Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116455 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Flynn hadn’t only been grieving the loss of his grandfather back then; he’d also been grieving the loss of his dream… after making sure his brothers would realize theirs.
Snippets of our postorgasm conversation that night drifted through my brain.
“Come to the city,” I’d said into the darkness, hoping I sounded casual.
Flynn’s back had immediately stiffened. “What?”
“I’ve gotta go in a minute. I’ve got an early flight in the morning ’cause I’m starting my new job the day after, but… I’d like to do this again,” I’d blurted awkwardly. “See you again. So maybe you could come down sometime. I could take you out or…”
Flynn had pulled away immediately. “No. I have a business to run. I can’t afford distractions.”
I’d blinked, stung by his words. “I have a job, too—my freakin’ dream job—but I’d still be willing to—”
To… what? Have a long-distance friends-with-benefits thing?
Flynn was right. I couldn’t afford the distraction either.
Flynn had snorted like I’d just confirmed what he’d been thinking. “Just leave, Frog. Go back to your job in New York and pretend this night never happened.”
I hadn’t thought it was possible to regret that stupid, impulsive night more than I already did—Flynn had been at his most vulnerable, and I never should have let things go as far as they had, no matter how long or how badly I’d wanted him.
But now, replaying my own words, hearing myself gloat about my dream job and try to ease the sting of rejection by rubbing Flynn’s face in the fact that I was leaving town… god. No wonder Flynn thought I was an asshole.
I had been.
I hadn’t just mishandled this contract negotiation; I’d mishandled everything between us.
“Couldn’t someone else have stepped up to take care of the Tavern while he did his courses?” I demanded hoarsely. “His brothers? His parents?”
She shook her head. “Alden and PJ were at school. McLean was taking care of the Retreat. Georgia was out in California. And Castor’s a sweetheart, but…”
“But he’d be giving away the mead to anyone who looked thirsty,” I finished, frustrated. “What about Huck and Willow?”
Marta hesitated. “They’re sweet, too, in their way, but not exactly… reliable.”
“Not to mention blue-ribbon thieving wastrels,” my mother interjected with a sniff.
“Mother, honestly,” I said, more harshly than strictly necessary, thanks to my guilt. “Willow Honeycutt is a very nice woman, and she didn’t steal anything.”
“A very nice—?” Mother inhaled sharply through her nose and drew her entire body up straight. “Jonathan, I do believe all the excitement of the afternoon has taken its toll on you. I’ll expect you back at the house directly to help plan our Late-Summer Victory Extravaganza.” She put her nose in the air, turned on her heel, and left.
Holly sighed after her. “Poor Patricia. That woman is so unhappy.”
“Delusional,” I corrected.
Marta watched my mother stomp away. “Childish. Patty had her shot at Huck Honeycutt back in the day, and she chose not to take it. This whole thing with Willow is sour grapes.”
“What?” I gasped, every bit as melodramatically as my mother ever had.
Marta snorted. “Figures Patricia never told you this story. All very innocent, of course—they were only fifteen or so at the time—but some folks talked about Huck and Patty being the pair who’d fulfill the legend. You know, the legend of the lake?”
“Yes, of course,” I said impatiently. “More or less.” Everyone in Honeybridge knew of the legend of the lake. Nobody actually knew what was supposed to happen when it came true. “What happened?”
Marta shrugged. “For all that Huck’s easygoing, he’s never been one to back down or roll over about anything important. And you know your mother sure as hell doesn’t. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object.” She slammed her two fists together. “They had a falling-out over something, and your mother never apologized. She cared more about winning than she did about Huck. And you reap what you sow.”
“Marta,” Holly scolded. “Be kind.”
Marta grinned warmly at her wife. “Storytime’s over anyway. Let’s get going, babe. I need a shower. JT, if we don’t see you before you leave, kiddo, safe travels.”
I nodded and said goodbye distractedly, but as I walked to my car, my mind reeled. My mother… and sweet, shaggy Huck Honeycutt? I couldn’t think too hard about that without gagging.
I reached the Porsche and fished out my keys, then blinked as thoughts rearranged themselves in my brain. My mother’s mistakes. My own. Being wrong… and actually saying so. How winning really looked a lot like Flynn Honeycutt’s smile. Then I turned on my heel and walked back across the field in the other direction, breaking into a jog when I got close to the Tavern.
I wanted the contract. I wanted my damn promotion. That hadn’t changed. But in that moment, it was just as important for Flynn to know there was someone out there who recognized his sacrifices and incredible achievements. Who wanted him to be free to achieve his dreams without worrying about his family or his town or his business.