As Ari scampered toward the family room to grab the game, Pru whispered, “Thank you.”
He just smiled at her.
“Do you have any nieces or nephews or cousins?” She realized she knew nothing about his family, which felt odd considering the other intimacies they’d shared.
“I’m Irish. I’ve got armies of cousins. A couple of nephews from my sister. Murphy—he’d be the eldest—is nearly ten.”
“Is it just the one sister?” Pru asked, tugging open the freezer to check their options.
“Just the one. She’s a few years older than me and terrifyingly capable of everything.”
“Sounds like Maggie,” Ari said, coming back in with the box.
“I’d have said like Pru, too,” Flynn said.
“Oh, Pru’s totally capable, but she’s not scary with it.”
“Standing right here, y’all.” Finding a bag of shrimp, Pru decided on scampi and began hunting up the rest of the ingredients.
“It’s true, though. You’re all subtle and stuff,” Ari insisted.
“And brilliant with it,” Flynn added.
Pru wasn’t comfortable with the compliment. “I’d say that’s far more out of necessity than inclination.”
“Heroes always rise to the occasion.” With that pronouncement, Ari unfolded the game board and began to explain how to play. “It’s just like the original game of Life, except it’s the person who has the most teeth left who wins.”
“Teeth, is it? Sounds violent.”
Ari just grinned and continued spelling out the rules.
Heroes. Pru didn’t feel like anybody’s hero. She was just doing everything she could to keep her family together. Watching the two of them, heads bent toward each other at the kitchen table, it was far too easy to let the fantasy expand to include him here, like this. Part of a family. Which so wasn’t happening. That wasn’t part of their agreement, wasn’t what he was here for. Better to banish that thought for good before she started expecting things. She was in this for the now, not the future. She’d do well to remember that.
~*~
“My two o’clock is getting settled,” Pru said. “The answering machine is on in case anybody calls looking for a reservation. The two girls from Memphis are still out hiking. There’s a couple coming in from Milwaukee and a student from Nashville coming in for the weekend, but none of them are due until after four. Their rooms are already prepped, and I’ll be out before they get here, so you shouldn’t have to do anything while I’m tied up.”
Flynn set his guitar aside and crossed to her, skimming his hands from her shoulders down to take her hands in his. “I’ll be fine. I told you I’m here to help. It’d be nice if you’d let me.”
He’d learned long ago that getting a strong woman to accept help was often an uphill battle. They were so accustomed to doing everything for themselves that they usually had it all done before anybody else could lift a finger. It had taken him and Ari both to wrestle dish duty away from her the last couple of nights. Five days post-wedding and Flynn was still watching, looking for where he could do more to relieve her stress than taking her to bed. Not that he wasn’t enjoying every moment they could snatch for that noble pursuit, but he wanted to give her the break she deserved.
“I just want you to enjoy your time here and not feel like you’re working.”
“Mo mhuirnín, I’m enjoying myself just fine, and I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
Not bothering to repress his grin, Flynn lifted both her hands to his lips for a quick kiss. “Will it disturb anyone if I take my guitar out on the porch? I’ve a mind to do some writing.”
“Not from the front, it won’t. Go ahead.” She jerked a thumb in the general direction of the treatment room. “I should…”
God, she was cute when she was flustered.
“I’ll see you when you’re done.”
Still grinning to himself, Flynn carried his guitar and a notebook out to the front of the house. He lowered down to the top step, leaning against one of the porch posts and letting the scrap of melody that had been turning over and over in his head since his arrival begin to unfurl. His fingers stroked over the strings, coaxing the slow, faintly melancholy notes. His hero—for the song would tell a story, whether he added lyrics or not—was rolling along his path, embracing the known, the familiar, the norm. Comfortable, but with a niggle that something was missing. Until he came across something unexpected. A woman. It was always a woman. The notes shifted to warm and sweet, curious. A delightful surprise. The song, then, would be a tale of what came after.
“Whatcha working on?”