Tracking You. Kelly Moran

not to be leveled by guilt. And Brent was like a terrier when he latched onto an idea. Flynn needed to sidetrack him. “Known you a long time and we never hooked up. Same difference.”

      “Oh, sexy pants. If your door ever swung my way, I’d be all over that.” He snapped his fingers and did some sort of jive. “Must be there’s no sexual chemistry with Gabs, huh? That’s why you never bumped uglies. I get it.”

      Flynn lifted his hands and found he had no response. Chemistry wasn’t the issue, at least on his end. And why the hell was he talking to Brent about this, anyway?

      “No worries.” He patted Flynn’s chest. “I’ve got ideas.”

      Warning pounded in his temples. “What do you mean, you’ve got ideas?”

      “You know, to get Gabby a little action. Now that I know you’re not interested, I can put my clever skills to use. And I got skills.” His eyes widened for emphasis.

      Damn it. But Brent was out of the car and up the sidewalk before Flynn could force a swallow.

      Pulling back out onto the road, he headed for home. Except when he cut the engine, it was Cade’s house he’d parked in front of, not his own. And with no recollection of the drive.

      Spruce and redwood sheltered the yard and cast deep shadows over the cabin. The canopy didn’t allow much moonlight to filter through. The snow had melted in early spring, but leaves were just starting to bud and the perennials to break ground. He put the window down and drew in a lungful of crisp pine-scented air, but it did nothing to clear the cobwebs.

      Unable to make heads or tails of the past twenty-four hours, he climbed out and knocked on Cade’s door. A light was burning inside the house, so he’d caught him before his brother had turned in. They teased one another and gave each other hell, but he could always go to both his brothers with anything.

      Not that this was anything. Because it wasn’t. He was merely making a social call at—he checked his watch—midnight, and less than thirty minutes after he’d just seen Cade at the bar.

      But Flynn was fine. Nothing to see here. His heart wasn’t tripping behind his ribs in panic and he wasn’t gripping the doorframe with enough strength to splinter the wood and he absolutely wasn’t two seconds from emptying his stomach.

      The door swung inward and Cade’s form filled the space. “What’s—”

      “I have a problem.”

      Cade jerked. “Is Mom okay?”

      “Yes,” he signed immediately.

      Cade blew out a breath and paused to study his face. Nodding slowly, he pointed to a rocking chair on the porch, which Flynn sank into. “Something’s wrong?”

      Flynn rubbed his eyes and signed, “Yes.” He swallowed hard and glanced at the yard as night creatures scurried about. “I think I might…maybe a little…have…” Hell squared. “Feelings for Gabby.”

      There. Let the gods of friendship and common sense strike him dead.

      Cade’s laugh started slowly and built in momentum until he gripped his sides and wiped tears from his eyes.

      Flynn pinned him with a DEFCON glare.

      Cade stilled, then slowly leaned forward. He opened his mouth, but quickly shut it again. After a stunned beat, he rose and went into the house. A moment later, he returned with a bottle of whiskey—the good kind shipped all the way from distant family in Ireland. He passed the bottle to Flynn.

      And that about said it all.

      Chapter 4

      Gabby strode into the Animal Instincts clinic ten minutes before her shift and stopped dead in her tracks.

      The Battleaxes, along with Flynn, Brent, and Avery, were all at the front desk chatting. Damn. If Flynn’s mother and aunts were here before opening, something was going on. Not good.

      She eyed Flynn in a silent question, but he shrugged one wide shoulder and gave her an I-know-nothing look.

      “Gabby, just the girl we wanted to see.” Marie slung her arm around Gabby’s shoulders, causing strands of Marie’s short dark bob to poke Gabby’s eye.

      Double damn with oh shit on top. Most of the town knew to take off sprinting when the Battleaxes headed their way. The women meddled. A lot. Not only as a hobby, but a life mission. Rarely was Gabby bothered by their appearance, though. It was an infrequent day in hell when they saw fit to screw with her. Good girl and all.

      “Um, okay. What can I help you with?”

      Rosa’s grin resembled something like the cartoon version of the Grinch in plot mode. Flynn’s middle aunt used to be their office manager before hiring Avery, so Gabby knew that look and it caused cold sweat to trickle down her back.

      Marie stepped away and folded her hands. “As you know, the Spring Fling is coming up.”

      “Uh huh.” Redwood Ridge did several holiday events throughout the year. The Spring Fling took place in the park near the coast and was Easter-oriented. Typically, it was Gabby’s favorite since it was close to her birthday.

      “And you also know it’s the council’s policy for the kissing booth to be run by a single member of the community. Avery was going to do it, but she’s not single anymore. We picked you to replace her.”

      Flynn’s eyes shot wide as they met hers.

      “Uh…” Gabby rubbed her forehead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Who would pay to kiss her when she couldn’t get anyone to do it for free? The venue wouldn’t earn the town one red cent.

      “Nonsense,” Gayle quipped. Flynn’s mother was typically the quiet, reserved one in the bunch, but her expression illustrated she wasn’t messing around. “You’re a pretty girl and they’ll line up for a chance to lay a smooch on you.”

      Rosa crossed her arms. “You don’t want to disappoint the single men of Redwood Ridge or the event committee, do you?”

      Her pulse tripped. “No, of course not. It’s just—”

      “Good.” Rosa nodded as her thumbs ran rampant over her phone she’d conjured from who knew where.

      “Wh-what are you doing?”

      “Tweeting.” She grinned. “There. It’s official. You are the kissing queen.” Gabby opened her mouth, but Rosa cut off any possible response. “Oh look, we have two responses already.”

      The Battleaxes had a Twitter and Pinterest account, both of which they used routinely for gossip. Or what passed for news around here. Gabby looked longingly at the back of the clinic. If she fled from the room screaming would they leave her alone?

      Flynn straightened. “Doesn’t seem like she wants to do the booth. Why don’t you pick someone else?”

      God. She could kiss him in gratitude, but that would only encourage them.

      “Pah.” Marie waved her hand, dismissing him.

      Flynn appeared a little disturbed by the idea himself. His gaze darted between her and his aunts, his shoulders tense beneath his dark blue scrubs. He lifted his hands to sign, but Gabby missed what he said when Brent interrupted.

      “Told you.” His singsong tone made her belly churn in warning. More so when he looked at Marie and raised his brows in confirmation.

      What was going on? “Told her what?”

      Marie ignored her. “You did tell me, and I think you’re right.”

      “Right about what?” This whole conversation was turning into a twisted version of Abbot & Costello’s Who’s on First.

      “Moving along,” Marie said. “As in the past, we’re