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Flynn said, monotone, yet equally awestruck, “She is quite the starlet.”
Lucas had to agree.
Birdie Wellborn-Shepherd wasn’t just pretty, she was captivating. Her gown a brilliant white, the silky fabric undulated over her curves. A fabric unforgiving on most women that, on her, accentuated her beauty.
Her hair was no longer a wheat-colored blond, but rather a bold platinum, her lips a luscious red, playing into the whole Hollywood theme with nostalgic accuracy and making the other women in the room appear as if last-minute extras. Their attendance for the express purpose of highlighting her beauty.
Errol came into view, a record scratch rudely interrupting an ethereal tableau. He sauntered toward her, Lucas’s woman, his Birdie, picking up her gloved hand and kissing her knuckles.
Everyone clapped awkwardly at the spectacle of stepson and stepmother turned newlyweds, likely not noticing Birdie forcefully slipping her fingers from his and taking a step back, acting shy and making the excuse she needed a cocktail.
“I suggest you rein in your expression of violence,” Flynn commented under his breath. “Although, I must admit, if I had such an imposing jawline, I, too, might glower simply for female attention.”
Lucas lowered his gaze, forcing himself to relax his shoulders and release the white-knuckled fist at his back.
“Remember, she despises him,” Flynn assured, glancing at him over the rim of his glass.
Lucas could only nod, not trusting what might come out of his mouth if he were to speak.
“This will not do. Follow me,” Flynn said, leading the way to the back of the room and near a large potted plant. He took the tray from Lucas and set it on a white lacquered table. “Go ahead and take a moment.”
“Thank you, Flynn,” Lucas said, leaning against the wall and stopping himself before running his fingers through his wig. “You make a great wingman.”
“Not a problem. Believe it or not, I, too, can relate to feelings for a woman that make me lose my good senses and overall sense of control.”
“Tati?”
“Oh, my, no. Tati is lovely, and I admire her sleuthing skills. And, she’s admittedly beautiful. But ours is a professional relationship.” He leaned toward Lucas and lowered his voice as if the plant were bugged. “I’m afraid I have quite the beating heart for a certain barista whose name shall remain anonymous until I can rid myself of my toxic family members.” He glared at his mother. “They enjoy nothing more than destroying the people their family members love most.”
“Wow, I can’t wait to meet her,” Lucas said. “Does she…return your affections?”
“Resoundingly.”
Lucas regarded Flynn with renewed suspicion. “You know, when I first met you, you were a man of few words. Suddenly, you’re talking up a storm.”
“I’ve learned to fly under the radar and appear simple. The ruse has given me great latitude over the years with Mother and Errol. I only share my true self with those I trust. Implicitly.”
Lucas reached out his hand toward Flynn. “Nice to meet you, Flynn.”
Flynn smiled while he shook his hand. “I must confess. I am an odd man and well aware of it. A truth that I accept. Just not as simple and daft as I lead my family to believe.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being odd.”
“Agreed. Although, it is my dream to lead a more normal life. I live and breathe for the opportunity.”
Lucas found a new respect for this odd man, who was not only smart but self-aware.
“Phhttt, Flynn.”
They both turned toward Birdie, who was skulking on the other side of the plant, trying to capture Flynn’s attention.
“It’s okay,” he assured, waving her over as she peeked around a large frond.
“I do believe there’s someone here who’d like to say hello.”
* * *
“Hey, Flynn,”Birdie said, barely looking at the waiter leaning against the wall as she glanced toward the throng of revelers. “Um, I’ll just come back later when you’re alone.”
