Summer Kisses. Melinda Curtis
His brows lowered. “Grandpa Ed wants you. I know you need this job, probably for a character reference or something that’ll help you with your court case.”
“How did you—”
“I guessed. It’s what I’d do. Keep my nose clean. Working for a millionaire without any missteps can be a powerful statement.” His words were all business, even if his gaze pried and stroked where it didn’t belong.
Blackberry bushes lined the path they’d taken to the river. Bees buzzed behind her, the noise vibrating against the circular realization that there was no trust here. No trust. She wanted him to have faith in her.
What she didn’t want, what she couldn’t afford, was the attraction between them, stoked by his intent gaze, as if he, too, was trying to figure out: Why her?
“This is a bad idea.” She turned and started down the path back to the house.
Abby leaped ahead.
“Wait.” His longer legs stretched past her, until he blocked her way. “They released my grandfather from the hospital, but his health is a delicate balance. You seem to understand him. He’ll be upset if I hire someone like Gerry Caldwell.”
“Your grandfather will be fine. People overcome this kind of thing all the time.” She couldn’t not reassure him. Who wouldn’t be afraid of losing a loved one after two heart attacks and a stroke? She tried to go around him, but Flynn stepped in her way again.
“I know I can be blunt—”
She crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
Abby came to sit at her heels.
“But...” Flynn opened his mouth, closed it and opened it again. “You aren’t making this easy. Not by showing up unannounced, when the only people who show up at my doorstep or call anymore are trying to scam me. And not by telling me you took money from a client.”
“And?” She sensed there was more.
“And truthfully, I had something of a shock this morning. I saw the man who calls himself my father at the job site. He’s an ex-con and the reason I have zero tolerance for people who break the law.”
Becca’s arms loosened. “I think your grandfather saw him, too.”
“He told you?”
“No. Edwin said he saw someone he knew, but he looked like he’d seen a ghost. It upset him.” She stared into Flynn’s clear blue eyes and lost her train of thought.
“It upset me, too. He robbed a bank when I was eight. I haven’t seen him for close to twenty years. Not that it matters. He’s not getting any money from me, and I don’t care what he thinks of me.” He paused and shifted awkwardly, as if realizing his mouth had run past the normal filter applied by his brain.
Becca saw the little hurt boy behind his eyes, and a part of her she needed solid and strong softened. Her hand twitched with the urge to reach out and comfort him. A light touch to the arm, the shoulder, his cheek.
Not helpful. So not helpful. She shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets and started walking.
He matched her pace until they nearly bumped hips on the narrow trail, until she had to stop before they toppled on each other. This time, Abby waited ahead of them.
Becca drew a breath. “Really, I’m grateful—”
“I need help, Becca. You’ll make my grandfather happy.” The sincerity in his tone made her hope, that treacherous thing, whisper in Becca’s ear—about happy defense attorneys and dismissed court cases. Impossible. “Are you sure you can trust me in your home every day?”
Trust me with your grandfather? With your things? With you?
Becca’s gaze rested on the ground, where, presumably, she’d find her lost common sense. Instead, she saw a glint of copper, barely visible in the dirt beneath the toe of Flynn’s sneakers.
It couldn’t be a penny. It had to be a leaf or a rock or something.
She could feel Flynn’s gaze upon her, gauging her character. “Old Virginia didn’t write a will or anything?”
“I have no proof. Only my word.” She tried not to sound bitter, but she was afraid she failed. “It doesn’t seem like you have much faith in people.” And yet, there was the penny, clearly visible when Flynn shifted his feet, an indication that she should accept.
“Since I became wealthy, my faith in my fellow man has been put to the test.” Flynn tipped up the brim of his baseball cap. “However, I am good at offering second chances. Are you good at accepting them?”
Becca searched his face to see if this was some kind of cruel joke.
He wasn’t joking. His blue eyes reflected a combination of sorrow and regret. He wanted to believe the best in her. Wanted, but couldn’t quite. “For my grandfather, if not for me.”
Her determination to refuse him wavered. If she took this job, she’d see Flynn every day. A daily opportunity for attraction to bloom and cause complications. Complications to the lawsuit, to her equilibrium, to her heart.
None of that mattered as much as it should. Edwin needed good care and she could give it to him.
As if sensing her capitulation, Flynn named a generous hourly wage.
Part of her wanted to accept the indecent sum. The sensible part of her realized it would only make her look guilty in his eyes. And others.
She snuck a glance at the penny again, at President Lincoln’s wise stare.
It was official. She was nuts. “I’ll take half that an hour.” It was what the agency would have paid her.
Flynn started to protest, but she’d have none of it. “That’s my going rate. Take it or leave it. I won’t let you overpay me.”
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Everyone lets me overpay them.”
“Then you’re a gullible fool. I can work for you until my hearing. In exchange, I want a letter of reference from your grandfather.”
He cocked one burnished eyebrow. “Why not from me? I’ll be the one paying you.”
She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, when in fact she’d sell her wounded soul for two good references. “Okay, I’ll take both.” The combination was a one-two punch that could knock the lawsuit against her off its foundation.
“Let’s shake on the deal.” Flynn’s smile didn’t penetrate her armor. She was ready for it this time.
Their hands met in midair.
Becca told herself she felt nothing.
She was a horrible liar.
CHAPTER FIVE
“WE NEED TO TALK.” Grandpa Ed was waiting for Flynn in his recliner. The television—off. The old man’s lopsided frown—on.
Flynn felt as if he’d been caught out past curfew. Only this time, the only crime he was guilty of was ignoring his urge for self-preservation and submitting to his grandfather’s wishes. “I hired Becca.”
He’d hired her, giving her the impression that Grandpa Ed was going to get better. Despite the truth—that Edwin might very well die before her court hearing. Despite how worry and determination in her gaze seemed connected to his chest—the more noticeable the worry, the tighter his chest. He’d always been a sucker for people in need.
Need was not a word he wanted applied to the dark-haired, legally harried beauty.
Grandpa Ed’s fingers brushed air, as if casting his concerns aside. “It was the right thing to do. That girl needs the job more than I need her.”
And here he’d thought his