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)
I shuddered. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes. Fuck, Flynn, I want—”
“Hey, Flynn!” a male voice called before a knock vibrated the door inches from our heads. “We need you out here, babe. The after-game crowd’s getting rowdy, and Kendall’s out sick, so it’s just me, Alden, and Cas.” He paused, then knocked again. “Flynn?”
Flynn stared up at me, breathless and wanting, for a long moment. Then his eyes shuttered, and he cleared his throat. “Hang on, Dan.”
I stared at Flynn in shock. “I… I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.”
Flynn’s eyes widened.
“No! Shit.” I clenched my hands on his shoulders. “I mean I… I wanted it to. Obviously. But I didn’t mean to muddy the waters with—” I huffed out a breath. “I came here to discuss the contract. You’re just so hot that I—”
“JT,” Flynn said calmly.
“Yeah?”
“Back your person away from my person.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck.”
“Now.”
I took a large step away. “But—”
“No buts. You’re right. This should not have happened. Add it to the stack of mistakes I’ve made where you’re concerned.” Flynn sidestepped away, grabbed a pair of shorts from the laundry basket, and pulled them on, tucking away his erection.
He’s going commando? To work? In front of who knows how many drunken ballplayers and hot tourists?
My mouth went dry, and my nostrils flared.
“Come in, Dan!” Flynn called with fake cheer.
“No, wait,” I pleaded in a low voice. “First, let me explain what I—”
“Hey!” Dan pushed the door open but stopped dead when he saw me standing there. He looked back and forth from Flynn to me suspiciously. “What’s going on?”
“Not a damn thing,” Flynn said. “Wellbridge here came by to renegotiate. He thought he could throw me a little added incentive,” he said bitterly.
I gaped. “Oh, for the love of— Firecracker, that’s not what I was trying—”
“You arrived just in time to hear me tell him that I’m not interested in his contract or his incentives, and I never will be.” He snagged his sneakers from a spot next to the laundry bin and pulled those on, too. “And now, Wellbridge is going to leave…” He threw the door open and unceremoniously shouldered me out. “…so we can get back to our fucking work.”
Flynn clapped Dan on the shoulder, steering him toward the back entrance of the Tavern, and I watched them go.
How the hell had I messed this up yet again? Where was the confident competence that had helped me close dozens of Fortress contracts and lead Team Wellbridge to softball victory? I was offering Flynn everything… and I still couldn’t get him to agree. I was so frustrated—with him, with myself, with the whole fucking situation—that I was almost tempted to just get in my car and drive back to New York, damn the consequences.
But as Dan disappeared inside the building, Flynn paused with his hand on the door and darted a look over his shoulder at me, almost like he was checking to see if I was still there. The molten heat of his gaze—angry, confused, and wanting—burned through me like a lit fuse, and I knew in that moment I was not going to leave. Not this time. Flynn and I had unfinished business.
Conrad had said winning the contract for Honeybridge Mead would be the most important deal I made all year…
But something told me that winning over Flynn Honeycutt might be the most important deal of my life.
I just had to figure out how to stop it from slipping through my fingers again.
Chapter Six
Flynn
JT Wellbridge was fucking everywhere.
The man was a brain worm, dedicated to making me as crazy as possible when I could least afford the distraction. The human equivalent of hearing “Manic Monday” on the radio and then not being able to get it out of your head.
JT was Manic Monday.
“You’ll never guess who came by the Retreat yesterday evening to congratulate me on my Box Day win,” my mother said, plunking herself down on a stool at the bar Sunday morning. “JT Wellbridge! Such a sweet boy.”
“He did what?” I glanced up from the beer tap I’d been working on behind the bar and narrowed my eyes. “I told him I’m not doing business with him. If that kiss-ass thinks he can get to me through my family—”
Willow tsked disapprovingly. “He didn’t mention a thing about your business. He wanted to offer a sincere compliment…”
I grunted, unconvinced.
“Then he sat and drank some tea with me—don’t you give me that look, Flynn Honeycutt. Some people adore my teas—and he was so grateful that I made him a special brew to increase his fortitude and conviction.”
Great. Exactly what JT did not need.
Why didn’t he get constipation tea?
“And when he was done, he harvested the first crop of my tomatoes,” she finished with a happy sigh. “I brought them by in case Kendall wants to make fresh bruschetta for your customers.”