Spotlight (Holland Brothers, #4)

by Rebecca Jenshak

It’s heartwarming, but right now I don’t want my heart to be warmed. Especially by him. In someone else’s bookstore. As the little kid jogs off, Flynn stands. His gaze roams from the line over to me. My feet move toward him of their own accord. There’s a flicker of surprise on his face but is quickly replaced by a wide smile. “What are you doing here?” “What are you doing here?” “Wait, is this your bookstore?” He glances around as if he’s seeing it for the first time. “No.”

“My agent thought it would be good to do some community events. I wasn’t sure a bookstore was the best endorsement, but the owner is a fan. And I mean, look at that line.” “I saw it,” I mumble under my breath, then scoff. “Unbelievable.” “We need to move the line along,” a young woman says quietly. She’s a bookstore employee, judging by the official way she speaks. She at least has an apologetic look as she does so. “Do you want me to sign something?” Flynn asks me. “No.” The word comes out with a little too much force.

“Give us just one more minute.” Flynn holds up the same hand that has the Sharpie to the woman. He angles his body, so his back is to the rest of the line. “It’s so good to see you again. I was hoping I’d run into you.” He picks up a shirt off the table. “Turn around.” “What?” He makes a circle motion with his finger. I turn, still too stunned to object. He places the shirt against my back, and I feel the marker as he scribbles on the material. “Is this going to be a regular occurrence or a one-off event?” I ask.

“I told him I’d stop by as often as I could to sign jerseys. I’m not sure about future events. With the season starting, I won’t have a lot of time. Where is your store? Do you have my jersey? I’d love to come see it sometime.” He finishes and I turn back to face him. “No.” “No, you don’t have my jersey at your store or no, I can’t see it?” “Both.” “Why not?” he asks, laughing softly. “We don’t sell sports memorabilia, and you can’t help another store sell books and then come by mine.” “Because….?” “I’m really sorry,” the woman managing the impatient line interrupts again. “It’s fine. I’m going,” I say. I start to walk off, but Flynn calls after me. “Olivia.” I stop and glance back. He holds up the shirt in his hand and then tosses it to me. I don’t get my hands up in time and it hits me in the face. I inhale a waft of starched cotton and permanent marker. My hands grip around the fabric and I pull it down.

I finally stare down at the shirt he gave me. The front has the Mustangs logo and on the back, his last name and number eighteen. It’s the same number all his brothers wear for their mother. It was her birthday. I know this because I looked him up after our run-in at Sabrina’s engagement party. I know a lot about Flynn Holland now. Things I could have known months ago if I hadn’t demanded we not share any personal information that night we spent together. Right next to the eight, Flynn signed it, Dick. And what I presume is his number is scribbled underneath.

Lol

“What is going on with you today?” Ruby asks as I remove every book from our front table, setting them on a cart to place back on the shelves. Every book lands with a thump.

“Nothing. I just want to freshen up the table with some new books. Romance readers are voracious. They will find their favorite books no matter where we put them. It’s the more general reader we want to capture as soon as they walk in the door. We got some new recipe books in that I think will look great and appeal to a wider audience.”

“You’re spinning. Take a breath,” she says. All the fight leaves me.

“The table is great. They’re always great. You have a fantastic eye for pairing books and creating beautiful displays. You need to lighten up. Who cares if some committee of people voted Plot Twist as the best bookstore in Lake City? We have a very loyal clientele, and since you took over last year, revenue is up. You completely overhauled the entire store. Gigi was thinking about closing and now look at this place. It’s thriving.” “They were going to close?” I ask, feeling panic at just the thought. “That’s all you heard from my big speech?” I let out a breath. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She eyes the remaining books on the table. “You’re still going to swap out the table, aren’t you?” “Organizing keeps me sane,” I say with a more relaxed smile.

“Were they really going to close the bookstore?” I ask her. She nods. “I’m not sure if they would have gone through with it, but they talked about it. Gigi wanted to travel, and Grandpa thought it was too much for her to maintain on her own after she had that bad fall. But then you stepped in.”

The bell on the front door jingles as we finish putting away the last of the books. Ruby’s eyes widen. “Oh no, what will they think of the empty front table?” she asks with mock horror. “Shut up.” I backhand her lightly and then take off to greet our customer. “Welcome in,” I say as I come around the corner. But when I see who it is, my steps come up short. “You.” My hands go to my hips. One side of his mouth hitches up and he gives me that easy, sexy smile. “And you.” “How did you find me?” My arms fall to my sides. It seems there’s no avoiding this guy. “I asked around.”

“This is cool. Exactly as you described.” “Liv, I’m going to—” My sister’s voice cuts off as she takes in the scene in front of her. She looks from me to Flynn and back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“I’m Flynn.” “Ruby.” “The sister, right?” “That’s right.” She gives me another side-eye as she shakes his hand. “How do you two know each other?” “He’s the baseball player that was signing at Plot Twist this morning.” “Oh.” Ruby smiles tentatively. “You’re Flynn Holland. The new pitcher. Our grandfather⁠—” “Loves baseball,”

“Is it okay for you to be in here cavorting with the enemy?” His lips twitch with a smile. “I didn’t know bookstores had rivalries.” “Oh, yeah.” Ruby nods along. “We throw down once a year. Who can stack the most books or make the best window display.” Flynn’s chest shakes with a silent laugh. “You are not helping,” I tell her. “Sorry. I thought we were being nice to our customer.” “He isn’t a customer.” “I might be.” He takes off, heading farther into the store like he’s browsing.

“You can’t just come in here and… and… look at books.” “Why not?” Flynn asks, continuing on. “What’s the last book you read?” “Are you book shaming me?” “What? No, of course not. Just making a point.” “Books are cool. I’m thinking about taking reading up as a new hobby. Where are your sister’s books?” “I knew I liked you,” Ruby shouts from wherever she’s eavesdropping. “Really, really not helping,” I mutter, but I take off toward our Ruby Madison display. I pick up her newest book. He takes it with a grin. “Vampires. I dig it.”

Lol cant say he isnt persistent!

“Anything else?” “Your number.” Turning on my heel, I head to the front counter. Flynn follows me, standing on the other side.

“You already gave me yours,” I say as I ring him up and put his books in a tote. I can feel him watching my every movement and it’s unnerving. “Yeah, but you haven’t texted.” “You only gave it to me three hours ago.” “So, you were planning to text?” When I don’t reply, he says, “That’s what I thought.”

“You know I thought you’d be more excited to see me. I meant it when I said I thought about that night in New York hundreds of times. I was kicking myself for not getting your name or number.” “A thousand.” “What?” “At Sabrina’s engagement party, you said you thought about that night a thousand times.”

“A million, probably.” “Wait. You’re the guy from New York?” Ruby appears out of nowhere and gawks between us.

Lol oh no

“You talked about me?” “Only to say terrible things.” I usher him toward the door before my sister can say anything else. “Nice to meet you,” Ruby calls after him. “Enjoy the books!” He throws a hand over his shoulder. “Yeah. You too.” I walk him all the way outside. Flynn laughs, still smirking at me. “What terrible things could you possibly have said about that night?” “Oh, I don’t know, maybe the part where I woke up and you’d snuck out.” I

“I did not sneak out.” He must read the thoughts swirling in my head that are screaming they don’t believe him because he adds, “I swear.” “Well, you weren’t there when I woke up, so either you left me there or were hiding and hoping I’d see myself out.” “My agent showed up at my door early that morning and said the general manager of the Renegades was in the lobby waiting to talk to me. I went downstairs to meet with him. I wasn’t gone long. Thirty minutes tops. You were asleep. I thought I would be back before you woke up. When you were gone, I felt awful. I knocked on the room next door and looked for you around the hotel. I even asked the doorman if he’d seen you, but he didn’t have much to go on since all I could say about you was that you were a gorgeous blonde with the prettiest blue eyes I’d ever seen and a smart mouth.”

He hadn’t been running away from me? Maybe it says something about my luck with men that my mind automatically went there, but honestly, I never considered any other scenario. “Let me take you out. We can catch up over dinner or drinks. I want to hear what you’ve been doing since then.”

Flynn is interested in the single, carefree woman he met in New York. Not the busy, single mom who swore off dating after one too many disappointing dates. He likes the person he thinks I am. Not the one that I actually am. “I can’t.” Surprisingly, he doesn’t push. He does linger a moment longer as if hoping I’ll change my mind. When I don’t, he finally nods. “It was good to see you again. Thanks for the books.” My stomach dips with an uneasy sensation that might be disappointment. It’s for the best, but I still don’t like it. “You’re welcome.” I force a smile. “Try not to use them as coasters.”

There’s a chaotic crowd, trying to get close enough to order. Being tall gives me an advantage to see over the madness. Hanging back, I let my gaze scan the full length of the bar looking for a familiar blonde bombshell. Brunette, Brunette, Dude… but no Olivia. Disappointment trickles in. With spring training, I haven’t had a lot of time to sit and think about anything else. But I have thought about her. She’s a tough one to crack. I know she’s attracted to me because she said as much in New York. Maybe it’s weird for her because I’m her best friend’s fiancé’s brother but that seems like a stretch. There’s something else holding her back and I intend to find out. I pull out my phone to text Sabrina. I feel like there’s a good chance I can convince her to give me Olivia’s number or at least help me bump into her again. My future sister-in-law loves me. The feeling is mutual. She’s funny and protective of my brother. And anyone who makes Archer as happy as she does is okay in my book. While I’m tapping out a message, someone bumps into me from behind. “Sorry, man,” the guy says. I glance up and turn to tell him it’s no problem, but that’s when I see her. She’s carrying a tray over her head as she squeezes through the crowd. The way her arms are lifted pulls her purple tank top up, exposing a whole lot of smooth, alabaster skin. Her tits are pushed up and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail. She’s dressed sexier than any other time I’ve seen her. Even though I know it’s a...

A group of guys celebrating someone’s birthday come away from the bar with drinks and shots, but a disappointed air surrounds them as they all pat the birthday boy on the shoulder. He must have been rejected. I feel your pain, bro. Every so often the female bartenders switch sides, so that each of them moves to work the opposite section they’ve been on. I don’t know the reasoning, but I can’t help but note that each time Olivia switches to work a new area, the guys up next in line that she leaves behind, groan with frustration.

It isn’t like I planned to gawk at her from afar all night, but from a distance at least she can’t crush my hopes and dreams of taking her home. Eventually a barstool frees up and I snag it. The new bartender on this side, a pretty brunette with a septum piercing, smiles at me. “What can I get you?” she asks. “Jack and Coke.” She nods and gets busy pouring my drink. I lean back, staring across the bar at Olivia. The crowd is gradually starting to move outside, and the bartenders slow down a bit, taking a little more time getting orders, smiling and talking more. All except Olivia. She moves with that same hurried pace. It seems like she’s in a whole zone, not really seeing anything or anyone around her. My drink is nearly gone when the bartenders switch again. Olivia moves toward me, only looking up at the last second. “Can I get you another—” Her sentence comes to abrupt halt as her blue eyes lock on mine. “Hey there.” I wave with the fingers around my glass.

“Are you stalking me?” A small chuckle leaves my lips. “I came with some teammates. They’re outside.” “Oh.” She tugs on the hem of her tank top. “Purple is a good color on you. My new favorite in fact.” “Are you expecting that line to work on me?”

“That depends. Is it?” “No.” She shakes her head, but a hint of a smile pulls at the corner of her mouth. Her gaze drops to my drink. “Want another?” “Yeah. Thanks. Jack and Coke.” While she pours it, I say, “You should have prepared me better for chapter twenty-eight.” I guess I should have expected some spicy sex scenes, but as a new reader of the genre (or any genre, really), I did not. She freezes, brows raised. “You read the book?” “Yeah. In nearly one sitting. I’m working on the second one now.” “I’ll let Ruby know. She’ll be thrilled to know she has a foothold in the male demographic.”

“I only have one critique.” Her body language stiffens immediately. I lean forward, closing some of the distance between us. “Nine inches is not the perfect length.” Her cheeks flush as she understands my meaning, but she keeps that haughty body language. “No?” “Too big.” I lean back. “Chicks think they want that sort of size, but they’re never prepared for it.” “And you know this because…” I grin back at her, waiting… waiting… waiting… Her mouth falls open. There it is. “I don’t believe you.” She won’t quite meet my eyes though. “I could prove it to you, but I think that might get me kicked out of here.” I glance down quick at my crotch and back to her. “Possibly arrested.” Her smile widens.

“Guess you’ll just have to come back to my place tonight then. What time are you off work?” As quickly as her excitement appeared, it fades away. “Sorry. I’m busy.” “What about tomorrow night?” “I’m busy then too.” “Sunday?” “Busy,” we say at the same time.

“My ego is taking a real hit here, Liv.” “Only my friends get to call me that.” “Ouch.” She grins, clearly loving baiting me as much as I love being baited by her. “It’s okay. I like your name too much to shorten it anyway. O-liv-ia,” I say it slowly, enjoying every syllable. “Don’t do that. Don't say my name all sexy.” “So you think the way I talk is sexy?” She groans and turns away from me. Yep, she’s definitely into me.

For the next half hour or so I sit and drink and watch her work. Between customers she lingers near me, so I take that as a cue to keep talking her up. “How’s the bookstore rivalry?”

“Okay, fine, we won’t talk work. What was your first car?” Clearly amused by the random question, she huffs a short laugh before she answers, “I had an old red Toyota truck.” “A truck? Really?” “It was my grandfather’s. He sold it to me cheap.” “And now?” “Surprised you don’t already know, stalker.” “I’m in the intel gathering phase.”

“Honda SUV.” “Color?” “Black.” “Nice vehicle.” “It was one of the top safety picks last year.”

“Let me guess, you drive a shiny new truck. A Ram maybe, something lifted with big tires.” I shake my head. “I’ve got a new Chevy outside, sweetheart,” some guy two seats down says. He has a bushy beard with twinges of gray in it. He strokes said beard as he continues, “Just drove it off the lot yesterday. Want to take a drive?” “No thanks,” she says politely but firm.

“You don’t seem like a sports car guy.” Her gaze narrows. “I’m not sure if that’s an insult or not, but you’re correct. I do not drive a sports car. I wouldn’t mind having a McLaren someday though. Any more guesses?” “Creepy white van?” I chuckle. “Closer than your other guesses.” She arches a brow. “I have an old ’67 Ford F100 Ranger.” “Damn.”

“That was a good year.” “You remember it?” “I meant the truck.” He scowls at me. “How old do you think I am?” “Uhh…” Olivia fights a laugh, and I send the guy an apologetic tip of my head. “Get him a round on me,” I say to her.

“Did you really come with teammates or was that a line?” she asks as she pours another customer a drink. “Oh shit,” I say, glancing toward the outdoor area.

Fuck, they completely slipped my mind. I give her a sheepish smile. “I guess I should get back, so they don’t think I ditched them.” A flicker of what could be disappointment crosses her face, but it’s gone so quickly I can’t be sure. “Have fun!” She flits off to the other side of the bar before I can respond.

Lots of girls in bikinis and guys in trunks are in the water or sitting on the edge. The whole vibe is just… more. People are drunk and having fun. It’s the kind of environment I’d usually be all about, but tonight I’d rather be back inside sitting and talking to Olivia. Still, I walk around until I find the guys. They’re at a table on the right side of the patio. Three women are sitting on the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water as they talk to them. The girls look first as I approach, and the guys’ attention follows. “We thought you bailed,” Gunnar says, then quieter adds, “Everyone always bails.” That feels like a loaded statement that I don’t want to address tonight. “I ran into someone I know inside,” I say then tip my head to the women with a polite smile. “I know you.” One of the women narrows her gaze at me like she’s trying to place me.

“Flynn.” I lift a hand in a wave and take a seat beside Freddie. “You’re on that billboard.” She points then nods excitedly as if she’s more sure of it now that she’s said it. “You’re one of the Holland brothers, right?” “That’s right.” “Ooooh. Can you introduce me to your brother? The motocross racer.” Another girl, sitting across from me, grins wide as she waits for my answer, then lets out a dreamy sigh. “He is so hot.” “Sorry, he’s married.” “Too bad. I guess you’ll do then. I’m Sadie.”

She’s fucking with me… I think. Her demeanor reminds me of Olivia a little. A surprised laugh escapes my lips. “Lucky me.”

Gunnar and one of the girls pair off, clearly into each other. Bo and her friend with the very large boobs are in deep discussion about The White Lotus, I’m starting to sense it’s a hot topic for him, and that leaves me and Freddie with Sadie. Sadie’s pretty cool actually. I’m not into her, mostly because I can’t stop thinking about Olivia, but I’m enjoying talking to her. Freddie, on the other hand, is silent. When Sadie goes with her friends to get a new drink, I look to the guy next to me. “Is everything okay with you?” I ask him. “Yeah. Fine.” He drags both palms over his thighs. He...

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh. I’m surprised. You’re a cool dude and not terrible to look at.”

“At best, I’m an eight out of ten. Then knock off three or four points when I open my mouth, and nothing comes out.” “You haven’t said a single thing to them all night?” I ask, thinking back if I can remember him uttering a word since I’ve been here. He shakes his head. Well, fuck. The girls are walking toward us, so I don’t have time to ask him more. Sadie drags a chair over next to me. She’s pulled on a pair of jean shorts with her white bikini top. She’s sexy as fuck, but I’d be leading her on by pretending to be interested in her while I can’t stop thinking about Olivia.

“Hey, I’ve got a question for you.” “Sure,” Sadie says. “Say a guy wanted to impress a girl but he keeps messing it up. He says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing, or maybe he doesn’t say or do anything at all.”

“Are you okay?” I ask him. “Fine.” His tone has a little grit to it as he blushes and sneaks an embarrassed glance at Sadie. “A bad first impression isn’t a deal breaker,” she says with no hint of recognition that I meant Freddie. In fact… I’m not just talking about him. “Good to know. How does he recover?”

“At our core, women just want to be acknowledged and recognized for who we are individually. Everything is so surface level nowadays. Ask her questions, show an interest in getting to know her. Most men, and even other women for that matter, barge in with their own agenda and unless it magically matches my energy we never connect.”

“That’s a real fucking good answer,” I say as I think back to my last few encounters with Olivia. I’ve been so certain that we had this great connection that I jumped right in like we were going to pick up where we left off. Clearly, that hasn’t worked. “Thank you.” She beams. “Who’s the girl?” “Am I that obvious?” “Let’s just say if you were hitting on me the past hour, you’re doing a terrible job.”