Chapter 3

 

Shooters was roaring with the typical Saturday night crowd. Rock music blared from the overhead speakers. Several patrons danced on the makeshift platform in back. The clack of cue balls from the pool tables could barely be heard over the noise. Desperation hung as heavy in the air as cheap perfume.

From a table in the corner, Gabby picked at the label on her beer bottle as Avery complained about the Battleaxes interfering in her wedding.

“And now Marie says the best part about the cake cutting is shoving it in each other’s face.”

Marie was the town mayor and the O’Grady boys’ aunt. As the oldest of what Cade referred to as “The Battleaxes,” she’d been meddling in the lives of Redwood Ridge’s citizens since before Gabby could walk.

She shrugged. “I think it’s cute. Cade’s a fun guy. Why not?”

Avery pushed her brown waves from her face. “I’m not contesting that. I just feel like a circus performer. I mean, we wanted a small affair, and now everything’s choreographed like a musical rendition of the nut farm.”

Brent laughed and waved his hand with the dramatic flair of an openly gay man. “Baby doll, this is the nut farm. Go with it.”

Flynn rose from his seat and pointed to his empty bottle, silently asking if anyone wanted another round. Half the table raised their hands and Flynn headed for the bar.

Cade kissed Avery’s cheek. “Everyone’s excited you roped me into a proposal. No one thought they’d see the day. It’ll be perfect. You’ll see.”

Avery narrowed her eyes. “Roped you into a proposal? Who chased whom?”

Cade laughed in his easy-peasy way that had the female population swooning. “Semantics.”

Drake, the eldest O’Grady brother, set his glass down and eyed Cade. “My warning stands. You make her unhappy for one second of your marriage and I’ll rain hell on you.”

Gabby grinned. Before Avery moved to Redwood Ridge, Cade was the town’s playboy and wouldn’t know commitment if it bit him in the ass. Since becoming a widower, Drake had been pretty reclusive until recently, and had formed a bond with Avery. Protective didn’t cover it, even if Cade was a good guy and his baby brother.

Avery kicked Drake under the table. “Shush.”

One corner of Drake’s mouth lifted in the closest thing to a grin Gabby had seen in too long. He tipped his glass at her in mock salute.

Gabby darted her glance to the bar to make sure Flynn didn’t need help carrying their drinks. He had his back to the table and was leaning on the counter, unaware of the attractive redhead in a barely there black dress straddling the stool next to him. Gabby didn’t recognize the woman, so she must be a tourist.

Well, well. Maybe Flynn would get lucky tonight. Her belly twisted as if disliking the idea. Which was stupid. She wanted him to find someone and be happy. Right?

The moment they’d shared at his house last night floated to mind, and she pulled out her phone to interrupt the memory. She’d simply imagined the sudden flash of desire in his eyes. That’s what she’d told herself all night after she’d left his place. And if her belly heated and her face flushed with a pull of longing, she’d mistaken that, too.

Behind you. Hot woman alert.

She watched Flynn down at his phone, read her text, and scan the room for Gabby before noticing the leggy redhead. He flashed a contagious grin and nodded.

Zoe, the groomer at their vet clinic, tossed back a shot and looked at Gabby. “How did your date go last night?” She tucked a strand of shoulder-length green hair behind her ear. A year ago, she’d started dyeing it unnatural colors. No one knew why and no one asked.

Gabby opened her mouth to respond, but found her gaze focused on Flynn. Was he closing the deal? She hadn’t seen him go home with someone in quite a while. The redhead was leaning in close to him. He nodded at something she said with one of his trademark smiles.

Things were looking pretty okay at the bar. Which was not the reason her stomach twisted and sank.

He put his hands over his ears to indicate he was deaf. Her pulse paced a quick two-step for him, hoping the woman wasn’t as superficial as most. Not even a heartbeat later, the redhead stiffened, grabbed her drink, and stalked off. Gabby ground her teeth.

“Gabby?”

“What?” She looked at Zoe. “Right. Sorry.” She swallowed the last of her beer and set the bottle down, mentally retracting her claws. What had they been talking about? Ah, yes. “Turned out to not be a date after all. I wound up watching a movie instead and ate tiramisu in lieu of therapy.” At Flynn’s. Where she’d tried to teach him the basics of slow-dancing and got discombobulated instead.

Flynn returned to the table and set their drinks down. To anyone else, he looked exactly as always—observant, carefree, and comfortable. Except she knew his little nuances and tics. Being friends and working together for years trained her to watch his body language. His shoulders were sunk in defeat.

Damn. She had half a mind to storm across the bar and show Little Black Dress what a vapid princess she was.

“Eh hem.” Brent lifted his brows. “How can a date not turn out to be a date? Enlighten me, sugarbuns.”

Story of her life. Even now, surrounded by half the single population of Redwood Ridge, more of the Y chromosomes were skimming right past her and checking out Zoe. “Just a misunderstanding.”

“Uh huh.” Brent crossed his arms. “What in the name of Gucci really happened?”

Avery choked on her drink.

Gabby gave up. “He was interested in someone else.” She flicked a glance at Flynn and away. She was getting sick of men not seeing her. Seeking refuge in Flynn wouldn’t change that. “Maybe I should get plastered and dance on the bar. Think that would get guys to stop seeing me as the good girl?”

Cade rubbed his neck. “Um, you are the good girl.”

She crossed her arms. “I can be bad.” She so couldn’t.

Brent laughed. “Sugarbuns, your idea of bad and my idea of bad are entirely different things.”

Drake glanced at the ceiling like he wanted to be anywhere else, then wiped his face as if trying to remove an unsightly image.

“I can do it. I can dance on the bar. I’ve got moves like Jagger.” She smiled at her joke, hoping no one called her on it or she wouldn’t leave her house for a year due to sheer embarrassment. They’d have to send neighbors over daily just to make sure she was still breathing.

She needed to put her big-girl panties on and pull out of this pity party, table for one. It wasn’t as if her lack of sex life was anything new. She’d dealt before, she’d do it again. Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t productive.

Brent shook his head with dramatic flair. “You got moves like Walking Dead, but we love ya anyway.”

She laughed. “Yeah, okay. No bar dancing for me.” She took another sip, eying Brent over the rim. “Maybe I should start batting for the other team?”

Cade choked on his beer this time, coughing violently.

Zoe shoulder-checked her. “I’d totally do you.”

Because Zoe wasn’t any more of a lesbian than Gabby, she grinned. “Aw. Really? You mean it?”

“Heck yeah!” Zoe accepted her high-five.

“Jesus.” Drake pinched the bridge of his nose. “Now I have that visual.”

“Don’t we all,” Cade muttered, earning a slap from Avery. “What? Two chicks going at it. I’m just a lowly male after all. Even if I have known these two all my life, that’s hot.”

“Visual, visual.” Drake rubbed his forehead.

Zoe’s eyebrows shot so high they nearly hit her hairline. “Statistics say men picture women naked within five minutes of meeting them.”

Drake pinned her with a glare of contempt bordering on…contempt. “We met as infants.” He jerked a thumb at Gabby. “Met her in first grade.”

Zoe shrugged, unaffected. “So you started early.”

Avery leaned forward. “You met me just a few months ago.”

Drake’s you’re-not-helping glare merely widened Avery’s smile.

Aware he wouldn’t win the argument, or that Zoe was goading him, Drake glanced heavenward as if praying to a higher power and wisely shut his mouth.

Gabby laughed until her side ached and met Flynn’s amused gaze across the table. “Thoughts?”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “Just take pictures.”

Cade slapped a hand down on the table. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

* * * *

Flynn drove Brent home, not because his buddy was drunk, but because he’d hitched a ride to Shooters with Avery and was without a car. During the short drive, Flynn did his damnedest to get images of Gabby laughing with their friends out of his head, and how it had turned him on more than the frisky redhead at the bar.

Almost three decades of having Gabby in his life as his best friend, and one bumbled dance lesson shot it all to shit. Yeah, he’d thought about it through the years. A stray what-if in passing. But nothing like recently. Like last night.

This wasn’t happening. Flat out, wasn’t happening. He had to stop letting his mind go there and envision her as more than what they’d always been. Had to stop thinking with his dick. Hard up didn’t give him permission to screw up everything.

He wove through Brent’s subdivision, comprised mainly of gingerbread houses and curbside cedar trees, and drove to the end of the street while a thick blanket of fog rolled in. Once in Brent’s driveway, he turned to face him and did a double-take. His clinic’s vet tech had a wicked gleam in his eye.

Flynn looked at him warily, waiting for the cosmic boom which Brent liked to deliver insight posing as casual chat. Brent turned on the dome light so Flynn could read his lips. Even though Brent could sign, Flynn found that most of Brent’s vocabulary didn’t have a gesture.

“Why didn’t you and Gabby ever hook up?”

His first thought was oh shit. Was he that transparent people were noticing? But he swiftly shut that down. On the surface, he acted no different than normal. Maybe Brent was three-sheets after all. To be safe, Flynn didn’t respond.

“You two can’t function without each other. Just seems to make sense to me.”

His breath stalled. “What are you talking about?” He functioned just fine without Gabby. And vice versa.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Brent turned to face him fully, settling in the seat like they’d be there awhile. “Ever notice when we’re in a group, you focus more on her than the others? She signs every word people say so you don’t miss a part of the conversation.”

She’d been doing that for years, knowing he had trouble keeping up trying to follow lip-reading. The larger the group, the more difficult the task. He’d grown so accustomed to it, he’d just learned to watch her instead. Flynn swiped a hand down his face. Hell, it was second nature.

“You know, she does it sometimes even when you’re not around. She’ll sign a word here or there when talking to someone else.”

Of course, he didn’t know that. How could he? Something settled heavy in his gut. Guilt perhaps. The scales weren’t balanced. He had to wonder what she was getting out of their friendship.

“I think that’s part of the reason men don’t notice her. Let’s face it. She’s a cutie. But the ones who have known her the longest see you two as a unit. Like she’s off-limits.”

Hell. Was that the case? Had he been cock-blocking other guys into not making a move? The hollow ache in his stomach spread until his entire chest cavity was gutted. The blood drained from his face.

“So you two never…? Not once?”

Flynn studied Brent’s face, trying and failing not to be leveled by guilt. And Brent was like a terrier when he latched onto an idea. Flynn needed to sidetrack him. “Known you a long time and we never hooked up. Same difference.”

“Oh, sexy pants. If your door ever swung my way, I’d be all over that.” He snapped his fingers and did some sort of jive. “Must be there’s no sexual chemistry with Gabs, huh? That’s why you never bumped uglies. I get it.”

Flynn lifted his hands and found he had no response. Chemistry wasn’t the issue, at least on his end. And why the hell was he talking to Brent about this, anyway?

“No worries.” He patted Flynn’s chest. “I’ve got ideas.”

Warning pounded in his temples. “What do you mean, you’ve got ideas?”

“You know, to get Gabby a little action. Now that I know you’re not interested, I can put my clever skills to use. And I got skills.” His eyes widened for emphasis.

Damn it. But Brent was out of the car and up the sidewalk before Flynn could force a swallow.

Pulling back out onto the road, he headed for home. Except when he cut the engine, it was Cade’s house he’d parked in front of, not his own. And with no recollection of the drive.

Spruce and redwood sheltered the yard and cast deep shadows over the cabin. The canopy didn’t allow much moonlight to filter through. The snow had melted in early spring, but leaves were just starting to bud and the perennials to break ground. He put the window down and drew in a lungful of crisp pine-scented air, but it did nothing to clear the cobwebs.

Unable to make heads or tails of the past twenty-four hours, he climbed out and knocked on Cade’s door. A light was burning inside the house, so he’d caught him before his brother had turned in. They teased one another and gave each other hell, but he could always go to both his brothers with anything.

Not that this was anything. Because it wasn’t. He was merely making a social call at—he checked his watch—midnight, and less than thirty minutes after he’d just seen Cade at the bar.

But Flynn was fine. Nothing to see here. His heart wasn’t tripping behind his ribs in panic and he wasn’t gripping the doorframe with enough strength to splinter the wood and he absolutely wasn’t two seconds from emptying his stomach.

The door swung inward and Cade’s form filled the space. “What’s—”

“I have a problem.”

Cade jerked. “Is Mom okay?”

“Yes,” he signed immediately.

Cade blew out a breath and paused to study his face. Nodding slowly, he pointed to a rocking chair on the porch, which Flynn sank into. “Something’s wrong?”

Flynn rubbed his eyes and signed, “Yes.” He swallowed hard and glanced at the yard as night creatures scurried about. “I think I might…maybe a little…have…” Hell squared. “Feelings for Gabby.”

There. Let the gods of friendship and common sense strike him dead.

Cade’s laugh started slowly and built in momentum until he gripped his sides and wiped tears from his eyes.

Flynn pinned him with a DEFCON glare.

Cade stilled, then slowly leaned forward. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. After a stunned beat, he rose and went into the house. A moment later, he returned with a bottle of whiskey—the good kind shipped all the way from distant family in Ireland. He passed the bottle to Flynn.

And that about said it all.