Page 321 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Flint beside stunningly beautiful women.
Flint besidemultiplebeautiful women.
Flint on a horse.
Oh, this is ridiculous. A horse?!
I’m about to close out the search when my eyes snag on a picture of him arm in arm with three men who all look enough like Flint, they must be his brothers. I click on the picture. If my sisters are correct, one of these men went to elementary school with me. Middle school, too.
I read through the caption, noting the names of each brother. Lennox Hawthorne is the only name that triggers my memory, but I can’t remember anything concrete, though that’s not all that surprising. Middle school wasn’t exactly an easy time for a nerdy kid like me. A lot of memories I blocked on purpose.
I stand up and put my phone on the bathroom counter, then look in the mirror, taking in my bare face. I reach up and pull out a twig that’s lodged in my hair, just above my ear.
What did Flint truly see when he looked at me today? Was he genuinely interested in seeing me smile? Or was it just a game? Is flirting something he does because he can? Because he’s so used to women fawning all over him?
Lucy’s laugh from earlier echoes in my mind.
Either way, she’s right. Whatever his motive at the Feed ’n Seed, whatever made him lookonce,I amnotthe kind of woman a man like Flint Hawthorne would look at twice.
A gnawing discomfort settles in my chest.
I’m a biologist. Dedicated to science and research and way too enthusiastic about most forms of wildlife.
Most of the time, it’s enough.
But every once in a while, something reminds me that I’m more than just a brain. I have a beating heart, too. And right now, it’s aching in a way that feels foreign and disconcerting.
It takes a moment of careful thought to figure out what the feeling is.
I’m lonely.
And I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about that.
Chapter Four
Flint
I lean against thecounter in the middle of my kitchen, my arms crossed over my chest. Nate and Joni sit on the opposite side of the island, while my publicist, Simon, and my agent, Kenji, both back in LA, are on a video call connected through Joni’s iPad, propped up in the center of the island.
It’s a relatively small group, and that’s just the way I like it. The longer I’m in this business, the happier I am with as few people as possible involved in my career. A few years ago, it was thrilling to travel with an entire entourage, knowing they were all there for me. But now, the simpler my life is, the better.
“What if we come up with some credible reason for him to skip the premiere?” Joni says. “A family issue, maybe?”
“He’s the lead,” Simon says. “His attendance isn’t negotiable. Unless someone is dead or dying or in need of a life-saving kidney only Flint can provide, he’sgoingto the premiere.”
“Of course I’mgoing,” I say. “But there has to be a way we can preemptively manage this.”
And by this, I meanher.
Claire McKinsey.
Hollywood darling.Turning Tidesco-star.
And my ex-girlfriend.
It wasn’t a long relationship. But you wouldn’t know it for how much she’s milking the few months we spent together whenever she’s in front of the press.
“It’s like she’s honed it down to a science,” Joni says. “It’s honestly impressive how she manages to say just enough to keep people guessing but not enough to actuallydeclareanything outright.”
