Of course. Everything that happened on the island eventually became fodder. Flynn scratched his jaw. He hadn’t bothered to shave, and his nails rasped through the short bristles.
“One date.” He shrugged and stole Jessie’s coffee back from her. It was too sweet for him, but the caffeine hit was welcome. “I think he’s more into me than I am him.”
That was a lie, but Jessie’s snort of disbelief was hardly necessary.
“Are you blind?” she asked. “Nathan Moffatt is hot as fuck.”
“You’re a lesbian.”
“Yeah, I’m not ablindlesbian.” Jessie waved what was left of her breakfast at him. A bit of bacon flew out and landed on the sand. The seagulls were slacking. “He is a very attractive man. If he had a clone who was a lady and had his fashion sense, ten out of ten would bang.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t bang him,” Flynn said. “Just not that interested in conversation the morning after.”
Jessie finished eating and wiped her hands on her legs. “Who is?”
“He likes to talk.”
Of course Flynn hadn’t minded talking that much either. He’d managed to get under Max Saint John’s overprivileged skinandmade Nate flush red twice. After a couple of years of casual hookups, where “Wanna fuck?” passed as sweet talk, it was good to know he could still flirt.
“In that case I’d only nine out of ten bang his lady clone.” Jessie balled her wrapper up tightly and shoved it into the empty cup. “Met Office says the weather is going to take a turn this afternoon. We might get the tail end of it.”
Flynn nodded. “Most of the tourists will come in on their own when it starts getting chilly. Just keep an eye out for any thrill seekers. You still going over to the mainland tomorrow?”
Jessie nodded and shoved one hand through her hair, obviously forgetting about her sunglasses. She rescued them from her salt-tangled curls and popped them back on her nose. “If I don’t hand in my request by tomorrow, I won’t get another extension. If you need me, though….”
“No. Davey can handle the beach for the day,” he said. “I’ll let the rest of Rescue know we’ll be shorthanded down here, so they’ll shake a leg if we get a call.”
Down by the water, the horse stopped, lifted its tail, and ignored the riding boots in its ribs as it took a copious crap on the sand. Flynn and Jessie watched it in silence, and Jessie’s mouth screwed farther to the side in distaste.
“Good thing you’re not hungover,” Flynn said and slapped her shoulder companionably as he stood up.
She made a disgusted sound, and he took the rubbish-stuffed cup with him as he left, and tossed it into the metal-grill bin at the entrance to the parking lot.
THE LITTLEblue Chevy was nearly twenty years old, and the only time it was ever used was when Maud got her nephew to drive it down for its inspection. Flynn hooked up the exhaust emissions test and stepped back to let it run. Then he picked up a mug of tea from the worktable and took a drink. It was cold.
He grimaced around the bitter taste of tannin and put it back down. If the day went true to form, he’d finish the mug, one grimaced taste at a time, before the end of the day.
The emissions were okay. Brakes were good. He just really needed to change the rear tires and one windshield wiper.
He reached in through the driver’s side window and stretched down to pop the hood. It sprang open, and he went around to check the oil. The engine smelled of petrol, motor grease, and—weirdly enough—cat piss. Flynn supposed one of the barn cats had decided the perpetually parked car was a fancy litter box.
The low growl of an engine as it cut off caught his attention, followed by the distinctively smooth click of a well-hung car door closing.
“If you wanna take a seat, I’ll be with you in a minute,” Flynn said. “I’m nearly done.”
“I can wait,” Nate said.
Flynn had good nerves. So instead of whacking his head against metal, the muscles across his shoulders and down his back just clenched. He wiped the dipstick on his sleeve, adding another grimy stripe to the dozens already there, and slotted it back into place.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon.” He unhooked the stand and let the hood clang back down into place. “Bad boys like to keep guys waiting. I figured I wouldn’t call for at least a week.”
Nate perched on the arm of the battered old sofa instead of sitting down. His foot, still wearing his Converse sneakers, kicked an idle tattoo against the worn tweed but stopped abruptly when he saw Flynn in his grubby old overalls.
It didn’t look like he minded the view.
“Actually,” he said, “that’s what jerks do. It’s an easy mistake to make.”
Flynn grabbed a damp rag and wiped his hands on it. “So I know that people are gossiping about us. Your plan working?”
