Page 19 of Coming Up Roses

He abruptly turns back to the bike and finishes the slow drive up to the house. He pulls up outside, beside the ute I know belongs to Dallas, and flicks down the bike stand with onedeft twist of his foot. It’s super-hot considering what he’s doing. I bet he doesn’t even think twice about it.

“Careful hopping off,” Flynn says gruffly. “The exhaust will be hot.”

I swing my leg over the back of the bike and slide to the ground, tottering a bit on my heels. Flynn’s big, calloused hand lands on my leg to steady me. It should be fine. It should just be a simple, casual touch to prevent me tripping over my own feet.

But my skirt is still riding too high and instead of landing on the fabric, his hand connects with my bare thigh.

His palm is hot and firm, just slightly rough from the physical farm work he does daily. If he’s affected by the feel of my skin, he doesn’t show it and as soon as I’m steady on my feet, his hand is gone, leaving behind an invisible but searing palm print.

He swings his leg over the bike and strides up the porch steps to the front door. His jeans tighten around his ass and thighs as he moves. I shouldn’t be staring at his ass, but my mind is still a haze of heat against the soft skin of my thigh, and a certain bike guy’s wet dreams and the way Flynn’s tongue dragged across his bottom lip.

Fucking hell. Nope. Nope. Nope.

Co-worker, co-worker, co-worker, I force myself to chant in my head. I can’t think about him like this.

Sadie. I need to think about Sadie. I take a breath and refocus on Dallas’s big black ute. Sadie is why I’m here, not to get the hots for a farm worker several years younger than me.

Nope, not going there.

I square my shoulders and follow Flynn up the porch steps. He kicks his boots off at thedoor.

“Your shoes will be fine,” he says, pushing the door open.

I take one look at the gorgeous hardwood floors and bend to unbuckle my shoes. I don’t care if Flynn says they’re fine. I don’t need my every step heard by everyone inside this house.

He watches me and when I stand barefoot in front of him, he leads me into the house.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Flynn announces to the room as we step into a large, airy kitchen. And here I was hoping he’d let me slip in quietly.

Olivia is across the room, heaping food onto a plate. Violet’s sitting at the table, a mug in hand while she laughs at something Dallas is saying. A stunning blonde who I know is Katie sits beside him, shovelling pasta into her mouth. Even with a mouth full of food, she looks gorgeous. Her gaze snaps to me at Flynn’s words and she swallows before her face splits into a huge grin.

“I hope you’re not referring to yourself as the cat in this situation,” she says to Flynn, then turns her focus to me. “Hey. Grab a plate.”

I appreciate her easy acceptance of my being here. She’s not making a big deal about it, neither going over the top excited about my arrival, or surly because I’m here.

Violet moves to stand, but Flynn pushes her back into her seat with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I got it,” he says, heading for Olivia. I trail along behind him, greeting Dallas on the way, and when I reach my boss, she hands me a plate that Flynn piles high with a deliciously creamy pasta filled with chicken and bacon and mushrooms.

“How’s it all going?” Olivia asks, sliding into a seat at the table and gesturing for me to sit across from her. Flynn sitsbeside Olivia and immediately falls into Dallas and Violet’s conversation.

“It’s good,” I say. “I have a meeting with the Barclay-MacDonald wedding group this afternoon. Way to throw me in the deep end.”

Olivia laughs. “That’s why I needed you to start so soon. I didn’t want to have to deal with it.” Her face turns serious. “Everything going alright?”

“Yeah, it’s great. Everything’s under control.”

“And for this weekend?”

That’s right. My first event. Thankfully it’s a small wedding and the couple don’t seem to be nearly as high maintenance as the Barclay-MacDonald couple.

“It’ll be your first event this weekend, yeah?” Katie asks and I nod. “I’m sure it’ll go great,” she says, her voice warm and kind.

“I hope so.” My voice sounds thicker than usual and I hope no one notices. I force a smile and turn my focus to my food, hoping Olivia will drop the conversation.

She does, turning to Katie and asking her about Aurora, who I think is one of the horses Sadie introduced me to the other day.

The women beside me chat about the horses for a few moments while I continue to shovel food into my mouth.

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