probably put me down now. This place isn’t to scale for grand acts of chivalry.”
Flynn chuckled as he set her down on the couch. “What do you need? Ice? Are your pj’s still
