Chapter 18
Flynn needed distance to think so he drove to Quincy to have breakfast with his brother. Later he’d touch base with Toad and Bellamy. See what more they’d found. Knowing Gia, plenty.
As he drove, snippets of the night before flashed in his head. He couldn’t call sex with Gia a mistake because it had been the best he’d ever had. But it complicated things. He wouldn’t lose his license over it. Believe it or not, in California a lawyer could sleep with his client as long as he wasn’t making sex a condition of representation or exploiting her, like seducing someone despondent over a bad divorce. Still, it was frowned upon, as it should be.
The big problem was, he wanted to continue sleeping with her and she’d made it clear she’d be up for it. But sex made you lose objectivity and he couldn’t afford to do that where Gia was concerned. Too much at stake.
Flynn turned left onto Crescent Street and made another left on Main, parked by the natural food store, and walked the block to the coffee shop. In recent years a few trendy cafés and hair salons had sprouted up, but downtown was mainly a mish mash of utilitarian stores housed in historic buildings, some left over from the Gold Rush.
At the coffee shop Wes had secured their usual booth and Flynn hung his hat next to his brother’s on the coatrack near the cash register.
“Wes is waiting for you, hon.” Flossie, the owner, handed him a menu. Silly, because he’d been ordering the same thing since he was ten years old: chicken fried steak with gravy, eggs sunny-side up, country fried potatoes, and a biscuit.
Flynn walked through the restaurant to the table. Wes stood and slapped him on the back, which evolved into a guy hug. They were about the same height and used to be the same size, but married life had added a few inches to Wes’s waistline.
“How you doin’?” Wes sat back down.
“Good.” Flynn scooted into the booth, across from his brother.
“You’re spending a lot of time in Nugget these days. Mom says the new Rosser Ranch owner has captured your attention.” He raised his brows. “That true?”
Why lie? Flynn huffed out a breath. “Yeah, but it’s complicated.”
“It always is.” His brother grinned. “Mom says she’s the TV lady whose boyfriend stole all that money.”
“Yep. I’m her lawyer.”
Wes whistled. “So you can’t talk about it, huh?”
“Not about the investigation.” The waitress came with coffee and he and Wes put in their orders. “How’re Jo and the kids?”
“Great. Whitley asked me to hit you up for Girl Scout cookies.”
“Put me down for a dozen boxes. I’ll bring them to the office.”
“So tell me about the TV lady without giving away the legal stuff.” Wes poured cream into his coffee and took a sip.
“She’s gorgeous, funny, and smart.” Except when she did stupid things like send money to the victims of her ex’s investment fraud. “She has a horse named Rory and rides with an English saddle.”
“No kidding.” Wes leaned across the table. “You two . . . intimate?” They both laughed because Wes had phrased the question so delicately. Not his usual style.
As of yesterday, “Yeah.”
“Is it serious?”
“Nah.”
“Jeez, Flynn, how much longer you gonna play the field? What’s wrong with this one?”
Besides her legal problems . . . “She doesn’t believe in marriage.”
I don’t want to share a bank account with another person. I don’t want to make financial decisions by committee. And I don’t want to be dependent on someone else.
“From what I can tell, neither do you, little brother.”
Wes was wrong. Flynn did believe in marriage . . . when the time and person were right.
Their food came and Wes stopped talking long enough to smother his pancakes in butter and syrup before shoveling a forkful into his mouth.
“Don’t listen to that bullshit,” he said between bites. “If you want to marry her, marry her.”
“I just met her, Wes. Besides, what do you want me to do: hog-tie her and bring her before the county clerk?”
Wes chuckled and continued to plow through his food. “I guess you’ve lost your touch with the ladies. The old Flynn would’ve had her begging for your hand.”
Flynn rolled his eyes. “Can we talk about this bull you want to buy?”
“Want to change the subject, do ya?” Wes laughed some more. The idiot was enjoying himself. “You’ve canceled on me so many times I forgot about the goddamned bull. But yeah, let’s get it out of the way so I can continue giving you shit.”
“If we don’t buy that gooseneck stock trailer you want we can afford the bull.”
“I want both,” Wes said. “Can’t we do away with something else? That old trailer we have won’t make it another season. And the bull has great lines.”
Flynn fidgeted with a packet of sweetener on the table. He knew their old stock trailer was in bad shape. “What do you propose we do?”
Wes owned a successful construction company; he was a good businessman. Yet somehow Flynn had been put in charge of the finances for the ranch.
“We take out a short-term loan. Beef prices are good this year.”
Flynn hated borrowing against the ranch, but in this case Wes was right. Not a lot of risk involved. They were talking about a relatively small dollar amount. And they’d make a killing when they took their calves to market.
“Okay,” he said. “You want me to handle the loan or do you plan to do it?”
“I’ll put Jo on it.” Wes’s wife was the bookkeeper for both the ranch and the construction company. His brother waggled his brows. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full with your TV lady.”
Flynn shook his head. To keep Wes from starting up again, he said, “Annie Sparks is working for Gia. She’s planting Christmas trees on Rosser Ranch and is gonna live there over the summer to oversee the project. She broke up with the douchebag.”
“No kidding. For good this time?”
“I think so. She’s been staying at the ranch on weekends until school gets out. No sign of Zeke.”
“I hope she’s finally rid of that little pissant. Remember that time we nearly kicked his ass?”
They’d gone to one of his lousy shows because Annie had asked them to. Zeke had gotten shit-faced on stage, swilling beer like a frat-boy pledge. After the gig ended he’d elected himself designated driver. When Flynn stepped in the kid got belligerent. Then Wes rushed to the rescue and fists starting flying, Zeke throwing the first one. He missed Wes altogether and slammed his knuckles into a wall. Annie freaked out, grabbed Zeke’s keys, and slid behind the wheel.
“Yep. If it hadn’t been for Annie, we would’ve left him sprawled facedown in the parking lot.”
“What’s going on with Chad?” Wes asked. “He still robbing the Sparkses’ farm blind?”
Flynn couldn’t get into it, though most people in California’s tight-knit agricultural community knew about the Chad problem. “Can’t talk about it.”
“What can you talk about these days?”
“I’m bringing Gia to Sunday dinner.” Flynn mopped his biscuit in the leftover gravy.
Wes’s face lit with amusement. “Gia, the one who doesn’t want to marry you?”
“I didn’t say she didn’t want to marry me specifically. She doesn’t want to marry period.”
“I’ve gotta meet this woman.” Wes grinned like a loon. “Mom seems to think she’s the second coming of Christ.”
“Mom likes her books . . . liked her show.”
“I can’t wait to tell Jo. She’s got a couple of friends she’s been wanting to set you up with. Looks like you’re off the hook.”
They finished their breakfasts, talked more about the cattle, paid their bill, and went their separate ways. Wes had a couple of big residential jobs and was anxious to check on the work. This time of year he made hay while the sun shone because winters could be slow. Between the construction and the cattle, he’d made a good life for himself. Beautiful family and a big house with a swimming pool. The older Flynn got the more Wes’s life appealed to him. Someday, he told himself.
He walked back to his truck and called Toad.
“You got anything?”
“I found the ex,” Toad said.
“Cleo’s ex?”
“Yep. She’s living in Florida . . . Miami. What do you say I go out there? Angry exes often have loose lips.”
Flynn thought about it. They’d been going through the divorce when Cleo got shot. Because she was still technically Cleo’s wife, she stood to do well financially from his death after probate. So he didn’t know how chatty she’d be. But he supposed it was worth a shot.
“Yeah, go ahead,” he told Toad. “See if you can work your magic.” He got off the phone and backed out of his parking space.
He was heading up Main to catch the highway back to Nugget when a florist he’d never seen before caught his eye. Must be new, he thought as he snagged an empty parking space right in front. He didn’t know what the hell possessed him to go inside, but twenty minutes later he walked out with a huge arrangement and his wallet a hundred bucks lighter.
Damn, flowers were expensive.
* * *
Gia got off the phone with her mother when the doorbell rang. She hadn’t heard an accompanying car—then again, the security gate was closed. But she wasn’t expecting anyone. On the way to check the peephole, she made sure to avoid windows, which proved difficult in a house full of them. She didn’t want to have to deal with a reporter.
But it was Maddy Shepard, the chief’s wife.
“Hi. I hope I haven’t come at a bad time,” she said when Gia opened the door.
“Not at all. Come in. You want coffee or a soft drink?”
“Coffee would be lovely if you have it made. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”
“I’ve got a pot on.” Gia led her to the kitchen and fixed her a mug. “Cream? Sugar?”
“Cream, please. Thank you.”
Gia got a carton of half and half out of the refrigerator, curious about the impromptu visit. She’d stayed at Maddy’s inn a few times while property hunting and had had the misfortune of being there the day the arsonist had torched the place. Other than those few interactions, she and Maddy hardly knew each other.
Gia pulled out one of the barstools. “You want to sit in here or would you be more comfortable in the great room?”
“This is fine. I didn’t have a chance to tell you before what a gorgeous house you have. I’d never been inside when the Rossers lived here.”
“Thank you,” Gia said, though she couldn’t take credit for anything about the home. She’d kept it exactly the way it was, with the exception of putting up a few photographs and knickknacks on the shelves.
Maddy scanned the kitchen and craned her neck a little to peek into the breakfast room.
“Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Gia couldn’t remember whether she’d made her bed; she’d rushed out early, hoping to have coffee with Flynn. Of course he’d taken off before they could discuss what had happened the previous night.
Coward.
“I’d love to,” Maddy said, obviously dying to get a look at the place.
Gia told her to bring her coffee and gave her the grand tour, starting first on the main level. There was a bottom floor—Ray Rosser’s man cave—with a pool table, wet bar, and ginormous flat-screen. It also had a gym and an office. Gia used the library on the main floor for her day trading and rarely went downstairs. If she ever entertained, though, the basement would be perfect.
“It’s a bit much for one person.” Gia laughed. The locals must think she was crazy for buying a place this big.
“Were you thinking of your program when you purchased it?”
“Yep.” She let out a sigh. “It has the bunkhouses and the foreman’s home, which is perfect. And of course this house.” Gia took Maddy to the third floor, which had five bedrooms. “See what I mean?”
Maddy nodded. “That’s what I came over to talk to you about. I felt like we left the meeting on a bad note. When my brother and I bought the Lumber Baron to turn it into an inn, the reception was even worse. It got so nasty that many of the town’s business owners hung anti-inn banners on their buildings. So I identify with what you’re going through and don’t want to be like the residents who did that to me.”
“But you’re still against the program?” Gia didn’t mean to sound defensive, but Maddy hadn’t spoken up at the meeting.
“The truth is I like the idea. Very much. But—”
“You don’t want to contradict your husband.”
Maddy smiled. “No, I don’t want to publicly contradict the police chief. My husband I can handle.”
It was Gia’s turn to smile, realizing Maddy was on her side but there were politics involved.
“As far as the police chief . . . I’m working on him in private,” Maddy said. “But if you want this to happen you’ll have to significantly change your proposal.”
Gia bristled. “What do you mean change it?”
“First off, you should call your program a school rather than making it sound like a halfway house.” Maddy held up her hands to stop Gia from interrupting. “I know that sounds awful . . . snobby, judgmental, like nimbyism. . . . But do you want to fight or do you want to win? The second thing you could do is appoint a board of respected Nugget residents to help select the candidates for your school.” Maddy emphasized the word “school.” “These are just suggestions. Ignore them if you want.”
“I don’t have an aversion to calling it a school. But it would complicate things because I’d have to get special licenses from the state.”
“Then call it a camp or a retreat, something that doesn’t sound like a homeless shelter to men who make worst-case assumptions. You know what I mean?”
Like your husband. Gia read her loud and clear. “Okay, I’ll rework the branding. And I don’t have a problem with appointing a board to help with the selection process. You think that will work?”
“I’m going to be one hundred percent honest with you, Gia. Rhys and Clay are hard sells and both hold a lot of sway around here. Right now, their votes are unequivocal nos. But as hardheaded as they are, they can also be reasonable and have hearts as big as California. It’s up to you to sell them on it. No easy feat, but certainly worth a try. Off the record, because this conversation never happened, we’re all going to ask to meet again. At that point I would bring up these things we talked about.”
They wandered back to the kitchen and Gia refilled Maddy’s coffee. She got out a package of cookies, tried to artfully arrange them on a plate, and put them out for Maddy.
“Thank you for the advice . . . and for supporting my plan.”
Maddy sat on one of the barstools and took a cookie. “I grew up fairly privileged and before I moved to Nugget . . . before Rhys . . . I was married to a Wellmont.” If she was talking about the Wellmonts, they owned one of the largest hotel chains in the world. “It turned out my first husband was in love with someone else.... Well, that’s another story for another day. The point I’m trying to make is that I’d signed a prenup that didn’t give me much. I’d been out of the workforce for years and my confidence was crushed. I may not have been a single mother relying on food stamps, but I felt a certain kind of desperation.... Without my family I would’ve died for the kind of help you want to offer.”
Gia forced herself to ask, “Do you think I’m in it for the publicity?”
“I don’t really care why you’re in it if it helps struggling women. I didn’t realize it at first, but just living in this beautiful place helped me get over a very bad time in my life . . . and of course there was Rhys.” Maddy got a dreamy, faraway look on her face.
“For the record, if I never saw another camera again it would be too soon.”
Maddy reached her hand across the island and put it on top of Gia’s. “I know it’s been tough, but it’s getting better, right?”
“Yes,” Gia lied. No need to tell her that the case had become even more complicated.
“It’s none of my business, but it seems like you and Flynn are forming an attachment.”
Yeah, she’d become attached to Flynn. More than any man she’d ever been with. No longer did she just look forward to seeing him; she counted the days, the hours, and the minutes until his truck pulled into the driveway. And when she was with him, time ceased to exist. There was just the two of them—and so much chemistry it was explosive.
But Flynn was the kind of man who had to be in charge. And Gia wasn’t the kind of woman who would allow a man to rule her. Not like her mother had. The only person driving Gia’s course would be her.
“We’re becoming good friends,” she told Maddy.
Maddy smiled in that way that said, sure you are. She drained the last of her coffee, took the cup to the sink, and washed it out.
“Thanks for the caffeine and the tour.” Maddy pulled the straps of her purse over her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get to the inn, but I’m glad we could talk.”
“Me too. And thanks again.”
“Remember,” Maddy said, “we never had this conversation.”
“Got it.” Gia went outside and watched Maddy cut across the field to take the shortcut through Clay’s property.
She started to go back inside when Flynn’s truck came up the road, whipping up dust as well as her pulse. A smile opened in her chest at the sight of him. He pulled into his usual spot and got out of the truck holding an enormous floral arrangement.
“Who’s that for?” she asked, leaning against the open doorway.
“Who do you think?”
“I haven’t the foggiest notion.” She flashed him a toothy grin and he all but rolled his eyes. “You left so early I figured you had to get home to your wife.”
“Very funny.” He handed her the arrangement. “They need water.”
“Are these happy-sex flowers?” She took them to the kitchen and he followed.
“No, they’re you’ve-bewitched-me flowers.” He gave her a once-over. “Nice shorts.” They were denim cutoffs, nothing special.
“Thank you . . . for the flowers.” She tried to act nonchalant, but the gesture touched her.
Evan had showered her with expensive gifts. Hermès scarves, Tiffany jewelry, hard-to-get concert tickets. Even before she knew how he’d paid for them, the presents hadn’t meant much. He’d always made a big deal about how expensive they were and very little about his feelings for her.
With Flynn there’d been a light that shone in his eyes when he’d handed her the bouquet. She wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to call it love. But it felt like something. Something real.
“Where’ve you been?” she asked.
“Besides the florist?” He came up behind her as she filled the vase from the tap. “I had breakfast with my brother. We had cattle business to discuss.”
“Oh?” She turned around and he pinned her to the counter, his lips so close she thought he would kiss her.
“We need to talk about . . .” He waved his hand between them. “You know what I mean.”
“About last night?” She couldn’t think with him so close so she ducked under one of his arms and went inside the great room.
“Gia, don’t run away when I’m trying to have a conversation with you.” He went after her.
“You mean like you did this morning?”
He rubbed his hand down his face, removed his hat, and laid it upside down on the side table before sitting next to her. “I figured we both could use a little space.”
“By my count we had eight hours of space while we slept in separate rooms.”
Flynn grinned. “That’s because I lose myself when I’m around you.”
“As you said, I’m bewitching.” She kicked off her sandals and pulled her legs under her butt. “How’s your brother?”
“Smug.” When she shook her head in question, he said, “Never mind. Was that Maddy Shepard I saw leaving when I drove up?”
“Yep. She came over for a nice chat.”
“About what?” He put his arm over the back of the couch.
“She had some ideas about how I might sell Rhys and Clay on my residential program.”
“Like what?”
She snuggled next to him and outlined Maddy’s suggestions. “It’s still a long shot because Rhys and Clay are adamantly against it.”
“Having her on your side certainly can’t hurt and I like the idea of appointing a board.” He leaned closer and Gia could see the circles under his eyes. “Besides plotting against the police chief what else did you do today? Nothing you shouldn’t have, I hope.”
“I didn’t even trade.” She’d been too anxious over the aftermath of their lovemaking. Then Maddy had called.
He let out a loud yawn, confirming her theory.
“Bad night?” Gia asked, hiding a grin. Served him right for pushing her away like that.
“What do you think?” he growled into her ear. “I’m gonna take a nap.”
He got off the couch and before she knew it scooped her up.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking you with me. My room or yours?”
“Mine.” It was closer and she was heavy, though Flynn didn’t seem to think so. He carried her like she weighed less than a sack of Styrofoam packing peanuts.
When they got to where they were going he unceremoniously dumped her in the middle of the bed, pried off his boots, and climbed in next to her. He curled around her so that her back was pulled against his chest and they lay that way until she felt his breathing slow and heard soft snoring.
She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but Flynn’s warm, hard body proved to be too much of a distraction. His arms and legs cocooned her protectively and his scent—fresh laundry, green grass, and something distinctly Flynn—soothed her senses. Everything about him felt safe and solid—and arousing. She flipped onto her side so she could watch him sleep.
“Quit squirming,” he said in a sleepy tone that made his voice rumble.
“I’m just trying to get comfortable.”
He tugged her so that her head lay on his chest. “Better?”
She could hear his heart beat. “I’m not really a day sleeper.”
“Try this.” He pulled her completely on top of him, which only made things worse. She could feel his erection pressing against her.
He gazed up at her, heat in his eyes, and with the agility of a cat rolled her under him. Balancing his weight on his elbows, Flynn brushed his lips over hers. The kiss was feather-soft and her heart dipped. She caged his face in her hands and kissed him again until they were both out of breath. Mouths and tongues dancing to a wild rhythm only they could hear.
“Flynn?” She forced him down on top of her.
“I’ll crush you.” He rolled them both to their sides and continued to kiss her.
Gia pushed up his Henley. She wanted it off, wanted to feel his skin against hers. Flynn whipped it over his head and she took in a breath at the sight of him. His torso rippled with muscle. Apparently lifting hay bales and wrestling calves was better than any gym. Dark hairs sprinkled his chest and wended down into a happy trail that disappeared inside his pants.
His arms, all muscular and veiny, banded around her, and he whispered, “Take off your top.”
She wiggled out of his grip, sat up, and tugged off her T-shirt, leaving her in nothing but a see-through bra and shorts. He hummed his appreciation, pulled her back down, and fondled her breasts, playing with her nipples until they puckered pink and proud through the diaphanous lace. His tongue lazily swirled over each one, wetting the fabric until it molded to her.
“I thought we weren’t doing this again.” She closed her eyes while the pleasure of his warm mouth ripped through her.
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he muttered. “You want to stop?”
“God no.”
Flynn lifted his head and her immediate reaction was to pull him back down so he could continue his slow torture.
“Seriously,” he said, “do you feel like you have to do this in exchange for my representation?”
She stared at him, hardly believing his words, then bolted upright. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“According to the state bar, I can’t require or demand sexual relations with a client as a condition of representation; employ coercion, intimidation, or undue influence in entering into sexual relations with a client; or continue representation of a client with whom I’m having sexual relations with if it causes me to perform legal services incompetently.”
“For Christ’s sake, Flynn, you’re actually reciting the rules to me while I’m half naked? Way to be a buzzkill. I’m paying you cash for your legal services, not sex. And the fact that you even had to ask is insulting. No one could ever coerce or intimidate me into doing anything I didn’t want to. So I guess the last question is in your court. Will us sleeping together cause you to be a lousy lawyer?”
After all that, Flynn actually had the audacity to flash a wolfish grin and flick open the front catch of her bra, drag down the straps, and let the whole thing slither off her. “That answer your question?” He pushed her back down on the bed and straddled her.
She ran her hands down his chest, went to work on his belt, and felt him suck in a breath. This time she got the buckle undone all by herself and tore open his fly, one button at a time. He pushed the pants over his very fine ass, down his legs, and kicked them away. And everything coalesced in the pit of her stomach. Lust, overwhelming attraction, and something she wouldn’t identify. She knew what it was and willed it away, choosing to focus solely on her hunger for him. It was easier that way.
He unzipped her shorts and drew them down, making her lift up so he could get them all the way off.
“These are nice.” Flynn dipped one finger inside her panties, see-through just like the bra, and rimmed the elastic band. “But they’ve got to go,” he said, yanking them off so that she lay there completely open to him.
“No fair; you still have yours on.”
He quickly dispensed with his shorts, his impressive erection jutting through a thatch of dark hair, eager and raring to go. The man made her mouth water and her body quiver. Soon his hands, lips, and tongue were everywhere. Touching, laving, and licking. She moaned and let out sounds she didn’t know she was capable of making. Thank goodness the nearest neighbor was a right distance away.
He left her for a second, leaning over the side of the bed, searching through his jeans. She clawed his back, urging him to return, her body craving his like an addiction. He stumbled up, clutching a foil package, which he tore open with his teeth, removed a condom, and rolled it down his length. Spreading her legs, he touched her center, first with his fingers, then with his mouth.
“Flynn . . . oh God . . . so good.” She came in a rush, screaming his name.
The next thing she knew he was inside her, filling her to the brink, moving in and out . . . making it feel so good. Unlike the last time, he went slowly, savoring every thrust and touch. With the sunlight glinting through the spaces in the drapes, they met each other stroke for stroke. He dropped tiny kisses on her face, her throat, and her shoulders, whispering words that would have otherwise been nonsensical but made perfect sense to her. And in that hour, joined together like a perfect merger, they lost themselves. Near the end, before both of them climaxed, he looked down at her and she could’ve sworn she saw his heart in his eyes. It made her tear up as she arched into him, reaching the final pinnacle before crashing down. He followed with a racking shudder while he called out her name. They lay there for a few seconds, panting.
Sprawled on top of her, he wiped her cheek with his hand. “You okay?”
“Of course.” She tried to move away.
“Hey, hey.” He flipped her over, got rid of the condom, and tightened his arms around her. “Where you going?”
She couldn’t help it and cuddled into his chest, tucking her head under his chin. “Nowhere.”
“Good.” He glanced at the clock on her nightstand. “What do you say we crash for a little while? Then I should check the cattle.”
“Okay,” she said.
He closed his eyes and she spent the next hour watching the best man she’d ever known sleep.