Page 34 of Kissing Flynn

“Good morning, everyone,” Barnard calls out as he strides into the room and takes his chair at the head of the table between Flynn and me. “I trust everyone slept well.”

Why did he glance at me as he said that? Does he know? Fuck.

No. I can’t freak out. There’s no way he knows how Flynn and I spent the night, is there?

“Before we eat,” Barnard goes on before I can collapse into a full-on freak-out, “let’s take care of business. Next to your plates, you’ll find a small white board and a marker. Please write down the name of your murder suspect and don’t show anyone else.”

I meet Flynn’s gaze for a fraction of a second, both of us smiling as we start to write. Once everyone is finished and has flipped their boards upside down, Barnard calls out Lars’ name and asks him to reveal his suspect.

With a determined look, he holds up his sign, which reads “Flynn Nightingale.” I fail at stifling a laugh, which earns me a frown from Lars. Sobering, I remain stoic while Danica and Peter reveal their boards, which both accuse Barnard. I guess Flynn’s misdirection last night worked like a charm. I look over at him, and he nods for me to reveal my guess first.

“Who in the hell is Bethany?” Lars snaps when I hold my board up.

Flynn holds up his board before I can answer, and Lars looks even more confused than ever. I look at Barnard, who’s smiling as he meets Lars’ gaze.

“Bethany is the wonderful woman who’s served every meal you’ve eaten in this room, Mr. Klein. Why don’t you tell us why you chose Flynn as your suspect?”

Lars flinches back, the movement so slight, I almost miss it before he shrugs and says in a nonchalant voice, “He was twitchy and nervous last night. He reeked of guilt.”

Ha! Flynn wasn’t twitchy at all, being innocent, and it’s obvious Lars is pulling that reasoning straight out of his ass right now to save face.

Barnard nods as if he accepts the explanation, then his gaze bobs between Danica and Peter. “And the reasons you two have accused me?”

Peter swallows thickly. “Well, see, you…uh…left the room so quickly, not giving us an opportunity to question you about the case.”

“And you assumed that makes me a murderer?” Barnard asks, quirking a brow.

Peter shrugs and licks his lips nervously. “I couldn’t find any clues that would point to anyone else who was in the room.”

“I see,” Barnard mutters, then zeroes his gaze in on Danica. “And you?”

“Same,” she says. “Peter and I worked together and decided you’re the most likely suspect.”

Barnard nods, and I don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle when he looks at me, then turns his attention to Flynn. “Am I to assume you two worked together, as well, since you came to the same conclusion?”

“Yes, sir,” Flynn says while I nod in agreement.

Barnard looks back at me. “And what led you to the assumption that Bethany is our murderer?”

“When we questioned her, she described a perfume she smelled when the lights were out. Flynn confirmed the scent didn’t belong to Danica, and since I know it wasn’t me, we investigated further to find an open window. The scent she described was the ocean and the flowers growing outside. So we decided to question her again.”

I nod at Flynn, and he continues the explanation, saying, “We found her crying in the kitchen with blood caked under her fingernails and red splatters on her clothes. Since we know she didn’t touch the victim after the lights came back on, we could only surmise that she picked up the blood during the act.”

“Very good,” Barnard says, his tone filled with pride. “Congratulations, Max. Flynn. You solved the case.”

He nods at each of us, and Flynn and I look at each other without trying to hide our shit-eating grins. Even though the “mystery” wasn’t all that hard to solve, I’m proud of us. And the fact that the others failed is just icing on the cake.

“This was a simple task meant to test your attention to detail,” Barnard goes on, then spears Danica with a deep frown. “Ms. Black, your contribution to the task and your explanation was, by far, the laziest and least helpful. You are dismissed.”

My eyes widen at the abrupt declaration, and I’m almost ashamed to admit how relieved I am that it wasn’t me. Danica huffs out a curse as she jerks out of her seat, then stomps from the room. My gaze moves from the doorway where she disappeared to observe Peter, who looks a little guilty. I suppose if she’d given the explanation and left him to just agree with her, he’d be the one on his way out instead. It’s a brutal elimination, and the relief inside me swells.

“Now that we have that nasty business out of the way,” Barnard says, regaining everyone’s attention, “let’s eat. We will be spending the day on my boat, and we leave for the marina in one hour.”

He claps once, and Bethany enters the room, pushing a cart laden with five plates. A hardy meal of French toast, bacon, and fruit is passed out to each of us. We eat in near-silence, only the sounds of chewing and silverware clinking against porcelain breaking the quiet.

I glance up at Flynn, my insides warming at the sight of his handsome face. While I’m ecstatic to still be here, still in the running for the job, I don’t know how I’m going to handle a whole day confined to a boat with him and not telegraph my feelings to everyone––including Barnard.

I’m just going to have to avoid Flynn as best I can, I guess.

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