“Omigosh. What a sweet offer, Flynn!” Sierra’s voice rose to a near silent squeal of excitement. Like a dog whistle in reverse.
Flynn got a kick out of her excitement. But it was oversized. Had he been a surly dick too long, and one simple gesture flooredher? Or was it that Sierra wasn’t used to nice gestures from anyone? Son of a bitch. He didn’t like either option. “It’s nobig deal.”
“But it is. That’s . . . that’s like you’re making a personalized work of art for me.”
He squeezed honey over the banana slices. Let that bubble up for a minute before scooping it onto bread smeared with peanutbutter. Then he put the whole thing back in the pan to sizzle for a minute. “If it tastes good enough, it won’t last as longas real art.”
“Art can be about the beauty it captures in a moment. There’s no use-by date.”
Flynn liked the way she saw the world. It made him want to see it that way, too. Sierra’s joy in life was contagious. Andthis from a woman with almost no food, and a house the size of his living room. Who regularly got soaked in the Oregon rainas she biked to work and still walked in with a smile on her face every day.
Yeah, he wanted to do everything in his power to keep that smile coming, and aimed right at him. Maybe that would burn throughthe thick scar tissue of ugly thoughts he’d kept bottled up since Chicago.
Nah. She didn’t deserve to have any of his shit flake off onto her. Exactly why he’d kept her at arm’s length.
Suddenly Flynn felt like he had T. rex arms. Short and useless.
Flynn sliced the golden brown sandwich, then dolloped cranberry jam in the middle of the plate for dipping. Paper towel drapedover his arm like the snooty waiters at Morton’s back home, Flynn presented the plate with a half bow. “Told you I could dobetter for dinner. Because I made you dessert, instead. Which always trumps dinner.”
Grabbing it with both hands, Sierra inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and then let out a tiny, honest-to-God moan. A moan thathe felt in his dick, as sure as if she’d stroked it with her tongue.
Eyes the same pale blue as the stripes on the City of Chicago’s flag finally fluttered back open. “This looks wonderful, Flynn.Any chance this means you share my sweet tooth?”
“Not enough to steal half that sandwich from you, but yeah. I’ll take an apple fritter over eggs and bacon any day of theweek.”
Sierra looked up at him like he was chocolate cake dipped in fudge sauce topped with mocha ice cream. “A man as big and strongand tough-looking as you admits to craving donuts?”
She’d noticed his muscles? Flynn stood a little straighter. “I like bacon. Ideal situation is a donut with a side of bacon.As long as there’s still pie with dinner.”
“That’s adorable.” Sierra crunched down through the toast. Got another one of those practically orgasmic smiles on her face,then licked her lips. “And this is delicious. I don’t know what’s sweeter—you making me dinner, or how good this tastes.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?”
Shit. He’d have to tell her thoughts that were still barely formed in his brain. They were more of a gut reaction, an instinct.A need Flynn couldn’t ignore. “I want to take care of you. It isn’t a favor to you. Hell, you letting me help out is a favor to me.”
“Why?” Those blue eyes squinted at him in confusion. Her nose scrunched up. Talk about adorable. “Why on earth do you wantto go out of your way, after a long shift, to make more work for yourself?”
“Because it’s you, Sierra. Bringing you home, making you dinner. It’s the least I can do. Hell, it’s all I want to do. Whatever puts a smileon your face.”
It’d be better if anybody else in town took on that job, instead of him. Flynn was well aware—thanks to his brothers’ constant reminders—that his attitudesucked on the best of days. He got plenty of reminders from the marshal that he was a criminal. Sure, the U.S. governmentwasn’t pressing charges because of his testimony against McGinty. But every FBI agent, marshal, and lawyer who looked at hisfile then looked at him like he was shit tracked onto their shoe.
Or maybe Flynn just felt that way on the inside.
Bottom line, Sierra deserved someone better. Someone else.
Except . . . Sierra didn’t seem to have anyone else. And Flynn couldn’t make himself walk away. No matter how selfish.
She still looked confused. “You do make me smile, Flynn. All the time. You’re patient with me. You never snap when I confusea drink order. You stop whatever you’re doing to open the kitchen door for me. Which kind of makes my heart explode becauseit feels like we’re on a date even though we’re just working. Even though you’re way out of my league.”
“Don’t say that.” He took the plate from her and set it on the floor. Then Flynn knelt next to the sofa. “You’ve got the sweetest,biggest heart I’ve ever seen. So kind. Caring. And you’re so beautiful that I have to bend over backward to ignore you soI can get work done.”
“You think I’m beautiful?”
Did she really not know? Not know how much she affected him?
Fuck.
How could she when he’d never said a damn word about it? Never gave her a hint. Hell, almost never even acknowledged it tohimself, because the thought of being with her was so impossible.
“Let me show you just how beautiful I think you are.”
Flynn almost bracketed her face in his hands. But she angled back. It was barely noticeable, but he did. He noticed everythingabout Sierra. And she seemed skittish.
So he dropped his hands back down. Angled in to only touch her lips. It was a soft kiss. A brush, mouth against mouth, solight they barely touched. Just to see what Sierra would do.
She didn’t pull back.
Flynn did it again.
