Fools Rush Flynn (Dog Tags #2)
Chapter 1
chapter
one
Temple
You know those kids… the ones that talk too much, laugh too loudly and need an extra amount of attention? Yeah, I’m one of those.
For as far back as I can remember, people—mostly family, but often teachers—have told me I need to take it down a notch. Or ten.
I’m sure there’s some underlying reason that makes me take up more space than I should. Aside from the fact that as a plus sized woman I literally take up more physical space.
For a long time, I tried to conform to other people’s expectations. Tried to be quieter, smaller, less colorful, and just less “too much”. But the truth is the more I try to suppress my natural instincts, the worse things get. So since I can’t really change, I’ve learned to ration other people’s exposure to me. Everyone likes me more in small doses.
Which means I know lots of people, and I have exactly one friend.A friend I haven’t seen in ages because she’s been doing a semester abroad which morphed into another semester and then another. I miss her dreadfully.
And then there’s Flynn Harrington. My girlhood crush. My bestie’s hot, older brother. And currently my fake husband. Okay he’s not really fake, and technically the marriage is real and legal. But we’ve been man and wife for nearly two years, and I haven’t seen him since our ceremony on an Army base in Germany.
It’s a marriage of convenience. I thought everything we’d done would be enough to appease my grandmother and my cousin so that my grandmother’s will wouldn’t be contested. But here we are. Grandma isn’t even dead yet and Cousin Rick—of the spray tans and questionable business investments—is already stirring the pot of doubts about my “marriage.”
It made sense that Flynn and I lived separately when he was on active duty and stationed abroad. Now that he’s not? Questions have been raised. I had simply answered that Flynn had wanted to get settled in and make everything ready for me.
Which is why I am now on my way to visit my husband. To Flynn’s new address in his new town. A small, adorable town from everything I’ve seen so far. Saddle Creek, Texas. I mean how cute is that?
“Piglet, are you seeing this sweet little town? A Public library and a lovely park next to the courthouse. Ice cream shoppe, a diner, an old-fashioned mercantile. Can you even stand it?” I ask my dog. She’s probably napping in her softsided pink kennel, but I talk to her nonetheless. “This is the kind of town I’ve always wanted to live in. So charming.”
I follow the directions my phone map is reading through my car speakers. It leads me a few roads from downtown, but still in what I’d call the hub of the little town. There’s nothing sleepy about Saddle Creek. There are people everywhere, and all of the businesses I’ve passed seem busy.
Whatever brought Flynn here, it feels like a great place to make a home. Far better than the smoggy swamp that is Houston, where we both grew up.
It’s easy enough to find the little row of cabins that are available for rent. I find lucky number seven and park. It takes a bit of work to maneuver my pink monogrammed luggage out of my tiny backseat, but eventually I do it. I try to be subtle about glancing around me, but it’s no use. No matter how nonchalant I attempt to be, I still manage to stick out no matter where I am. In this case though, maybe it’s a good thing. I know that my snake of a cousin has had some of his goons following me.
Which is part of the reason I’m here in Saddle Creek, to, uh… claim my husband.
In a manner of speaking.
I drag my wheeled bag behind me as I follow the steps that lead up to the cabin. I think my hands are shaking and I’m likely on the verge of nervous giggles. But I’m here. Again, I try to sneak a look over my shoulder. There is another car that’s pulled into park and a few across the street. I’m probably being paranoid, but my cousin has been known to do crazy things in pursuit of grandma’s money.
So, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s hired someone to follow me and get “proof” that Flynn and I aren’t really married. And then he’s going to use that “proof” to convince grandma to cut me out of the will.
And yes, I know how that sounds. After all, I’m in a fake, real marriage to secure my part of the inheritance. So, yes, that’s crazy in its own way.
But it’s not about the money for me. It’s never been about the money.
It’s about all the things related to the money. It’s about what will happen to the family estate, a grand old house in the Big Piney Woods in east Texas—which I know Rick will sell off without a second thought. Then someone will build a strip mall on it full of greedy cash-loan places and low-end nail salons.
It’s about our great-uncle Benny’s collection of Art Nouveau jewelry.
Those are the things I care about. Yes, they have financial value, but they also have sentimental value. Like the time Benny won that locket in a card game in France or how he was gifted the ring by a Polish industrialist for helping his family escape to England just before WWII. Rick doesn’t care about the stories behind any of these things; he’d auction off everything just to liquidize the cash. But I do care. Family history matters to me. Family matters to me even if I haven’t ever really had much of one.
More than any of those tangible things, I don’t’ want my cousin in charge of Grandma’s care when she does reach end of life. I will only move her into a facility if that is her choice. Otherwise, I will take care of her, just like she always took care of me.
Which is why I’m willing to do anything to protect my part of the inheritance. Even if it means making an absolute fool of myself in front of Flynn Harrington, up to and including begging him to do me one more favor. Even though Flynn is my (nearly) life-long secret crush and the swooniest guy I’ve ever met.
So after knocking on the wooden door, I make a hasty decision.
The door pulls open and I don’t even let myself enjoy how damned beautiful he is before I launch myself at him and press my mouth to his.
He freezes at first, but then his hands scoop under my bottom, picking me up so I can wrap myself around him. And then his tongue is in my mouth. He makes some sort of growly noise that is hands-down the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
I had not anticipated this. I thought I’d just give him a hello kiss to let anyone who might be following me get a perfect picture of my wedded bliss. But Flynn is kissing me. Maybe he didn’t recognize me. Maybe he just will kiss any woman back if she starts it. Then my brain short circuits and I fall into the kiss.
He shifts us and presses my back against the rough cedar planks of the outside wall. Flynn’s tongue is a revelation, and I have no doubt that my panties are now drenched. My nipples harden and I shamelessly rub them against his chest while we kiss.
And then, as if the spell is broken, Flynn sets me down. He grabs my hand and pulls me into the cabin, slamming the door behind me. His fingers are raking through his messy dark hair, and there’s a few days’ growth shadowing his cheeks and jawline.
His dark brown eyes look at me, and I swear my heart is waving a white flag of surrender. This man. Sigh.