I wrapped a strand of hair around my finger. “Are we still talking about Sam and Meghan?”
“Maybe. Who else would we be talking about?”
“I have no idea.”
When Saturday came around again, Flynn picked up Bridget at the farm while I worked the stand. I half-hoped that he might stop and see me again, as he’d done the week before, but when he didn’t, I scolded myself for being disappointed. Expectations were not my friend. They’d only lead me down dangerous paths.
Cassie had a date that night, so I let her leave early. I’d just begun closing up, locking the register and boxing the perishables, when I heard a truck pull in the lot. Moments later, my daughter came running into the stand.
“Surprise, Mommy!”
Flynn stood at the edge of the shed, leaning against the end of the sliding door, smiling as he watched Bridget and me.
“What’s this? What’re you two doing here?”
“We came to take you on a picnic.” Bridget tugged at my hand. “Come on, Mommy. Daddy and I made fried chicken and potato salad, and Grandma made chocolate chip cookies. We have a basket, and a blanket, and I made sweet tea all by myself.”
I looked across at Flynn. His eyes were steady on me, waiting for my response. Bridget jumped up and down, still chattering.
“Well, if I’m getting kidnapped for a picnic, I’m going to need help closing up the stand. Bridget, can you cover the tables? And Flynn, can you help me move these boxes to the cooler?”
While Bridge got to work, Flynn lifted up a stack of boxes. When I tried to take one, he refused. “Nope, I got this. You just lead the way and open the cooler for me.”
I held the swinging door open for him and then slid open the huge cooler. He set the boxes inside it, moving each one so that everything fit perfectly.
“So whose idea was the picnic?” I leaned back against the side of the stand, appreciating the view of Flynn’s arms flexing as he lifted and his very fine ass when he bent.
He glanced at me over his shoulder. “It was mine. Is it okay? I never stopped to think you might have plans tonight.” He shot me a wicked grin that just about curled my toes. “You know, like another Saturday night at The Road Block?”
I shuddered. “Not hardly. No, my Saturday nights are usually an exciting blend of eating dinner and going to bed early. Sometimes I sneak in a chapter or two whatever book I’m reading.” I reached for my phone. “That reminds me, though. I need to tell Meghan I won’t be there for dinner. They’re probably waiting for me.”
“No, they’re not. Bridge and I took care of that.” Flynn closed the cooler and fastened the lock for me. “Your only job is to relax and have fun. Let us take care of you for once.”
With everyone working together, we were climbing into the truck a few minutes later. Bridge scrambled over the front into the tiny back seat, and Flynn handed me up into the passenger seat. I wasn’t sure if he held my hand a little longer than necessary to help or if it was just my imagination.
They’d chosen a spot by the river, on the far side of the Nelson farm. We’d never paid attention to any kinds of property boundaries growing up; Alex and I ran back and forth from their family farm to mine without thinking about it. I’d always liked this particular bend in the river, which formed a protected bank. The trees shaded us from too much sun in the summer but allowed enough filtered light to keep it from being too dark in the spring or fall.
Flynn stopped the truck and helped us get out. He and Bridget spread the blanket and began to unpack the food.
“I can’t believe how delicious this all looks. Did you really make it?” I picked up a wing and broke off a piece of the succulent skin.
“Yep. I’m a pretty good cook, you know. You want more than a wing, don’t you?”
“Hmmm.” I peered into the container. “Maybe a thigh.”
“I’m a breast man myself.” Flynn winked at me as he bit into the meat, and I felt my face turn pink.
We all ate until we thought we’d burst, and then Bridget asked if she could play in the water. It was a warm evening, and once I’d gotten her promise that she’d be careful, stay in the ankle-deep shallows and within view of her father and me. I gave my permission.
Flynn lay back on the blanket with groan. “I don’t think I can move again for at least a week. You’ll have to stand guard over me until I can get up.”
I laughed. “You’re on your own, buddy. I happen to know the mosquitos’ve started coming out, and down here they bite like a son-of-a-bitch.”
He feigned shock. “Why, Miss Reynolds, such language. And in front of your child.” He shook his head, tsk-tsking the whole time.
“She can’t hear anything from down at the water, and she’s not paying any attention to us at all. She’s playing water sprite.”
“Well, in that case . . .” Flynn reached for my hand and threaded his fingers through mine. “I’ve been waiting all evening to hold your hand.”
