She tried to talk, but her mouth had turned dry. She licked her bottom lip, and her belly clenched when Flynn’s gaze darted to the motion. “Sorry.” She started backing out. Words bubbled over, like they always did when she was nervous. “I just had a few questions. I’m missing some work, so I wanted to pack as efficiently as possible. How much food do I need to pack? Do you need my address so you can pick me up? How long of a drive—”
“Yeah, um… Yeah. I can give you the details.” His gaze shifted to Wes, then back to her.
Wes sidled past her. “I’d better see what Mara needs help with.”
He left but she still stood in the doorway. It wasn’t like her to be speechless around Flynn, but except for the shock of seeing him the other day, they really hadn’t seen each other for years.
“Y-y-you’ll have to drive yourself. I can message you the directions and where I put the extra key.”
Her heart sank. “Oh…”
Guilt flitted through his expression. “I’m working on a couple of major deals and might need to come back to the cities a couple of times.”
Maybe she should come back, too, for a couple of her major clients for tutoring. She steeled her spine. No, she deserved a darn vacation.
“As for food, they have a few gas stations, but the cabin has a full-service kitchen, so whatever you like to eat. I don’t cook.”
She barked out a laugh and he flinched. “If I didn’t cook, I would’ve starved long ago.” Clamping her mouth shut, she cursed herself for saying as much. She never talked about her childhood. Never. Long ago, she’d resolved to move forward and be the best Tilly Johnson she could be. To not bring up the past to remind herself how shitty she’d had it…then wonder what she’d done to deserve it.
He swallowed and glanced at the shirt hanging in his hands, then at her. This awkwardness was weird. Flynn had always brought out her vibrancy, but then she wasn’t used to her grown woman of a body reacting so strongly to him.
And, dang it, he was trying to undress. “I’ll wait outside.” Stalker much? She clarified, “To give you my number.”
“N-no. I mean, no need. Here.” He shoved the hanger into his shirt and hung it up on a shelving unit with his tux jacket. Her mouth watered as his muscles rippled with his movements. What did he do for a living again? When she’d seen him earlier in the week, he’d been wearing a suit and looking damn fine, but his body did not look like a desk jockey’s.
He grabbed his phone from a shelf. “What’s your number?”
She rattled if off with lightning speed. “When should I be there?”
He shrugged, and she clocked the move like a hawk. Could he pretty please go shirtless all week?
“Whenever. In the brochure I said Sunday through Saturday.”
They stared at each for another moment; she couldn’t think of another question to save her life.
If she stayed and leered at him any longer, he’d think she was creepy. “Well, okay. See you…soon.” She gave him a small wave and he returned it with one she’d describe as cautious. Was he worried he’d stutter again if he spoke?
As she bounced out, she couldn’t help her small smile. She’d contact her clients about her last-minute plans. Most of them had canceled earlier for the beginning of summer vacations anyway. Then she’d be free to get to know the real Flynn Halstengard.
Chapter Three
The pounding on her walls woke Tilly up way too early for a Saturday morning. Not since she’d quit working serving jobs at twenty-four-hour diners had she been up so early on a weekend.
More pounding and a screeching noise invaded her dreams. She frowned. Was that a screwdriver?
Rolling out of bed, she grabbed a shirt and shorts from the floor to toss over the tank and undies she slept in. She padded out to her living room. Shadows moved across her drapes.
She peeked out, trying not to be noticed. Two men wearing tool belts had already set up scaffolding and were tearing away the siding at the corner of the house. A radio blared classic rock.
What the…
When she stepped out onto the landing, one of the guys noticed her. “Morning.”
“Yes, it is. On a weekend. What are you guys doing here?” She kept her tone pleasant, but seriously. On a weekend?
“Sorry about that. We don’t usually work Saturdays, but we’re catching up on last year’s hailstorm claims.”
“Oh, my landlady didn’t mention anything.” Her sweet old landlady had probably forgotten, like she’d forgotten to mention when the lawn was getting treated, or when she’d let go of the snow-removal guys and Tilly had had to shovel her way out.
“We waited until nine to start. Did we wake you?”
It was after nine? Wow, she’d been out late, then had stayed up another two hours to pack because she’d been too wound up to sleep.
“No. It’s no problem. I’m leaving town anyway.” She went back inside and shut the door. She wasn’t supposed to leave until tomorrow.
The pounding resumed; the radio blared. She puttered around her kitchen, preparing breakfast. The men resumed shouting instructions back and forth to each other.
Technically, today was part of her vacation. This wasn’t relaxing. Once upon a time, the shouts of the men would’ve sent her heart racing. She would’ve fled the house and probably forgotten her keys and her purse.
Thanks to the adult resource center, though, she didn’t feel the need to run today. She’d gotten more than her life back. They’d helped keep the experiences of her youth from haunting her days as an adult. And she’d finally gotten to pay them back.
But just because she didn’t have to leave didn’t mean she wanted to stay. If only she were at the cabin already. She’d planned a relaxing day at home, working the flowerbeds for Mrs. Blumenthal, her landlady.
She peeked out the window. Extension cords covered her lawn.
Damn. Now what? She had no money to go shopping. No cable TV. And it was too beautiful outside to watch movies all day.
Her phone pinged from the bedroom. She rushed to check it, then grinned. Flynn. He just identified himself and gave her directions to the cabin. Aw, he’d even sent a picture of the place. The spare key was in the planter on the far right of the porch.
Her lips quirked. Real original, Halstengard.
He’d said he had the cabin the whole weekend. Would he know if she went there a day early? It was either that or hang out at the library all day. She might as well grab some groceries and head there today.
She ran through the shower and braided her hair while it was still wet. Then she tossed a few last-minute toiletries into her luggage and zipped it up. Next, she tackled food. Digging out a cooler, she calculated what she could bring with and what in her fridge would spoil in a week. All produce went into a tote bag, but she’d still need to stop at the grocery store.
She was loaded up and almost out the door when she groaned. “Mrs. Woods.”
Dropping everything, she dug her phone out of her purse and dialed her first. Get the worst over with. The other two clients she had to notify would be completely understanding, had actually bugged Tilly about taking a break.
Berta answered.
“Hey, it’s Tilly. Is Mrs. Woods around?”
“It’s your unlucky day. She just left Charlie’s room, sobbing.” Berta put Tilly on hold.
Her heart twisted. Poor Charlie. Maybe she should come back just to tutor him. It’d be more than a four-hour round trip, but…he would be stuck with his mother and a dubious nanny otherwise.
“Miss Johnson.” Mrs. Woods sounded cool and collected.
“Mrs. Woods, I’ve had…something personal come up.” It was a risk, not being honest, but her intuition screamed that Mrs. Woods wouldn’t be supportive. “I have to cancel tutoring for the week. I apologize and can double up sessions next week if that works for you.”
Her employer sniffed. “How disappointing, Miss Johnson. You call on the weekend to cancel with so little notice?” She si
ghed as snidely as possible. “These things are to be expected—from you, I suppose.”
What a hag. What had Mrs. Woods gone through to make her such an ugly person to those she felt were beneath her?
For the hundredth time, Tilly had to remind herself that as long as Mrs. Woods paid her, it wasn’t her concern. And she’d grown attached to Charlie; she’d put up with a lot for him.
“Thank you for understanding.”
“Mmm.” Mrs. Woods hung up.
Tilly blew out a relieved breath. She made the other two calls quickly and grabbed her bags. She had new experiences all the time—out of necessity, to get away from a bad situation, or to better her life. But now, for the first time, she was embarking on an adventure without trepidation dogging her steps.
***
Flynn rolled his neck. He’d finally reached the small resort town by Lake Webber. A few more winding miles and he’d be at the cabin.
His stomach rumbled. He’d skipped lunch, thinking he didn’t need it because he hadn’t worked out. He’d skipped his normal run and lifting but had stopped in on a jobsite before leaving town.
The jobsite was the reason he’d left town a day early. The project manager had walked in to find Flynn manning the Bobcat and pushing dirt around the foundation.
Since Flynn was the boss, the manager had held his temper in check, but he’d commented, “If you do all the work on the weekend, how am I supposed to keep my crew working to earn a paycheck all week?” Insinuating that Flynn got paid, and paid well, no matter what. Reminding Flynn of when he’d been living paycheck to paycheck himself.
Flynn draped a hand over the wheel. The gorgeous countryside full of leafy, green trees and rolling hills calmed him slightly. He would’ve felt better if he had anything to do at the cabin when he got there, but he’d purchased a new one. There’d been a rundown lake home also for sale at this same lake, but he had an aversion to living in a shithole.
But on weekends like this, when there was no work for him, he could see the appeal. He wasn’t a kid anymore, and he had the time and money to work on…anything, but it was the smell. The musty, sour smell of a home that had water damage, infestations, and stains on the walls and ceilings. As soon as he stepped foot in a building that’d been neglected, he traveled back in time until he was a powerless kid who could do nothing about his situation. Maybe if he’d grown into a man who had rectified certain things about his past, it wouldn’t affect him as much. But there was still one person he’d failed, one person he still let down every damn day.
Blinking away his fatigue from a restless, anxiety-filled night and a morning of getting booted off his own jobsite, he took the last turn to his new cabin. He let the stress drain away and tried not to remember that he’d be dunked into emotional turmoil the next day when Tulip arrived. Would she dress as pretty—normal! Not pretty. Would she dress as normal as she had last night? She’d still stuck out, actually dressed down for once, but he’d never noticed how silky her hair looked, probably because it was always in frizzy ponytails or swirling around her head as if she hadn’t ever met the business end of a brush. But that had been over ten years ago.
He was letting out a weary sigh when the cabin came into view, along with a dark sedan parked outside the garage.
What have we here?
His heart skipped. Could Tulip be here already? No. No, that’d be ridiculous even for her.
Then again, this was Crazy J.
He parked his truck off to the side but didn’t pull into the garage. In case this was an intruder or a squatter, he didn’t want to alert them any more than the rumble of his diesel already had.
He slipped out of the driver’s seat, leaving his bag in the cab until he got to the bottom of his mystery guest. He clicked his door shut and crept around the attached garage to the back of the cabin. He peeked in the window of the breezeway but saw nothing move. He inched open the door so it wouldn’t squeak and stepped inside. Nothing was out of the ordinary. He craned his neck toward the front door. A neon-pink tote bag that could probably light the dark lake nights sat on the floor.
College kids. Don’t they have their own resorts to party at? He must be getting old if the idea of a hot coed invading his getaway didn’t rev his libido.
Since he was a tall man, he crouched as much as he could and tiptoed into the house, thankful he was back in Nikes instead of steel-toed work boots. Soft humming came from the kitchen. A female. Nice voice.
He straightened. A guy like him could take on female squatters and any men they brought with them. This was probably only a couple who had gotten the wrong home.
But how’d they gotten in? By jimmying the locks?
He clenched his jaw and ignored the thrill that he might actually have something to do, like replacing the knobs. Was it possible they’d trashed the bedroom and he’d have to replace the floors or something?
The humming grew until a few words became clear. Whoever it was had a pleasant voice. Hopefully, she hadn’t brought a male friend.
He entered the kitchen, his steps silent. He circled around the fridge’s open French doors.
A rounded ass stuck out from the opening and he grinned. What a sight. The woman kept singing and he took a moment to sweep his gaze from her ass down her long, shapely legs. Yasss… The curve of her bare back stretched his grin. Narrow straps from her bikini top hung down as she stood up and turned around.
Tulip shrieked and jumped back into the fridge.
Flynn yelped and leaped backward. The backs of his legs hit the island and he almost rebounded into her. But he clutched the countertop behind him to steady himself.
Jars in the fridge tinkled from Tulip’s impact. She gasped and spun around to steady everything. The twist in her torso drew his attention to the definition in her abs and the sleek lines of her back.
When she turned back around, he couldn’t take his gaze off the Bat-Signal emblazoned across her ample breasts.
Tulip was stacked.
“T-Tulip, w-what—” He winced and dragged in a deep breath. “What are you doing here?”
Guilt crossed her expression and she wrung her hands. “Can you never call me Tulip? Never ever?”
“Why?”
Her gaze darted to the wall and back before her expression screwed into mild disgust. “Lots of reasons. But just Tilly. Please.”
“Okay.” He stared at her. Wanted her to turn around and stick her ass out again. Wanted his hand to quit twitching to cup her cheeks.
She backed away from the fridge so the doors could close. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t think you’d be here until tomorrow and there were guys at my place and I’ve never been on vacation.”
“Wait, there are men at your place?” Why did that send a surge of jealousy through his system? As if she’d been pining away for him and shunning all others for the last eleven years.
“A few. They’re repairing hail damage, I guess. My landlady forgot to mention it, like she forgets everything else. I can’t take the banging when I’m at home, it’s too hard on my nerves.” She clamped her mouth shut like she’d said too much.
Yep, they could never work as a couple.
As if any of his homes needed work. Dammit.
Why was he considering him and Tulip—Tilly—an option?
That Batman swimsuit top, though… What’d the bottoms look like? With her ass, she’d give that damn bat wings.
“Are you hungry?” she blurted. He flinched. Her volume had risen a few notches.
Was she nervous?
No, not Crazy J. She was oblivious to other people—except him.
He drew in another calming breath, a technique Abe, his mentor and savior, had taught him.
His stomach rumbled and she giggled. An honest to God giggle. Somehow, her threat factor diminished enough that he allowed a small smile. “I missed lunch.”
“Oh!” She swiveled around and ripped open a fridge door. “I picked up stuff for sandwiches. Nothing fancy, but I had som
e bread to use up or it’d be moldy by the time I got home.”
He finally glanced around the kitchen. It was littered with gaudy tote bags. Her Wonder Woman tote sat on the counter beside the fridge, where it’d been blocked by the fridge doors a moment ago.
Crazy J was making him food. So…this whole thing could be worse. She was actually closer to normal right now than he’d ever experienced from her before.
Her backside lured his gaze again. Her cloth shorts outlined her form perfectly and while they were black, the outline of her swim bottoms and the yellow from the Batman design were visible.
“Were you going swimming?” he blurted. Great, he was picking up her habits.
She pulled away from the fridge with an armload of food and shouldered the door shut. The meager gentleman within him that Abe had managed to save rushed to gather some of the items. Mustard, mayo, ketchup, butter. Hell, was there anything this woman hadn’t packed?
He assessed everything she scattered on the table. Most of it had been opened already.
“Why didn’t you just buy everything here? You didn’t have to bring it all.” He would’ve gone on a food run within an hour after he’d arrived. Could he consider this the first time a woman had bought him a meal?
“A week’s worth of groceries when I already had the food? I might be wearing a Batman swimsuit, but I’m not Bruce Wayne.”
But she’d spent ten grand to be here? A couple hundred in groceries shouldn’t worry her.
She pulled out bread and lunch meat and—he hadn’t eaten fucking processed meat in years. He’d lose at least two of his eight abs as soon as that hit his tongue.
But his stomach insisted it was fine with whatever she was serving. He pulled out a stool and watched in fascination as she prepped their meal.
Her storm-gray eyes were serious as she assembled bread, then meat, then condiment. Thank God she had some greens to put on top, even bean sprouts. Each item she grabbed, she looked to him in question. He’d nod and she’d add it to his sandwich, except ketchup, cuz gross.
Highest Bidder (Fanboys Book 2) Page 3
