So, darn it, she’d make Flynn keep talking to her. Yes, about himself, for once. Because talking to someone who she’d had a painfully-going-nowhere crush on for weeks was the least she deserved.
Boldly, Sierra laid two fingers right at the crook of his elbow. And left them there. “Rumor has it that the best conversationshappen in cars in the dark. Gotta start somewhere, right? That’s part of putting down roots in a new place.”
Flynn’s head tilted backward to beat against the headrest. Twice. “Don’t even start with that.”
“You don’t want to put down roots? You and your brothers aren’t planning to stay?” Her fingers clamped down a little. BecauseFlynn leaving would be the worst. He and Carlos were the only people she really talked to in this town. And only at work.Her hours outside the Gorse were painfully lonely.
“We have a, ah, friend who keeps reminding us to put down roots. Delaney can lecture on the importance of it for a solid tenminutes straight.”
It was hard to picture Flynn putting up with anyone telling him what to do. The authority that radiated off of him, the competencewith which he did everything from changing kegs out to dealing with drunks did not indicate a man who sat still for a lecture.“I’m surprised you let her. Oh, turn right at the stop sign.”
“Kellan’s got the hots for her. It makes him happy to watch her lips move, so we throw the kid a bone.”
Sierra giggled. It was such a silly, big brother thing to say. Simultaneously, Flynn sucked in a sharp breath. “Hell, I’msorry. That probably sounded sexist. Women are not objects. I know that.”
“No worries.” She patted his forearm this time, not just to reassure him, but to feel the crisp, dark hair that lightly coveredthe taut muscles and snaky blue veins that made her mouth water at their sheer masculinity. “See how easy that was? You’resharing personal things.”
“About my little brother. Not the best topic.”
“Okay. Stay to the left up there.” She pointed at the fork in the road. “Well, you didn’t answer my question about stayingin Bandon.”
“You’ve seen Rafe and Mollie together, right? He’d move to Siberia if it’s where she lived. They’re so in love it makes myteeth hurt. Mollie’s planted here, so Rafe’s staying here. Simple as that.”
“You and Kellan want to stay near Rafe?”
“Yeah.” Funny how . . . grim he sounded about it. “The Maguire brothers are a package deal. Family’s important to us.”
Sierra wanted to ask if he had any other family. But she didn’t dare. Not without risking him asking about her family. Andthat conversation wouldn’t be worth having.
#1biglie.
“You don’t sound overjoyed. Do you not like Mollie? Or is it Bandon?”
“Doc Mollie’s great.” He chuffed out a laugh. “She’s way out of Rafe’s league. He doesn’t deserve her.”
“Bandon, then?”
Silence hung in the truck. It kept puffing up, all spiky and uncomfortable and pressing in on both of them, making it hardfor Sierra to draw a deep breath. Finally, Flynn said, “It’s . . . an adjustment.”
“You said that already,” she said in a singsong voice.
“Yeah, well, what about you?”
Uh-oh. Sierra straightened in her seat and looked out the window at the sprawling ranches and wide lawns they passed. “Whatabout me?”
“Do you like it here?”
Ahhh. A softball question that required neither lies nor sidestepping. “I like it a lot. Living by the ocean is great. Watchingthe fog roll in, feeling the moisture in the air, watching the light and water change literally every time I look at it. Smellingthe pines whenever I step outside. Cycling past the red blur of the cranberry bogs. It’s all magical and beautiful.”
“You should join the tourist board. Get paid for spouting off like that.”
Sierra hadn’t stayed long in many other places as she zigzagged across the country. A couple of big cities, like Houston andPhoenix. Lots of smaller ones, down to stops on the highway where she was able to wash dishes in a truck stop to earn a fewdays’ worth of money. In a short amount of time, she’d sampled so many different parts of America.
Bandon was the first one that felt like home. Flynn didn’t get to look down on her for that. It brought out a rarely utilizedfeistiness.
This time Sierra didn’t tap his arm. Or almost-pet it. No, she flicked at that ropy vein. Hard. “Are you one of those peoplewho thinks it’s uncool to gush about something? To actually say what you’re feeling?”
“I’m a guy. We don’t even think about what we feel, let alone say it out loud.”
“Now you do sound sexist. Men have feelings.” Sierra had spent almost six years at art colleges. That had to be the epicenterof men who drooped around sighing their feelings even more dramatically than the women did.
“We try to ignore them.” He pretend-scowled at her and rubbed his arm. “And ouch.”
Sierra sassed right back. “I thought the twenty-first century was the age of the enlightened male. One in touch with his feelings.”
“I’m in touch with mine. I just ignore them.”
“That’s a shame.” Although the strong, silent type did totally work on him. “Turn right at the house with the mini-lighthouse in the yard.” Bandon being right on the coast amped up lawndecorations. Rock grottos with mermaids lolling on the edge, piers that led to a duck pond, buoys around the mailboxes. Itwas artistic and silly and Sierra adored it all.
“You going to psychoanalyze me?”
Primly, she folded her hands in her lap. Mostly to keep from reaching over to touch Flynn again. “If you feel bad about something,it makes you appreciate the good that much more.”
“Honey, I feel like shit about more things than I can count. Believe you me, they’re not making me want to write poems aboutthe beauty of a sunset.”
“Well, that’s a shame.”
“You said that already,” he said in a singsong voice, parroting her words back at her.
Maybe it wasn’t the time to rant about her viewpoint on how to live life. But Sierra was so enjoying the luxury of a full-scalediscussion that
