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)
“Never mind.” I turned to go. The trip back to the Retreat side of the lake would be less of an angry-kayak and more of a pity party.
“I’m tired of fighting with you, Flynn,” JT said from behind me.
I paused without turning around. “Then stop.”
“You think I’ve always had it out for you, but that’s just not true. I don’t get what this thing is between us. Why it feels like the universe always seems to pit us against each other, as if only one of us can win. Because in some ways, it feels like you and I…”
He hesitated, and I was suddenly sure I didn’t want to know what he was going to say next. Like it or not—and I very much didn’t—I was way too vulnerable around him. I always had been.
“It’s like we’re tied together or something,” he went on softly. “Always pushing and pulling on each other. Like magnets, maybe. Or tides. I wouldn’t be me if it hadn’t been for you. And I…” He blew out a breath. “I need you to know I’m not your enemy, Flynn.”
The sincerity and sadness in his voice called to something inside me in a way that was almost irresistible. I was really glad I couldn’t see his face, otherwise I might have dropped to my knees for him, right there on the beach, and begged him to forgive me for my accusations. To let me be close to him.
And then I’d be right back where I’d been all those times before.
Because Kurt had been right at the bakery earlier. JT and I had been “tight,” even though we weren’t friends. Our lives had been entwined since forever… just not always for the better.
In fact, not ever for the better, as far as I was concerned.
I let out a breath. “Fine, then. We’re not enemies. But…” I thought about what I needed from him. What I wanted out of this weird dynamic between the two of us.
What I wanted was out of the question.
What I needed, though… that was easy.
“Just stay out of my way, JT. That’s all I ask.”
I climbed into the kayak and used the paddle to shove myself away from shore. It was nearly a clean getaway.
But before I got more than a kayak’s-length from the island, my mouth overrode my brain, and I couldn’t resist calling over my shoulder, “By the way, there was a weird mix-up with your Oreo cheesecake. Nat sold the last one to me mere seconds before your dad arrived. Lo siento, Frog. Next time, try harder.”
Chapter Seven
JT
I had never wished so fervently to find out I was adopted as I did after spending Honeybridge Regatta Day on the water with my family and their guests.
This was Flynn Honeycutt’s fault. And I had evidence.
Exhibit one: If the man wasn’t so damn desirable and hadn’t kissed me senseless after the softball game last Saturday, maybe I wouldn’t have tossed and turned my way through enough sex dreams to start my own subscription service this week, and I would’ve been alert enough to invent an excuse when my mother voluntold me I’d be manning one of the Wellbridge family’s sailboats for the festivities.
Exhibit two: If Flynn hadn’t called out that taunt about the cheesecake at the birthday party, I’d have taken him at his word and stayed out of his way. The raw emotion in his voice that day had clawed at my insides, and I truly didn’t want to hurt him… even if it meant finding Conrad another craft mead account to earn my promotion. Instead, though, Flynn had deliberately provoked me, knowing full well that not a single cell of my body knew how to back down from a challenge, especially from him. The fact that I’d actually ordered the cake specifically because it was Flynn’s favorite and asked my father to hand it off to Marta, who was coming to the party, didn’t change that in the slightest.
And exhibit three: If Flynn had simply agreed to the damn deal, like any sane person would, I’d have already taken my sexually frustrated ass back to New York in triumph the way I’d initially planned instead of repeatedly messaging Alice to reschedule my meetings with other prospective clients so I could extend my stay in Honeybridge and having to suffer through her snarky replies.
Case. Closed.
But despite Flynn being the obvious guilty party in this situation, the man did not seem to be suffering in the slightest. In fact, he’d managed to avoid speaking to me for days. I’d haunted the Tavern so much that I’d learned the names of every employee, tried every dish and mead varietal on the menu, and chatted with nearly every person in town as they passed through for lunch or dinner, but the most I caught was a glimpse of Firecracker’s fine ass as he strode through the bar on his way to the meadery or a smirky eyebrow lift as he sashayed from the meadery back to the bar.