Forever Flint. Barbara Boswell
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women? You want to make this trip into some kind of Beach Blanket Black Hills?” His voice lowered, his tone both cold and fierce. “Forget it, Ashlinn.”
This time she wasn’t charmed by his use of her name. “Do you really think I’m advocating some kind of Naked Singles romp in the great outdoors? Ha, you wish! All I mean is that we need more women on this trip to curb the bouts of macho male bonding and competition. You know they’re bound to occur.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” snapped Flint. “I wonder if you do.”
“I certainly do. I know that one woman among five men is practically a nonentity. The five of you will forge ahead without me, you’ll do things I simply can’t. I know how guys act, I have an older brother and two stepbrothers. And I also know that having a balanced number of women in a group sets a different tone. The presence of women provides certain guidelines and constraints and limits to the. . .”
“You’re imparting the viewpoint of women-as-the-old-ball-and-chain? Interesting.”
“Of course, should you guys still insist on jumping off cliffs or swimming in hypothermia-inducing water, at least I’ll have some company picking berries while you’re doing it.”
Flint smirked. “Who would have thought a sophisticated big-city lady editor would attest to the stereotypes of action-oriented, risk-taking male and passive berry-picking female?”
“Who would have thought?” she echoed, not rising to the bait. “Will you call some women you know and ask them to come with us?”
“We leave tomorrow at dawn, remember? That’s not enough notice. Nobody can just pick up and leave so quickly.”
“You could at least try. Call your girlfriend. Won’t she jump at the chance to spend the next two weeks with you?”
Ashlinn attempted to ignore the flush that suffused her face and spread throughout her whole body. She wasn’t fishing for information, she assured herself; she was merely confirming the inevitable. Odds were great that a man like Flint Paradise—handsome and successful—did have a girlfriend. Maybe several
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Flint said bluntly.
A swell of joy surged through her followed by a rush of embarrassment. If he were to guess. . .
Ashlinn shuddered. “Then call some of the women, uh, you date casually,” she strove to sound blasé.
“I don’t date,” Flint growled through his teeth. “I don’t have the time for it. My work is my life. Paradise Outdoors is all I want and need. Is that so difficult to understand?”
Her eyes widened. “I get the feeling you’ve had this conversation before—with somebody who puts you very much on the defensive.”
“I’m not on the defen—” he abruptly paused, then breathed a sigh. “Okay, maybe I am, a little.”
“Who nags you about working too much and too hard?” Ashlinn pressed, curious. “Your parents? Mine accuse me of being too dedicated to my career. They have a ‘you’re letting life pass you by’ speech that I can recite word for word. I hear it almost every Sunday during our weekly phone calls.”
“My folks are both dead, so no, they don’t worry about my lack of a social life.”
“I’m sorry about your parents. Has to be a sister, then I know how sisters are, I have a younger one plus two stepsisters.”
“My sister is in her senior year in medical school, and she’s as devoted to her work as I am to mine No, Eva would never nag me, but my brother has been known to make some pointed comments about my priorities.”
“Brothers can be just as interfering as sisters,” Ashlinn conceded.
Flint angled a quick look at her.
A shaft of moonlight cast her delicate profile in relief. Stop it! he admonished himself Think of her as a customer, not a lovely desirable woman. Pretend she is Asher Carey and make trivial conversation. Become bored, immediately’
“You already mentioned a slew of brothers.” Listening to anyone drone on about their family normally had a narcotic effect upon him. Surely it would be no different with her, no matter how sexy she was. “How big is your family anyway?”
“Big. We’re a Brady Bunch-type clan. My mom had three kids when she married my stepdad, who had four.”
“Now there’s a prescription for disaster!” Flint exclaimed. Unfortunately, being startled and appalled was the antithesis of boredom.
Ashlinn looked at him in surprise. “What makes you say that?”
“Because it’s so obvious. Keep in mind the Bradys are fictional characters, Ashlinn. In real life. . .”
“Things worked out well,” Ashlinn cut in. “The seven of us are all grown up and on our own and the folks are happily retired in Florida. See, a fairy-tale ending.”
“I don’t like fairy tales,” Flint growled. “Never have. I can’t suspend the disbelief.”
“How about sociology, then? The Careys are a successful case of a modern blended family.”
“Even fairy tales are more believable than that.”
“You couldn’t be this negative on the subject unless you’ve had some personal involvement with it.” Her interest was piqued. “Were you married to a woman with kids who. . .”
“God, no” His invocation of the Almighty was heartfelt. “I have never been married, nor do I intend to be. The whole point of marriage is to have a family and I already have more family than I know what to do with. The last thing I need or want is any more relatives.”
His vehemence amused her. “Who’s the worst?”
“Are you taking about relatives?”
She nodded. “If my family were polled, I’m sure I’d win the title of The Worst One. I was an overly dramatic child and a sarcastic, bratty teen. I like to think I’ve improved as an adult, but I’m afraid that among my relatives, my reputation is set in cement.”
“Your family has yet to experience the worst,” Flint assured her. “My two half sisters hold the Worldwide Worst title. Of course, their late unlamented mother made Lucrezia Borgia look like a real sweetheart, so they come by it naturally, I suppose.”
“If their black-hearted mom wasn’t yours too, that means you shared the same father,” Ashlinn surmised easily.
“Yes, Ben Paradise.” Flint’s black eyes were hard. “A year after my mother’s death, Dad married Marcine, who spawned Camryn and Kaylin.”
“Sounds like you’re still holding a grudge against her for that.”
“Among other things. And after observing my father’s misery with Marcine, I have no desire to experience the gothic horror known as marriage first-hand.”
Ashlinn wasn’t sure if she ought to offer a counterargument. Emphasizing the success of her family seemed insensitive at best, boastful at worst, when Flint’s own fell into the dysfunctional category.
They both lapsed into a silence which soon grew oppressive to Ashlinn.
“Now that you’re all adults, do you ever see your half sisters?” she asked. She knew how easy it would be to sever family ties as an adult; she had to make a special effort to keep in touch with her own siblings and steps, who were scattered all over the country. She did it willingly. But then, she didn’t consider any of them to be satanic spawns. Hopefully, they no longer saw her as one.
“Camryn and Kaylin aren’t adults, they’re teenagers and live with my brother here in town.” His tone was dour. “So I see them.”
“They’re in Sioux Falls?” An idea,