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“Just one for lunch today?” he asked again.
Oh. “Ah, no. I’d actually like to see Flynn Honeycutt.” I smiled and nodded down at my leather folio. “On a business matter.”
“Okay. Well, it’s the tail end of the lunch rush, and he’s working the bar, but you can go wait for him if you’d like.” He nodded toward the bar along the left side of the room.
Flynn moved around behind the counter, all broad shoulders and bubble-butt perfection, chatting to a customer here, filling a drink order there. His beard was scruffier than I remembered it being the other day, and he wore a shirt that was either a size too small or absolutely perfect, depending on whether you liked your bartender’s nipples to be visible from a distance… which I did.
A lot.
“Great,” I managed to say in a strangled voice, already moving across the floor like a moth to a motherfucking flame. “I’ll just take a seat over there, then—”
“Oh. My. Gosh!” Castor Honeycutt stopped directly in front of me, clutching an empty tray in one hand, then threw himself at me with a happy little squeal, hugging me around the shoulders.
“Heya, Sunshine,” I said, his old nickname coming to my lips without conscious thought as I patted his back fondly.
“I’m, like, so,soglad you’re here,” he whispered. “Flynn’s been waiting for you, even if he doesn’t know it.”
Castor had heard about the contract I was going to offer Flynn? How the heck had that happened?
“Oh, he definitely doesn’t know it,” I confirmed when he pulled back. I cast a glance over his shoulder at the man in question, who worked the register with one hand while filling a soda with the other. “I had a hunch that surprising him might work better than attempting to schedule an appointment.” Especially after what had gone down the other day with the puddle.
Castor grinned broadly, and his eyes, which were a dark blue-green that made me think of the deepest part of Wellbridge Lake, went all warm and gooey. He linked his arm with mine to draw me toward the bar. “It’s like the stars aligned just perfectly.”
“You think?” I was happy for the vote of confidence, even if I didn’t get what had inspired it.
“Aw, hells yeah! It’s Frog!” A man jumped off his barstool to grab me in a one-armed hug. “Heard you were back in town, man. Maria Thorpe told Becky Honeycutt, who works with my wife at Wicker Insurance.” He hooked a thumb out the window.
My mind struggled to place the broad, freckled face and thinning red-blond hair.
“Ernie!” I said a fraction of a second late. “Ernie McLeroy. I didn’t know you were married. Congrats.”
“Yeah.” Ernie blushed comprehensively. “Going on two years now. Yvonne’s got a bun in the oven, too.” He shoved my shoulder. “How about you, man? Word is you’re here for the whole summer? You gonna put that arm to work for us in the tournament?”
My mother’s gossip elves had clearly been hard at work. “Oh, no. I’m afraid I—”
“Jing, you remember Froggy’s arm?” Ernie called to a dark-haired man at a nearby booth. “Holy shizoley, huh? Just a couple innings and we’d decimate the Honeycutts.”
“You could try!” Brittany Merchant, one of Flynn’s cousins, came bouncing up, auburn ponytail swinging. She was nearly as tall as me, though I would have sworn that the last time I was home, she’d been a gap-toothed preteen who’d tried to sell me Girl Scout cookies.
“Nice ride out there, JT.” She leaned in and whispered quickly, “I heard from Wilma at the Green Quarry farm that you were back in town for the whole summer. That true? Any chance you could take me for a spin?” She batted her eyelashes.
I wasn’t sure if she was more into me or the car, but either way, I would not be asking Brittany for Thin Mints.
I shook my head apologetically. “I’m only here for a couple days.” I darted a look at Flynn, who was filling a drink order halfway down the bar. “Maybe less. And I’m gonna be working the whole time.” And though I was pretty sure everyone in town knew I was gay, just to be sure, I added, “Gotta get back to the city, you know? Massimo gets temperamental if I have to cancel a date at the last minute.”
This was not a lie, technically. Lord knew the man had been blowing up my phone with angry messages, despite flooding his Instagram with porn-tastic Speedo pics from Cabo.
“Oh,” she said dejectedly. “Well, what if—?”
“Excuse me,” a familiar voice said. “Is there a reason everyone is congregating and clogging the aisle for my customers?”
Ernie darted a glance over his shoulder, and his arm fell away from my shoulders. “Oops. My bad, Flynn.”
“And Cas, since when do you stand around chitchatting during lunch rush?”
Castor rolled his lips together but stepped away from me, too. “Sorry, Flynn.”
Crap. I turned around slowly and summoned my most charming smile. “Um. Hey, Flynn! Sorry for the… kerfuffle.”
