Page 38 of Kissing Flynn

“Care to join me in my office for lunch, Flynn?” he asks, and I find myself looking up at Max, who’s busy filling her own plate across from me.

She heard the request, and nods at me with wide eyes to accept. Clearing my throat, I look over at Barnard.

“Of course. Lead the way.”

“Very good,” he says, then turns and makes his way into the interior area of the yacht.

Inside his office cabin, there’s a large desk as well as a small table flanked by two chairs. Barnard heads for the table, taking a seat and waving me into the other one.

“I really enjoy your writing style,” he says as we get to work unwrapping the cellophane on our sandwiches. “Not just your column, but your book, too.”

I freeze, my eyes widening for a moment before a chuckle erupts from my chest. “You read my book?”

“I did.”

“It only sold two copies. And I know one buyer was my best friend. I always wondered who the other was,” I say with another laugh.

I’m exaggerating, of course, but not by much. The endeavor really was a flop.

Barnard laughs at the joke, and I feel myself relax a bit. But my tension returns tenfold with his next question.

“And what of Miss Nolan?”

I swallow thickly. “What about her?”

His eyes pierce mine with a knowing look. “You were close in college. Wouldn’t an old friend read your book?”

“I…don’t know,” I say honestly.

She mentioned it earlier, but never said if she read it or just knows of its existence.

“That makes sense,” he says. “You apparently had some falling out and lost touch with each other over the last few years even though you’ve remained close with her brother, Milo.”

My head rears back before I can stop it. “How do you know all that?”

I knew he was aware of my previous acquaintance with Max, but that’s a lot of detail about something private he should have no knowledge of. He shakes his head and waves off my question.

“I have my ways of finding things out. Just like I know you two have seemed to bury the hatchet since arriving to Isle Halcyon. You worked together very well to solve the murder mystery.”

“We cleared up an old misunderstanding,” I say, my words slow and succinct.

Barnard nods. “That’s good.”

He drops the subject after that, asking me about some of the people I’ve interviewed for my column over the years. I answer each question a bit robotically, my mind still reeling over his observations about Max and me.

As soon as I can without being rude, I excuse myself and go in search of her. I find her in a chair near the stern, enjoying the bright sunshine as she sips on a bottle of flavored sparkling water.

“Hey,” she says, standing up when she sees me approaching. “How did it go?”

“It was weird,” I murmur, looking around to make sure no one else is near enough to hear. “He knew we had a falling out in college and haven’t had contact since. How did he know that? Has he had people investigating us?”

She looks a little startled, at first, then seems to calm. “Probably. I’m sure he had everyone investigated before inviting us all here.”

“You’re probably right,” I whisper, and she looks around before pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

“Thanks for telling me. This way I won’t be blindsided if he brings it up to me.”

“Like I was?” I quip, and she laughs.

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