He stood behind her, his tall body protectively shadowing hers. “I come up here to think,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what time of year, day or night, I’m always able to clear the cobwebs.”
The view was endless. Awe-inspiring. The magnificent bay, strong and powerful, deadly even, but like all living things, vulnerable.
Turning around, Izzy looked up at her complicated Special Agent. His still waters ran very deep. Flynn wasn’t heartless; his heart, she realized, was encased with scar tissue. If anyone could understand his reluctance to love, it was her. The pain of love lost, of rejection, of longing for something that would never be, ate at a person. It left deep wounds that festered. They never healed; instead they slowly became encased in armor. Acknowledging the pain and the reasons for it didn’t make it better. Neither did accepting it. Acceptance made it worse. Accepting an unreachable heart meant you were content to exist in a loveless life. How sad for Flynn.
Izzy didn’t want that life. She wanted love. Mad, passionate, I’m-on-fire, love. To give it and receive it. She wanted a man who would fight with her and for her. A man who every time he looked at her saw his moon and stars. A man who wouldn’t back down from her fire, but continuously ignited it because the same fire burned in him.
He stared past her to the horizon, his jaw tight, his eyes slightly squinting. He hadn’t shaved, the dark stubble on his face more pronounced than it was this morning. He was all badass male. Clad in black T-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and a black leather jacket, jet-black hair punctuated by his stunning blue eyes. Izzy’s herculean efforts to remain distant and uninterested in him were in vain. Flynn Ryker touched her on a basic, primal level. When his male spoke to her female, there was nothing her sensibilities could do to prevent the inevitable sparks that blazed between them. He was desperately attracted to her, no matter how hard he fought it, same as her. While Flynn had no problem giving in to the physical aspect of their attraction, he refused to emotionally engage.
Slowly she smiled. Had he ever been challenged to let go? To drop his walls and take a chance on a relationship? Izzy bet he’d never given anyone the chance to get to him, much less get to know him. Well, she had the chance. She had gotten to him. Had nothing but time with him.
While Flynn might think he wasn’t relationship material, Izzy knew he was. Once he committed, he would be the kind of man who would remain true until the day his woman died.
Emotion swelled in her chest, constricting her airflow. To be loved so completely by this man was as terrifying as it was exhilarating. For the first time in Izzy’s life, she wanted something more than to be a Chastain.
She wanted Flynn. She would fight for him. And she would win.
When Flynn’s gaze dropped to hers, her smile widened. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Pink?”
“Hah, wouldn’t you like to know!”
He reached up to touch her, but stopped mid reach. The breeze buffeted her hair around her face. Pushing it back, she continued to look up at him. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Bubble gum.”
Laughing, Izzy swatted him and turned around to gaze at the bay that twinkled below. “Bubble gum isn’t food, Flynn. It’s candy.”
“Candy can be my favorite food.” Warmth from his breath caressed her ear. “I like Pink bubble gum the best.”
Shivering because it was cold, not because his words stirred her, Izzy wrapped her arms around herself. Flynn removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders over her jacket. Smiling at his thoughtfulness, she stared out at the bay.
“The wind is cold,” he said. “You should have worn layers.”
Turning, she continued to smile at him. “You know you like me.”
“That’s the problem.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him why it was a problem, but she didn’t. She knew why. “Let’s get out of here, I’m hungry.” Handing him back his jacket she stepped past him.
As he walked toward his tricked-out, sleek black Harley, he said, “A woman after my own heart.”
Strapping her helmet on, Izzy said, “I know a place on Adeline.”
Flynn straddled his bike, waiting for her to get on behind him. The seat was small. “This bike wasn’t designed for passengers,” he had told her in the garage. “You’re going to have to sit close and hang on tight. You okay with that?”
She had assured him she was. And boy was it. She liked the feel of his big warm body against hers. Besides, she’d never said anything about her not touching him.
Jimmy’s was a local collegiate haunt with traditional pub grub that was cheap and decent, with two-dollar beers and karaoke. Grabbing Flynn’s hand as they dismounted the bike, Izzy dragged him into the loud and crowded pub.
Stowing their helmets and jackets with the hostess, they proceeded into the lively establishment.
“Hey, Iz, where the hell have you been?” Nick the bouncer called as she negotiated her way toward the three-deep bar.
“Working!” she called, continuing toward the stacked bar. “Jimmy,” she called, waving to the bartender and owner. “Dos Patrons por favor!”
He grinned, showing big white teeth. “You got it, Pinky.”
Flynn’s hand tightened at Jimmy’s pet name for her.
Turning with a big grin, she said, “You’re not the only man in my life, Flynn.”
He didn’t look at her; he was too busy glaring at the affable barkeep. Grabbing the two shots, Izzy handed Flynn one. When he took it, she clanked her glass to his and said, “Bottoms up, baby.” Then threw it back. The warmth of the liquor spread through her chilled body. She slammed her shot glass down on the bar and Jimmy didn’t wait to be asked, he refilled it. Izzy laughed, feeling comfortable in her element.
Before Flynn had drunk his first shot, Izzy threw back her second. “Drink up,” she said over the din of the crowd. Throwing the shot back, Flynn set it on the bar, but put his palm over the top, indicating he was done.
“Party pooper,” Izzy said, and then pulled him further into the pub, past the karaoke stage to a small table on the fringe. For as crowded as the pub was, most everyone stood, so there was always a table or two open.
Just as they sat down, a perky little server named Dolly set menus down on their table. “Drinks?” she asked.
“Two waters,” Flynn said.
“And a shot of Patron,” Izzy added.
Flynn scowled. “You won’t be able to ride back with me if you’re drunk, Pink.”
“That’s what cabs are for.”
His scowl deepened, but he didn’t say another word about it. Instead he asked, “You come here often?”
“I used to, when I was an undergrad.”
“Undergrad?”
“Yes, commonly known as a person who is working toward their first degree?”
“You graduated from Cal?”
“Summa cum laude, baby.”
Flynn nodded. She could see by the way he stared at her that he was dying to know more. When Dolly set the waters down, she also set down two menus. “Your shot will be right here. Jimmy said not to forget your deal.”
Izzy smiled. “Tell Jimmy thanks for the reminder.”
Grinning, Izzy opened the menu, holding it up so that Flynn couldn’t see her face. She giggled when Flynn’s finger pushed the menu down, forcing her to look at him. “What deal?”
“Just some bartering we did a few years ago.”
“Out with it, Pink.”
Setting the menu down on the table, she said, “You know far more about me than I do you. Do you think that’s fair?”
“You Googled me, you know everything there is to know.”
“I want to know what’s going on inside there.” She tapped his forehead. “And here.” She pressed her hand to his heart. It beat strong beneath her palm.