Forever Flint. Barbara Boswell
I wouldn’t take them anywhere! I can barely make it through an occasional dinner at my brother’s home with them, let alone two full weeks of. . .”
“But we need more females on the trip, and you haven’t come up with anybody else. Anyway, chances are better for teens to be able to go somewhere at the last minute than for. . .”
“Absolutely not!” Flint cut in again. “If you knew Camryn and Kaylin, you would realize how truly terrible your idea really is.”
“Introduce me to them,” Ashlinn said boldly. “If they’re as bad as you say, then obviously, I won’t want them along. But if you’re harboring some kind of grudge against two perfectly normal kids just because you didn’t like their mother marrying your father, then I want them on the trip.”
“Lady, if you’re trying to infuriate me, you’ve succeeded beyond your wildest expectations”
“I’m beginning to believe I’m on the right track,” countered Ashlinn. “After all, they live with your brother. He must like them, so how awful can they be? Unless you can’t stand your brother, either?”
“I love my brother!” Flint declared with a fervor that touched her. “But unfortunately, he has an exaggerated sense of duty. In fact, Rafe is probably the most dutiful person on the planet. He took in the girls after their mother died three years ago and kept them, even though they’ve wreaked havoc on his life.”
“Hmm,” said Ashlinn.
“You don’t believe me?” Flint was indignant. “Okay, I’ll let you be the judge. I’ll take you to Rafe’s house and you can meet the girls. One minute in their company will have you convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that you don’t want to spend another one. They’re all night owls, so we can just drop in.”
His tone was so ominous that Ashlinn felt more than a little apprehensive. Did she really want to meet two bad seeds? She buoyed her courage by thinking of Junior, the boy boss. If she could endure working for him day after day, taking a few minutes to assess Flint’s allegedly demonic half sisters would be a breeze.
Flint was heartily regretting his rash challenge by the time he turned onto Deer Trail Lane, a tree-lined street in a well-tended housing development. Bringing Ashlinn here was stupid beyond imagining, but since he’d let her goad him into it, he could only blame himself. His jaw clenched.
“This is a nice neighborhood,” Ashlinn remarked politely as they drove along the long street.
“My brother used to own half a duplex farther down this road, but he bought a single-family house a few months ago. Seems like he’s always working on the place. His latest project is to convert the garage into an extra room.”
Flint sighed wistfully, remembering better days, when Rafe had plenty of spare time to spend with him and Eva. Not anymore. It had been months since the three of them had gone out to dinner together or taken in a movie
“I’m assuming he got a bigger place because of the half sisters you can’t stand?” Ashlinn couldn’t resist mentioning the obvious.
“Not just for them,” Flint protested halfheartedly. “Rafe got married last Thanksgiving and his wife wanted more room too.” He pulled into the double driveway of a big two-story house. “In addition to the girls, they have two foster kids, little boys, Trent and Tony.”
“They’ve only been married for about eight months and they have four kids living with them?” Ashlinn was impressed. “Your brother sounds wonderful, a guy like my stepdad. It takes a very special kind of man to share his life and his wife, especially with kids who aren’t his own.”
“Yeah.” Flint, who truly loved and admired his brother, felt an ignoble rivalrous niggling as she rhapsodized about Rafe, which was odd, because he was always the one to lead the chorus of praise for Rafe. It was unnerving to consider the possibility that he wanted to hear Ashlinn rave about Flint Paradise. Unnerving and alarming as hell!
And worse was yet to come
Ashlinn was out of the car and halfway to the front door of the house when she noticed that Flint was lagging behind. Quite purposefully, it seemed to her.
“A prisoner on his way to the electric chair probably keeps the same pace you’re doing right now,” she observed dryly, pausing to wait for him to catch up to her.
“I probably should warn you.” Flint cleared his throat.
He arrived to stand beside her, not realizing how closely until their shoulders brushed. It was unlike him to invade someone’s personal space; he normally kept a definitive distance between himself and another. Not this time. When he turned slightly, the entire length of their arms were touching, and his hand skimmed hers.
But Ashlinn made no move away from him. “About what?” she murmured.
Flint remained where he was. He inhaled deeply, and the aroma of her shampoo, a tantalizing spicy scent, filled his nostrils. He fixed his eyes on her glossy black hair that looked so soft and silky it took considerable restraint to keep himself from touching it. Stroking it.
“I guess I should warn you that this might prove to be awkward in more ways than one.” His voice lowered. “You see, there is—something of a strain between Rafe’s wife, Holly, and me.”
Ashlinn looked up at him, her dark eyes illuminated in the bright porch-lights. “Is it her fault? Or yours?”
He was instantly annoyed. “If you’re looking to incriminate someone, don’t choose Holly. She isn’t to blame for anything. I’m the one at fault.” He strode toward the door, his head held high and proud.
“I wasn’t trying to incriminate anybody.” Ashlinn scurried after him. “I was just trying to get a better handle on the situation.”
They reached the small porch. She stumbled as her heel caught on the top step, and automatically, Flint reached out to catch hold of her waist, steadying her. Ashlinn laid her hands on his forearms, bracing herself.
She lifted her head and their eyes met. Their position was not unlike that of a couple on the verge of a kiss, in those first early uncertain seconds of contact before moving into each other’s arms.
Ashlinn’s heartbeat seemed to echo in her ears. “Thanks. I—I’ve been warned that the heels on these boots will end up killing me.”
“They aren’t at all practical.” Flint frowned his disapproval. “Paradise Outdoors would never carry such useless merchandise. Luckily, you’ll get a much better, functional pair of boots tomorrow.”
His fingers tightened briefly on the curve of her waist, then he dropped his hands and stepped away from her, out of touching range.
She could feel the phantom pressure of his hands on her. Ashlinn told herself she wasn’t disappointed, she was relieved he hadn’t tried to kiss her. She wouldn’t have allowed him, of course; after all, she hardly knew him.
But he hadn’t even tried . . .
“You were about to tell me about the—the strain between you and your sister-in-law,” she reminded him.
Her body was still pulsing with the urgency he’d roused—and left unslaked. Had he been affected by their proximity at all? she wondered. Since he’d half turned away from her, she couldn’t clearly observe him. Yet he seemed calm enough. She was the one whose breathing was closer to panting.
Ashlinn looked away from him, forcing herself to study the decorative grapevine wreath on the front door. Red, white and blue ribbons were woven through it, presumably in homage to last week’s Fourth of July holiday.
“About Holly . . .” Flint was struggling with his own urgency and control.
What better way to quell desire than to remember how wrong he’d been about Holly? If he were ever asked to cite his turnoffs, being wrong would head the list.
“I made the drastic mistake of