“Nah. I let him. Rafe hasn’t been able to get the upper hand on me in at least five years.”
That didn’t sound boastful. Flynn said it as fact, which seemed unusual. From the times the Maguires had eaten together atthe Gorse, Rafe seemed a bit taller than Flynn’s six feet. “Really?”
“I can beat anyone in a fight.” Another flat statement of fact. “I used to do that all the time.”
Fighting was so far outside of Sierra’s frame of reference. No artist would do anything that might risk injuring their fingers.“You were in actual fights with people?”
“In a ring. In competitions. Not over grabbing the last bag of peanuts at a ball game.”
Wow. Big-time wow. Suddenly Sierra wanted to see him in action. Wanted to watch the ripple of muscles and tendons and theutter grace she was positive flowed off of him like water. It would be beautiful. To her artistic eye. And incredibly arousing,as well. To all the parts of her that were on alert right now just from sharing a car ride with Flynn.
“And you always won?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. No point doing something unless you do it all the way.” He huffed out a breath. Draped one wrist overthe top of the steering wheel and pushed the other up his forehead and through his hair. “That used to be my motto.”
“Used to be?” Flynn was dropping all sorts of crumbs of information. But Sierra had to push the conversational broom prettyhard to sweep them into a recognizable pile.
“New state, new motto.”
That was it. He sighed, but said nothing more. Was Flynn really that oblivious to how hard she was trying here? With a tadless patience, she asked, “What is it now?”
Repeating the hand swipe over his head, he said, “I haven’t figured that out yet.” His voice sounded grim. Sierra didn’t knowanyone else who had a personal motto, so she wasn’t sure why it mattered so much. But it obviously did to Flynn.
Now she regretted pushing. She still wanted to know—everything—about him. Every crumb he let fall showed Flynn to be that much more of an interesting and thoughtful person. But the lastthing Sierra wanted to do was be the cause of that frown line between his eyebrows.
She scrambled to take his mind out of whatever emotional dark alley she’d accidentally sent him down. “I wish I could seeyou fight.”
It did the trick. Flynn flashed her a smile, all full of cockiness and promise. “You want to see my muscles? I’ll whip themout anytime you want.”
“Yes. Yes, as a matter of fact, I think I do want to see your muscles.”
Sliding his sunglasses down his nose to peer at her over the frames, he asked, “Which ones?”
Thanks to the required anatomy class at her undergrad, Sierra could literally name each one. Not all seven hundred in thebody, but the correct name for each one that she wanted to see. It’d take too long, though. Not to mention seriously puttinga damper on their flirting. “Would it be greedy to say all of them?”
“Not if you knew how badly I want you to see them. How badly I want you to touch them.” Flynn grabbed her hand and put it just below the hem of his shorts.She felt the crispness of dark hairs covering the rock-hard rectus femoris and the diagonal sweep of the sartorius muscle.Then she gave herself a mental high five for remembering the Latin names.
Then Sierra stopped thinking at all because Flynn squeezed her hand, curling his fingers around and mixing a sweet dollop of romanceinto the lust already pulsing right below her skin. “You’d be doing me a huge favor if you turned those gorgeous blue eyesof yours onto any of my muscles.”
“I don’t have a motto, like you, but now I’ve got a goal.”
With a chuckle, Flynn let go and turned his attention back to the road as they bumped off the flat stretch and up onto theenormous bridge.
The green of the metal trusses almost matched the dull green of the Coquille River below. Sierra’s fingers twitched with wantfor a paintbrush and canvas. “Someone at the Gorse said this is a lift bridge. I’d love to watch it go up and down, see abig ship go under it.”
“Drawbridges are cool. Slow, though. I’d always start off excited to watch. Then after five minutes of idling, waiting forsome dumb-ass weekend sailor to figure out how to get his boat in line, I’d be cussing and miserable.”
This time, Sierra bit back the follow-up question literally itching on the tip of her tongue. Like where he got to see drawbridges all the time. One near miss of Flynn shutting down on her wasenough. Especially since their date had barely begun.
No. Especially since she’d probably freak out if he pushed her to answer any personal questions. She’d take what he offered up. Not push for more. And hope against hope that Flynn extendedthe same courtesy.
“Are you planning to buy your own car soon?”
“Thinking about it. We agreed to try sharing one for, ah, about six months. You know, do our part for the environment. Bandon’sso frickin’ small. We can walk most places, no problem. Aside from getting rained on.”
“I’m surprised your brothers let you take the car tonight, with so little notice.”
“Are you kidding?” He drummed on the steering wheel. “A hot date takes priority over anything. Except a cold body in the trunk.”
Just as Sierra began to laugh, Flynn sucked in air that almost sounded choked. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—we don’t actuallycart around dead bodies.”
“Of course not. That’s why I’m laughing.”
“You are, aren’t you?” He turned his head to check on her once, and then again, like he couldn’t believe it. “I’ve been toldmy humor’s too dry—or morbid—for some people.”
“That may be true. But you’re not on a date with ‘some people.’ You’re with me. And you make me laugh all the time.”
He pulled into the Bullards Beach parking lot and gave her yet another long, appraising look. The kind that, if
