Page 125 of Gold Rush

“Great,” she chirps.

The expression on her face is the same way I’ve seen a lot of women look at Flynn. And I don’t want to witness it. If I do tell Flynn how I feel about him, like Wren is doggedly encouraging, then this might be our last weekend together. For now, the doting-girlfriend part is still mine to play.

I transfer my glass to my right hand and reach for his forearm with my left, wrapping my fingers around his suit jacket in a possessive gesture neither Flynn nor Mallory miss. He looks entertained, Mallory subdued.

“Want to walk down to the water?” I suggest. “The sun is about to set.”

“What a delightful suggestion, baby.”

I internally roll my eyes at his overdone enthusiasm, simultaneously secretly swooning at the endearment. Maybe he thinks it’ll annoy me, the way that Florence does, although that has grown on me as well.

“See you later, Mallory.” I aim a polite smile at her, then walk with Flynn past the pool.

“What was that about?” he asks as soon as we reach the grass.

“What was what about?” I play dumb, and I’m quite certain my innocent tone would work on anyone else.

Flynn is persistent. “You can see the sunset from the patio.”

“I had to come down here anyway,” I inform him. “We’re taking family photos.”

“Did Mallory say something?”

“During our conversation? Yes, words were exchanged.”

“You’ll tell me later,” he says breezily, sounding fully convinced.

“I’m not having sex with you tonight. My grandparents are staying at the same hotel.”

“Dean and Cynthia? Met them earlier. They’re super nice. Cynthia gave me some cooking tips.”

“They are nice,” I agree. “And Lili said the rooms in the wedding block were all together, so …”

“So, they had three kids. Meaning they’ve⁠—”

I spin left, reaching for his mouth so I can cover it with my palm. Half of my drink winds up watering the grass. “Stop. Talking.”

He laughs, the deep, husky sound lingering for a few seconds before the salty breeze sweeps it away. “Fine, no sex. I’ll just go down on you.”

My mouth opens, my automatic reaction to argue. But then I think, What the hell am I doing?

“Okay.”

Flynn laughs again. “Knew it. You love my tongue in your⁠—”

I reach for his mouth again.

He pivots, pushing my hand away. “I can’t make you come with my mouth if you cover it.”

I shake my head, smiling, turning back to face the water. We’ve reached the gate that marks the start of the path down to the private stretch of shoreline. The ocean is calm, a deep, vibrant blue.

“It’s so pretty here.”

“Mmhmm.”

But when I glance over at Flynn, he’s not looking at the water. He’s staring at me.

I shiver, setting down the cold glass on the grass, and then tuck some of the hair the wind has tugged loose behind my ear.