Reclaiming the Sand
Page 19

And froze.
I swear to f**king god, was nowhere safe from Flynn Hendrick’s all too visible ghost?
He came inside, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He walked slowly toward the cashier and then stopped, staring up at the menu boards. He stood there for at least five minutes, not noticing the fact that a line was forming behind him. He took his time. Deliberating carefully as though he were developing a plan for world peace as he stood there.
Finally he gave his order and then took out a wad of money from his pocket and meticulously laid it out on the counter, making sure to count out the exact amount so change wasn’t necessary.
I knew he was mumbling to himself, counting out loud, his fingers hovering above the coins. He would take as long as he needed to in order to get it right.
I knew this because I had seen him do it a hundred times before. I recognized his pattern and his routine as though I were watching a movie I had once memorized but had forgotten I knew so well.
“Ellie!” Julie snapped her fingers in front of my face, making me blink and forcing my eyes back to her.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked me, smiling in bemusement. Only Julie Waterman could find my complete lack of manners endearing.
“Sorry, I’ve got to go.” I grabbed my bag and dropped some money on the table. I chanced a look at Flynn and saw that he was still counting out his money and the people behind him were getting angrier by the minute.
“Where are you going?” Julie asked, getting a concerned look on her face was reserved solely for me. She followed my not so subtle gaze to Flynn who had finally handed over his money and was tapping his fingers against the counter in a perfect, controlled rhythm.
That was new.
I had at one time been intimately familiar with his ticks. But this was one I hadn’t seen before.
But a lot can change in six years.
Julie frowned, the line between her eyebrows deepening and I watched her try to place the very good-looking, but extremely awkward man that had entirely too much of my attention.
“Is that?” Julie began but I cut her off.
I needed to get out of there before Flynn saw me. I didn’t want an exchange. I didn’t want any interaction. I desperately wanted to continue living my life the way it was before he had danced back into it.
We hadn’t shared a single word in the three weeks since he first came into JAC’s but already my world felt tight and restrictive. He took up too much space and I resented him for that.
“I’ve really got to go,” I said hurriedly, picking up my to go cup and giving Julie a frazzled smile and hurried toward the door.
Just as Flynn was heading in the same direction.
Smash. Crash.
Shit.
I had my mocha dripped down my front, plastering my shirt to my boobs. And I wasn’t wearing a bra. Great, now the entire coffee shop was getting a good, long look at my ni**les.
“Sorry,” Flynn mumbled, holding his hands out as coffee dripped from his fingers. He hadn’t realized it was me yet and I wondered what the likelihood was that I could still make it out the door without him seeing me.
Slim to none.
“Ellie,” he said flatly, raising his head and meeting my eyes briefly before lowering them again.
“Flynn,” I said just as evenly. I pulled at the soaked material that was stuck to my skin. “Can you get me some napkins?” I asked, irritated that this moment I had been trying to avoid at all costs had happened in the most public and embarrassing way possible.
“Sure. Sorry,” he said quickly, grabbing a stack of napkins from the counter. We had everyone’s attention. I purposefully made eye contact with a few of the gawkers closest to me and they quickly resumed their conversations.
Being the town hot head had its advantages.
Flynn came back and started patting at my chest with napkins. He rubbed over my br**sts, trying to mop up the liquid, not aware of the fact that he was essentially groping me.
For a man who didn’t like to be touched, he was spending an inordinate amount of time touching me in an obliviously intimate way.
I snatched the napkins from his hands and took a step back. “I’ve got it,” I said through gritted teeth. Flynn’s cheeks blazed red and he dropped the rest of the pile onto the floor.
“Sorry,” he muttered again.
“Stop saying sorry,” I barked, wiping the rest of the coffee off my bare arms. It was a good thing I was only wearing a tank top. I didn’t have time to go home before my shift, so I was going to have to suffer through six hours of smelling like dried coffee.
“Sorry,” Flynn said again and I snorted. Flynn’s lips quirked as if deciding whether he wanted to smile or not.
We stood there stiffly, the coffee slowly drying into a sticky mess across my skin. I tried not to stare at him, but it was hard. I thought I’d never see him again. I had counted on the fact that I’d never have to be face to face with this confusing, conflicting range of emotions.
He was still cute and unassuming. His shy smile still sweet yet uneasy. He still wore his brown hair messy and longish around his forehead and ears and he was still the only person to ever make me feel edgy and unsure.
I hated that I knew the details of his face. I hated that I knew his favorite television show and the way he ate his cereal (dry and with two spoonfuls of sugar). I hated that I had at one time catalogued these seemingly inconsequential details with a resolute dedication. Because at one time they had mattered.
But the girl that had known these things had died a long time ago. I had destroyed her. Flynn had ruined her. She was six feet under an unyielding earth.