It was undeniably true. She’d lived her life following the rules. She liked rules. Liked order. Life ran smoother that way. So why did the teasing rankle?
“The poison ivy you got on your ass was hardly a motivation to follow your example,” Pru countered.
Kennedy winced. “Okay, you make a good point. But thinking back to that summer…still gonna call it worth it.”
Satisfied she’d mapped the problem areas, Pru began to press and knead at Flynn’s shoulders. She didn’t have any memories like that. Of something reckless and fun that she could look back on to say she’d really lived. She’d always done the safe thing. She’d needed that after her childhood before Joan. Lord knew, now that she was taking on a child of her own, safe was the only option. And that thought was just a little bit depressing.
Beneath her hands, Flynn tensed, sucking in a breath before relaxing back against her with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure that had Pru’s thoughts veering in a wholly unprofessional direction. “Jaysus, woman, where did you get those hands? That feels incredible.”
The heat and strength of his back pressed against her front felt pretty incredible, too, and made her wonder all about the other ways she could get him loose and limber. And sweaty. She really wanted him sweaty.
“Told you she was good,” Kennedy said.
Pru swallowed against a throat gone dry. “Better?”
“Much.”
She stepped back. “Well, then. I’ll leave you two to visit.” She needed to get the hell out of here before she lost her apparently flimsy self-control.
Flynn rose and caught her hand as she started to move past. It was the second time he’d done that today, and it flustered her even more than she already was. He flashed her a devastating smile. “Thank you.”
Two simple words, delivered in that unreasonably sexy brogue, left her weak in the knees. Then he lifted her hand to his lips, peering up at her through those thick lashes. “Hands this talented should be pampered,” he said.
Christ almighty.
Digging deep, Pru managed to find a smile in return. “Nice try, but I’m still not telling you all of Kennedy’s secrets.”
Her sister hooted with laugher. Flynn straightened, wholly unabashed, and released her, but not before dragging his thumb down the center of her palm.
Heat flaring low in her belly, Pru made her escape.
~*~
“I don’t think you understand how hen parties are supposed to work, love” Flynn observed. “The gents aren’t supposed to be around for
it.”
“Psh.” Kennedy waved that off and knocked back a shot of whiskey. “We’re short on time, and there aren’t that many places to have a bachelor or bachelorette party. It just made sense to do it together. Besides, I feel bad enough that I’m getting married and leaving town practically right after you got here to visit me. I wanted to spend what time I could with you.”
“Fair enough.” Flynn tossed back his own whiskey—not bad for not being Irish—and reached for her hand. “I know the bride is meant to be in charge, but if this is all the time I have with you, we’re going to dance.”
Grinning, she slapped her hand in his. “Yes, we are! Denver!” She called to the bartender—also, apparently, her boss—who was regarding them both with amusement. “Queue up my playlist, will you?”
“You’re the bride.”
As they made their way to the empty space that had been cleared for dancing, the classic rock that had been playing low on the speakers stopped. A few moments later a lilting fiddle took its place.
“I might have planned for this eventuality,” she explained, waving him to the opposite corner.
Flynn grinned. “Shall we show these Yanks how we do this in Ireland?”
In answer, she kicked her leg up and launched into a reel. He listened to the music for a few measures to get the beat, watching Kennedy circle the floor, her blonde hair bouncing and her face as light and joyful as he’d ever seen it. And no wonder, given the weight off her shoulders. They’d stayed up late the night before, and she’d filled him in on what had truly kept her away all these years. After all that, she and Xander deserved whatever happiness they could grab.
Flynn leapt into the dance, throwing himself into the familiar call and answer of dancing with a partner he knew well. They circled, their quick, rhythmic steps echoing off the wood floors. The assembled guests began to clap in time, cheering as each of them executed more and more complicated steps. By the time the reel was finished, they were both breathing hard and laughing. Kennedy’s tiara was listing to one side.
They took their bows to much applause, and Flynn hauled her in for a hug and a smacking kiss on the cheek. “It’s good to see you happy, deifiúr beag.”
“I’ve missed the hell out of you.”