Straight To His Heart

by Anna J. Stewart

  “You can’t be that bad.”

  “Oh, but you underestimate me. Subsequently, my father was called in to cover, but I’m betting that’s more because he was driving Mom nuts. I’ve been relegated to child transportation and parental babysitting. Can you get paper cuts from playing cards?” He examined his hand. “The good news is Mom’s coming home tomorrow.”

  “That is good news.”

  “So how about dinner?”

  Sabrina shook her head. “I can’t go anywhere. I’m working.”

  “You know what I heard?” He leaned forward as she did everything possible to avoid looking him in the eyes. “I heard a person needs serious balance in life in order to enjoy it. Plus, I’m betting if I opened your fridge, all I’d find is a crop of kale and wheatgrass, am I right? Life is too short for kale and wheatgrass. The stuff will kill you.”

  Her lips quirked. “You may have a point. But I think you also have a selective memory. Let me say this again. I’m not getting involved with you.”

  “I didn’t forget.” He walked over to her, took the towel from her hands and, with two more steps, backed her into the corner between the cabinets. He planted his hands on either side of her, angling his gaze to hers. When he caught the flash of longing in her eyes, he added, “But I do want to kiss you again.”

  She placed her hand flat on his chest. “I think we’d best have this discussion in a place more suited to the size of your ego. Say…the Taj Mahal?” That steadfast defiance was back, as was the steely tone in her voice.

  He smiled. She wasn’t wrong, but given he’d spent most of the day distracted by thoughts of her. Not just kissing her, holding her in his arms, but her smile, the way she challenged him, and spoke to him: as if she wouldn’t accept any of his bull. If there was anything sexier and more appealing than a woman who would stand up to him, he couldn’t think of it. “Jocelyn would probably suggest Fenway Park, but the Taj could work. Have you noticed I clean up pretty well? No mud tonight. I’m all presentable.”

  “Hmmm.” She flicked a finger against the button of his bright white shirt. She drew her eyes from his collar to his toes, dragged them back up in excruciating slowness that had him wondering just how much attention to detail she’d pay him if neither of them were wearing clothes. “I’m kinda partial to the muddied look.”

  “If that’s what it’ll take for you to have dinner with me, I’ll happily go slop around in the chicken coop again.”

  “Flynn—”

  “It’s dinner, Sabrina. You have to eat sometime. Trevor fixed your favorite. Vegetarian lasagna with his roasted roma tomato sauce.”

  Her stomach growled and she sighed, still avoiding looking directly at him. “You don’t play fair. What about Wyatt and Caley?”

  “All tucked in the house with a babysitter who came highly recommended by one of the nurses at the hospital,” Flynn was happy to announce. “They’ve got movies, popcorn, and an overabundance of energy thanks to the ice cream sundaes they had for lunch.” He’d be lucky if they didn’t get sick tonight.

  “Just dinner,” she said.

  “And dessert,” he added. “I found this amazing bistro on Main Street. The Sweet and Savory?”

  “Lexi DeLuca’s place?” Her eyes narrowed. “She makes the most amazing desserts.”

  “I hope you like cupcakes. Caley picked them out. Double chocolate espresso bean.”

  “Did you happen to try the King Kamehameha Mocha?” Her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. “It’s positively orgas—um.” Her face went fire red.

  He didn’t think there was a more beautiful sight than a blushing Sabrina Benoit. “Beats your kale smoothies, does it?”

  “In so many ways.” She lifted heavy lidded eyes to his. “Okay, you win.”

  “I’d spike the ball, but that would make for a mess.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s just dinner. And dessert. But then I have to get back to work.” She ducked under his arm and disappeared around the corner, but not before she called, “I have a deadline to meet.”

  Chapter Five

  “I take it you heard from your partners in New York.” Sabrina spooned up the last of the tomato sauce. The evening had progressed calmly, simply, almost too nicely, and sitting across her miniscule dining table did little if anything to reduce her pulse rate. That said, even if he hadn’t kissed her senseless, he was winning her over in other ways, including his choice of meals: his brother was a genius in the kitchen.

  Flynn’s brow knitted. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, you’ve been sitting across from me for the better part of a half hour and you haven’t checked your phone once.” She stabbed her now empty spoon at him. “What gives? Did you get the job?”

  “Remains to be seen,” Flynn said. “The fact all three partners weren’t there to meet with them didn’t go over very well until they heard I left to take care of family.”

  “A business with their priorities straight.” She nodded. “I like that.”

  “Yeah, me, too. Jocelyn and Kirk said it looks promising, but that the final decision won’t come until we can all meet with them.”

  “Must make you anxious to get back.” All evidence to the contrary, however. He wasn’t acting like a man whose business venture was about to get a big boost. “When are you leaving?”

  “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Maybe.” Absolutely. The further Flynn Lafferty was from her, the better off she was.

  “I’m going to stick around until I’m sure Mom can make do. Maybe until Nissa’s back in a couple of weeks.”

  Stalling. Interesting. “So it’s only the women in your life you’re worried about?”

  “Hardly. I think I’ve been on high alert with all of them since I knew how to worry.” He twirled his fork in his spaghetti. “Or I was. Before I moved back east.”

  “Everyone in your family seems pretty capable to me.” She picked up a hint of guilt at the admission.

  “It’s not about being capable. Exactly.” He ducked his chin. “I remember coming home from school one afternoon. I think I was in second grade? Anyway, Mom had this horrific flu, like down for the count for days and dad was working overtime. This was way before Travis was born and Quaid and Nissa didn’t know what to do for dinner. They almost burned down the kitchen boiling water. Gas stove,” he clarified at her confused look. “They left a dish towel on the stove. Anyway, it was like my world went from calm and peaceful to utter chaos in the blink of an eye. After that, I felt as if I had to, I don’t know, stand guard?”

  “You became the family caretaker.”

  “It’s not like they really needed it, not once Mom was back on her feet, but it made me feel in control. Like I didn’t have to worry about something going wrong.”

  “Like what you do now with your consulting business. You look for errors, what needs taking care of.”

  “Exactly. It’s also a hard habit to break.” His eyes flickered when he looked at her. “Especially where Trevor’s concerned. He had, has, so much potential. I didn’t like to think of him wasting it. Hence my overreaction to your “interference”. He used his hands to make air quotes. “Fixing what’s wrong with should be my job.”

  “A job you relinquished years ago.” Sabrina narrowed her eyes, considered him. “What if they don’t need fixing? I don’t see much wrong with them, Flynn.”

  “Neither do I.” The admission seemed to cause him pain. “I thought this Beatha idea of theirs was straight up insane. No one wants to work that hard in their retirement.”

  “Some people do. You can tell in the food how much your parents and brother love what they’re doing, Flynn. Case in point.” She stabbed her fork at his plate.

  “Yeah. I’m also not fond of having to admit when I’m wrong. Take this place, for instance.”

  “What? The guest house?” She glanced around the space she’d called home for the past few months. She loved the simplicity of it, the instant comfortab
le feel with its neutral colors that called to mind lazy summer afternoons on the beach. She’d added a few strings of sparkly lights, enough to give it that ethereal touch as it glistened against the darkening room.

  “St. Helena,” he said. “It’s a bit unnerving how easy it’s been to acclimate to. I thought I’d miss the hectic pace of New York, but now…”

  “Now you aren’t so sure about going home.” And they’d come full circle. It was on the tip of her tongue to agree with him, to admit leaving this town would be more difficult than she’d ever expected, but that would only lead to a conversation she didn’t want to have.

  “So where did you live before St. Helena?” He asked after a moment of silence.

  “Small town outside Spokane. There’s a children’s hospital there.”

  “And you can make a living doing this?” He indicated the dolls on her work station.

  “My parents and grandparents left me well provided for. I live pretty simply.”

  “So it’s not money that keeps you from settling down anywhere?”

  “I don’t have the inclination to settle anywhere.” She didn’t particularly like where this conversation was leading. “I don’t like feeling trapped.” Or having attachments.

  “You don’t have any family then?”

  “No.” The lasagna sat like a brick in her stomach. “No, they’re gone. Have been for quite a while. Except for my grandfather. He died only a couple of years ago. He’d have liked you, I think.”

  “Really? Why?”

  Sabrina rolled her eyes. “This is you fishing for compliments, isn’t it? We fed your stomach, now it’s time to feed the ego?”

  He laughed. “I would be interested to know what you think my positive qualities are.”

  She looked at him, remembering how only this afternoon she was trying to focus on his negative attributes. “Tenacious—”

  “Another word for pushy, but I’ll take it. What else?”

  “Honorable.” When he didn’t respond, she clarified. “Despite all you have going on, you came home when your family needed you. Not everyone would have.”

  “It was time. And they’re the only family I’ve got.”

  “True.” She pushed aside the sadness. Sometimes she missed her family so much she ached. “I’d include charming, but I’m not entirely sure everyone would see it.”

  “Hey, I charmed a kiss out of you when we were covered in mud. I’m claiming that as a plus.”

  Sabrina rested her chin in her hand. He hadn’t been kidding when he said he cleaned up pretty well. Good looks aside—and she couldn’t deny the man was drop dead gorgeous; he had a way of putting her at ease, of lightening her heart. A glance, a quick smile, the way he’d reached over and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand as they’d eaten. It felt intimate. Too intimate.

  She pulled her hand into her lap. It couldn’t matter what she might want. It couldn’t matter how tempted she was, she couldn’t take the risk. Not when everything could disappear in the blink of an eye. Or a beat of her heart.

  “Tell me about your friends.” If she could keep him on a topic other than St. Helena she’d be on much safer ground.

  “You mean Jocelyn and Kirk?

  “Are those the only friends you have?”

  “These days?” He scratched nervous fingers against his neck. “Pretty much. We met in college, clicked. Had a lot of the same goals. Going into business together made sense.”

  “Tell me about them, Flynn. What are they like?”

  “Oh. Jocelyn’s a go with the flow girl. A lot like you, actually.” He inclined his head in a way that made her think he’d only just realized that. “She sees both sides and opportunity in any solution.”

  “Sounds like she can also get caught in the middle.”

  “Yeah.” His brows knit. “Yeah, I never thought of that before, but that happens a lot. Kirk and I don’t always agree.” He frowned so hard his eyes nearly vanished.

  “What?”

  “I was just trying to remember the last time the three of us did anything together other than work.”

  “Don’t tell me.” Sabrina sat back with an exaggerated gasp. “You used to have fun.”

  “I’ve been having fun. Here. With the kids. With you.”“Don’t, Flynn.” She ducked her chin, picked up her napkin and put it on her plate.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t make more out of this than dinner. And don’t try to fix me. There’s nothing wrong with my life.”

  “There’s something wrong with everyone’s life.”

  “Then it’s their choice whether to fix it or not. I’m not a project. Your niece and nephew aren’t projects. Neither are your parents.” She stood up and gathered their dishes.

  He caught her hand, tightened his hold when she attempted to pull free. “Can you honestly tell me you like being alone?”

  “There’s nothing to like or dislike about it,” she argued before she thought better of it. “I just am. There’s a difference.”

  “Is there? Granted we haven’t known each other very long, but you seem to make friends wherever you go. I don’t understand why you don’t stay.”

  “You don’t have to understand it, Flynn. But I do ask you to respect it.” She swallowed hard. “When did this conversation become about me?”

  “I don’t know, but I guess it did.” As if he sensed she was thinking about clearing the table, he stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t push. Sit down. Please.” He tugged on her hand until she surrendered and sat back down. “Tell me about your grandfather. Is he the one who taught you how to fix dolls?”

  Now who was playing peacemaker? “From when I was young, yes. We fixed an old doll of my sister’s when she was in the hospital. It was his way of distracting me, of course, but I didn’t realize it at the time. I can still remember the way her face lit up when we took it to her, as if we’d given her back something she’d lost. After she’d died, he thought I needed a way to channel my grief. So he taught me what he’d learned from his father. He was a doll crafter back in France, around the time of the war.” She pointed to the white porcelain doll with painted black hair sitting on a shelf near the sofa. The slightly yellowed lace of her dress had come from her great-grandmother’s wedding dress. “My great-grandfather brought her with him when they emigrated. It was supposed to be for his daughter, but she died on the ship on the way over. Influenza. My grandfather kept it as a reminder of his sister and when my mother died, he gave it to me.”

  “What was your sister’s name?”

  She didn’t expect the question, not with all she’d said, but the part of herself she’d locked away from him nudged free. “Genevieve. Genny. She was my twin. Well, we were born at the same time, but we were nothing alike,” she added with a forced smile. “She was very quiet, withdrawn. Probably because she was sick so much.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  “A heart defect.” Sabrina tapped a finger against her chest out of habit. “She died when we were ten.”

  “I’m so sorry. As nuts as my brothers and sister make me, I can’t imagine life without them.” She could see the veiled look of horror in his eyes at the prospect.

  “Good.” Sabrina smiled. “That’s how it should be. We never got to the point where we irritated each other. There wasn’t enough time.” There was never enough time.

  Her phone beeped on the worktable.

  “Don’t tell me that’s your alarm for getting back to work.” He leaned back in his chair. “We haven’t had dessert yet.”

  “Vitamins,” she lied. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  She felt oddly cold when she pulled free of his hand and hugged her arms around herself as she went into the bathroom for her pills. Tonight was definitely one of those times she resented the medications that helped manage her condition. She didn’t want a reminder of what her reality was; that her heart could turn on her at any time. It was a reality she didn�
��t want to share with anyone, especially Flynn. Not now, not ever. She’d be gone soon. There was no reason to burden him with the truth.

  “Did you get permission from your brother to do the dishes?” she asked when she found him at her sink.

  “I’m beginning to think I purposely self-sabotaged.” He gave her a smile that melted everything inside her, including her resolve. But she forced herself to remain where she was, leaning against the wall, arms over her chest as he cleaned up. Tears tightened the back of her throat as all the what-ifs raced through her mind.

  It was ridiculous, feeling this connected to a man she’d only just met and yet, right now, in this moment, she couldn’t recall a time when she didn’t know him. Perhaps she’d confused arrogance with self-assuredness; controlled. Even chasing down wayward toddlers and corralling runaway chickens, Flynn Lafferty had a way of looking at her that made her feel as if she was the only person in his universe.

  She blinked and caught the tear that escaped. She remembered her father looking at her mother that way, every day. Her mother might have died of the heart condition that plagued her family, but it was her father who had died of a broken heart.

  She didn’t want to ever love someone that much. She didn’t want anyone to love her. Not when the only possible result was tragedy.

  “What are you thinking about so hard over there?”

  She straightened, unnerved that he could read her so easily even when he wasn’t looking at her. “Nothing.”

  “I can hear the wheels grinding. Here.” He tossed her the towel. “You can dry.”

  As if in a trance, she walked over, picked up a plate. The space in the small room suddenly shrunk. How could a household task feel so cozy, so intimate? So perfect?

  “You’re thinking again. And it’s making you sad.” He tapped a finger on her nose and left a spray of bubbles on her face. “I don’t like to see you sad. Tell me about your friends.”

  “I told you I don’t have any—”

  “Your friends.” He pointed to the table of dolls. “Investments aside, do you honestly make a good living out of it?”