“Come here.” I sank into one of the oversized armchairs, hoping to at least get her sitting down before she fell down. “No.” But she swayed a little. “You’re not the boss of me, Flynn Kingman.” “Never said I was.” “Good. Because I am a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need...” She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the arm of my chair. “Doesn’t need...” “A hand?” She glared at me, but there wasn’t much heat in it. More like the way a grumpy kitten might glare at someone who’d interrupted their nap.
