Now, though, Sierra vowed to find the courage to plant herself in a new life. For good. She liked these women, this town.She liked Flynn, too. More than was probably smart. So she’d stay put, right here in Bandon.
With her friends.
With her sort of boyfriend.
But how?
Chapter Seven
Flynn rolled out butcher paper over a picnic table on the patio behind the Gorse. Each table had paper, a can full of markers,and a plate of cookies. He knew the importance of mid-afternoon snacks.
Not just for the kids, either.
“This looks good.” Carlos clapped him on the back. “Lily and my sister should be by any minute with their students.”
“I hope they have fun.” Arts and crafts was a far cry from the self-defense and basic martial arts he’d taught children backin Chicago. But his mentor in the Big Brother program swore you only needed two rules to deal with children: keep ’em busy,and always listen.
Flynn could do both. He had a knack for talking to and listening to kids. Probably because the mobsters he’d overseen at theconstruction company didn’t have much more maturity than a sixth-grader.
What he couldn’t do was draw.
Not at all. He didn’t even doodle in the sides of his textbooks during the most boring class ever—tenth-grade geometry. Whywaste time doing something he sucked at? Nobody ever said pay attention in art class because you’ll need it to design a float for a Cranberry Festival when you’re twenty-seven.
How was he supposed to guide these kids in designing a fully decorated float?
“Carlos, can you draw?” he asked.
“Why? You want a tattoo?”
Flynn cocked an eyebrow. What was in Carlos’s background that made a new tattoo a go-to, Thursday afternoon activity?
“I’ve got a tattoo,” he said shortly. One he’d get rid of as soon as possible. When you joined McGinty’s crew—officially—you got a tattoo. Proof you belonged. Proof you were permanently committed to the mob.
Good thing he’d learned nothing in this life was truly permanent. Including happiness.
“I know a guy. Up in North Bend. He can put something on your belly that moves when you breathe. Like eagle wings flapping.”
More info than Flynn needed. “No more tattoos. Look, if you can draw, it’d be good if you could help with the kids.”
Carlos let out a huge laugh. “Hell, no. To the drawing and especially to the kids. That’s my sister’s thing. I don’t want’em, don’t need ’em, and sure as hell don’t know how to deal with them. Why do you think I run a bar? Guaranteed kid-freezone.”
He was missing out. Kids had a way of looking at the world that either made you think or pee yourself laughing. They remindedFlynn that not everyone was born cynical and greedy. They’d been his antidote to McGinty.
“But you’re cool with them hanging out back here?”
“Sure. It’s for the Festival. Everyone’s gotta pitch in. Biggest weekend of the year.”
Yeah, yeah. He’d heard it all before. This Cranberry Festival was like a religion to the Bandon locals. They threw a festivalpretty much every other weekend in the summer. One for all the big holidays, a celebrate the dunes festival, a whale festival,and about a dozen more. But the Cranberry Festival mattered so much because more than half the town worked at harvesting andprocessing the fruit—and the other half knew someone who did. Pride in their jobs made it special.
Flynn hadn’t felt that, well, ever.
He walked back inside and saw that Sierra was early for her shift. She always showed up early to noodle around on the computer.
Why did a twentysomething woman in the twenty-first century not have her own computer? She’d mentioned college a couple oftimes and you couldn’t get through a degree without owning one. Flynn chalked it up to another mystery he wanted to figureout. And since she didn’t reveal much about herself, he’d have to be sneaky about it.
Or maybe kiss it out of her.
Her whole face lit up when she noticed him. “Hi there.”
“I thought you weren’t on for another couple of hours? I’d have given you a ride.”
“My ankle’s fine. I came into town to look up something at the library, and thought I’d hang out here instead of going backhome.”
In other words, she’d wanted to use the computer some more. Flynn saw right through her. Why wouldn’t she just tell him? Hebent an elbow to lean on the bar. Got face to face, a breath away from her lips. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why?”
“I like looking at you.” He swiped a kiss over her lips, and then another. “I like doing that, too.”
“Nobody said you had to stop.”
The woman really had no idea of how much she turned him on. Of how two kisses already had his dick as hard as steel. He loweredhis voice to a quiet murmur. “If I keep going there won’t be any stopping, and this bar will get used in a whole new X-ratedway.”
She giggled. The sound ran through his blood like soda bubbles. “It doesn’t look comfortable to lie on.”
“You wouldn’t be lying on it. I sure as hell wouldn’t drive my knees into this thing. No, I picture you braced, bent overthe end, on your tiptoes. Me behind you. Holding on to your hip with one hand and your breast with the other.”
Sierra’s sharp, indrawn breath was as loud as a bullet.
Flynn could hardly stand how much fun it’d be opening her eyes to all the possibilities of what they’d do together.
Because yeah, he’d lost the battle with himself to be good where she was concerned. It was no longer a question of if—just when. He had to have her. Had to get inside and fucking bask in the sunshine that was Sierra.
Was it selfish of him? Hell, yeah. Did she deserve a man who could do the basics, like tell her his real name? Yeah.
But he’d treat her well, that was for sure. Even when treating her right meant walking away before she lost her heart to aliar who’d always carry the filth of the Chicago mob with him.
He dropped his hand from where it’d
