Those Sweet Words (Misfit Inn 2)

“Pru can fix that. She’s a massage therapist. You should let her work on you.”

That benign statement sent Pru’s brain skittering down a path that involved Flynn, naked on her table, with nothing but a sheet covering that magnificent—

“Well, if you think you can sort out this knot before bed, I’d probably sleep better for it.”

Pru blinked. “Sure, I can do that. It’s the least I can do for crashing into you.”

“Better me than the ground. It would hardly do for the maid of honor to break a leg days before the wedding. Where do you want me?”

Anywhere I can get you. The thought bloomed before she could stop it, along with heat in her cheeks. “Um…”

“Should I sit or lie down?”

For the massage, you sex-starved idiot. Get a grip.

“I’ll see what I can do here, and if you need something further, I’ll get you on my table. Move over to the ottoman.”

He complied, scooting to the back edge as instructed.

Rubbing her hands together to warm them, Pru moved behind him. She considered asking him to take off his shirt, but given the direction of her thoughts, that seemed like a bad idea waiting to happen.

I am a professional, damn it.

Determined, she laid her hands on his shoulders, switching into professional mode and analyzing his muscles by touch, searching out the size and shape of the knots, finding their edges.

“So, Pru, what will it take to bribe you into sharing stories? I feel like I need to hear about Kennedy the wild child.”

“Oh, I’m not sure even you are that charming,” she teased.

“Is that a challenge, Miss Reynolds?” He tipped his head back to meet her eyes and his hair brushed over her hands. Yeah, soft as it looked.

Pru’s pulse jumped.

A professional charmer, she reminded herself, digging into the knots. Better to steer clear.

“Not even your blarney can overcome the sacred bonds of sisterhood,” Kennedy announced.

Pru laughed. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Her sister gave a mock glare. “It hardly matters anymore. Xander’s reformed now that he’s the sheriff.” She grinned and gave a saucy wink. “Mostly.”

“He’s the sheriff?”

“Interim. But that’s just until the formal election in November. He’s going to win by a landslide.”

“Sheriff or no, I bet you’d still be able to talk him into skinny dipping at Opal Springs,” Pru said.

“Skinny dipping, is it now?” Flynn wanted to know, drawing out his Irish as he looked to Kennedy.

“No better way to spend a hot summer night,” Kennedy said.

“I can think of a few.” The words were out before Pru could stop them. She rushed to cover her gaffe. “But I’m pretty sure y’all had that covered, too.”

Flynn’s laughter was pure delight. “What about you, Pru? Did you ever take a walk on the wild side and swim in the buff?”

Kennedy answered for her. “No way. Pru is the good, responsible sister, who never stepped a toe out of line and made the rest of us look bad. We might have hated her a little for it, if not for the fact that she was also the one who covered our asses.”

The good, responsible sister.