Page 9 of Catching Flynn

“Maybe jackasses didn’t deserve your effort.”

Flynn turned to find a man standing a few feet away, his expression suggesting he already owned the room. Not arrogance. Just confident. Dark hair swept back from angular features, eyes the perfect color of a cloudless summer sky. The low-trimmed facial hair made him look roguish, like he could wreck you, and you’d beg for more.

He couldn’t be real. A sexy noir-type who’d escaped one of the romance covers. Flynn blew into his hand, checking his breath. Even though he was sure this was a hallucination, fresh breath was important.

“Paperback pimp.” Flynn’s brows shot up, lips parting. Why on earth had he said that?

Claim insanity, Hide by the cookbooks. Die of mortification.

“Excuse me while I walk into the ocean.” Flynn stood there crushing a copy of Beloved against his chest, completely motionless, his body deciding breathing was optional.

What if he was Flynn’s stalker who’d finally decided to make his move? If he was, the universe was a cruel bitch. There was no way it would make his stalker this roguish hunk and not expect Flynn to give in to his every demand. Casually—or what he hoped read as casually—he turned toward the counter and breathed into his cupped palm. Coffee. Okay. Not offensive. Passable.

Flynn set Beloved on the shelf. Possibly in the wrong spot. He’d deal with that later. There was a much bigger problem to deal with at the moment.

Get to counter. Call cops. Hope they believe you.

Stepping to the side, Flynn eased past the tall, muscly hunk, moving slowly so he didn’t trigger the guy to chase, grab, kiss, whatever. Act casually. Play it cool, and you might survive this.

Flynn made it behind the counter, Roguish Hunk watching him closely. Was he trying to figure the best method to kidnap Flynn or which murder method to use?

The stranger crossed the floor in a slow gait, every step quieter than it should’ve been for a man his size.

Act casual. Right.

Flynn leaned his elbow on top of a recently returned stack of books, trying to appear totally unimpressed by attractive strangers who may or may not be deranged.

The stack collapsed sideways, sending an avalanche of books raining down to the floor as Flynn’s elbow hit the counter with a crack that echoed.

“Fuck” He straightened immediately. Both hands flat on the counter. So much for playing it cool.

Roguish Hunk’s eyebrow arched, which only made him sexier. His blue eyes danced with amusement Flynn did not appreciate. Gorgeous men were not allowed to make fun of average people. If that wasn’t some sort of law, it should be.

“So, how can I help you?” Flynn resisted the urge to cradle his throbbing elbow.

“You Flynn?” The stranger’s voice was velvet-coated seduction. Sin wrapped in silk. If he hadn’t escaped one of the romance covers, he definitely belonged on one. The pregnancy books would fly off the shelf.

“That depends on if my day is about to get better or worse.” Flynn tucked his hands into his back pockets, resting his fingers over his cell phone. Just in case. “Yesterday was a train wreck, so I’m hoping for rainbows and puppies today. You giving me rainbows or are you the storm?”

“I eliminate bad weather.” He extended his hand. “Zavier Ariotti. Your bodyguard.”

Flynn took the offered hand. Zavier’s grip was firm but gentle. Reluctantly, Flynn released it.

I’m never washing my hand again.

Chapter Three

Zavier furrowed his brows as the bookstore suddenly smelled like morning dew in the countryside. His Bengal tiger sat up and took notice, scenting the air with a low growl.

The pull hit like a bullet Zavier hadn’t heard fired. In the space of a breath, Flynn was carved into him at the cellular level, transforming Zavier into a lethal weapon who would leave carnage in his wake to keep his mate safe.

This was no longer just a job. Flynn Duncan had become Zavier’s entire existence.

“Colton sent you.” Flynn’s shoulders relaxed. “To sweep my house.”

Zavier chuckled, absolutely obliterated by his mate’s quirky charm. “I don’t mind domestic work.”

Flynn dropped to the floor. Confused, Zavier glanced over the counter and saw his mate collecting fallen books.