“I could buy a jar of instant—”
He cut her off with a palm over her mouth. “Don’t finish that sentence. We’ve got a good thing going right now. But if yousuggest I drink freeze-dried flakes, I’ll have to assume you hate me. Or are trying to murder me. Or both.”
Over the last few weeks, most of his guardedness had slipped away and this teasing side of him came in its place. Sierra absolutelyadored this newer side of Flynn. And she loved volleying it right back at him. A nip at his fingers got her mouth free. “Isthat because you’re so much older than me? You need coffee to keep up with my youthful vigor?”
“I need coffee to rejuvenate after you drain my manhood twice a night.” Flynn pulled her more snugly against him and the stillrock-hard erection. Then he ran his knuckles down her cheek in a casual caress. One that thrilled her and almost felt likea stamp of possession in the crowded shop. That he was letting everyone know they were together.
Which was absolutely fine with Sierra.
Poking an elbow into his ribs, she asked, “Did you really just use the word manhood? Like you’re a Knight of the Round Table?”
“It’s nine in the morning. And there’s a ton of people around. I’m being discreet.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible. You’re too arrestingly handsome to be discreet.”
Behind her, he stiffened. And not in a good way. That perma-erection vanished in a heartbeat. All she’d done was offer hima well-deserved compliment.
“Let’s not imagine a scenario where I get arrested.” Drumming his fingers on the iron back of a stool, Flynn asked, “Do youmiss the snow?”
Weird. Talk about an obvious topic change. One about as smooth as a rubber eraser dragging over handmade paper. Sierra turnedto face him, trying to see what was going on behind the utterly unreadable flat compression of his lips and that distractedglance over her shoulder.
“It’ll be July in one day. So, no. I’m happy to be wearing shorts. More to the point, I’m happy that you’re wearing shortsso I can do this.” Sierra rubbed her thigh against his. Maybe good, old-fashioned feminine wiles would pull Flynn back intothe moment.
She just wished she knew what had catapulted him out of it.
“I mean from . . . before.” He shrugged one shoulder. “From the other place.”
Sierra whipped her head left and right. They were around the corner of the counter, by the front window with its old-fashionedglass jars full of crumbled herbs. Okay, one particular herb in many different varieties. But there weren’t any people nextto them. Most were at tables, or clustered in the back around Lorena Hunley’s six-week-old on her first official outing.
In a harsh whisper, she asked, “What are you doing?”
“Wondering how weird and difficult this—” he circled his hand in the air, “—all is for you.”
Didn’t Flynn realize that her secret was not to be discussed in public? How was she supposed to hide if he dropped nuggetsof information in front of half the town?
Flynn took her hand. Brought it to his lips and tenderly kissed each of her knuckles in turn. “Don’t be so jumpy. Think aboutwhat I said. The words themselves, not the depth of meaning and history you know are behind them. Everyone here knows you’refrom somewhere else, because you only appeared four months ago. What I asked wouldn’t set off alarm bells, if anyone happened to overhear. Which they didn’t.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m . . . a little paranoid about someone else knowing about me. Not because I don’t trust you.I do. Completely. I’m just going through a mental adjustment.”
“I’m careful, Sierra. I wouldn’t do or say anything to put you in danger. Not ever.” An urgency infused his voice. “Pleasesay you believe me.”
“I do,” she stated, without any hesitation or second-guessing. Which was still a kick in the pants to Sierra. She’d assumedthat after Rick’s astounding betrayal that the right thing, the smart thing to do was not trust men again.
But his sudden intensity made her wonder what the heck else was going on in his head.
“One large black, and one frozen blueberry with extra whip.” Norah set the paper cups on the stylized counter painted witha giant marijuana plant. “Now don’t you skedaddle off yet. I need to ask you a favor.”
“I’ll stay.” Flynn popped off the plastic lid and held up one finger. “As long as I can drink this while I listen.”
“Slurp away. Remember that specialty cocktail you made for me?”
“Of course.” Sierra nudged him as a reminder that Carlos wanted him to follow up with Norah about that. Flynn winced, thenscratched at his temple. “Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to ask about your birthday.”
Norah rolled her eyes at Sierra. Then she turned a scathing look on Flynn. “Didn’t your mother teach you never to discussbirthdays with women over a certain age?”
“My mother’s dead. And my dad.”
Sierra’s heart dropped down into her stomach at his cool statement. She never went back—inexcusably—to ask Flynn for detailsabout his dad’s death after he’d told her about his mom. She’d gotten caught up in the whole don’t ask questions you can’t answer yourself habit. Living in the now.
How self-centered of her.
On the other hand, Flynn sort of . . . paused whenever she asked about his past. Maybe it was too painful for him to discuss? What had happened to him? How had the Maguirebrothers survived, being so young when their second parent’s death turned them into orphans? Flynn said they were alone, butthere must’ve been a grandparent or uncle or someone who took care of them.
It explained why he lived with his brothers, now. A way of banding together after . . . what had to be tragedy?
Norah, however, just barreled right along. “If that was an excuse for not having manners, Prince William wouldn’t be so darnsuave.” But then her tone gentled, and she patted his wrist. “I am sorry,
