Best. Reason. Ever.
Especially since Flynn was suddenly happy, too.
But no chance that’d last.
Not with his luck.
Chapter Eight
Sierra tipped her head back to catch more of the breeze from the open T-tops of Flynn’s car. The rays of the early eveningsun had lost their punch and felt relaxing on her forehead and shoulders. What a great way to start their date. Then she stretchedher legs out all the way. “This car has amazing leg room.”
“If Rafe were here, he’d counter by saying that this car has amazing everything. Then he’d proceed to explain that this 1970 Chevy Camaro, with its ‘new Strato bucket seats,’ along with a whole bunch ofboring details about what’s under the hood, is the best car ever made.” Flynn shook his head.
“I take it you’re not equally enamored of this classic car?”
He blew a big raspberry. “Some people say classic. I say old. I say, where are the automatic windows and Bluetooth and a wayto change the radio station without taking my hands off the wheel?”
“You’re a technology lover, huh?”
“You bet. Why not take advantage of every advancement there is? Don’t tell me George Washington wouldn’t have given everyset of his wooden teeth to have air-conditioning during those sticky summers at Mount Vernon. Or that Babe Ruth wouldn’t geta kick out of watching his Yankees in HD.”
He was a walking cliché of masculinity. It tickled Sierra to death. Flynn was the guy who’d upgrade to a new electric knifeevery Thanksgiving—and believe that there was a difference. He was the opposite of everyone back in her painting program,which made him twice as interesting to Sierra.
“So what kind of a car did you have before deciding to share one with your brothers? One with all the bells and whistles?”
Flynn opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it again. Then he gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head beforeclearing his throat. “A Jeep Wrangler Sport. Leather seats, nine speaker system with an all-weather subwoofer and an overheadsound bar, SiriusXM radio. And yeah, seat warmers.”
He sounded . . . wistful? It was a little hard to tell. Now that Flynn was finally opening up to her rather than just chatting,Sierra was hearing a lot of nuances for the first time from him. And she wanted to keep mining for more. Especially sincehe’d dropped that bombshell about both of his parents being dead. It gave them something deep and meaningful in common.
Not that she’d wish that particular experience on her worst enemy. But it wasn’t easy to find people her own age who couldbegin to grasp just how alone she felt in the world. Flynn still had his brothers, but he had that “I am an island” shuttered look in his eyes that shefelt deep in her soul so often.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “You must miss it.”
“I do. Rafe deserves this old relic. He’s wanted one his whole life. Loves to tinker with it. I’m glad he’s living the dream.I just miss my car.”
“How’s the whole sharing thing working out?”
His jaw tightened until the side of his face looked as hard as a marble statue. “Not well.”
“Because you’re all grown, independent men not used to accommodating each other’s schedules?”
“No. Because my brothers are asshats.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, no different from stating that they all had black hair. Sierra laughed as she looked out thewindow. The wall of pine trees edging the Oregon Coast Highway blurred into a wavery, ombré wall of green, thanks to Flynn’sheavy foot on the pedal. “Is that so?”
“It is. Well, some of the time. I guarantee they say the same about me. A car means freedom. Going your own way, doing yourown thing. Without first being dragged through a ten-round negotiation and prioritization discussion.”
Hmm. Flynn’s schedule at the Gorse matched up with hers, most of the time. He never mentioned hiking or kayaking or windsurfing.On her days off, Sierra had started to go down to the boardwalk to draw. She didn’t recall seeing him there, either. So shetook a chance and pressed him. “To be fair, do you go anywhere besides the bar? Do anything that requires a car?”
One dark, thick eyebrow shot up as his neck slowly cranked around. In a low, threatening growl, he asked, “Are you takingRafe’s and Kellan’s side?”
When they first met . . . well, who was she kidding? She’d been equal parts completely weak-kneed at his hotness and intimidatedby his bad boy vibe. The wall of indifference and attitude that roiled off of him like steam off a mug of coffee had to makeevery woman within twenty miles want to be the one who broke through to him.
Sierra hadn’t thought for a second that she had anything necessary to meet that challenge. But it hadn’t stopped her fromwondering what lay beneath that . . . reserve. Now that she knew about the big heart and caring tenderness, Flynn didn’t intimidate her one bit. Not even when he triedhis best to.
“I’m taking their side if you’re going to be stupid about it. If you’re, oh, I don’t know, campaigning for your third of timeeven if you don’t need to drive anywhere.”
“Stop reading my mind,” he ordered.
Giggling, she shifted in her seat to cross her legs. “I’m quite sure I’ve barely cracked the surface.”
“You still hit the nail on the head,” he grumbled. “But that’s how it is with brothers. You have to keep on your guard, orthey’ll run roughshod over you. Next thing you know, your little brother ‘forgets’ to add your laundry when he runs a load.Then there’s a whole complicated thing with reminding Kellan he’s the youngest and he’s got to show us a little respect.”
Flynn talked about his brothers a lot and Sierra knew she’d never, ever get tired of hearing about them. Families—close families—absolutelyfascinated her. “What does that entail?”
“Last week? It was a wrestling match in the sand that ended with Rafe dragging both of us into the ocean.”
“At the same time? That’s . . .
