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He rears back. “My fault. How is it my fault you’re in a towel?” His eyes narrow. “You’re not trying to seduce me again, are you?”
I glare at him. My eyes sting from the residual shampoo but I ignore the pain. “I did not try to seduce you. I was eighteen and had never been kissed. I didn’t know what seduction meant.”
And why had I never been kissed? Because I had a crush on my older brother’s best friend and didn’t want any other boy. In other words, I was a fool.
He squeezes the back of his neck, and I can’t help but be enraptured by the flex of his biceps. I bet he could pick me up and hold me against the wall without straining himself.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said seduce.”
My anger flares at the reminder of the aftermath of our one kiss. I stomp to him and poke his chest. “You know what else you shouldn’t have done? Told the entire town what happened.”
I was humiliated. He told everyone I threw myself at him and he rejected me. As if the look of disgust on his face after we kissed wasn’t enough. While I thought the kiss was the best kiss of my life, he was disgusted.
Flynn captures my hand and holds it against his chest. I can feel how warm he is, how hard his muscles are. My fingers itch to explore. To fulfill all of my fantasies about this man.
“I’m sorry. I only told Weston.”
He didn’t simply tell my brother we kissed. Nope. He told my brother I came onto him. He made me out to be some kind of hussy. I was an innocent eighteen-year-old with a crush.
I wrench my hand away from him. “Whatever. Are you going to fix my water or what?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, but I ignore it. He has no right to be angry with me. I was the one who had to flee the island to get away from all the humiliation. I was the one who couldn’t enter a store or restaurant in Smuggler’s Rest without everyone in the place laughing at me.
“Go put on some clothes while I have a look.”
I motion to the shower. What I don’t do is put on clothes. My towel covers all of my private parts. It’s more than I wear to the beach.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve changed my mind. My towel is now covering my wet, soapy hair and I’m wearing a pair of sweats while I unpack my clothes.
“Bad news,” Flynn announces as he steps into the bedroom.
I groan. “Don’t tell me. The water pipe is broken, and I’ll never get warm water again.”
He chuckles. “You always were prone to exaggeration.”
I raise my eyebrows. “But am I wrong?”
“I’m not certain what’s wrong. I need to gut the bathroom.”
“Gut the bathroom? But I don’t have another bathroom in the apartment. I can’t live here without a toilet and shower.”
He shrugs. “You can stay with your parents while I get this fixed.”
“No thanks.”
Don’t get me wrong. I love my parents. They’re awesome.
But I’m thirty years old. It’s bad enough I had to come crawling back home because my career was ruined. I don’t need to heap any more humiliation onto the existing pile.
Lucky for me, I have an excuse to not live with my parents.
“Mom turned my childhood bedroom into her craft paradise.”
He chuckles. “Isn’t the room covered in dust by now?”
I nod. It is. Mom saw some documentary about crafting and decided she was going to craft despite not having a creative bone in her body. No one besides her is surprised she never uses the room.
“You can sleep in Weston’s old bedroom.”
