It made her realize how much Rick hadn’t listened, hadn’t gotten her. That he’d pretty much used her, kept dating her forhis own profit. It made his betrayal of her a little easier to bear.
Just a little.
Sierra beamed at Flynn. Channeling Mariana’s boldness, she said, “I feel exactly the same way about you. This week has beenamazing, Flynn. I can’t wait to see what happens next.”
“Next is you trying your surprise.” He beckoned her closer. Sierra shifted over two stools. “Realized something as I was thinkingthrough a specialty cocktail for Elena.”
She eyed the purply-pink drinks lined up on the bar. “Ooh, what are you making for her?”
“I’m working on a couple different options. But these aren’t for her. They’re for you.”
“You’re making me my very own drink?” Nobody had ever done anything like that for her before. No foster parent made her cookieswhen she was having a bad day or brought home a great report card. Nobody in art school drew her a picture. Sierra absolutelyloved Flynn’s surprise.
“Of course. I’ve got to make a Sierra Special. I’m honing in on the right recipe, but you should taste and vote.”
“What are they?”
“You told me how much you like blackberries. I’m trying to make the ultimate Blackberry Pie Martini for you.”
“Might as well just fill a glass with sugar cubes,” Mick grumbled. He tugged at the brim of his USMC ball cap as he shovedhis empty beer mug forward for a refill. “Only difference being that you couldn’t upcharge the shit out of it.”
The old vet’s crotchetiness didn’t do anything to still the flutter in Sierra’s heart. Omigosh. She and Flynn had talked aboutthe Cranberry Festival during their beach picnic, and she’d admitted that she preferred blackberries. And then had probablygone on a little too long about her favorite blackberry pie. The dining hall at the Milwaukee Institute of Art & Design hadit through the beginning of October, and there wasn’t a day that Sierra didn’t snag a piece.
He’d listened. Not just let her words wash over him. No, Flynn had taken what she said to heart and then made an effort to do somethingspecial based on it.
What a wonderful man. He wasn’t with her out of convenience because they worked at the same place. Or for a good time in bed.This was a thoughtful man who cared. A man who believed she mattered.
A man she could trust with her heart.
Bracing her elbows on the bar, Sierra boosted herself over to kiss Flynn right on the lips. It wasn’t the appropriate thingto do while they were both still on shift. But his gesture required a response. “Thank you. For paying attention most of all,and for the drinks.”
Mick barked out a laugh, thwacking his palm against the bar. “I’ll make you a drink if it gets me that kind of service.”
“How about you get one just for being patient when I tended bar the other night?” Sierra gave him a peck on the cheek. Becauseshe didn’t have a grandfather. But there were many days when Mick’s gruff concern made her feel special.
“Hey. Get your own girl, old-timer,” Flynn threatened playfully. “Or I’ll cut you off.”
Mick put a fist to his chest. “You found my weak spot. My arthritis couldn’t take the damp air without my medicinal hops.”
Medicinal. He was adorable. Sierra beamed at the older man. Flynn just ignored him, touching her chin to bring her attention back tohis creations.
“Don’t thank me until you try them. I think I’ve narrowed it down to these two.” Flynn pointed at the martini glass. “Blackberryvodka, vanilla schnapps, whipped cream, and a few drops of Chambord for color.”
Sierra lifted it and took a small sip. Cautiously. Because she had very little experience with mixed drinks, and didn’t wantto embarrass herself by choking if it was super strong. “It’s sweet.” Surprisingly so. “Creamy. I think I could too easilydrink quite a few of these.”
“Hang on. No deciding until you try option two. It’s a little more complicated, but probably worth it.” He pushed a champagneflute toward her. “Muddled blackberries, lemon juice, simple syrup, gin, crème de cassis, and a splash of Cava.”
“What’s Cava?”
“Sparkling wine. Like champagne, except from Spain originally.”
“I’m not fancy enough to merit sparkling wine.”
His blue eyes squinted to slits of confusion. “Are you kidding? You’re very sparkly. Every time you smile, every time youlavish attention on elderly customers who look alone and lonely. When you were helping the kids with the float, so many sparklescame off you it was like fairy dust filled the patio. Just try it.”
Well. Sierra certainly felt sparkly after that flattering description. So she reached across the bar to take Flynn’s hand. Gave it a long squeeze, andthen kept holding it as she tried the second cocktail.
Wow. Holy crapballs of yummy deliciousness. Her gaze flashed up to his. “It’s amazing. It’s bursting with blackberry flavor.It tickles my tongue like . . . like stars twinkling.”
“Funny you should say that.” He took his own sip, turning the glass to drink from the same spot that Sierra had. And thattiny gesture set off supernovas exploding in her heart. “There’s an old story that the monk who made champagne famous saidhe was tasting stars the first time he tried it. Not true, of course, but a fun legend.”
Sierra took the glass from him to have another small sip. Mmmmm. “I’m very impressed that you’re quoting a monk. You’re soworldly.”
Flynn cocked his head, as if considering. “I actually haven’t seen much of the world. Never traveled much of anywhere beforewe, ah, moved.” Then he looked down. Scrubbed his hand across his eyes as if trying to erase something. “I’ve seen a lot,though. Things I wouldn’t want you to see. Or know. This little corner of the world’s probably enough for me.”
His voice had gone low and dark, like when storm clouds suddenly rolled in and turned the afternoon sky black. Whatever hehad
