“Thanks. I don’t think he can, but I’ll keep it in mind.” And by that, Sierra meant avoiding the sheriff at all cost. Thelast thing she wanted was Mateo nosing into her past. Figuring out that she was on the run, an accessory—no matter how innocent—toan attempted murder. Attempted involuntary manslaughter? Sierra had been, and remained, too terrified to look up the difference.
“This is crazy. And I’m guessing we don’t even know the half of it?” Lily waited until Sierra slowly nodded to continue. “NowI’m worried about you. What can we do?”
“Help me figure out how to do this. How I can work with kids with no degree. I was hoping that if you vouched for me, thatwould be enough, but . . .” Her voice trailed off as Lily frowned.
“Especially with funding cuts, things like the arts get short shrift in schools. What if we thought outside the box? You coulddo an after-school class. Or maybe a weekend thing at a church? Something that wouldn’t require accreditation.”
Sierra couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of that. Of course, she’d been so mired in what wasn’t possible any longer that she hadn’t spent any time contemplating what was.
Karen waved a slice of bread. “That’s a good idea. It needs execution by someone who knows all the players in town. Lily,you should look into that.” Clearly her accountant’s brain liked to line up life to fit into tidy spreadsheets of to-dos.And her matter-of-fact approach signaled everyone to tuck back into their food.
“I think I’ve got an idea,” Mollie offered, a few bites later. “One you could do to augment teaching. You should paint forthe tourists on the pier.”
“I don’t paint for other people for money.” Her words slashed across the room, sharper and faster than an arrow. “Not anymore.Only for myself.” Sierra couldn’t explain the why to them. Not ever. Hopefully her tone alone got the point across.
“If you did it to make money, the end result would be for you.”
Karen rubbed her thumb and fingers together. “Do you even realize how much you could make? Tourists love any sort of beach-centriccrap. You could take appointments to do family portraits, or just churn out fast seascapes while they wait. It could be agold mine.”
“It sounds idyllic. Doing what you love, in a beautiful setting.” Lily chimed in, her whole face bright with enthusiasm. “I’llbet some of the restaurants along the boardwalk would hang your paintings and let you sell them, too.”
Elena sipped her wine. Slid her a sideways glance that Sierra knew meant she was coming in for the kill. “Or do you want to keep schlepping beers and burgers past midnight every night? Sorefeet, sore arms, sticky shoes—is there really a choice to be made?”
Logically? No.
But emotions, guilt . . . they weren’t logical. Nor was the frustration burning through Sierra. She couldn’t screen tourists.Nobody from Milwaukee, please. I don’t want you taking home something that might be recognized. Even though the chances of that were slim. One in a gajillion.
Was it worth the risk?
Her life hadn’t been full of luck up to this point. On the other hand, things seemed to have turned around spectacularly sincemoving to Bandon.
What if she gave it a try?
Or what if all the stars aligned in a very, very bad way and that led to Rick finding her? Or the police . . . if they wereeven looking for her?
Sierra shoveled in an enormous forkful of pasta.
Maybe she’d ask Flynn for his opinion. Flynn, who only wanted what was best for her and made her happy.
Flynn, who didn’t deserve to carry the weight of making that decision for her. Flynn, who didn’t even deserve to have to carryaround what she’d already dumped on him.
Crap. It was her life. Her mess of a life. Whether she flipped a coin, used a Ouija board or asked Flynn for his take on thewhole thing, the ultimate decision rested with Sierra.
Adulting was hard. Even with the best wine she’d ever had. Why hadn’t that been on any of her grad school syllabuses?
Chapter Seventeen
Flynn checked the clock on the dashboard, then stepped on the gas. Sierra had texted that the party was breaking up so thatLily could watch whatever vampire or time travel show was popular. He didn’t watch and he didn’t care. He only cared thatSierra wouldn’t bike home, in the dark, with Patrick O’Connor and who freaking knew else running around Bandon.
“If you get a speeding ticket, Delaney will be all over your ass,” Rafe said from the passenger seat of his beloved Camaro.
“So what?”
“I’m just saying, the woman’s scary when she’s pissed off. I don’t know what Kellan sees in her.”
Flynn rested his elbow on the open window. He had to admit that summer nights on the Oregon coast beat the sticky, swelteringgoop that filled the air in Chicago all to hell. It felt good to have the cool wind ruffling his hair from the T-tops. Okay,it actually felt like he was in a movie of somebody else’s life, but it was still nice.
“Yeah, you do. Delaney’s hotter than a firework and just as dangerous. It’s an irresistible combination to a guy who’s stuckto the straight and narrow his whole life.”
Rafe switched the radio station. Even though they’d always had a rule about the driver picking the music. Guess he wasn’tthrilled with riding shotgun in his own car. “The opposites attract thing?”
“You ended up with a whip-smart doctor who happens to be kind and funny and beautiful. Can’t think of anything more oppositefrom you, bro.” Flynn bit back a grin.
A punch—with a fucking lot of heat behind it—landed just below his shoulder. “Seriously? You think just because you’re driving I won’t take you down?”
“Yep.” Flynn didn’t even flinch. He knew better. “You wouldn’t do anything to endanger this car.”
“You’re lucky that’s true.”
“Thanks again for letting me borrow it.”
“I’m more than cool being forced to
