Page 2 of Fools Rush Flynn

I had not anticipated this. I thought I’d just give him a hello kiss to let anyone who might be following me get a perfect picture of my wedded bliss. But Flynn is kissing me. Maybe he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he just will kiss any woman back if she starts it. Then my brain short circuits and I fall into the kiss.

He shifts us and presses my back against the rough cedar planks of the outside wall. Flynn’s tongue is a revelation, and I have no doubt that my panties are now drenched. My nipples harden and I shamelessly rub them against his chest while we kiss.

And then, as if the spell is broken, Flynn sets me down. He grabs my hand and pulls me into the cabin, slamming the door behind me. His fingers are raking through his messy dark hair, and there’s a few days’ growth shadowing his cheeks and jawline.

His dark brown eyes look at me, and I swear my heart is waving a white flag of surrender. This man. Sigh.

chapter

two

Flynn

Goddamn, it’s about time this woman was here and in my arms. Temple Thorne, the one woman I have no right wanting, considering she’s my kid sister’s best friend. Not to mention she’s from the better side of the tracks than me.

She’s been my one constant thought since I returned stateside several months ago. And yeah, she’s my wife, but up until that kiss on my doorstep, I’d been under the assumption this marriage was in name only. But maybe she’s been thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about her.

Her bluebonnet-blue eyes look up at me. I catalog the rest of her. The smattering of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her dark, curly hair pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head. The V-neck of her shirt that accents not only her ample cleavage, but the gold chain with the solitaire diamond pendant that dips just between the tops of her breasts. The expanse of pale creamy skin on display makes my mouth water. I want to kiss her again.

“Thanks for playing along out there,” she says.

I register her words, but they don’t make sense.

“I don’t know how many guys my cousin has following me, but I’ve seen at least one tailing me since I left Houston.”

I nod, but still her meaning is lost on me. But I venture a quick question. “So why are you here, Temple? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

That, at least, would make sense. I’m that guy. The one everyone goes to when they have a problem. Not really sure why that’s my role but it’s been that way for as long as I can remember. Even the other guys on my team come to me for help. I don’t even mind. It means I’m useful. That I matter.

“Trouble?” she echoes, then tilts her head. “I guess you could call it trouble.” She inhales slowly. “My cousin is contesting the legitimacy of our marriage, and we need to make everything look as real as possible. So I need to live with you, and you need to come home with me this weekend for Grandmother’s birthday party.” She gives me a forced smile. “Please.”

The only thing I hear for certain is that she has not, in fact, been thinking about me the way I’ve been thinking about her. Of course not. I am her husband for a very specific reason, and desire and affection are not on that list.

I glance at my watch, relieved to see the reminder that I am scheduled to meet up with the guys in fifteen minutes.

“We’re going to have to discuss this later. I have a meeting I need to get to.” I point at her. “Don’t go anywhere until I can properly assess the threat level.”

Her big blue eyes widen, but she nods.

I’ve met her cousin before. He seemed harmless enough at the time. Nothing but a kiss ass and spineless pussy. Didn’t mean he couldn’t pay other people to do things to Temple. That was something I simply wouldn’t allow.

“But you’ll be back?” she asks.

“Yeah. Meeting shouldn’t take too long.” I glance around the small cabin. “Just, uh, make yourself at home.”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She reaches into her bra—yeah, you heard that right—and pulls something out. Then she holds her palm out to me. “Here.” She holds up the ring.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

“Wear it. You are my husband.”

My cock jerks at her words. Traitorous fucker.

I grab the ring and slide it on my left ring finger. Then look down. “This a woman’s ring,” I ask, noting the diamond deep set into the silver metal.

“No, it is very much a man’s ring. Art Nouveau. It’s a family heirloom,” she explains. “Will you wear it? For me? At least for now. We can buy you something you like better later.”

One hit of those bright blue eyes and I know I’ve lost the battle.