Never Been Good Page 6

  “Thanks for having Jeb swing by and bring me in. It wasn’t necessary, though.” After a whole life where nobody ever looked out for her, the way Carlos fussed like a big brother was nice. Weird. Hard to get used to and completely impossible to know how to respond to—but nice.

  “I’ll make sure that Flynn or I take you home tonight, too.”

  Letting Flynn—well, nobody let Flynn Maguire anything. He was a quiet but super strong force all by himself. Like gravity. Anyway, letting Flynn see her house last night was bad enough. Against her basic safety protocol of staying a loner.

  Bandon itself, without the massive influx of tourists, was a small town of only three thousand people. So it was impossible to kid herself that nobody knew where she lived. That her neighbors didn’t recognize her after living here for three months. But Sierra took comfort in thinking that her whereabouts were secret. Just because she hadn’t told anyone where she lived.

  Sort of like an ostrich sticking its head in the sand to avoid seeing an oncoming attacker. Sierra recognized that hiding in plain sight . . . still kept you in plain sight. Which was why she’d gone ahead and shared her address with Flynn.

  He was enough, though. Her non-secret didn’t need to spread any further. Carlos was not taking her home tonight. Sierra smiled at him, hoping it looked more like gratitude and not the you’re freaking me out grimace that she felt at the thought of him discovering her little hideaway.

  “Really, you don’t need to bother yourself.”

  Standing, Carlos slapped a palm on the cutting board next to the tub of limes waiting to be sliced into garnish. “I’m putting you at the bar tonight.”

  “To do what?” Because Sierra didn’t know drinks. She’d spent six years straight with cash-strapped college students. Beer—or box wine—had been the sum total of her alcoholic knowledge until starting at the Gorse. She had no clue what most of the drinks were that she served.

  “Pour drinks.” He started unloading a dishwasher tray of beer mugs onto the shelf behind the bar.

  That wouldn’t go well. And then what if her screwups made Carlos fire her? Where would she go? Panic clogged her throat, so Sierra just shook her head back and forth for a few seconds. “I’m a waitress, not a bartender,” she finally spit out.

  “Tonight, you and Flynn are swapping jobs. That way you can sit on a stool most of the night and get the weight off of that ankle.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I mean, overkill. Overly generous of you.” Wow. Saying no to your boss was complicated. Sierra cleared the browser history before closing the window.

  “You’re not even doing that much until you’re cleared by a doctor.”

  Her mouth dropped open. Carlos had to know that money was a problem for her. He paid her under the table, after all. Sierra had discovered in her flight across the country that plenty of restaurants did the same. That asking to be paid in cash didn’t raise even a teensy red flag with most managers.

  Carlos had been slightly different. He’d stared at her, hard, for more than a minute. Then asked if she was in trouble.

  Funny, that’s what Sierra wanted to know. It was why she trawled the internet daily looking for her name to pop up in a police blotter. Not knowing who would come after her—the police or her ex—made it especially difficult to fall asleep most nights.

  “Carlos, I can’t afford to see a doctor.”

  “This visit will only cost me a bison burger with sweet potato fries.” He curved his hand to beckon over a regular who Sierra recognized. Tall, with long, dark hair, Mollie grabbed lunch on the weekends with her nephew, and came in for girls’ night every first Saturday. Sierra liked waiting on her table. Liked listening to the laughter and silly reminiscences of four lifelong girlfriends. Something else Sierra never had, thanks to moving so often in the foster system, but craved almost as much as she craved Flynn.

  Flynn?

  She craved Flynn?!? Where did that thought come from?

  Not that it wasn’t true.

  Because . . . well, look at him. Sierra angled her neck to peek around Mollie. Flynn stood on a chair, arms overhead, changing out a light bulb. Faded jeans hung low on his hips. Muscular thighs strained the seams below a butt that Sierra was torn between wanting to both sketch and bite. Biceps bulged below the short sleeves of his burgundy Gorse tee. You could stack five of her art school friends together, and they still wouldn’t pack half the testosterone as Flynn Maguire.

  Oh, she’d wanted Flynn the first time she’d laid eyes on him. But craving? That was a whole different level. One that inferred her life couldn’t be full until the craving was fulfilled. That she wanted him more than anything else.

  Aha. Turned out that she did crave Flynn. That status change in her heart must’ve kicked in after last night, when their conversation finally stopped being stilted as he’d tucked her in blankets on her sofa. Or maybe it was during their text-a-thon at lunch today that had put a giggle not just in her face, but in her heart.

  “Sierra? You’re all flushed. Do you feel okay?” Mollie advanced with one hand out, as if to check her forehead temperature.

  Sierra reared back so hard that she almost slid off the stool. “I’m fine, thanks.” How many degrees did lust add? Because she was burning up just staring at Flynn. If they ever touched again, she might just go up in flames. That would be great to paint. Just the outline of a female body, covered in red-orange flames that licked all the way up to a crown, the only other color her blue eyes locked on a male profile. All sinewy muscles, from the back.

  “If you say so.” Mollie turned in the direction of Sierra’s gaze. Since that portion of the restaurant was empty aside from a frazzled-looking mother and her toddler in this post-lunch lull, it was easy for her to see Flynn was the target. An amused smirk lifted her lips as she swung back around. “I get it. Those Maguire brothers pack a visual punch, don’t they?”

  “Yes,” was all Sierra could get out of her suddenly dry mouth.

  “Carlos told me that you’ve got an injured ankle.”

  “I twisted it, is all.” Sierra was almost positive of that. After icing it twice last night and twice more today, the swelling had mostly disappeared.

  But a tiny corner of her brain went straight to panic mode. What if it was a hairline fracture? What if Mollie discovered it and told Carlos that Sierra couldn’t be allowed to work for several weeks? Then what would she do?

  Her hands fisted. Her pulse ratcheted up to the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.

  Yikes. These random near-panic attacks were happening more often, not less, with every month and mile she put between herself and Rick.

  Sierra wanted them to stop. Wanted to stop jumping straight to the worst possible scenario. Wanted to stop living in fear. But she worried that there was no way to surface from the depths of all this panic. That one day she’d simply not find the strength to claw herself out of it one more time.

  Her phone buzzed on the bar. “Sorry,” she said to Mollie. Flipping it over, she saw a text from Flynn.

  F: You okay?

  Was he watching her? The same way she’d stared at him moments before? Too embarrassed to check, she just popped off a response. I’m fine.

  F: You look like you’re ready to run out the door. Or throw something. Your face is all red. Is Mollie bothering you? I’ll get her to back off.

  He was watching. And that was . . . interesting.

  Was it possible that Flynn had noticed their connection, too? That he was interested in her as a woman, and not just as an obligation that Carlos had foisted on him? Did this mean that her craving had a chance at being satisfied?

  Her slightly shaking wrist bumped against the laptop. It reminded Sierra of the stark truth that only she knew—that she was on the run. That she lied to people every day, all day long, to keep herself safe.

  Craving Flynn was one thing. Satisfying that craving should mean opening up to him, sharing with him. A relationship shouldn’t, couldn’t be based on lies.


  Unless she only gave in to the physical part of her craving. Could she? Flynn seemed older than her own twenty-three years. Definitely more experienced. Having a meaningless fling didn’t feel like her MO, though.

  On the other hand, neither did going on the run. Maybe this new version of herself that Sierra had made up could do a fling with Flynn.

  Geez, her cheeks were undoubtedly turning even more red. Sure enough, she looked up from the phone to find Mollie staring at her quizzically. Swiftly, she typed out a response.

  Mollie’s fine. After a second of consideration, Sierra decided to embrace her newly bold side. My face is red because I’m thinking about you.

  There. Let him come to his own conclusions about what it meant. So what if it was far from the sexiest come-on ever? It was a step, a first step, a big step for Sierra.

  “That was just a friend checking up on me. I guess that in a town this small, my sprained ankle is the biggest news since they announced the date for the Cranberry Queen tryouts.”

  “Annoying, I know. But also comforting.” Mollie smiled and tapped her chest. “I think so, anyway. I hope you see it that way, too.”

  “Um, yes.” Sierra liked that feeling of community. In theory. If only, in reality, she wasn’t still living a lie and hoping against hope not to slip up and reveal anything about her old life.

  “Let’s get this over with, then.” Mollie pulled over a chair from the closest table. “You know I’m a doctor, right?”

  Sierra nodded. That tiny coil of fear unfurled like one of the giant tree ferns in the forest. If Mollie found something wrong, she could be out of a job. There weren’t that many employment opportunities for a woman with no provable degree, no résumé, and only the special skill of being able to paint anything.

  “May I?” Mollie had her hands down by Sierra’s foot, clearly asking permission to pull it onto her lap to be examined.

  It would only draw attention if she refused. Who, in their right mind, would refuse free medical care? Carlos was only looking out for her. It was hard to turn off the panic once it started flowing, though. Sierra lifted her head to gulp for some air. That’s when she spotted Flynn again. At the opposite end of the bar.

  Strength and surety radiated off of him, as easy to see as heat shimmering off asphalt on a July day. There was a man who did what he wanted. Who was in control. Who was oh-so-strong as he lifted the giant speaker on the small band stage and repositioned it with barely a flex.

  Staring at him made Sierra stop imagining all the horrible things that could happen if Mollie examined her. It helped all her muscles to unclench. Her breath came smoothly again, instead of in half gasps. Okay, her heart still raced, but now only from lust. When it came to panic, Flynn calmed her. With a bit of a jolt, Sierra realized how often in every shift she looked over at the bar to center herself on Flynn.

  Right now, she kept staring at his broad shoulders flexing. She siphoned off a little of his strength for herself. Could almost see it coiling through the room toward her like a lifeline. And then she put her foot in Mollie’s hands. Literally.

  “We haven’t gotten the chance to know each other yet. Which is a shame. Like you said, Bandon is small. A new woman under retirement age is a rarity.” Mollie’s chatter was slow but steady. Just like her hands pressing along both sides of Sierra’s ankle, and then flexing it.

  Sierra saw through the distraction, but appreciated it nonetheless. “I’m, um, shy. Meeting people isn’t easy for me.” Then she winced and hissed when Mollie poked on the sore spot.

  “Tender, huh? Sorry.”

  Mustering up a weak smile, Sierra said, “Only when you press on it.”

  “Well, I’ll avoid the oldest doctor joke in history and stop doing that.” Mollie circled Sierra’s foot both ways, then pulled her sock back up. “You’ve got good motion. Only minor tenderness. You’ll be fine in a few days.”

  The last tendril of panic knotting her stomach melted away. She could still work. She could stay here, in Bandon. At the Gorse.

  Thank goodness.

  Sierra just didn’t have it in her to move again. The past eight months had worn her out. She didn’t crave the new and exciting like other twenty-three-year-olds might. No, Sierra craved stability. A real home, for the first time in her life. Routine and friends and the familiar.

  And if it wasn’t too much to ask, maybe a certain tall, dark, and brooding man to keep her company.

  “That’s what I thought.” Sierra leaned in and dropped her voice to a near-whisper. “Carlos and Flynn went way overboard worrying about this little twist.”

  Mollie looked over at Flynn—pointedly—wriggled her brown eyebrows over twinkling green eyes and then whispered back to Sierra. “Having a big strong man fuss over you isn’t the worst thing in the world, is it?”

  “Flynn doesn’t fuss. He’s more . . . intense than that.” Even his texts were direct. No wasted words. No beating around the bush. After the flowery dramatics of everyone in art school, Sierra liked the contrast of his style. A lot.

  “Focused hotness is the best kind. Especially in bed.” As Sierra gasped and laughed, Mollie turned her back to Flynn. “You know, he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since I came over here.”

  “Really?” Sierra had to force herself not to look. Luckily, Carlos came over with Mollie’s burger, providing a less embarrassing focal point.

  Mollie grabbed a sweet potato fry before he set down the plate. “Yep. There’s so many sparks flying between you two, it’s amazing the bar hasn’t caught fire.”

  “He hasn’t made a move.” Aside from the flirty texts. And the simmering stares. But the texts might just be an extension of the friendship they’d built up over the past month. The stares could be those of a concerned colleague who knew how much extra weight he’d be lifting with a waitress off the schedule. “I’m not sure that he sees me ‘that way.’” Sierra made air quotes with her fingers.

  “Oh, he sees you, alright. That man sees nothing but you. It’s only a matter of time before he makes a move. Trust me on that.”

  “I’d like to . . .” Sierra got caught up in the sheer fun of sharing her what-ifs about Flynn. “I’ve learned not to get my hopes up.”

  “About men?”

  “About life.” Growing up in foster care, the biggest lesson learned was that dreams rarely came true. Sierra had gotten the miracle of a full ride scholarship to college. That probably used up all the luck and dreams-come-true allocated to her by Fate. “If you set a low bar on expectations, there’s a better chance of not being disappointed.”

  Mollie frowned. Hard, with a wrinkled nose and brows almost touching. “You sound like a hardened fifty-year-old with three divorces in their rearview mirror. When, in fact, you’re just at the start of a big adventure.”

  “I don’t want a big adventure.” There’d been enough unintended adventure over the past year. Honestly, Sierra just wanted to be happy. Period.

  Burger halfway to her mouth, Mollie froze. Her eyebrows arched upward in surprise. “Sounds like there’s a story there. Maybe I can get it out of you if I ply you with liquor.”

  “There’s no story. No need to get me drunk, either.”

  “Sure there is—just for the fun of it. I’m having a birthday party Wednesday night. Nothing outrageous. Just an excuse, really, to drink wine and eat cake with my girlfriends, guilt-free. I want you to come.”

  “I couldn’t possibly intrude on your birthday. We basically just met.”

  “Please. You’ve asked me how I like my meal dozens of times. That makes us practically besties. And the point is that I want to get to know you better. This’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to hang with all of us under-forty, unmarried peeps and have fun. In fact, as your doctor, that’s my prescription. One night of fun. On me. Well, on my bestie whose family owns Sunset Shoals Resort. Because we’re doing it at their spa. The warm water of a pedicure will soothe your stretched ligaments and muscles.”

  Sierra was tor
n. Mollie seemed awesome. From stealthy eavesdropping on their girls’ nights, all her friends seemed great, too. Sierra hadn’t indulged herself in forever. The invitation was an amazing gift. Maybe she could enjoy this one night and decide what to do next later.

  Because Sierra couldn’t just ignore the danger of making friends. Of getting comfortable and slipping up. Telling them things that could bring Rick and/or the police straight to her. That could bring danger into their circle. Or how she was supposed to keep lying to people that she could grow to care about. Like that mom with the toddler banging the spoon gleefully against the plate. What if Rick tracked her down, came into the Gorse, and did something unimaginable that might hurt that little tot?

  Geez. She wished it was unimaginable. There she went, zipping right to the horrible again.

  No. She wouldn’t let panic steal her fun.

  Her phone skittered away, buzzing repeatedly. Sierra ignored it for a moment, knowing that Mollie deserved a response to her generous offer. “I’d love to come and meet everyone officially.” She stood, keeping most of her weight on one foot, and gave Mollie a swift hug. “Thank you so much.”

  Sierra limped around behind the bar to start cutting limes into wedges. It was one of the few bartender tasks she could do without thinking, and she wanted to bask in the possibility of new friends for a little bit. But her phone buzzed again and this time, she picked it up.

  F: Did the doc say you’ll live?

  Sierra pushed through the swinging door to the back hallway with the staff lockers. It felt easier to text-talk with Flynn without seeing him across the room. Huh. I forgot to ask her that.

  F: You think you’re funny?

  S: Occasionally.

  She grabbed her half apron from her locker so her trip away from the bar looked necessary.

  F: Doesn’t matter what Mollie said. I’m still taking you home tonight.

  Her heartbeat picked up the pace. Another car ride. More time alone. Time to get to know him even better. Everything she shouldn’t want, but did.