by Kait Nolan
“I’m so sorry to hear that. But I’m definitely glad to see you. Weren’t you off in Atlanta?”
“That’s where I headed when Pru and I finished school, but I wound up moving to Mississippi last year. I’ve got kin in Wishful—Granddaddy’s brother and his branch of the family are there. I’ve been working at a swank spa in Wishful.”
“Which is why she’s here tonight,” Pru said. “She’s giving all of us spa treatments.”
“All natural and guaranteed to rejuvenate and relax.”
Athena jerked a thumb at Maggie. “This one definitely needs to relax.”
Abbey laughed. “And what about the bride to be?”
“Pretty sure she’s the most laid back one here,” Pru said.
“She’s in luuuuuurve,” Ari sang.
“It shows. Hard to duplicate that kind of glow with even the best products. You look great.”
Kennedy beamed. “Thanks. Being happy agrees with me.”
“The regular nookie doesn’t hurt,” Athena added.
Pru clapped her hands over Ari’s ears. “Athena!”
“What? It’s true.”
Ari tugged the hands away. “Joan already had the talk with me. Great sex between mature, committed individuals is good for your mental health.”
Pru’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. Her face felt frozen somewhere between horror and laughter.
“Well, she’s not wrong,” Kennedy admitted.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me. No great sex in…. Have I ever had truly great sex? When was the last time I had even mediocre sex? Oh, dear God, why am I thinking about this now?
Cheeks burning, Pru looked at Abbey, who was valiantly trying not to snicker. “Our mom was really big on female empowerment. But for you, young lady, that can wait until you’re twenty-five.” She grabbed Ari by the shoulders and marched her toward the kitchen, laughter in their wake as everyone trailed behind.
Abbey unloaded the bags she’d brought and began mixing ingredients, while Kennedy rounded up a bunch of towels. As she created multiple bowls of fragrant glop, Abbey scanned them all. “So, other than the bride, who else is tripping down the relationship highway? Or dating? Or anything involving the prospect of a significant other? Because I most definitely am not, and I need to live vicariously through somebody.”
“Those Mississippi boys not doing it for you?” Athena asked.
“There’s one very serious problem with them—it seems all the good ones are taken.”
“It’s a definite problem in small towns,” Pru agreed. “I can’t remember the last time I had a date.”
“Didn’t you go out with Gavin Harkness around Christmas?” Maggie asked.
“I went to dinner with him. For what I thought was just a meal between joint committee members for that Angel Tree fundraiser. I didn’t realize he thought it was a date until he tried to kiss me when he brought me home. I turned my face at the last second and he hit my cheek. Then he just kind of froze there for several seconds, until I managed to twist the doorknob and escape. It was…awkward.”
“Well, it’s not like the city is any better for prospects,” Maggie said. “In L.A., everybody meets people with an eye for how they can be used to further their career. There’s no such thing as a simple girl meets guy on an elevator and gets asked to dinner, for a night of conversation about mutual interests. Instead, he’s asking enough questions during the salad course, you feel like you’re in the middle of a job interview.”
Abbey grimaced. “That sounds awful. Please tell me you skipped dessert.”
“I gave serious thought to disappearing to the bathroom and never coming back. But he knew my boss, as it turns out, so I stuck it out.”
“What about you, Athena?” Abbey asked.
“I intimidate men.”
“Shocker,” Kennedy murmured.
The impact of the middle finger Athena shot up was somewhat mitigated by the bright green avocado mask smeared all over her face.
“So, other than the bride, we’re all failing in the dating department. Y’all, this is a sad state of affairs. We are smart, sexy, available women. What is wrong with all these men?” Abbey came back to the table, passing out warm, wet wash cloths. “Everybody wipe off your mask with firm, downward strokes from the center line of your face.”
Kennedy rubbed at the bentonite clay mask already flaking off her face. “Maybe I should hook y’all up with some of Xander’s single friends. All of his groomsmen are available.”
“Please,” Athena snorted. “Porter was one of our brothers.”
“That still leaves Logan and Jonah,” Kennedy pointed out.
“Athena and I don’t live here, so that seems a pointless effort. But maybe one of them would suit Pru.” Maggie angled her head, studying Pru from across the table.
“Hello, I’m sitting right here and not looking for a setup, thanks very much. I do not need a pity date. I haven’t even thought about dating—” She cut herself off before since Mom died could spill out. No reason to drag the group down. “Besides, I’ve got enough on my plate with the inn and the fact that I’m acquiring a teenager.”
“Yeah, but at least I came housebroken,” Ari said.
“Girl’s got a point. Men are so much harder to train than dogs,” Athena agreed. She patted her face dry. “Dude, my skin feels amazing.”
“Mine’s all tingly,” Maggie said.
Abbey set a small bowl on the table. “Here, each of you slather some of this on. It’s specially made moisturizer. No chemicals.”
“It feels wonderful. All of it does,” Pru said. “You know, a lot of my massage clients would love this. What would you think about doing some freelance spa treatments, while you’re here? We could set up some space for you to work out of.”
“That would be wonderful. The Babylon is holding my job, but it would be great to keep my hand in things. Plus, I’ll need a break from Granddaddy.”
“Great. We’ll set a time after the wedding to discuss terms.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Abbey removed the double boiler she’d had simmering at the stove. “Now, who wants a paraffin bath for your hands?”
~*~
Flynn Bohannon lived a gypsy’s life, traveling from town to town, venue to venue, sharing the music of his homeland. To his way of thinking, there was nothing better than seeing new faces, new places, every few days. If things began to feel a little stale, he picked up stakes and found somewhere new. Sometimes he traveled in a group, jamming with other musicians he met along the way. Other times, like now, he was a solo act. Either worked fine for him. It was all about the music.
He’d landed in Boston three weeks before and had been working his way down the Eastern seaboard, playing in pubs, bars, taverns, and coffee shops—a different town or city every night. Some shows had been pre-booked. Others, like the pick-up session he’d had in that pub in Baltimore, where the bartender had turned out to be the cousin of a friend of his mother’s, had been a delightful, impulsive surprise. Flynn liked surprises. Which was why he’d made his way to Eden’s Ridge, Tennessee a day early.
He’d wanted to surprise one of his dearest friends. And, he admitted, he hoped to catch her before she’d put on her everything’s fine face and get a real read on how she was doing. Kennedy Reynolds had been every bit the gypsy he was, and now she’d come home and decided to settle here out of family obligation. Not that he frowned on that. There was a child involved. But he wondered how long it would take her to feel choked by the roots she’d long ago escaped.
It was beautiful. He’d give her that. These were younger, wilder mountains than he was used to. There simply weren’t this many trees in the mountains of Ireland. At home, the peaks had been whittled down by wind and weather and time, until they’d been reduced to their bare essentials. Wild, yes, but often barren but for the grasses and scrub. Here the trees stretched in a lush, green blanket as far as the eye could see. As he navigated the switchbacks, he noted the crag
gy rocks peeking through here and there, but otherwise, everything was alive with the vibrant colors of summer.
The house was set back in the trees, a charming Victorian painted a mystical greenish gray, with crisp, white trim. He’d have recognized it from Kennedy’s description, even without the wooden sign above the porch proclaiming The Misfit Inn. It rose a towering three stories high, with a turret to one side. The porch wrapped all the way round, with fanciful scrollwork at the corners and various groupings of chairs or gliders set to take in the view, which was magnificent from nearly all angles. There was the old bodock tree Kennedy had used to sneak in and out of the house as a girl. And beyond it, the barn, doors thrown wide.
Flynn found a place to park and climbed out. He knocked on the big front door, and when no one answered, he circled around back, scanning for Kennedy’s familiar blonde head. He followed sounds of music—a cheerful country tune about some lass calling dibs—into the barn. The space inside was clear. White drapes had been hung above to block off what he presumed was a hay loft. Dozens of folding chairs were stacked to one side. And in the center of the barn, at the top of a ladder, a woman stretched to wrap white twinkle lights around a barn rafter. As he stood, undetected, she joined in the chorus with cheerful alto.
Charmed, he stayed where he was, watching. She was all soft curves, a fact made evident by the stretch of shorts across her perfect, lush backside. Flynn took a moment of reverence for that magnificent ass, captivated by the gentle flex of it as she worked and twitched her hips to the rhythm on the radio. Now that is a woman. He’d know, as he’d made quite the study of them the world over.
The ass ended in tanned legs and sport sandals. Stifling an appreciative murmur, Flynn lifted his gaze higher, noting the swatch of olive skin between the waistband of her shorts and the t-shirt riding high as she reached to continue the wrap. He realized then that she was far too short to be doing this. She’d gone above that last safety step of the ladder trying to reach the beam well above her head. Even as he thought to speak up, the ladder began to wobble. The woman sucked in a breath, flailing for any kind of purchase.
Flynn leapt forward as the ladder toppled and the woman screamed. He didn’t exactly catch her so much as break her fall, but he managed to wrap his arms around her as she crashed down, softening the impact as they both hit the ground. They both lay there, stunned, wrapped in a tangle. As she lifted her head and trained those wide, dark eyes on his, Flynn couldn’t help but think his breathlessness and pounding heart weren’t entirely from the collision.
I’m callin’ dibs, indeed.
He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to brush the hair back from that exquisite face. “Are you all right, then?”
“Flynn?”
Well, and wasn’t it a fine thing to hear his name on those lips, in that soft Southern twang? As if she’d been waiting just for him, for this moment. The sound of it did something to him, plucking some chord deep in his soul until it sang. Could she feel it where her hands pressed against his chest?
“You’re early,” she said.
“Seems to me, I’m right on time.”
Her pupils sprang wide at that, and she sucked in a breath. His gaze dropped to those lips, and his hand tightened at the curve of her waist. Only the sound of running footsteps kept him from leaning in to taste her.
“I heard a crash. What—Oh my God, Pru, are you okay?”
Pru. Which made her Kennedy’s eldest sister.
Christ. He needed to get ahold of himself. Flynn relaxed his grip and leaned back. Seeming to collect herself, Pru shifted from his lap—more was the pity—and reached up to take the offered hand. That was when he realized the owner of the hand was a young girl.
“I’m fine. The ladder tipped.”
The girl, who had to be Ari, looked down at him with bright, curious eyes. “Who’d you land on?”
Flynn rolled to his feet, offering his hand, as more people came into the barn, including the familiar face he’d come looking for.
“Flynn Bohannon!”
He grinned and opened his arms wide. When Kennedy leapt into them, he swung her in a circle. “It’s good to see you, deifiúr beag.”
“Back atcha, boy-o! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“I thought I’d surprise you. But I seem to have interrupted some sort of festivities. Are you getting ready for a party, then?”
“Oh, yeah, about that. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Kennedy pulled back and held her hand out to a broad-shouldered man, with close-cropped brown hair and a steady gaze. He slid his arm around her shoulders, and she looked up at him with absolute adoration. “Xander, this is my brother from another mother, Flynn. Flynn, Xander Kincaid, my fiancé.”
Flynn’s mouth fell open. “Your what now?”
Kennedy laughed. “It’s our wedding we’re decorating for. We’re getting married on Saturday.”
“Married?” Flynn repeated. Was she insane? She’d been home, what, four months? If that.
She laughed again, fairly glowing with happiness. “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it over a pint later. First, I want you to meet my family. This is Ari.” She laid her hands on the shoulders of the young Hispanic girl, with the dark, soulful eyes and ready grin.
“Pleased to meet you,” Flynn said, shaking her hand.
“And this is Pru.”
“We’ve met,” they said in unison.
Kennedy arched her brows.
“She fell out of the sky,” Flynn said.
“More properly, I fell off a ladder,” Pru corrected. “Thanks for saving me from breaking my neck.”
He mimed doffing a hat and bowed. “Happy to be of service, milady. Perhaps you’ll let someone taller assist you in finishing with the lights?”
Pru flushed. “Oh, you’re a guest. I’m not—oh my God, your room’s not ready.” She looked, if possible, even more flustered by that than she had crashing into him.
She was already turning toward the door, when Flynn caught her hand. “It’s fine. Don’t trouble on my account. I arrived early and unannounced. Just shove me in a closet or something. I’ll be fine.” That sent his mind off on a merry little jaunt, imagining what it would be like to drag Pru into a linen closet and get to know the rest of those lovely curves.
She looked scandalized, and he wondered if he’d said that aloud. Or maybe it was that he’d been rubbing circles on the back of her hand with his thumb.
“You’re a guest at our inn. You’ll have a proper room. Just give me fifteen minutes—twenty at the outside.”
“Psh,” Kennedy snorted. “He’s family.”
“The family all have beds,” Pru argued.
Now was definitely not the time to suggest sharing hers. And really, he needed to quash this whole reaction. This was Kennedy’s sister.
“Fine. You fix a room. I’m putting him to work. He and Xander can finish with the lights. Maggie and Athena should be back from their fitting soon, and it’s Athena’s turn to cook dinner.”
Pru tugged her hand free and started for the door. “Fifteen minutes,” she repeated. “Ari, come help me please.”
Because he wanted to watch her go, Flynn deliberately turned toward the ladder and righted it. “Right. Lights?”
“To start.” Kennedy grinned.
He propped an arm on one of the rungs and gave her the side eye. “Oh, so that’s how it is? You’re going to make me work for my supper?”
“I’m going to make you play for it. I want you to play for the wedding. Will you? I know it’s last minute and all, but you’re here and there’s no one else I’d rather hear.”
Flynn still wanted to know the story behind this sudden rush to the altar. But given her fiancé was watching him from ten feet away, he opted for the only safe answer. “I’d be honored.”
Kennedy threw her arms around him in another, staggering hug. “Oh, thank you!”
“Anything for you. Now, where are the rest of
these lights?”
Chapter Two
AFTER DINNER, ATHENA DECLARED dishes as someone else’s responsibility and disappeared for a poker game with a couple of their foster siblings, who’d come to town for the wedding. Ari had gone up to watch, and Maggie holed up to do a little telecommuting for her firm in L.A. Wanting some quiet and a chance to find a little balance again, Pru shooed Kennedy and Flynn off to the family room for a visit. It seemed she hadn’t been able to quite catch her breath since she fell off the ladder and into his arms.
What was it about accents that were so damned sexy?
She could hear Flynn’s clearly from the family room as she washed and stacked. “Tell me true, deifiúr beag, how are you?” There was a wealth of affection in the term, and Pru wondered what it meant.
“I’m home,” Kennedy said simply.
Flynn made a noise of disbelief. “You’re as much a gypsy as me. You expect me to believe you’re really okay with putting down roots again?”
“I enjoyed my travels, but you had me pegged that last night in Kerry. I was running.”
“From Xander?”
“From mistakes. It’s more complicated than that, but I’m in too good a mood to rehash all of it now. Suffice it to say, I don’t have any reason to run anymore. I’ve loved him most of my life, Flynn.”
“You’re really happy here?”
“I really am. I’ve missed my family. I still want to travel some, and I will for the book, but I don’t feel the need to go anymore.” She gave a contented sigh, and Pru could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke again. “Love will do that to you.”
“And I suppose now you’ll tell me I only need the love of a good woman?”
Pru figured a man like him must’ve had the love of more than a few. Because, damn, her long neglected lady parts were sitting up and taking notice. And unless she was very much mistaken, he’d taken some notice of her, too. Aside from the whole falling on him part.
Just what would it be like to have Flynn Bohannon in her bed?
