He’s clasping a freshly cut bouquet in one hand and a wrench in his other hand while standing by the sink. “Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” I say in a weak voice because I regret how I acted last night.
And he brought flowers … and a wrench.
Flynn holds out the bouquet. “I picked them myself. And I cleaned the sticky stuff off the car seat.”
I grin at the obvious. “They’re lovely. Thank you.”
He nods to the sink. “I’m going to fix this leak for you, then I’m going to suggest we start over. So just think about it. Youknow where I’ll be.” He lies on his back, the top of him under the sink.
I smell the flowers.
“I said too much yesterday,” he says. “You don’t know me well enough to understand I’m not a serial killer.”
“Excuse me?” I laugh nervously while untying the shoelace.
“I-I mean … shit, this is coming out wrong again. I’m not a serial killer. Not. A. Serial. Killer. Uh, can you hand me a towel?”
I stare at his abs peeking out from where his shirt has ridden up a few inches.
“June?”
“Huh?”
“A towel?”
“Oh yeah. Here.” I hand him the one hanging over the oven handle.
“Thanks. I’m gonna have to get some silicone caulk. I tightened it, but it needs to be recaulked.” He slides out from under the sink and stands.
I give him a nervous smile before filling a glass with water and putting the flowers into it.
“Listen”—he wipes his hands—“I’m not a bad person. That’s what I mean. I would never hurt you. If the Rawlings can trust me, can you give me another chance? I promise not to say stupid shit that’s scary.”
I set the shoelace on the counter next to the vase. “Stupid shit like not being a serial killer?”
He cringes, sliding his hands into his pockets. “Yeah. Callie put too much stuff in my head, and I’m not saying the right things in the right order or at the right time.”
“Oh? You talked to Callie about us?”
“Yeah. She was having a bad morning. Rupert told me to go home, but I ignored him.”
“I’m sure he appreciated that.”
Flynn rolls his eyes.
“Did Callie suggest the flowers?”
He twists his lips. “Maybe. But I swear to God, I cut and tied them.”
I return a half dozen nods.
He holds out his hand. “I’m Flynn Morley, a full-time muse and part-time idiot who really likes you.”
I can’t think past my emotions. Every hint of uneasiness is quickly erased with moments like this. So I slide my hand into his. “Don’t forget part-time plumber. And I’m June Malone. Part-time tour guide. Lover of historical romance. Naps. And men with tools in their cars.”
His grin swells as he slowly shakes my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”
