Free Montana Hero by Debra Salonen Page B

personal days this week and we have a few more things to discuss—including how to find the money to fund a program that lets me take at-risk kids to your adventure course and zip line—I invited her and her son to join us.”
    “She’s a her?”
    “Yes.”
    Tucker was silent for so long, Flynn checked his phone. When he put it back to his ear, he heard his friend say, “…about damn time, Flynnster. We were starting to worry about you. If you wait too long to get back on the horse, you’re freaking doomed to walk, man.”
    Flynnster. The name Tucker used when he was drunk.
    Maybe I’ll forget the beer.
    He didn’t need to ask what Tucker was talking about—the guys never shut up about Flynn’s divorce, his lack of social prowess with the ladies, and the fact he needed to get laid in the worst way.
    The passenger door opened and Kat Robinson looked in. Her bright blue and white stocking cap had earflaps and puffy tassels that made her look like a teenager. A stab of hunger hit like a skewer from his balls to his libido. His tongue got stuck on the roof of his mouth and his greeting turned into a garbled mumble.
    The voice on the other end of the phone shouted, “Flynn? Are you there? Did I lose you?”
    Flynn hit the End button and tossed the phone into the big, never-been-used ashtray. “Hi,” he said, grateful his vocal chords were working again. “Ready?” He looked over his shoulder to see her son fastening his seat belt without being told. Most of the kids in his last program thought it wasn’t macho to use seat belts. He’d sit with the truck in park until they groaned and gave in.
    Kat removed her hat and gloves once she realized the truck was warm. “Nice. Thanks. Where’s the house you’re looking at?”
    “East River Road for two miles, then follow the signs.”
    He shifted into reverse and maneuvered past several piles of dirty snow to get to the exit. According to his brother, they had a big blizzard on Christmas Eve that took them a couple of days to dig out from. Since then they’d had a couple of smaller storms but more cold temperatures than snow to clean things up.
    “Is this the fastest way to the highway?” he asked, trying to picture his still fuzzy mental map. Ryker and Mia had driven him around when he first got here, but Flynn was a hands-on learner. He needed to experience something to be able to recall it clearly.
    Like divorce. Now that he knew what that looked like he didn’t plan to ever go near it again. Being married wasn’t bad, but being married to the wrong person was the worst kind of torment. Every day, he’d asked himself why he’d thought he loved her in the first place. The self-doubt nearly drove him crazy.
    “Actually, I have a quicker route. Turn right at the next intersection and take the second left—”
    “Or…we trade places.” He looked over his shoulder. “Is she always like this?”
    “Yes. She micromanages. My dad always let her drive.”
    “I beg your pardon,” Kat said, huffily. “Micromanage? Me? He asked. I know a shorter route. If you don’t like the answer…”
    Flynn hopped out of the car, grinning as they passed each other by the front grill. He liked the answer. He liked her.
    He didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad, but he knew better than to act on it. The last thing his department needed was another scandal.
    Fifteen minutes later, she pulled to a stop beside a late model sedan not unlike the Lexus that had been involved in the altercation that morning. “How’s Molly doing?” Flynn asked. “So much has happened today I forgot to ask.”
    She turned off the ignition and handed him the key. “As far as I know, okay. They put in an IV to deliver the antibiotics. Getting Alzheimer patients to take meds can be challenging if they’re convinced you’re trying to hurt them.” She turned to look at her son. “Coming in?”
    “After I finish this level.”
    She didn’t comment but got out.
    “Do you want to leave