“Where would the fun in that be?”
“Well, it’d be a lot more painless.”
“Like I said, where would the fun be? Making my brothers miserable is always a good night’s work.” The milky white bottleof Malibu behind Carlos caught Flynn’s eye. He ignored it most of the time, seeing as how he wasn’t a twenty-year-old coedlooking to get drunk.
But it gave him an idea. A specialty cocktail for the Cranberry Festival. Mix it with cranberry juice, pineapple juice, andskewer some sugared cranberries for a garnish. It needed . . . something else. Good thing he had almost three months to workon it.
Carlos rubbed the back of his neck. “If that’s your take on local beer, I’m not sure if I should ask my question.”
“Sorry.” Flynn shifted his attention back over. Looked like this was going to be something more serious than a shooting-the-breezeway to kill time until the first wave arrived. “I’m just pulling your leg. Ask away.”
“There’s a craft beer dinner next month. Up in Coquille. I thought you might want to come along. If you don’t mind hangingout with the boss. Which, in a town as small as Bandon, can’t really be a hang-up.”
Flynn took a long, slow sip of his drink to cover his surprise. Hanging with the boss. Back in Chicago, that was a big deal.A private dinner with Danny McGinty—well, they were never private. But a dinner with just his inner circle was a big fucking deal.
Carlos was so different from McGinty. McGinty didn’t ask—he issued commands. Whereas Carlos sweated gratitude out his poresevery time Flynn refilled the ice or made a suggestion about the drink menu.
This invitation was a big deal. McGinty’s invites always had an angle. This invite from Carlos was just . . . nice. He’d paidattention to some side chatter at the bar and acted on it. As a favor to Flynn, really.
And it was fucking nice. Thoughtful.
McGinty had used Flynn. He’d poured money into his college education—but not out of the kindness of his heart for a trio of orphans. No, he’ddone it to ensure a loyal soldier running his side company. He’d valued Flynn as a commodity. As another way to rake in profitsand keep his ass covered.
Carlos valued Flynn as a person.
It was very, very cool.
Flynn swallowed hard, because there was one hell of a lump in his throat. “That sounds great. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“I’ll send you a link to the Facebook event page.” Carlos ambled back toward the kitchen. Flynn braced his hands on the bar—hisdomain, now, rather than a glass-topped executive desk—and took a fucking minute to accept this was his life now.
Or it could be.
Too bad that just made Flynn worry twice as much.
“Hey, F-man.” Kellan waved as he sauntered in the door. He was in his jeans and red Bandon Cooperative Cranberry Facility shirt.
After a quick glance at the clock over the jukebox, Flynn asked, “What are you doing here so early? It’s only four.”
“There’s a barbecue on the beach tonight to kick off the fishing tournament. Half the plant’s working it. Either schleppingfood or drinks, playing in the band or pitching in with their personal boats for the day-fishers.” Kellan toed out a stooland dropped onto it. “Instead of fighting it, they closed the plant early. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about fishing, so Icame here to drink with my favorite brother.”
“Since when am I your favorite?”
“Ahh—since I know you could dropkick me halfway to the ocean with one foot?”
“Please. I could do that with just my big toe.”
“And since you can pour me a Guinness without moving so much as a step.”
Flynn took the hint and grabbed a glass mug with the gold and green harp logo. “You know I’m working tonight. We won’t beable to drink together.”
“Somebody will sit down next to me. If it’s a guy, I’ll drown my disappointment in beer and talk about the rumored new iPhone.If it’s a woman—a hot one—I’ll thank my lucky stars and start the ball rolling to the inevitable moment when I take her outsideto make out.”
“Good to know you’ve got a plan.”
“I don’t, really. But sitting here people watching won’t suck. Better than summer TV. Watching you drool all over Sierra alsopromises to be prime entertainment.”
Sierra. Yeah, it had been all of four minutes since Flynn had thought about her. But she was another reason, the biggest reason,why he was happy and, at the same time, freaked the fuck out about how things were going for them here.
The faint clatter of pans from the kitchen wasn’t enough noise to cover their conversation. So Flynn lifted the pass-throughat the end of the bar. “I’m making you earn this draft. Come help me check the sound system.”
As soon as they got to the small stage, Flynn crouched to fiddle with the wires coming out of the speaker. Or at least, makeit look like that’s what he was doing. “Kellan?”
“What?” His brother tapped on the microphone. “I don’t think this is on.”
“Get over here.” Once Kellan knelt beside him, Flynn asked the question it’d been too risky to voice at the bar. “Do you everworry about what happens next?”
“I told you, I’m hoping to lock lips with a luscious lady. Brunette, I think.”
“I’m serious. Do you worry about getting settled here, making it home—and then it all gets yanked away after Rafe and I testify?If our identities are made public? Or worse, if McGinty’s crew finds us before we go back?”
“Sure. All the time.”
Thank God it wasn’t just him. “It was easier before. When I didn’t give two shits about anything except being mad. But I thinkI’m starting to care.”
“About Sierra?” Kellan gave an exaggerated wink that drew up half of his face.
“Yeah, but not just her.” She’d just wiped the bitter blinders from his eyes. The more Flynn though about it, he’d fit intoBandon from day one. He’d just ignored how easy, how comfortable it was out of habit. “About doing the right thing for everyonehere. About doing a kick-ass job at the Gorse. Not letting Carlos
