Flynn's Kiss (Disarmed & Dangerous) (14 page)

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Carl was ready to take Liberty’s horses as soon as they drew into the stables. The wind was increasing by the minute, setting up a howl loud enough to disturb the horses and make them stamp and whinny in their boxes.

“Good job you came back now, we’ve had a severe weather warning. I was about to send Sam out in the truck to fetch you when we saw you coming over the horizon. You took your time getting here, you might have come a little quicker.”

“We were delayed.”

Flynn glanced at Liberty just as she swept her hair back from her face and retrieved the Stetson from where he’d tied it to the packhorse’s saddle. A small smile flitted over her features and gentled his heart. He was going to find a way.

“Is that horseshit down your front?” He pulled his attention around to Carl, who appeared to be studying his shirt.

“Yup.”

“Any particular reason?”

He couldn’t stop the grin in response to Liberty’s twitching lips.

“It was the hat.”

Carl nodded, slow and wise, as if he understood the reasoning, and when his dark gaze landed on the decimated hat, his leathery cheeks crinkled in wide swathes, and he tucked his tongue in his cheek.

“Dear Lord, Miss Liberty. What did the boy do to destroy your fine hat?”

Insulted, Flynn gasped.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Liberty dropped the hat into the garbage, brushed her hands off, and smiled at Carl.

“It was his fault. This is the second hat he’s been responsible for the destruction of.”

“I can see he got the horse to defecate on this one, but what happened to the other?”

It was worth being blamed just to see the wild blush steal over her delicate skin.

“He umm…crushed it. With his foot.”

Carl nodded sagely, met Flynn’s stare, and pursed his lips.

“You need to treat delicate things with a little more respect, son.”

Vibrant red reached her hairline and her eyes held an unnatural glow.

“Yessir.”

If he laughed now, she’d probably crucify him. She raised her chin and looked him dead in the eye.

“You owe me a hat.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned on her heel, strutted toward the open side door to the stables, and paused while the wind whisked through and almost knocked her back a step, plastering her white shirt flat against her skin, to show every curve and hollow to its best advantage.

A low growl rumbled in his chest, and his mouth watered until he felt the jab of Carl’s sharp elbow in his ribs.

“It goes for women too.”

“Huh?” He’d lost his train of thought and greeted Carl with a blank stare.

“Trouble with you kids today, too much about what’s in your pants, nothing in your head and not enough in here.” The old man gingerly tapped Flynn’s chest with a firm finger to a shit-free spot where his heart still tripped over itself, almost making him step back with the force of the poke. He rubbed the spot while he looked down into nutmeg eyes and remembered what they had been discussing.

“She ain’t delicate.” he grumbled and turned his back to lead the stallion into his stall with Carl’s rejoinder echoing in his ears.

“Every woman has a delicate heart, no matter how tough their skin.”

Flynn took a few moments to consider the cute little convertible in dirt ugly yellow with some kind of black fairy shit splashed over the hood and down the side. It couldn’t be considered parked, more…abandoned outside the supply store, and he decided the hitch in his heart rate couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the likely driver of the vehicle. There wasn’t a person in Harrison County either small enough to fit or brave enough to be seen driving the god awful vehicle, except one little woman.

He stepped through the doorway of Frankie’s Supply Store and gave a small smile as the bell chimed, just like it had for the past twenty years or so. Certainly for as long as he could ever remember.

And the woman he’d been thinking about stood at the far end of the aisle holding an atrocity against everything he had ever known in her hand.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he let the door rattle shut behind him.

“You know fairies will die if you buy that hat.”

She glanced up from her contemplation of the foul item and gave him a grin wide enough to set his pulse racing, although he couldn’t help but wonder the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes like it normally did.

“I’m sure that’s not right.” Her mellow voice soothed over his fraught nerves and made him think it might just be his imagination. “After all, they probably created it.”

“Nope.”

He strode down the aisle toward her, gaining a little satisfaction from the widening of her lilac eyes. “No fairy was involved in the making of that hat. It is an abomination against everything natural.” He waggled his finger at the Stetson splattered in a variety of colors as though someone had paintballed it. He thought her fingers shook slightly as she held it aloft for him to inspect.

“It’s supposed to represent a rainbow.”

“It represents a shitload of spilt paint.”

This time her grin was genuine and infectious, and he almost grabbed his chest and staggered backward as the full impact of her smile hit him dead center. He had the desperate urge to seize her with both hands and kiss her succulent mouth until she was weak and begging. And as the thought of placing his lips against her perfect ones registered, he froze. The smile dropped from Liberty’s face in response.

“Hey, Uncle Flynn, what do you think of Miss Liberty’s hat?”

Flynn turned his head to watch Jacob striding, long-legged and gangly, down the aisle toward them, his arms filled with boxes of boots, and Flynn could only pray there weren’t any matching ones to the hat.

“It’s shit.”

“Flynn.” Liberty’s gentle rebuke had him pulling his attention back to her, despite Jacob’s appreciative chuckle.

“I’m sure he’s heard worse.”

“I’m sure. But he doesn’t need to hear it from a role model.”

He glanced at Jacob, who was preoccupied opening several boxes and lining boots up ready for Liberty to try on, and considered it a serious misjudgment if Liberty thought he was good enough to be anyone’s role model.

The boy’s dark hair and angelic features held a close resemblance to the other side of the family, the strong genetic make-up of the Native American resurfacing. In fact, when the boy met Mac and Zoe’s son, they were probably going to be hard-pressed to know which one was which.

Flynn considered the boy for a moment longer. No, the kid was older. Had to be. He’d started to fill out across the chest, and his legs and arms were beginning to take on muscle tone.

“How old are you now, boy?”

“Fourteen.” Jacob’s voice gave an embarrassing squeak at the end of the word, and Flynn felt for him as the kid shot Liberty a quick glance from under his lashes, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed a deep pink hue.

Ignorant of her effect upon the two males, Liberty treated Jacob to one of her beatific smiles as she accepted a pair of boots he held out for her and seated herself on the small bench, ready to try them on. Flynn thought the child was about to hyperventilate and wondered if Liberty had any idea what she’d just done. Another tender heart flopped on the floor at her feet. One genuine smile from her and men seemed to make complete fools of themselves—and it appeared young boys did too.

Liberty extended one short, but very shapely leg, and tugged a boot on while Jacob gulped in great mouthfuls of air. Oblivious, she glanced up to give another smile and held out her hand for the second boot. Her generous bosom quivered as she reached forward, and her deep purple shirt stretched taut to give Jacob and Flynn a perfect view of her deep cleavage. A pained groan emitted from Jacob’s lips, and he stood immobile with the boot dangling from his limp fingers.

At Liberty’s puzzled look, Flynn snatched the boot and almost threw it at her, and then gave Jacob a quick turn and a firm shove in the opposite direction.

“I need boots too. Go, Jacob. Size eleven.”

He almost shouted “save yourself.” But the kid had already staggered off down the aisle, blind and deaf to everything except his own first crush. Flynn wasn’t entirely sure Liberty would understand; she seemed completely unaware of the undercurrents of the exchange.

“What do you think?”

His mind emptied as she stretched her leg out again and her little black skirt rode an inch further up her thigh. His tongue refused to peel itself off the roof of his mouth until the message from his eyes burned through to his brain, and the sheer horror of what he saw kick-started it back into motion.

“Jesus Christ, Liberty. What kind of foul mind designed boots like that?” He stared at the perfectly made black leather boots someone had ripped the sides out of and replaced the beautiful leather material with a white insert and some kind of stitching in pinks and purples depicting butterflies and insects all the way up the calf.

“I love them.” She seemed genuinely delighted.

“You’re not going to wear them with the hat?”

She chuckled and her breasts jiggled, grabbing his undivided attention until her silence drew his gaze back up to her face. Raging desire consumed him as he recognized the reflection of it in her eyes.

“I don’t suppose you’d like to…?”

She whipped the boots off her feet, shaking her head furiously as she stood.

“No, Flynn, I would not like to…” She slapped the boots back into their box, shoved her own boots under her arm, grabbed the hat, and whirled around in the direction of the checkout desk, pausing briefly, and her voice, when it came, was barely audible.

“I think I made it clear. To you it’s sex. To me it’s rejection.”

Guilt almost smothered his lust as he witnessed her raise her head, straighten her shoulders, and strut away from him. His eyes didn’t seem to grasp the emotional message and carried on staring at the vision of her pert rump giving a swift wiggle as she hot-footed down the aisle away from him.

“She’s one special lady you have there.”

Flynn turned his head to scowl at Frankie, who was leaning against the end of the aisle fixtures, his head tilted to one side as he treated himself to the very same vision Flynn had just been observing.

“Don’t you have something you should be doing?” The snap in his voice should have had Frankie running down the aisle begging for mercy, but the guy gave a wry smile and tugged at his earlobe.

“I think Jacob can manage to ring her up.” He tilted his head to the other side, and Flynn wondered if the guy was getting a neck ache, trying to get a better angle to view Liberty as she stood at the checkout desk. The desire to help him out of his predicament by poking him in the eye so he could no longer see her seemed to be the best solution.

The words about to emerge from his mouth stuck mid-way as Liberty suddenly bent at the waist to pull her boots back onto her feet, and the hem of her little stretchy black skirt shot from mid-thigh to just under the cheeks of her ass in one smooth move.

As she straightened, Flynn glanced at Frankie and noted he seemed to be having a similar issue with his breathing. The color on the guy’s cheeks had turned a blotchy purple, and Flynn hoped he wasn’t going to have to perform CPR. Perhaps he just needed to distract him from the sight of Liberty’s luscious butt.

“He was supposed to be getting some boots for me.”

Frankie chuckled, rubbing his chest with one hand as he turned his attention back to Flynn. Liberty disappeared from view, and the jangling of the door heralded her departure from the store.

“He’ll get them now.” Frankie smiled again, showing an uneven stack of yellowing teeth.

Flynn sat heavily on the bench and blew out a breath. The woman seemed to have exhausted him again, and this time he hadn’t even had the pleasure of mind-blowing sex with her.

“As I was saying. You’re a lucky man.”

He pulled his attention back to Frankie.

“I am?”

“Sure. Liberty thinks you’re ‘magnificent.’”

Irritation shimmered through him.

“If I hear that word one more time…”

“Oh, you’re going to hear it a lot more.”