Page 316 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“Nice to meet you, Audrey,” he says smoothly. “I’m Flint.” He holds out his hand, and I slip my palm into his. I cringe when I notice the dirt staining my fingers, lining the beds of my nails, but his hands are just as dirty as mine—like he’s been digging in the dirt all afternoon. Something about this makes me like him—notable because I don’t generally like people at all. But if hereally is big and famous and important—and I’m beginning to sense that he must be—I like that he’s not above doing his own yard work. “This is Nate,” he says, gesturing to the giant behind us. “He’s head of my security team.”
“I gathered,” I say simply.
“I believe you’re a scientist, Audrey,” Flint says, before letting out a light chuckle. “You look like a scientist.”
I’m not sure if I should take this as an insult. Iama scientist, so I suppose I ought to look like one, but something tells me my sisters would not take the remark as a compliment. Regardless, I’m pretty sure Flint is about to cave and let me come back. He can insult me all he wants if it means I get to find my squirrels.
“Flint, it’s not a good idea,” Nate says, and my jaw tightens.
It IS a good idea, Flint. It really, really is.
“I promise I’m harmless,” I say, my eyes pleading.
He holds my gaze for a long moment, then slowly shakes his head. “I wish I could make an exception, but I take my privacy very seriously. My property is off-limits.”
“But the squirrels—” I start to argue. My words cut off when Nate steps in front of me, blocking my view of Flint. Blocking my view ofeverything. Geez,I didn’t know humans could even BE this big.
“It was nice to meet you, Audrey,” Flint says from behind the brick wall of a man now blocking my view. “Good luck with your research.”
I almost ask about him wanting my help earlier today, about the implication that he wanted to spend time with me. If I were a different woman, one well-versed in playing the games that men and women play, I might. Instead, I yell out, “There won’tbeany research if I have to stay off your property.”
Flint doesn’t even turn around.
“Time to go, ma’am,” the younger deputy says. “I assume you’ve got a car parked out here somewhere?”
I sigh. “A couple miles down the road.”
He nods and opens the back door of the cruiser, holding it for me while I climb in.
Seconds later, we’re driving past the main house—it doesn’t look so gorgeous anymore—and passing Flint, who is standing on the stone walkway that leads up to the front door. His thumbs are hooked on the front pockets of his pants, and he looks casual and comfortable and stupidly delicious.
We make eye contact through the window, and I give him my most serious glare.
His eyebrows lift the slightest bit, but otherwise, his expression remains neutral.
I hope he understands exactly what I’m trying to say.
He may have won this battle, but he isn’t going to win the war.
For the squirrels.
Chapter Three
Audrey
It’s nearly dark bythe time I pull into my driveway. The lights inside my house are blazing, which can only mean my twin sisters, Lucy and Summer, who rent the basement apartment of my cozy mountain bungalow, have decided they’d rather hang out atmy houseinstead of their own.
I shouldn’t be surprised. I have a better kitchen than they do, and Lucy loves to cook. I’ve learned not to argue. They always make enough to share, and since Idon’tlike to cook, it’s a situation that works out for all of us.
I’ll even begrudgingly admit that since my little sisters graduated from college a couple of years ago and turned into actual adults, we’ve had a much easier time getting along.
I push through my front door and take a deep breath.Mmm.Something Italian. “Please tell me you made homemade pasta again,” I say as I drop my bag in the entryway and pull off my boots.
Summer pops her head around the corner. “She totally made homemade pasta. And a pesto that’s going to blow your mind.”
“Yes, please. Is there bread? I really need bread.” I follow Summer into the kitchen.
“Brown butter garlic bread,” Lucy says from the stove, and I try not to moan in anticipation.
