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)
“Cas,” I asked in a low voice as he set my Honeybridge Sunshine in front of me. “Can you get me into Flynn’s office so I can wait for him? Please? I just want to talk to him.” Again.
Cas shook his head, but his eyes were kind. “Eh. Probably better if you don’t, JT,” he answered in the same hushed tone. “Not right now. He’s in a grouchy mood. He’s been run off his feet all day with the regatta folks, and he’s closing by himself in a few hours because Alden and I have to head out to the Retreat to help my mom. It’s the first night of the waning moon,” he explained when I frowned at him. “You know, the most potent time to harvest valerian root?”
I sighed.
I insisted on leaving after one round of drinks, and though Brantleigh maintained that I was still upset over nothing, he didn’t protest. This was fortunate for him because I was officially out of patience, and if I heard one more ignorant word out of his ignorant mouth, he was going to find out exactly how rude and uncivilized a Wellbridge could get.
When we got back to the house, I turned down Brantleigh’s suggestions of an impromptu house party and/or a private massage and shook my head when Reagan asked if I wanted to help him light the fire pit. My brotherly affection had been exhausted, so I telegraphed him an apology with my eyes before excusing myself to my room and throwing myself on my bed.
Being back in Honeybridge had caused me to regress into a moody teenager—one who lusted over Flynn Honeycutt from afar because the gulf of misunderstandings between us seemed too wide to bridge, and who did my parents’ bidding while dreaming of a future where I could leave this town and my family behind.
I’d left that child in the dust when I left Honeybridge. I’d made my own life. Learned my own lessons through countless triumphs and painful mistakes. There were some things I didn’t like about life in the city—namely, being expected to rearrange my life at the whim of my boss—but I liked the man I’d become there. I didn’t know why I couldn’t reconcile the new me with my old hometown.
Part of me wanted to say fuck it and head back to New York just so I could feel like myself again… but I couldn’t do that either.
Flynn Honeycutt held me here, just as surely as if he’d tied me to that hammock on Milk Bottle Island and kept me prisoner.
And it wasn’t only about needing him to sign the contract so I could earn my promotion either. Not anymore. As important as that was, I also wanted to ease his burden somehow. To make him smile. To fix this star-crossed-whatever-the-fuck between us, at least a little bit, and leave him a couple of positive thoughts of me to replace the decades of misunderstandings.
I didn’t want Flynn Honeycutt to hate me.
A light tap landed on my door a few moments later, and Reagan stuck his head in. “You busy?”
“Busy planning how to tell Mother that if she wants to cement our connection to the Penningtons, she can date Brantleigh her own damn self.”
He snorted. “I would pay to see that.” He hesitated, then came inside and shut the door behind him. “Uh… are you okay?”
I shrugged. “Sure. Just tired.”
Reagan nodded slowly, his hair flopping down over his forehead. “Look, I know it’s been a while since we were close or whatever. But… if you want to talk about you and Flynn, you can talk to me. I’ll probably understand better than you think.”
“Me and Flynn… what?” I demanded, my heart rate kicking up though I tried not to show it. Had I actually been obvious enough that even someone as self-absorbed as Reagan recognized it? “I need him to sign the contract so I—”
“You give him sex eyes,” Reagan interrupted. He lifted an eyebrow. “You give him broody sex eyes.”
“What? Pfft. I do not. I’m not a brooder, Reagan,” I said… broodily. Damn it.
“Your whole body lights up when he’s around.” Reagan crossed his arms stubbornly. “Your eyes follow Flynn around the bar like a dog at its dinnertime.”
I pursed my lips, simultaneously offended and amused. “Gassy and disgruntled?”
“Like you’re hungry as fuck,” Reagan said matter-of-factly. “And Flynn’s the juiciest bone in town.”
“Ohhhkay. That’s enough.” I sat up. “Flynn’s an attractive man. I’ve never denied that. But we’re not… it’s not like that between us.”
As far as anyone in town was concerned, it never had been.
Reagan rolled his eyes. “You’re not subtle. I saw what I saw, not just today but every time I was at the Tavern with you this week. I kept waiting for you to make a move, but you didn’t, and I was like, since when is JT so lame?” Reagan examined his perfectly buffed nails. “But it occurred to me that you might not have realized Flynn looks at you the same way.”