Page 82 of Enticing Her Love

“If you could report on anything right now, what would it be?”

“Off the top of my head? I need a minute to think about it.” She thought about all the stories she’d wanted to report on over the last few months and settled on the one she was most curious about. “I read a story the other day about the issues the world’s children will face in the coming year, and it covered everything from violence to the climate crisis. I’d love to do a deep dive into the issues children have endured globally over the years and show how they’ve changed and how they’ve impacted them, and how different the issues are in the US versus in other countries. What happened to the kids in other countries who faced war and famine and other issues? Where are they now? And has anything changed for better or worse for children in those areas?”

“The effects of a fragmented world on children. That sounds like a great story. Do some research. See what you can put together, and let me take a look.”

“But we have a full docket of shows for the next ten months. You can’t just change it because I want to do a story.”

“It’s my show. I can do anything I want. Write it up, and we’ll see if it’s worthy of shifting things around.”

She cocked her head, astonished. “You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent. You have a goal. Let’s see if you’ve got what it takes to get there.”

“Doesn’t it bother you, as my boss, to know that I have other aspirations?”

“Babe, I’ve been doing what I want my whole life. You’ve dreamed of doing a specific job since you were a kid. It would only bother me if you didn’t follow your heart.”

What if it takes me to California? She pushed away the thought. She couldn’t allow herself to get lost in what ifs when their relationship was so new, no matter how hard she felt like she was falling for him.

“You’ve worked hard, and you’ve come a long way in the last year and a half.”

She shook her head. “I had no idea what I was walking into when I took this job. In my mind, I just saw reporter in neon lights. You of all people know how green I was.”

“I also know how determined you were.”

“Yes. I have mastered faking it until I make it.”

A wicked grin slid into place. “Not with me.”

“Yes, I did. Just not in the bedroom…or in the waterfall, or on the rocks, or in the tent, or on your couch.”

He laughed and pressed his smiling lips to hers. “I sure like you, Steele.”

“That’s good, because it would be weird if this was how you treated your enemies.”

“Some people say kill them with kindness. I find exhausting them with orgasms to be more effective.”

“So that’s your evil plan? To kill me with passion since you couldn’t get me fired.”

“Not today.” He ran his hands up her hips and lifted her onto his lap. “I’m not done exhausting you yet.”

HOURS PASSED WITH fun banter, steamy kisses, and a sexy sun-drenched siesta that left them both a little euphoric. Evening found them back at the cabin making dinner. Fries were in the oven, and Flynn was flipping burgers on the grill. Sutton came in to use the bathroom, and on her way back outside, she stopped to scour his bookshelves, taking in the plethora of adventure novels, geographical and cultural literature, and a host of other fiction and nonfiction works. Interspersed with the books were framed pictures of Flynn and his family. She admired one of him and his brothers, arm in arm, all four of them caught laughing, and another of Flynn and Victory with a dark-haired older man who had his arm around Victory. Flynn and Victory were looking at the camera, but the other man was gazing lovingly at Victory. Sutton had a feeling that was Harvey and felt a pang of sadness.

She studied a picture of an older couple that had to be Flynn’s parents. His father had thick, wavy salt-and-pepper hair, and gazing out from behind glasses were the same keen eyes as Flynn’s. Flynn’s mother was tall and slim with fine lines around her eyes and mouth. She had a mix of dirty-blond and gray hair that hung past her shoulders, a welcoming smile, and a warm gaze that reminded Sutton of her own mother.

Another photograph caught her attention, and she took it off the shelf, studying the thick-chested, older man with hair the color of sand and snow brushed away from his face and a trim mostly white beard. He had a kind face, and he was laughing, holding the tiny knees of a young, messy-haired Flynn riding on his shoulders. Flynn wore a green backpack and held a magnifying glass in one hand. His other hand was wrapped around the man’s chin. He couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, with Chiclet teeth and a carefree light in his eyes. Beside them was a woman who was also laughing. She had short light brown hair streaked with gray, a thick waist, and so much love in her eyes, it felt tangible. She had one hand on the older man’s back, the other touching one of Flynn’s little hiking boots. Sutton wondered what they were laughing at.

“Snooping?” Flynn asked as he walked in from the deck.

“You caught me.” She held up the picture. “Is this you and your grandparents?”

“Yeah. Those are my dad’s parents. I used to hang all over my grandfather.”

“You were adorable, and it doesn’t look like he minded.”

“I was a pest, but he put up with me. He still does.” He pointed to a picture of another older couple sitting on a bench near a garden. The woman’s hands were folded neatly on her lap, and the man had a serious look about him. “Those are my mom’s parents.”

“Are you close to them?”