Page 85 of Firecracker


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Flynn closed his eyes and grimaced as the Wellbridge dugout went wild.

“That’s our Frog!” my cousin Marta yelled, straightening up and pulling off her mask.

A few other spectators took up the chant. “That’s our Frog! That’s our Frog!”

I shook my head and grinned as I jogged over to home plate.

“Oooh,” I taunted in a low voice. “Looks like your bat just couldn’t get a piece of my ball today, baby! Looks like Firecracker’s… fizzled. Whomp, whomp.” I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet smugly.

Flynn ran his tongue over his teeth and glanced up at me. His hair was a damp mess that curled against his neck and forehead where it peeked out of his ballcap, his cheeks were covered in dark scruff, and his orange T-shirt was molded to his lean muscles with a combination of sweat and dirt.

In short, he was the sexiest man who’d ever lived, and I wanted to throw him down right there and kiss him until the entire town understood our double entendres.

“You cheated,” he said in his deep voice.

“Moi? I did exactly what you asked me to do,” I said innocently. “You said—”

“I know what I said,” Flynn interrupted. His eyes flashed a gorgeous, dangerous bright green. “You have exactly thirty seconds to say goodbye to everyone in your family.”

“Oooh. Threats? You gonna kill me, slugger?” I arched an eyebrow. “Ditch my body where they’ll never find it?”

“Nothing that easy.” He stepped closer, getting all up in my personal space, mashing his Honeycutt T-shirt right against my Wellbridge one. “I am going to get my bat all over your balls and delay your game until you’re begging me to pitch. There will be absolutely no fizzling until we have done every single thing I texted you earlier.”

“We have work to do tonight,” I reminded him.

He gritted out a single word. “After.” Then he shoved me away from him with two hands. “Fifteen seconds now, Frog.”

I swallowed my smile and ran off to say my goodbyes, thinking Bossy Flynn might be my favorite Flynn.

Later that night as I lay in his loft bed staring up at the rafters through the darkness, with Flynn’s head on my shoulder and my hand threaded through his overlong hair, my entire body thrumming with the aftereffects of our mind-blowing lovemaking, I thought that this—being with Flynn—was the real win of the day. And I was going to figure out a way to keep it.

But as I found out the following week, there were certain circumstances even a Wellbridge couldn’t control.

ChapterFourteen

Flynn

The days were flying by. As busy as the Tavern was with tourist season in full swing and as crazy as I was prepping for Brew Fest, it was actually a good thing JT wasn’t around during the week. If he’d stayed in Honeybridge instead of going back to the city, I probably would have let him distract me right into bankruptcy.

The man didn’t realize what a compelling argument against work he made when he was standing naked in my home, asking if he could suck me off. Or rim me. Or fuck me hard over the kitchen counter.

“Blue caps, Flynn, Jesus,” Dan said before muttering, “And you think I’m the one not paying attention?”

I blinked down at the bottles in front of me. Sure enough, I’d put the wrong caps on nine bottles already. I cursed and reached for the bottle opener so I could start over.

“Why are you rushing?” Dan asked. “The dinner crowd won’t pick up for another hour, and we’ve already gotten a ton of prep done today. The T-shirts are packed and ready. The extra brochures should be here Monday. And I’ve already confirmed the truck rental for Tuesday.”

“Yeah, but JT is coming in tonight, and I don’t want to be stuck finishing this later.” I began placing the proper caps on the Moose Call bottles. “I have some business stuff I want to run by him tomorrow. Thatcher Pennington is back in town for a long weekend, and he stopped by to talk to me about investing—” I broke off with a headshake, not wanting to dwell on the exciting possibilities just yet. “Doesn’t matter. If I can get this batch done before JT gets here, I won’t feel so guilty for taking a few hours off.”

Dan turned to me, resting his hip against the workbench and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Flynn… Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

I glanced up at him. “No. I’m never sure I know what I’m doing. You think I shouldn’t take time off tomorrow? You’re probably right. That Red Hat tour group is coming in for lunch.” I stuck another cap in the bench capper.

“That’s not what I mean. When JT Wellbridge first came to town, you hated him. He tried to get you to sign distribution rights over to his company, and as soon as you said no, he started wooing you. Suddenly, you like him. Now, he’s taking all of your attention during your busy season. You clock out early on Friday and Saturday nights. You’re rushing Brew Fest prep because of him. You’re gonna ask him for business advice. I find it suspicious, that’s all. I’m worried.”

I opened my mouth to argue with him, to tell him he was wrong about JT, but then his words sank in. “You think he’s only hooking up with me to get me to sign a distribution deal?” I let out a laugh, but it sounded strained, even to my own ears.

Dan’s fingers ran through his short hair. “No. Not exactly.”

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