The trip around the bar and down the hallway to the manager’s office took too little time. He had no excuse to keep holdingher. No excuse to keep rubbing his cheek against Sierra’s soft hair. No excuse for inhaling deeply and appreciating the clean,floral scent that spurted want and need and full-out lust straight down to his dick.
So Flynn placed her on the rolling wooden chair that Carlos pushed at him. Then he knelt in front of her and pulled her badleg onto his knee.
Carlos put a hand on Sierra’s shoulder. His thick eyebrows joined into a single dark line of concern. “Dios mio. What happened?”
“I was careless.” She waved a hand, dismissing the whole thing. “A couple of the darts landed way off the board. I climbedonto a table to get them, but they were stuck into the wall so well that I lost my balance and fell.”
“The drunk who threw them into my wall should’ve pulled them out,” Carlos growled.
Sierra ducked her head. “It’s no big deal. Really. I was just trying to be helpful. Instead, I’ve disrupted everyone and madea mess. I’m sorry.”
The woman risked herself for stupid darts? Flynn’s worry for her morphed into anger. “You’re lucky you aren’t cut from landingon all that glass. Why didn’t you ask me to do it?”
In a low voice, not looking at him, she answered, “I didn’t want to bother you.”
A brick between the eyes would’ve hurt Flynn less. This was his fault. One hundred percent. He’d tried not to let his fucked-up darkness touch her in any way. She was his first friend herein Bandon—pretty much the only one he had besides Carlos. Something about Sierra’s bone-deep sweetness made Flynn comfortable.Made him let down the guard he kept up around everyone else. She never pushed or asked hard questions. They just talked, andit was the most relaxed he was any given day.
But tonight he’d been wallowing in self-pity. Again. She must’ve picked up on his crap mood, and that made her unwilling to ask a man who topped her by at least six inches fora basic, work-related assist.
Flynn wanted to howl his frustration at his own idiocy. Actually, he really wanted to find a heavy bag and whale on it fora couple of hours until his knuckles ached, his lungs burned, and his muscles cried for mercy.
But now was the time to focus on Sierra. “I’m sorry. Sorry that you didn’t feel comfortable asking me for help. For the future?I’ll do whatever you need. No matter what I’m in the middle of. Got it?”
She nodded, long hair still shadowing her face.
Flynn unlaced her black sneaker. It was streaked with different colors of paint. It made him wonder what she did in her off-hours.Was she painting her house? Would she be climbing a ladder with a weak ankle? Would she let him help, or refuse his not-yet-madeoffer?
Even though he was careful easing the shoe off, Sierra’s sharp intake of breath made her pain at the movement obvious. Whichmade Flynn’s guilt stab into his gut even deeper.
Sierra’s ankle was already swelling. He didn’t even have to roll down her black-and-white polka-dotted socks to see that.Frankly, he didn’t trust himself to touch her skin again. “Ice,” he barked as soon as Kellan hustled into the room.
His brother handed over a dish towel bulging with cubes. “I’ll go out and clean up while you two take care of her.” He grabbedthe broom and dustpan from the corner on his way out.
“Thanks, Kellan.” Carlos barely spared him a glance as he fussed over Sierra with little pats and frowns. He was acting likea grandpa instead of a hard-ass covered in tats and a telltale curve to his nose indicating multiple breaks. “Do you wanta drink, Sierra? A couple of shots to cut the pain?”
“Oh, no. I’ve got ibuprofen at home. I’d rather take that than make myself feel worse with a hangover.”
Flynn pulled over the trash can, upended it, and rested her foot on it sideways, ice draped across. Then he noticed the sparklyglints of glass in her hair. “Do you have a brush?”
“No.” She looked up at that to give him an amused half smile. “I’m not one of those women who reapplies their lipstick everytwenty minutes.”
He’d noticed. He’d noticed everything about her look. Natural. Like hippy-natural. Which he found weirdly sexy. Weird because the women he’d dated in Chicago wereall big boobs, loud makeup, and bigger hair. Sierra was just . . . herself. Which turned Flynn on more than he’d been willingto admit. Okay, hell. He’d admitted it. He’d just refused to act on it.
Until tonight.
Until seeing her crumpled on the floor of the bar. It had sent a primal surge of protectiveness through him that unlockedeverything he’d kept tamped down for weeks now. All the interest. Lust. Attraction. Need.
Carlos produced a brush from his desk drawer. “Here. It’s Madalena’s.” She was his sister who did the books for the Gorse.Flynn had only met her once, but appreciated her no-nonsense personality. “I’ll go watch the bar for you, Flynn.”
“Thanks.” He carefully pulled Sierra’s hair over her shoulders so it draped down her back. “This should be the quickest wayto get the glass out.”
“Oh, but you don’t have to—”
That was the kicker. After spending years doing what people told him he had to, Flynn now did only the bare minimum. Sure, he could just hand her the brush. But this, helping Sierra, was a compulsionhe couldn’t resist. “I know I don’t have to. I want to help. Let me.”
“Okay.” Her shoulders relaxed down at least an inch as she sighed. Then Sierra sighed again as the bristles made contact withher scalp. This one was different, though. It was pure feminine pleasure.
God, he couldn’t wait to make her do it again.
Flynn made long, slow passes. A little more pressure against her head, because she seemed to like it, and then a pull throughthe long strands to shake out the glass. It was quiet. Intimate. Something he’d never done before for any other
