Yep, this new life of hers in Bandon was pretty great.
And as she savored that thought, melting into her brain with the sweetness of a chocolate truffle melting on her tongue, Sierrafelt a kiss on the top of her head. Excellent. It had been a whole hour since they’d last kissed, and she was desperate for Flynn’s lips.
She didn’t even finish the bow on her shoelaces before swiveling around. Sierra looped her arms around his neck and pulledhim down into a deep kiss. Well, it started out as just a kiss, but their tongues were magnetized or something, because theyjust twined around each other at every single chance.
Karen gave a soft tug on her ponytail. “Hey, lovebirds, this is an elementary school. Keep it clean.”
Flynn straightened up, arms in the air. “Not my doing. The woman’s insatiable for me.”
Oh, he’d pay for that later. Because she’d discovered last night that the big MMA fighter was particularly ticklish on thesoles of his feet. Her vengeance would be brutal. Sierra whacked Flynn lightly across his shin before standing. “Hey, don’t throw me under the bus. You kissed me back!”
He ran the back of his knuckles lightly along her jaw. And paired the motion with an utterly heart-melting smile that crinkledthe corners of his oh-so-blue eyes. “That’s because I’m equally insatiable for you.”
“Ugh.” Karen scrunched up her face and shook her head, like she was clearing an Etch A Sketch. “This undiluted romance isharder to watch than the PDA.”
“Sorry. We’ll take it in the hall.” Flynn grabbed her hand and pulled Sierra at an almost jog toward the door. “That wasn’ta kiss. That was a taste. A tease. I need more.”
Laughing, she tried to slow him down, pointing back at his sneakers. “What about your shoes?”
He took her other hand, too. Pressed swift kisses along each of her knuckles. “I don’t need shoes to kiss you, beautiful girl.”He pushed against the horizontal metal bar that opened the door with one hip. Flynn didn’t bother to turn around the lastfew steps. His eyes were locked on Sierra’s, with a single-minded focus that she loved.
Flynn’s hands ripped from Sierra’s. “What the fuck?” Except the last word was more of a whooshed exclamation, as he fell sidewaysand hit the floor, hard.
A child in ridiculously huge football pads clutched his belly and laughed. Sierra couldn’t believe that he’d run out of nowherejust to take Flynn out at the knees. Well nobody, not even a nine-year-old, would get away with taking out her man.
Sierra bent over, bracing her hands on her knees. She didn’t yell, but she did use her stern voice. She’d babysat for extramoney for almost a decade. A good, stern voice could be wonderfully effective in producing both guilt and confessions in anyoneyounger than a teenager.
“Why did you deliberately run into Mr. Maguire and push him over?”
The voice did the trick. His laughter cut off. And he started shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “To test theteacher. Mommy took his class while Braden and me practiced our throws outside. If he was good enough to teach Mommy thisstuff, then he should be ready for the element of surprise.”
“You know what? That’s an excellent point. If we were still in class, it would’ve been a good thing to try. But now that classis over, you just knocked him down for no reason.”
He didn’t need any prompting. After tugging a few times to get his helmet off, he turned to Flynn, now sitting with his kneesraised and arms circling them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just want to be sure you were a good teacher.”
Flynn nodded slowly, his lips pursed and squeezed to the side in an overly dramatic “thinking” look. He sized up the kid slowly,from the jet-black hair sticking up to the grass sticking out from his cleats.
Finally, he sucked in a long, loud breath. “You’re looking out for your mom. I get that. We’re square. Knuckles.” The twobumped fists, the sides of their hands, and then fake-spit. “What’s your name?”
“Matthew Tanaka.”
Sierra wanted to make friends with him, too. Just without the spitting. “What grade are you in?”
“I’m gonna be in fourth when we start back.”
She pointed at his pads under a Seahawks jersey that almost hung to his knees. “You’re going to be on the football team?”
“Yeah. Just like Braden.” Those black eyes sparkled with obvious hero worship of what she assumed was his big brother. “He’steaching me to throw a spiral. I’m not good at it yet.”
Flynn blew a raspberry. An unnecessarily wet one that sprayed everywhere and brought the smile back that had slipped fromMatthew’s face. “Dude, it’s not even the Fourth of July. You’ve got time. You just keep practicing.” Then he cocked his armback and mimed a throw.
“That’s what Mommy said.” He shuffled closer to Flynn, and looked between him and Sierra. “But what if Braden’s not teachingme right? What if he knows as soon as I learn, I’ll be better than him?”
“Brothers are sometimes sneaky like that. How much older is he?”
“Five years. He’s in high school.” The awe conveyed in those two hushed words was eight kinds of adorable.
Flynn scrubbed a hand across his mouth. “My big brother’s only three years ahead of me. He can be bossy and a pain in thebutt.”
“Yeah.” A big, long-suffering sigh. “That’s Braden.”
Sierra would’ve given anything to be able to hop in a time machine, go back about fifteen years and watch the younger versionsof Flynn and Rafe hassle each other. It was probably hysterical. She’d also bet that Flynn held his own from whatever pointtheir height differential disappeared.
She’d also bet that despite the bossiness, Matthew and Braden loved each other fiercely, just like the Maguires. “But if Braden’sthat many grades ahead of you, you two would never be on the same team. So I’ll bet that he’s teaching you right.”
“Tell you what.
