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Achilles had his one weak heel.
Samson had his hair.
And in an entire career built around closing deals and understanding what other people wanted, I had Flynn Honeycutt… the one person I’d never been able to charm.
At least not yet.
ChapterTwo
Flynn
Frog.
AKA Jonathan Turd-face Wellbridge the millionth.
AKA the man who’d gotten my hopes up way more times than I should have allowed and then crushed them every time.
AKAasshole.
It figured the jerk who splashed me with muddy street water would turn out to be some rich tourist in a convertible sports car, swanning into town for the weekend. But seeing who was driving it? That put the cherry on the shit sundae.
The man didn’t stop or even call out an apology, which was exactly what I’d expect from him.
“FuckingWellbridge,” I muttered under my breath like the vilest of curse words.
Some of the Wellbridge clan lived in town year-round, but “the Senator” liked to fly in on his private helicopter every Friday to golf a round of eighteen at the club and take a sail on his vintage wooden catboat. JT hadn’t visited in years—according to his mother’s incessant gossiping, which was impossible to ignore no matter how much I’d tried, JT had been far too busy excelling at his extremely prestigiousdream jobto take time off—but apparently, he was old enough to play Man of Leisure with his father and his cronies now.
Lucky him.
“Flynn?” Dan, one of my bartenders, rushed over in concern and began ineffectually swiping at me with a bar rag that smelled like stale beer. “Man, who was that guy?”
“That…” My gaze followed the little red car down the street. “…was an entitled dick in a douchemobile.”
“Seriously,” Dan agreed, his eyes still fixed on the rear end of the Porsche. “But, like… sweet ride, eh?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes, grabbed the cloth from Dan’s hand, and mopped at my shirt. “Nothing about that man is sweet.”
I was not impressed by JT and his fancy car. I never had been. I also was not moved by the fact that he’d looked just as good, if not better, than ever.
Mpfh.Definitely not.
In fact, the whole thing was just… excessive.
No one needed to drive a car like that. And for sure no one needed to look that good in a boring white Oxford shirt, even if the sleeves were rolled up to show his fancy watch and his stupid crown tattoo.
Which they might have been.
Though I absolutely had not noticed.
At all.
“Flynn?” Dan said, blinking at me like he’d been saying my name for a while. “You okay?”
“Perfectly fine.” I scowled. “Why wouldn’t I be? Help me finish unloading these cases.”
If JT had swanned into town for a family visit—finally—then he needed to stay the hell away from me and my business.
But it only took me a minute while hauling now dripping-wet cases of beer to realize that if JT had driven into town in his own car, he was most likely here for longer than a weekend.
