He loved the sound of her voice; it hypnotized him to the point he could almost forget there was a real world and real problems waiting for him outside St. Helena. Who knew being introduced to a flock of birds could be so soothing?
She’d already loaded his basket half way, making quick work of collecting. “There’s something amazing about starting the day like this, don’t you think?”
“I’m partial to blaring horns and swearing cab drivers.” Ah, the sounds of Fifth Avenue. How he missed it.
“Ugh.” She shuddered, and collected more eggs. “Oh, this one’s so pretty.” She held it up against the growing light. “That shade of lavender is just gorgeous. These look beautiful in a bowl on a table.”
“I’ll add that to my décor back home.” Speaking of home… He dragged his cell out of his pocket and checked for messages.
“You are obsessively attached to that thing.” Sabrina looked disapprovingly at the phone. “I’m surprised you haven’t burned your eyes out of their sockets.”
“I don’t like being in the dark about things that affect my future.” He slipped it back in his pocket and shifted the basket to his hand. “There’s a lot riding on this new job.” Like what he was going to be doing for the next six months to a year of his life.
“It’s not every day you get to welcome the sun while collecting eggs right from the source. Speaking of which, I think that’s all you’re getting today.”
Flynn frowned as he counted. “Trevor said I needed at least three dozen. He said to wait if--”
“Your brother’s playing you.” Sabrina rolled her eyes. “Most hens, these hens, only lay an egg a day. If that. Trust me, you’re done.”
“My city boy is showing again, isn’t it?”
“Just a little. You need to learn to relax, Flynn. Don’t you ever just live in the moment?” She rearranged some of the eggs. “You haven’t stopped since you got here, but never long enough to look around. Aren’t you afraid you’ll miss what’s right in front of you?”
“You mean like a beautiful woman covered in mud and chicken feathers?” He reached out and plucked a feather out of her hair.
She froze, pink rising into those full cheeks of hers. She stood, slowly, a cautious expression on her face as she inched her chin up. “So that’s what happens when you take the foot out of your mouth. That’s quite a compliment, Flynn Lafferty.”
He stepped closer. The basket bumped between them. He leaned down and set it on the ground.
“What are you doing?” Her voice lost its edge, came across like a whisper on the wind.
“Nothing if you don’t want me to.” His hands itched to hold her, touch her. Stroke those curls away from her face and gaze into her eyes. She wasn’t a small woman, was nearly as tall as he was and yet, for some reason he thought of her as delicate. Something to be cared for; protected. But he kept his distance, not wanting to push.
She hesitated, caught her lower lip between her teeth. And stepped toward him.
Her forehead bumped against his nose as her chin shot up, alarm shining in her eyes even as her mouth quirked in silent challenge.
He dipped his head, brushed his lips feather light against hers. Her hand came up, flattened against his chest. “Flynn—”
He swallowed her protest with his mouth, giving her the briefest of moments to let her break free. He held his breath; his heart beat against his ribs as he slipped his hands down to her hips, sank his fingers into her thin fabric-covered curves.
He heard her surrender—the slightest moan that finished on the sweetest sigh he’d ever heard. Her hands slid up his chest, around his neck and, as her fingers curled around the back of his neck, she sank into him.
If the morning sun had exploded right then and there it wouldn’t have produced half the heat her kiss did. There was something both soft and hard about her, about her mouth, the way she teased and demanded, sought, and allowed. He breathed her in, folded her into him and lost himself in the kiss as he pulled her more firmly against him. Every inch of her fit like a missing puzzle piece he hadn’t known was missing. With the cascading sounds of clucking birds and the exhilarating chill of the morning air, he felt his life slip into place.
As his hands slid around her waist, slipped up under the hem of her tank, her spine stiffened. She went still in his arms, tugged back and pulled free of his mouth. “Flynn.”
Had his name ever sounded so beautiful before? “I’d say as far as first kisses go, that was pretty stellar.”
For the first time since he’d met her, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Not that he expected an ego-boosting high-five or anything, but the sadness he saw hovering in her gaze sobered him.
“That shouldn’t have happened.” She patted her hand on his chest, pushed him back, this time with more force.
“I don’t think I can agree.” He could still taste the sweetness of the pineapple from her lips, still feel the softness of her skin, the intensity of what he hoped was curiosity that hadn’t been quelled. “You don’t think whatever this is between us is worth exploring?”
“No, I don’t.” She curled her fingers in the front of his shirt, shook her head. “I’m not who you’re looking for, Flynn. I’m not a forever girl. I never will be.”
“And what about now?” He kissed the top of her button nose. “I thought that was your favorite word.”
“For some things.” She brushed the backs of her fingers down his cheek. “Not for this. I’m sorry, Flynn.” She stepped back and away. “I need to go.”
Chapter Four
Sabrina sat at her worktable and swiped a gentle Q-Tip soaked in her homemade cleanser around the delicately painted features of one of the discarded baby dolls from the first of ChiChi’s boxes.
As cleaning was her least favorite part of the restoration process, she’d thrown herself into it. She’d do just about anything to keep her mind off what had happened two days ago with Flynn.
Her cheeks went hot. He’d kissed her. Worse, she’d let him kiss her. She should have stopped him, should have left him alone with those eggs of his when she sensed what was about to happen, but temptation had won. For a moment, however brief, she wanted to know what it was like to be in those arms of his.
What was it they said? Ignorance was bliss?
Her sleepless nights proved it.
She turned up the volume on her music in an attempt to drown out the second, third, and even fourth guesses flooding through her mind, but the classical sounds that normally brought her peace weren’t cutting it today.
Nothing she did stifled the stomach-clenching flip flops whenever the image of his mud-splattered face came to mind. Not the laundry, not cleaning the bathroom, certainly not the continued clucking and pecking of her chicken neighbors as they went about their day.
“Arrogant, selfish, irritating.” Maybe reciting his less than stellar character attributes would work. It didn’t work. And it hadn’t, not for the past two days.
Because she also found him charming, funny, and a bit quirky. His parent’s descriptions had led her to imagine a buttoned down, tie too tight, control freak, but he’d blown those expectations apart when he’d been face down at the chicken coop. He did seem over-protective of his family given his long-distance absence, but inquiring further about that would only open doors she’d prefer remain closed.
She sat back in her chair and released the doll, focusing her attention on the lineup.
“Nothing like frustration to make yourself productive.” The dozen dolls ChiChi had given her had morphed from tattered, tortured, mangled worn messes into slightly less tarnished figures filled with promise. She’d removed the clothes, discarded those items beyond saving and set the rest to soak in the bathroom sink in a mild detergent, then sorted the dolls by type. Composition, hard plastic, vinyl. Each required a different cleanser and method. None needed their hair replaced, which would be a huge time saver, especially with the magic doll shampoo she’d invented.
They all l
ooked sparkling and shiny, but she was taking her time with the doll she’d gravitated toward at the hospital with ChiChi.
Her lips quirked as she tapped the doll on the nose. She loved the crinkled smile on this one’s face, the way the nose wrinkled. It had a bit more character than the rest.
Sabrina’s phone alarm beeped its usual three o’clock chime. Grateful for the excuse to unclench from the chair, she headed into the kitchen for her afternoon smoothie and heart medication. There were days she resented the tether, the daily reminder that life was too short, but then she thought of her sister and how she’d never been given the chance to resent treatment. The genetic condition that had taken her grandmother, mother, and sister was a part of her too and while she was determined to live every moment of her life to the fullest, she refused to surrender to the uncertainty. When her heart decided it was time, it would be time. She closed the lid on her pill caddy and wished she could block out the memory of being in Flynn’s arms as easily.
She shivered against the chill of doubt shimmying up her spine. Was she really living if there was no one around to care?
The melancholy she’d gotten used to long ago descended with more force than usual. She turned off the blender and filled her glass, sipped at the circulation boosting concoction. She didn’t have anyone to confide in because she made certain she didn’t. The second she felt herself getting attached, she moved on. It was the only way to protect them—and herself.
While part of her longed for girlfriends to listen to late night confessions—like the fact she’d never seen anything sexier than City Boy Flynn Lafferty covered in mud, chasing runaway chickens in his parents’ back yard, the idea of doing so terrified her to her core. It was a risk she couldn’t take.
The Benoits lived on borrowed time. Call it genetics; call it a curse or even fate, long lives were not in the cards for her family. She’d lost her twin, her parents and all her grandparents before she’d turned twenty-four. No way was she going to subject anyone—especially someone she might come to care for—to the paralyzing uncertainty that came with every morning.
She wandered to the small mantle, trailed her fingers over the photograph of her and her sister on a swing when they were seven years old. One of the best days of her life; a memory that was thankfully still so clear.
She knew what it was like to be left behind. It was a wound to the heart that never fully healed. Which was why she’d stood over her grandfather’s grave two years ago and vowed, never, ever, to fall in love.
But that was before she’d come to St. Helena. Sabrina squeezed her eyes shut. Before she came face to face with the Ryo’s and DeLuca’s and the town’s generosity. Before she’d decided on an unexpected lunch at the recently opened Beatha where she’d met Eileen, Brady, and Trevor. Before she’d learned yet again that the universe could be both kind and cruel.
Before she’d been reminded, thanks to an irritating man’s tempting kiss, that opening the window she’d locked forever, would only lead to heartache.
But it had been nice, Sabrina thought as she looked to where her suitcase and trunks sat in the corner behind the bed, to peek in and dream.
As much joy as she took in bringing lost and forgotten dolls back to life, she couldn’t help but think Flynn was in need of the same help. He seemed a bit lost to her. He was so wrapped up in…stuff, in all the things that really didn’t matter, he couldn’t see everything he needed he already possessed in spades, beginning and ending with a family who loved and missed him Maybe—for a moment—she’d helped him see that.
Maybe that would be enough. It had to be.
She pressed trembling fingers against her heart, a heart that despite her best intentions had opened itself to Flynn. Best to close herself off, push him away before it became more difficult.
The winds were changing, calling to her, reminding her that she couldn’t stay, not in St. Helena, not any place.
She returned to her doll friends, turned the music up, and got back to work. She’d promised ChiChi to finish the dolls she’d been given, to restore them to auction perfection to help raise money for the playground.
A few more sleepless nights and she’d fulfill that vow.
Then she’d pack up her car.
And move on.
~*~
Flynn knocked on the guest house door for the second time, unnerved when Sabrina didn’t answer. He knew she was home; her minivan was in the driveway and her bike was leaning against the front porch. She was probably ignoring him, hoping he’d go away. He probably should leave, but he couldn’t. He wanted to see her again.
He’d caught a glimpse here and there over the past three days, but he’d been so busy shuttling Caley and Wyatt around, falling into a routine with Caley and her homework, and doing his best at the restaurant that he seemed to run out of hours in the day.
Just thinking about Sabrina was enough to brighten his mood. She’d become a kind of mantra, his go-to inspiration when he was clearing tables or serving overflowing bowls of soup. Or chopping vegetables or mopping the floor. She made him smile; so much so that he didn’t mind that Trevor seemed to be giving him every kind of scut job he could find.
He’d never met anyone like her and he wanted to know more. He wanted to know…everything.
He tried the doorknob. Unlocked. He hesitated. This was probably a bad idea. Except he should make sure she was okay, right? He pushed open the door, poked his head in. Called her name. There she was, seated at a drafting style desk, hunched over something so intently the world had vanished.
“At least she’s alive.” He stepped inside, set the handled paper bag of take out on the floor by the door. As he moved closer he caught sight of the cords from the speakers to her ears. He also saw the table was filled with dolls of every sort, some dressed, some buck naked. Dolls. “Why does it have to be dolls?” Flynn shuddered as he remembered one of Nissa’s practical jokes when he was nine. His big sister had carved out the eyes of one of hers and stuck a flashlight in the head. She’d left it in his bed one Halloween night.
He’d screamed himself hoarse and still had heart palpitations when he thought about it.
“Sabrina.” He reached out and brushed a hand over her shoulder.
She shrieked and leapt off her chair, the doll she’d been working with clutched against her rapidly moving chest.
“Flynn!” His name blasted out of her lips like a curse as she ripped her ear buds free. “What the hell—”
“Sorry. I knocked a few times. You didn’t hear me. Can’t imagine why not.”
She gulped in gasps of air, bounced the doll against her chest and it was then he saw her face had lost all its color.
“Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not all right! My landlord’s maniac son just scared ten years off my life. Years I can’t afford.” Her eyes went wide. She pressed her lips into a thin line and took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m used to being alone most of the time.”
“Alone?” He glanced at her work table. Anxious to find even footing with her again, he arched a brow in amusement. “Looks like you have lots of um, friends.”
Again she blinked, as if not understanding what he said, but then her face relaxed into that generous expression he’d first seen at the hospital.
Flynn’s own heart skipped a beat. Had it really only been days since he’d first laid eyes on her?
“They are my friends, actually.” She picked up a worn rag and swiped it over the doll’s glossy cheek before she set her on the table. “Not many people see that.”
“How can they not?” He stepped closer and picked up a ten-inch doll with bright red hair set in curls held with too-large bobby pins. Maybe they weren’t so bad. Maybe. “So this is what you were hiding in your trunk at the hospital.” The doll’s face shone; bright blue eyes had been newly painted and, as he peered closer, he noticed a dot of silver paint that gave an unexpected sparkle-eyed expression.
“Not hiding.” She set a soft towel ov
er the dolls as if putting them to bed. “Transporting. I restore them and hand them out to patients in children’s wards. Most of the time, anyway. These are for ChiChi Ryo’s fundraiser in a few weeks.”
“What’s a ChiChi Ryo?” Flynn asked and earned himself a laugh.
“Oh, you stay here long enough, you’ll meet ChiChi. She’s kind of the town’s unofficial welcome wagon and fairy Godmother all rolled into one. She and her family own the DeLuca Winery, among other things.”
“Like the Napa Valley Hotel.” He longed for a bed that didn’t deflate in the middle of the night or his feet didn’t hang off of. That said, a few more nights on that air mattress and he might be able to officially moonlight as a dancing pretzel. All the more reason to finish cleaning out the spare guest room for his folks.
“Exactly. You haven’t answered my question, Flynn. What are you doing here?” She picked up two empty glasses and carried them into the kitchen.
“I brought you dinner.” He took a seat on her vacated one. “I figured it’s the least I owed you after you saved my butt with those chickens.” He’d never seen anyone pay so close attention to washing dishes. “I would have done it sooner, but things have been crazy.”
“You don’t owe me anything, Flynn. Especially after the way I invaded your family.”
Flynn winced. “Yeah, about that—”
She glanced at him. “Don’t worry about it. How’s Eileen doing?”
“Given she beat me in about twenty hands of gin this afternoon, I’d say excellent. You know, I think she used to let me win when I was a kid just to give me an inflated sense of my talent for the game.”
“I thought you were going to help Trevor at the restaurant?” She let the water out of the sink and reached for a towel.
“I’ve been doing that, too.” Flynn gave a slow nod. “I think Trevor needed a break from me. Turns out I’m a bit of a klutz.” And once he’d dropped his sixth plate he’d been banned from the kitchen. “Let’s just say I’m much more effective behind the scenes.” He held up two bandaged fingers. “He kicked me out before the lunch service even started.”
Straight To His Heart Page 5
