Page 9 of Kissing Flynn

“Thank you, Mr. Nightingale. I do enjoy living on Isle Halcyon.”

“Please, call me Flynn,” I say, and I can see the tension rolling off Max in waves in my peripheral vision.

That’s right, Maxine. Two can play this game.

“Thank you,” he says, then addresses the entire table. “And remember to call me Barnard. None of this Mr. Roxberry business. If we’re going to work together, we should be on friendly terms, at the very least.”

Everyone nods in response, and I have to fight from scoffing out loud. Friendly terms? Friends get to ask each other questions and expect honest answers. Friends share. Friends aren’t constantly afraid that a single misstep will cause them to oust each other from their lives, forever.

I find myself looking over at Max again with that. Isn’t that what happened between us? A simple misstep, and we were suddenly strangers who never spoke to each other again.

Of course, it wasn’t really all that simple. She used me. On a lark.

And if the anger that causes is any indication, I still haven’t forgiven her for it. I blow out a long breath. Maybe it’s time. Five years is a long time to hold onto a grudge.

“Do you enjoy living in Los Angeles, Flynn?”

The question snaps me out of my unplanned introspection, and I force myself to smile as I meet Barnard’s shrewd gaze.

“I do. Southern California is a beautiful place to live.”

“How long have you lived there?” he asks, and I have to force myself not to balk at the unnecessary question.

He has to know the answer to that. I’m sure he had detailed work-ups put together of everyone he invited here. But he’s making conversation, which is a win for me, so I play along.

“I moved there for college. After graduation, I got a job with the Journal and decided to stay.”

“Do you miss Idaho?” he asks, proving he already knows the answers to the questions he’s asking.

“Sometimes,” I say, a real smile lifting my lips. “I miss the slower pace, the smells of earth being tilled and planted, the wide-open skies.”

“Do you go back often?” he asks.

“Not as much as I’d like,” I say, my smile dropping.

My eyes flick in Max’s direction, and I catch the sympathy in her gaze before she looks away. She knows why I don’t go back to Idaho very often. She knows because she and Milo went home with me sophomore year to bury my parents after they both died during a river rafting accident. According to witnesses, Mom fell overboard and Dad jumped in to save her. Neither of them survived when Mom’s legs got trapped in the branches of a fallen, underwater tree and Dad tried to free her.

I shake my head to clear it. That was a dark time in my life, and Milo and Max were there with me for every step of the healing journey. Of the two, Max was particularly comforting, holding me together when I threatened to fall apart.

But that was another lifetime.

Right now, I need to focus on the present.

And keep my mind off the past and Max Nolan.

Seven

Max

The evening air is cooler, the light breeze tinged with the scents of salt and sweet jasmine. The large veranda is empty save for me, and the solitude feels nice as I strategize for tomorrow.

I’ll have a private meeting with Barnard along with everyone else, and I need to find a way to make myself stand out. Without asking any questions or breaking any rules.

A sigh slips out of me, and I force myself to focus, mentally detailing a list of my writing accomplishments and accolades. If I keep the conversation focused on me, I should be fine. The only problem is filling an entire thirty minutes without becoming redundant or boring Barnard to death.

It feels like walking a tightrope with no safety net. Normal societal rules about not dominating the conversation with details about yourself don’t apply here. Unless Barnard volunteers some personal information, this meeting will definitely be all about me.

I need to head back to my room and come up with a list of entertaining anecdotes I can pull out if the conversation lags. I turn to go, then freeze when my gaze lands on the man materializing from the shadowed interior of the mansion.

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