Page 72 of A Little More Hope

“Looks like it.”

The beautiful oil on canvas of the town square perfectly captured the shops surrounding the small park in the center. “Wow. He’s good.”

“Do us all a favor and don’t tell him you saw his painting, okay? Or that you think it’s good, which we all know it fucking is. He’ll only get all puffed up and unbearable. You know what he’s like.”

“You don’t think I should tell him how great he is?”

He gawped at me. “We’re talking about Flynn,” he said like it was obvious. “He already knows damn well how great he is, so don’t go giving him any more ammunition to feed his ego. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

I’d missed this—the jokes, the camaraderie, the close friendship—since being away for so long. The downside of moving around all the time meant I never stayed in one place long enough to make any real connection to people—the ones you could depend on in a crisis, or the ones who told you when you were being a jerk.

Returning to Melrose Bay had been so much better than I’d ever expected. Despite my shitty love life, coming home had worked out amazingly well.

We arrived at the bar, and Sawyer pulled into the last remaining parking space. The music pumping out of the speakers was loud but not deafening when we opened the inner door to the Bayside, but the farther in we ventured, the more the bass vibrated through my chest. We checked around, spotting Cam in one of the wraparound booths on the other side of the bar alongside the window, so headed straight over.

“Hey,” he greeted us, scooting around to the middle of the seat, allowing us to sit either side.

“How come you got a booth?” Sawyer asked him. “Didn’t we originally book a table on the floor?” He glanced around the bar. “And where’s Flynn?”

Cam didn’t answer any of his questions; instead, he pointed to the bar to where Flynn’s dark auburn hair stood out amid a sea of brown, black, and blond.

“Already?” he gasped. “Who’s he all over this time?”

“Gabe,” I answered for Cam. “Mason’s friend Gabe.” Two pairs of eyes swiveled in my direction. I shrugged. “Apparently they’ve gotten together a couple times already.

Sawyer cackled. “Way to complicate things, Flynn.”

“It’s fine. Neither of them is looking for more than a quick hookup.” A snort from them both. “It’ll end the minute Gabe leaves town, so…” I shrugged again.

Flynn and Gabe hooking up didn’t exactly bother me, but Gabe being here tonight reminded me Mason must be lurking around here somewhere too. Gabe said he’d be back this afternoon, so did that mean he’d arrived? Did he expect me to be staying at my place and hope to inadvertently catch sight of me like I did him? I had an overwhelming urge to get up and leave. No matter what, the pull he exerted on me to be as close to him as possible had my hands curling into fists on my legs as I tried to control the urge to touch his warm skin or run my fingers through his thick, blond hair.

“Here,” Sawyer shoved a beer in front of me. “Get that down you, and stop moping.”

I stiffened. “I’m not moping.”

“Sure you are.” He pointed at the beer. “Now drink.” I raised the beer to my lips and drank half the contents.

“What are you moping about?” Cam asked.

“Nothing.” His grunt told me he didn’t believe me, but Cam being Cam, he let my lie go.

Flynn and Gabe joined us soon after, making the situation a little awkward at first as Sawyer, while not exactly rude toward Gabe, wasn’t far off.

“Will you quit,” I hissed at him after another snide comment. “You’re upsetting Flynn.” He glanced over at the questioning look in his friend’s eyes and reluctantly twitched his shoulder in agreement.

I downed the remainder of my beer and, needing more, I stood, scooted off my seat, and headed to the bar. I could have called the serving staff over to get us more drinks, but I needed a few minutes alone, away from the bickering and tension. Tonight should have been fun, but so far the evening had turned out to be a complete bust. Along with wondering all night about Mason, I’d gotten far too antsy. Gabe hadn’t said much about what his friend was up to, and the lack of information only added to my growing surliness.

Drinks order placed, I turned around to look out across the bar, the space crammed with people enjoying the live music and having a good time. Yet I felt wholly disconnected from everyone.

The entrance door slowly opened, and my jaw dropped to the floor as the man who’d consumed my thoughts all night hesitantly walked in before halting beside the hostess stand. Wearing dark jeans and a pale-blue shirt tucked in at the waist, the thin material stretched tight across his chest and biceps, accentuating his gym-toned muscles. Raising my eyes back up to his face, my breath caught in my throat at the way his slicked back hair highlighted every one of his chiseled features.

He was heart-stoppingly gorgeous, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

He inched his way forward a couple of feet and hesitated again, his shoulders stiff, body tensing, his panic obviously setting in. Mason was here, in a crowded bar. He’d walked into his own worst nightmare. Pushed himself past every one of his barriers. My heart raced and my stomach flipped at the thought he’d done this all for me.

I started across the packed room, trying to squeeze through the groups of people as fast as I could to get to his side, my movement pulling his deer-in-the-headlights look my way. I almost stumbled when his ice-blue eyes landed on mine, and desire, savage and fierce ripped through my entire body at the heated look he returned. How he managed do that I had absolutely no clue, but I wasn’t going to question it.

Holding up his hand I halted abruptly halfway across the floor. His chest moved rapidly in and out as his eyes scanned his surroundings, assessing everyone before returning to me. I ached to go to him, to grab him and keep him safe, but I sensed that was the last thing he wanted. Tentatively, he stepped farther into the bar. Some guys, already drunk, jostled against him. Instinctively, I moved another step closer, but a shake of his head had me halting my steps.

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