Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
He was on my side. And whatever challenges life had in store for us, I would never doubt that again.
JT pushed my hair back from my forehead and grinned down at me. I swear I could see my future in those Wellbridge-blue eyes. “Only you, Flynn Honeycutt, could make me feel this chaotic and this fucking incredible. Loving you is going to be the wildest ride.”
My heart skipped a beat. “L-loving?” I sucked in a breath. “Wait, you… what do you mean love?”
“Ah.” He nodded with exaggerated seriousness. “Good call. Too many misunderstandings in the past. Let me make sure I communicate this clearly so there can be no doubt. I’m saying that I—as in, Jonathan Turner Wellbridge III—”
I choked out a startled laugh. “You,” I repeated, annoyed and amused and ridiculously aroused, all at the same time. “The world’s most aggravating, completely un-sexy Frog—”
“Uh-huh. Love—as in, feel an overwhelming, life-altering, there-will-never-be-anyone-else for-me passion—”
My throat made a clicking noise as I swallowed.
“For you, Flynn Honeycutt. My archnemesis. My soul mate. My unreasonable, prickly, gorgeous Firecracker. Is it clearer now?”
My stomach swooped and dove like a kite in the breeze, and I clung to him tighter. “Christ, you’re an asshole. Seriously, such an asshole,” I said with a sniff, lifting on my toes to press a hard, thorough kiss to his mouth.
And fuck, did I like him exactly as he was.
Jon’s face went serious as he pulled back. “I love you,” he whispered in a low voice. “You’re the only man I’ve ever said that to, Flynn. The only one ever I want to say it to.”
I bit my lip. When he looked at me this tenderly, it was impossible to stay prickly, even for me. “Well, that’s good, then,” I said, the words coming out hoarse and low. “Because I love you, too, Jon. So damn much.”
He buried his face in my neck and held me so tightly it was nearly painful… and entirely perfect. “Just remember,” he whispered in my ear, “who said it first.”
I sputtered out a shocked laugh, and I might have argued—ah, who was I kidding? I totally would have argued—but when the man pushed me up against the edge of the booth and took my mouth in a savage, desperate kiss, I decided that maybe, just this once, I’d let Frog win.
Chapter Nineteen
JT
Holding Flynn and hearing him say he loved me was everything I could have hoped for. It wrecked me in the best way and made it impossible to focus on anything but him.
Which was probably why my mother felt the need to interrupt us.
“For the love of public decency, Jonathan, let go of the poor man’s face. Mr. Honeycutt needs to prepare.”
Flynn jumped away from me immediately, and his eyes went round.
“Jon,” he warned, his gaze fixed over my shoulder. “Holy shit. I think your mother is here.”
“Yeah, obviously.” I blinked at him. “Wait. Didn’t you get my text messages?”
He shook his head once, not moving his eyes, like my mother was a predator who might attack without warning. “I left my phone in Honeybridge when I was in Boston, then it died, and then I was in such a hurry to get here—”
“So you didn’t already know I’d be here for you, taking care of setting up the booth for the Meadery? But you called me anyway?”
“Well, yeah. Because I love you. And I missed you.” When my words finally processed in his brain, he shook his head and turned his gaze to me. “Wait, you set up the booth?”
He’d trusted me. I’d known it deep down, but the confirmation sent warmth spreading through my body from the inside out. I grabbed him against me again and turned him in a circle. “I love you, Flynn.”
“I love you, too,” he assured me. “But…” His eyes sought out my mother again, and he lowered his voice. “Am I losing my mind? Is your mother wearing a Honeybridge Mead T-shirt?”
“Well, of course I am.” Patricia Wellbridge sniffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure what sort of havey-cavey operation you were planning on running here, Mr. Honeycutt, but I’m here now, and I assure you that having your whole team in matching shirts elevates the look of the entire booth.” She glanced at his button-down disapprovingly.
Flynn’s eyes darted from the booth, where Reagan was chatting with a visitor, to my mother, to me, and then back again. I knew he was overcome with emotion when he didn’t bother pointing out that he’d ordered the T-shirts himself for the very purpose my mother mentioned.
“You? Helped with setup?” he asked my mother in a shocked whisper.
“Indeed.” My mother set her chin higher, a sure sign that she was fighting emotions, too. “Reagan, Jonathan, Jonathan’s assistant Alice, and myself.”
“But… why?” Flynn demanded, so honestly bewildered that I wanted to scoop him up, take him back to my hotel room, and not let him out until he understood just how amazing and valued he was.