Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5)

by Janet Elizabeth Henderson

  Old. He felt old.

  “I know you can, honey, but it’s time to move on. I’ve arranged for you to go hang out with Michael. He’s renting a house down in Edinburgh. There’s more life in the city anyway, and you girls definitely need more to occupy you than a beat-up footballer.”

  “But we like our beat-up footballer.” Mindy/Sindy/Bindy Number Two knelt up on her chair, pouted collagen-enhanced lips and ran her palm over his chest.

  His abs twitched beneath her touch, and he wondered again if he should just keep them. They could be quiet. If they tried. No. He was going to be good if it killed him. He shook his head and gently removed the hand heading steadily south to his shorts.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but all good things must come to an end. That’s the way the cookie crumbles. But every cloud has a silver lining.” Somebody needed to slap him upside the head. Could he squeeze any more clichés into this conversation?

  “But I want to stay with you.” Mindy/Sindy/Bindy Number Three pouted.

  “I know you do. But you can’t always get what you want, sometimes you get what you need.” He mentally rolled his eyes at himself as she nodded sagely. The vacant look in her eyes led him to suspect she was the one who didn’t attend uni.

  “Can we come back and visit?” Number One said.

  He was distracted momentarily by the fact her baby tee barely covered her ample rack. But instead of wondering about getting her out of the shirt, as he usually did when around women who were scantily clad, he was wondering if she shopped in the kid’s section. What was wrong with him?

  “Course you can,” he crooned at Number One. “You know the Ball Babes are always welcome here.” Damn, wrong thing to say. “Except right now, when you have to go.” Smooth. Real smooth.

  Number One’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You look really tense, Flynn. Maybe you shouldn’t make this sort of decision until you’re relaxed. The girls and I could give you a massage.” She licked her lips. “It would help clear your mind.”

  Every cell in his body screamed, Yes please! They gave damn good massages. He’d been indulging in them for weeks, hoping their touch would help him heal. Mentally and physically. Yeah, he liked those massages a lot. He wondered if his family would appreciate everything he was sacrificing to please them. He doubted it. He closed his eyes and waited until his breathing slowed.

  “That’s a really kind offer,” he said at last, “but I booked a car for you and it will be here in a little while. Anyway, wouldn’t you rather stay in an Edinburgh penthouse than in a dusty old van in the middle of a field?” He glanced around at his luxury, top-of-the-line, two-bedroom motorhome. Okay, maybe dusty old van was pushing it. “Now, go pack up your things. Michael’s really looking forward to your visit. He’s planning a team party around it.”

  “He is?” Number Two perked right up.

  “Absolutely,” Flynn lied. Well, it was kind of a lie. He was sure Michael would plan a party as soon as he knew the women were heading his way, which would be about ten minutes before they rang his doorbell. Flynn had this relocation timed down to the second, like a military manoeuvre.

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Number Three hung her head in resignation.

  “I’m sure. Now, I’ll just hang outside until you’re ready to leave.” Before they could say another word, he turned and hauled himself out of the van, pushing the camera guy out in front of him.

  He was about to heave a sigh of relief when he spotted the weasel waiting. His arms were folded tight across his bony chest. The perpetual frown was in place. “You’re sending them away? Right now, they’re all this documentary’s got going for it. What are we supposed to shoot now? Your hairy arse lounging around all day?”

  Flynn shrugged rather than punching the weasel’s face. The camera was still rolling, and he knew anything he did would be edited for effect. “I didn’t know you were that interested in my arse, Brian.”

  The weasel grabbed his phone from his pocket and stabbed at it with bony fingers as he stomped to his car. Seemed like the whole town heaved a sigh of relief when the car sped away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and a peaceful gap where the man once stood.

  The camera guy snickered as Flynn hobbled past him to his lounger. As he stumbled over discarded beer bottles and empty chip packets, he realised his mistake. He should have sent the women away after he got them to clean up. Now he’d have to hire someone to do it for him.

  Half an hour later, the car arrived to take the women to Edinburgh. They came out of the van laden with luggage. Each of them primped and sparkled, ready for travel. He stood to accept hugs, kisses and fake tears of farewell.

  As Number Two and Number Three climbed into the car, Number One gave him an extra squeeze. “Take care of yourself, Flynn. Don’t let it get to you.” She nodded towards his leg.

  He smiled politely, because that was what you were supposed to do when people said stuff like that. “I won’t, promise.”

  She put a hand on each of his shoulders, went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Remember, you aren’t only a guy who kicks a ball. You’ve got a brain, Flynn, and you’re a decent guy when you try. It’ll be okay.”

  He nodded, suddenly eager to hold her tight, rather than let her leave. As she walked away, she looked over her shoulder at him and smiled with luminous white teeth. “And for the record, my name is Joyce.” She gave him a wink before she climbed into the car.

  Now she mentioned it, he distinctly remembered the day he’d met her and she introduced herself as Joyce. It made him feel even more foolish over calling her Mindy/Sindy/Bindy for the past two months. As the girls waved and the car disappeared, he felt a sudden surge of panic. He was alone and the future was a huge mountain in front of him. One he didn’t know how to climb. He rubbed his chest at the thought before he remembered his every move was being recorded.

  Plastering a lazy smile to his face, he headed towards the stream.

  “You can take a break,” he told the camera guy. “I’m gonna snooze beside the water for half an hour. I’ll get you when I wake up.”

  The guy lowered the camera. “Thanks, dude.” He lumbered towards his van.

  Flynn worked hard to push away the feelings of despair nipping at his mind. He didn’t have time to wallow. He needed to be proactive. He had to come up with a plan for his future. Pity his mind went blank the instant he thought the word “future”—as though his brain was terrified to go there.

  As Flynn neared the water, he heard a distressed noise. There was rustling from one of the bushes. With a wince, he crouched down to investigate. Gently pushing back the leaves on a nearby bush, Flynn came face to beak with a terrified duck. There was fishing line wrapped around its wing and the hook was embedded in its side. Flynn cursed under his breath as he reached for the cowering wreck.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up, buddy. You’re in a worse state than I am.”

  The duck quacked its agreement as Flynn carried it, like it was precious cargo, back to the van.

  As he shushed the duck to quiet her, an idea hit Flynn like a bolt of lightning. He knew how to help Abby. He could take away one of her problems. He had the resources. He grinned widely. He was a fricking genius. Now all he needed was a minute alone with Katy—and a wallet full of cash.

  9

  “We must have had ninety-nine percent of the game. It was the other three percent that cost us the match.” Ruud Gullit, former Dutch national soccer player

  Abby was entrenched in hell. After another sleepless night where she tossed and turned with worry, she had the pleasure of her sister’s company again for morning tea. She was holding on to her sanity by a hair, waiting for Katy to say something that would seal their fate. There was no way she’d make it through another five days of this. She wasn’t even sure she’d make it to lunch.

  When the doorbell rang, Abby was busy serving tea for her unwanted guests. At least Lawrence was pleasant—when he wasn’t giving Victoria looks of disapproval. Although Abb
y appreciated his effort on her part, it didn’t do anything to lighten the tension in the air.

  “I’ll get it.” Katy ran to open the door, and a moment later, she came back trailing Flynn behind her.

  Abby froze, teapot angled as she poured for Lawrence. It was a miracle she didn’t pass out on the spot. The chances of someone saying the wrong thing had just doubled. She couldn’t monitor Katy and Flynn. She had to get rid of him. Now.

  Katy cocked a thumb over her shoulder at Flynn, in a move stolen from Matt. “I told him he wasn’t allowed in here, but he says he is. Is that right, Muma? Are we letting him in now, or is he telling big hairy fibs?” She glared back at Flynn, who bugged his eyes out at her.

  A hand on her arm brought Abby’s attention back to the tea. Lawrence smiled up at her. His cup had overflowed, leaving him with a saucer of tea.

  “I’m terribly sorry,” Abby said, “let me get you another one.”

  “How about I deal with the tea and you deal with your guest?” Lawrence stood, taking the overflowing cup and saucer with him.

  Abby smiled with fake gratitude. She didn’t want to deal with her guest. She didn’t want to deal with any of her guests. What she did want to do was tell them all to go to hell then slam the door shut behind them.

  “Flynn,” she said through a clenched-teeth smile. “What brings you here, of all places you could be right now that aren’t here?” Okay, not very subtle. It was still better than screaming the place down. So, it was a win.

  “I came to introduce myself to your lovely sister and her friend. I’m just being a good neighbour.” Flynn’s grin was pure charm. It dazzled. She squinted at his mouth. Were those teeth artificially whitened? She shook her head.

  “How lovely. I know how busy you are. It’s kind of you to fit us in—especially when you have that thing you need to get to this morning. Remember the urgent business you told me about. The business you have to do right now. Away from here.” Abby silently communicated, using telepathy, bug eyes and thinned lips that he’d damn well better invent a pressing engagement toot sweet. He seemed not to get the message. Instead he turned to her sister.

  “Doesn’t look like Abby wants to introduce us.” He flashed a charming smile. “I’m Flynn Boyle.” He held out a hand to Victoria.

  “I’m sorry,” Abby said in a tone clearly revealing she wasn’t. “This is my neighbour.” She glared at Flynn, who ignored it. “This is my sister, Victoria Montgomery-Clark. And this is Lawrence Maynard, my mother’s lawyer.”

  Abby watched as Flynn’s mouth twitched when Victoria gave him a limp handshake using barely more than her fingertips.

  Flynn’s eyes sparkled a little too much when he looked back at Abby, making her stomach clench in fear. “You don’t need to worry about that thing I had on this morning. It was cancelled. Seems it wasn’t urgent after all.” His lips twitched with clear mischief. He was up to something. This was not the time for him to be up to something! He eyed the table, taking in the tea and cake. “Mind if I join you?”

  Yes! I mind! Every fibre of Abby’s being screamed at him. Unfortunately, it was silent and he missed it.

  “We’re feeding him now?” Katy protested loudly.

  “You’re such a joker, kid.” Flynn ruffled Katy’s hair, making her growl.

  He just grinned and shook hands with Lawrence. Abby stood frozen. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think of a way to get Flynn out of her house. Her eyes darted between Katy and Flynn. The two of them together had the potential for Armageddon.

  Katy stomped over to Flynn’s side, folded her arms and scowled at him. “Why are you here? You can’t be here to be friendly. Muma said you’d only be nice to us when all the rivers in Scotland dried up, and I saw the stream this morning. It still has water.”

  Abby gave an obviously fake, and clearly hysterical, laugh.

  Flynn reached out and tugged Katy’s ponytail. “Isn’t she a cute kid?” he asked Victoria. “Almost too cute to be allowed out in public.” He turned to Abby. “Maybe you should keep her in her room?” Although he was grinning, Abby wasn’t sure it was a joke. She watched as he gave Katy a narrow-eyed glance.

  “There’s rules for coming into my house,” Katy said. “You need to wear clothes. And you need to stop kissing my Muma.”

  Lawrence made a choking noise as he sat back down at the table.

  Abby stopped breathing. Stared at the ceiling and pleaded once again for a meteor to strike the house.

  “Clothes?” Victoria asked in a strangled voice.

  “She means T-shirts,” Abby said. “Flynn likes to sunbathe, so he rarely wears them. Got to keep up the tan, eh?”

  Flynn cocked an eyebrow at her, making it clear he thought she was the one who was nuts.

  “You’re a funny kid,” he said to Katy. “Cute and funny. Great sense of humour. Bet you get to sit on the naughty step a lot with all those tales you tell.”

  Katy leaned in to him. “You need to sit on the naughty step, not me. You need to sit there for about a year. You let a woman show her boobs at a party. And you’re noisy. And messy. And Muma said you’re a pig.”

  “Katy!” Abby felt the floor disappear beneath her feet. She held on to the table to stop the room from spinning. This conversation alone was enough for Victoria to file for custody. What made her think she’d get away with a week of good behaviour from Flynn? What made her think Katy would keep her knowledge to herself? It was a disaster.

  “You know what?” Flynn stood. “Katy promised to show me her new Barbies. How about we do that now, kid? While your mum makes some coffee. There’s only tea here, and I’m not much of a tea drinker.”

  Katy and Abby opened their mouths to protest at the same time, but Flynn beat them to it. “You know, I think I’ve got another football shirt you’d like, Katy. Why don’t I tell you about it while we look at the new Barbies?”

  Katy’s back snapped straight as her eyes narrowed. Her tongue licked across her bottom lip in a gesture that could only be described as calculated.

  “My Barbies are in the living room.” Katy turned on her heels, head held high, expecting him to follow.

  “Kids.” Flynn shook his head and grinned at her family before following Katy.

  Abby was stuck to the spot, torn between running after them to rescue Katy from Flynn, or Flynn from Katy, depending on what was happening. And staying with her sister in an attempt to make the whole visit seem normal. When Victoria eyed her with disapproval, staying won out. It was time to do damage control.

  “Flynn has a strange sense of humour.” Abby forced a smile. “I’m told it’s worse since the injury. His cousin thinks he may have suffered brain damage from lack of oxygen on the operating table. It’s a terrible waste. But we have to show compassion to those less fortunate than ourselves, don’t we?”

  Lawrence started choking again while Victoria’s eyes went wide.

  “Now, who would like a slice of Bakewell tart?”

  Flynn hobbled into the living room closely behind the five-year-old terrorist. They stalked into the centre of the room. Katy spun towards him, arms folded and the usual glare on her face. Flynn stayed standing too, even though it hurt his knee, because he didn’t want to give ground to the monster.

  “Okay, kid, what will it take for you to be nice to me while your aunt and her friend are here?”

  “I don’t want to be nice to you. You’re mean. Smelly. And stupid.”

  “Did your mum teach you to talk to adults like that?” Flynn knew damn well Abby wouldn’t tolerate Katy’s behaviour. Katy was nothing but respectful around adults—when she wasn’t running off at the mouth.

  “You’re not an adult.”

  And there was the answer. “You might be right, kid, but we need to get along this week. So what will it take to see some good behaviour from you? You need to be friendly too.” He thought about it. “And you can’t go telling everybody’s secrets to your mum’s sister. She’s not from around here; she won’t understa
nd how things work.”

  Katy stuck her nose in the air. “That’s a lot of work.” Her cheeks flushed as her eyes calculated. “It’s going to cost you lots.”

  He folded his arms to mimic her. “Name your price. I came prepared. I have money in my pocket.”

  She thought about it while tapping one finger to her chin. It would have been cute if she wasn’t a master manipulator. Hell, she could give his aunty Heather a run for her money—and she was the town’s current queen of manipulation.

  Katy straightened her back and smiled sweetly. “I don’t want money. I want my own swimming pool. I want you to come to forty-seven tea parties with my dolls. You need to read me ten bedtime stories.” She thought about it. “No, eleven-teen stories. I want chocolate every day—and you can’t tell Muma about it. I want a puppy and a new Barbie house for all my new Barbies. And I want you to teach me how to play football so I can beat Jonathan.” She grinned in triumph. “I want to score my own goal. Jonathan scores own goals all the time. I want one too.”

  Flynn groaned. What were they teaching kids these days? “Own goal means you scored against your own team, kid. It isn’t a good thing. It’s a bad thing. You don’t want one of those.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I want it all.”

  Time was ticking, and they had to get back into the kitchen before someone came to find them and ruined negotiations.

  “I can do the pool, the Barbie house and the chocolate. There’s no way I’m sitting through tea parties with your dolls, I can’t play football because of my leg and if I give you a puppy your mum will kill me.”

  Katy stared at his leg. “When will it be fixed?”

  Flynn bit back the urge to shout never. “Soon. Maybe. Who knows? But I can’t run after a ball right now.”

  She nodded. “I want a pool and a Barbie house and chocolate and bedtime stories and ten tea parties.”

  He shook his head. “No tea parties. No bedtime stories.”