Chapter Ten #18
“Need to go back to bed, but actually sleep this time.” Flynn adjusted carefully, which somehow made things worse. “Unless you get an overwhelming urge to plow me with grapes and wine. Honestly, either route leads to the same outcome. Actual sleep or drunken sleep, makes no difference to me.”
“Is that a hint?” Zavier chuckle.
“Hint, request, whatever you want to call it. We can stop at the grocery store after work.”
Zavier squeezed Flynn’s shoulder. “Make a list. Call if you need me.”
“That sentence means nothing when you’re standing three feet away.”
“Want me to make it six?” Zavier took a few steps back. “Now I’ll have to shout.”
Flynn was falling so hard. “Dork.”
“Only for you, kitten.” He winked.
“Stop, before I turn so red I’ll need a fire extinguisher.” Flynn pressed his hand to his cheek, groaning when his palm instantly warmed.
“It’s a gorgeous look on you.” The deep timbre in Zaveri’s voice drew Flynn farther into his orbit with every beat.
“I told you I don’t know what to do with compliments.”
Zaveri kissed Flynn’s forehead. “You will.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Flynn muttered as Zavier headed toward the other side of the store.
Flynn’s brain was too sleepy to figure it out. Instead, he grabbed the duster from under the counter, and started cleaning around him.
The bell over the door gave a cheerful jangle. Morning light spilled across the front floorboards, and a woman stepped in carrying a dark glass bottle by the neck.
She looked vaguely familiar.
Oh no.
Flynn blinked slowly. It was her. Middle-aged tween from a few weeks ago.
The lady who’d argued with Flynn about seller-gratification of the naughty kind.
She’d been very specific about the title. Matching his squeaked words like it had been some kind of game.
Oh crap. Flynn wanted to hide, but there wasn’t anywhere he could quickly hide. Unless he knocked everything from under the counter then crawled inside the dusty shelves.
His boss had known what he was doing when he’d named this store. For reasons Flint couldn’t understand why this place was a magnet for dust.
Maybe there was something ancient, buried right under them, and the disrespect of a store built right on top of their burial site caused dust to accumulate twice as fast.
Why did it feel as if that had already happened? Flynn tried to remember then gave up. He was too tired to waist brain cells.
Shit. Middle-aged tween was heading right for him.
Please let that be a regular book. Please let it be murder, gardening, taxes, literally any other category.
Her smile widened when she spotted him. “Hey.”
“Hi.” Flynn braced for psychic and damage.
Near the counter, she lifted the bottle a little. “I brought you something.”
He just stared at the bag. “That’s wine.”
“It is.” She came closer and set it on the counter with a soft clink. “For helping me that day.”
Helped? Flynn had been spiraling so bad, he’d prayed a space rock hit the store.
Flynn simply stared at the bottle. “You brought me actual wine. The good stuff, too.”
A little color touched her cheeks. “You seemed like you needed it.”
“That is the kindest, most accurate thing anyone has said to me in recent memory.” Flynn picked it up, feeling the cool glass in his hand. “Thank you. Seriously. I’m stunned.”
He hadn’t expected her to return, especially with the wine he’d asked for. Do not cry. Do not cry. Do not cry.
Not until you’ve had a few glasses.
“You’re welcome.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m Adele, by the way. I realized I never told you my name.”
She had a name. He never thought to ask because he was horrible at remembering them. Faces, no problem. Still remembered what his Kindergartener teacher looked like. Vaguely.
“Flynn. Guy who thinks up medical emergencies as backup plans.”
Her laugh came easy, and some of the stiffness in his shoulders eased with it.
From beside him, Zavier straightened. “I’m stepping outside to make a call.”
Flynn looked up. “Bodyguard business?”
“Something like that.” After giving Flynn a look that said he was thinking this morning, Zavier headed for the door.
Perv.
And you love it. Every single second.
Immensely.
Adele watched Zavier walk out with lifted brows. Once the door closed, she swung back around with a smile filled with sighs. “So. So. Dreamy.”
Flynn nearly dropped the wine bottle. “Focus those eyes right back over here.”
Jealousy struck his veins so fast and hot, the words shot out of him before a coherent thought had formed.
Jesus. He’d never been possessive over a guy, yet he wanted to poke out Adele’s eye for appreciating male beauty.
She smiled evilly at him, a twinkle of mischief glinting in her eyes. “Never play poker, Flynn. I can read every emotion on your face right now. You, my friend, are in love. Despite your outburst, you’re practically glowing.”
“Men don’t glow, we sweat.”
“You’re glowing,” she stated like her mind was made up.
“Am I really glowing?”
“Like a full moon.” She grinned. “Is he seriously you boyfriend?”
Flynn wanted to run to the bathroom to see if she was messing with him, but he believed her. The way Zavier made Flynn feel, not just intimately, but emotionally.
He’d never dismissed Flynn and thought his quirkiness was endearing instead of too much. Flynn just felt safe and happy and never wanted those feelings to do away.
“Yeah. Zaveri is my boyfriend.” He’d told Flynn their existence was kept a secret, which Flynn understood why.
“You two look good together,” she said. And if I remember correctly, you said something about single guys. Know any?” She arched an expecting brow.
“No,” Flynn admitted. “Hard to make friends when you live a predictable life. Work and home.” Why was he talking? Why couldn’t he shut up? Flynn didn’t share. He kept things bottled up so they could fester inside. Healthiest way to not deal with trauma.
“Same,” Adele murmured. “Small towns aren’t like they’re depicted on television, where everyone knows everyone, and your neighbor brings you pie.”
“I don’t think that’s been a thing since the hippie days. My nana used to tell me lots of stories about when she was growing up. Even when she embellished, you did it so flawlessly you thought she really had done all the things she claimed.”
“She sounded wonderful.”
Flynn glanced toward the front window, where Zavier’s broad shape was visible through the glare. Lucky barely covered it. Lucky suggested a raffle prize. This felt more like the universe had blacked out drunk and handed him a miracle by mistake.
Adele’s smile eased. “And the stalker thing? Is that still going on?”
The question dragged a cooler thread through him. He shifted on the stool, then wished he hadn’t moved.
“Still technically an issue, which is deeply frustrating.”
Terrifying, but less so with Zavier guarding his body. Flynn could finally sleep at night without worrying about another break-in.
Concern touched her face. “I’m sorry you’re going through that.”
Flynn shrugged one shoulder. “Same. I keep hoping they’ll get distracted by a hobby. Birdwatching. Knitting. Competitive sudoku.”
Adele leaned one hip against the counter.
“I actually came in for two reasons. The wine was one.” She paused, looking almost shy.
“I started a pottery class a few weeks ago, but attendance is sort of... tragic. It’s me and one retired guy who mostly wants to talk about chili recipes. I thought maybe you’d want to join?”
“Pottery?” Flynn repeated.
She nodded. “Thursday nights.”
His brain immediately offered up a vision of clay under his hands, mess, texture, making something ugly and lopsided with his own two hands and calling it art anyway.
The thought landed in him with embarrassing force.
He had chickened out of enough things. Painting class.
Other things. Bigger things. Pottery, though.
Pottery sounded grounded. Real. Like maybe he could make a bowl and feel weirdly triumphant for a month.
“I would absolutely join,” Flynn said, too fast and far too eager, then kept going because excitement made him talk too much. “Yes. Fully yes. Enthusiastically yes. If you hand me a lump of clay, I’ll emotionally commit.”
Adele brightened. “Really?”
“Please.” Flynn hugged the wine to his stomach for a second before setting it down. “My social life involves stalking, misplaced tools, and extremely vocal sex. Pottery sounds wholesome.”
Flynn froze, lips parted, face a ball of nuclear fusion. “I…had no intention of revealing that, Adele. Excitement affects me in the weirdest way. I meant no disrespect.”
Just one lousy space rock is all I need. Small one, aimed directly at my location.
Her eyes widened, then she laughed into her hand.
“Crap,” Flynn muttered. “That one escaped because clearly it was dying for someone to know.”
Ironically, the one person Flynn had been mortified to talk with about sex, was the same person he’d just blurted intimate details to.
Their friendship was starting off fucking fabulously.
“I appreciate honesty.” Adele squeezed his arm. “I also like messy cinnamon rolls. So much fun to hang with.”
“I am surrounded by the strangest people,” Flynn muttered. Which reminded him, he needed to call Zack. Flynn had been busy having his entire nervous system rewired since that morning.
At the front window, Zavier moved farther down the sidewalk with his phone to his ear, his voice too low to carry through the glass. Flynn tracked him for half his movement, then dragged his attention back to Adele before he glowed even brighter and started blinding people.
“Do you have a flyer or something?” he asked.
“I left it in my bag.” She glanced toward the back. “Could I use your bathroom first?”
“Yeah, sure. Through there, past the cookbooks.”
“Thanks.”
Adele headed down the aisle, sandals thudding lightly against the worn linoleum.
Flynn watched until she disappeared toward the back hall, then sagged a little on the stool.