“You ever going to build the house you’re supposed to be building?” Mitch asked.
“Don’t think so.” Flynn grinned at him. “I like this house. Think I might just move in here. Will save a load of effort.”
“And another one bites the dust.” Mitch shook his head. “I stopped drinking the water in this town years ago. There’s something in it that makes the men sign away their freedom and shackle themselves to the first woman who falls at their feet.”
“One.” Flynn held up a finger. “Abby didn’t fall at my feet. If she heard you say that, she’d sock you. Or set the terrorist on you. So I’d keep the thought to myself if I were you. Two.” He held up another finger. “I’m not shackled. I’m still a free man. I just choose to spend my freedom enjoying one woman instead of millions.”
“Millions?” Mitch scoffed. “Your ego knows no bounds.”
“It’s my superpower,” Flynn said solemnly. “And three”—he held up another finger—“I intend to be the first one laughing when you get shackled.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Many women have tried to pin me down. I’m unpinnable.”
“What if it happens the other way round? What if you meet a woman you want to pin down?”
“Never. Going. To. Happen. There isn’t a woman alive I’d chase hard enough to catch.”
“Famous last words. I might get them printed on a T-shirt for you.”
Whatever Mitch was going to say was lost in the sound of an engine revving. The two men watched as a car sped up the road. It cut across his field and headed straight for his RV.
“I think your producer just found out his show’s been cancelled.”
“Pity I’m not home to take his call.” Flynn sipped his beer.
“I don’t think talking is what he has in mind.” The car’s speed increased. The engine roared.
A few seconds later there was an almighty bang as the car rammed the side of the van. It reversed out, tyres squealed and it hit the van again.
“I’m really glad the animals are out of there,” Flynn said.
Mitch cocked an eyebrow at him. “You got insurance?”
Flynn nodded. “Good job, too.” A thought hit him. “There’s no way Abby can send me home after this.”
“Dumb ass.” Mitch shook his head.
“Got to look out for those silver linings.”
They drank their beers as they watched the car hit the van again. Metal ripped. Tyres burned. It was nasty.
“What the heck is going on?” Abby came running out onto the porch.
“Hey, sugar, you feeling better?” Flynn moved over to make space for her, on the side of him away from Mitch, who laughed when he saw the move. Flynn ignored him as he tugged Abby down to sit beside him. She looked delightfully sleep-rumpled.
“Aren’t you going to stop him?” She pointed at the car, which was ramming the van again.
His poor van wasn’t designed to take that sort of abuse. It was crumpling before his eyes. The car didn’t fare much better, but it was still in one piece. Pretty much.
“Nope,” Flynn said. “Better he gets it out of his system on an object rather than a person.”
“He’s damaging your home?” Her incredulous look made it clear she thought he was insane.
“Guess I need to find somewhere else to live.” He gave her a hot look, heavy with meaning. “Got any ideas?”
She flushed pink, making him smile wickedly. There was another crash.
“I can’t believe you’re sitting here doing nothing when a madman is trashing your RV. Do you have so much money you don’t care when it’s wasted?”
“It isn’t wasted.” He pointed across the field. “Look.”
Abby looked where he pointed and spotted a camera trained on the producer. She stilled in confusion. “Is this part of your documentary?”
“Nope—the show’s been cancelled, sugar. The producer isn’t happy about it.” He turned to Mitch. “How much do you reckon it will cost me to make the footage as public as possible?”
“Want me to go find out?”
“If you don’t mind. Add this service to my bill.”
“Smart ass,” Mitch grumbled, but he pushed to his feet and sauntered over in the direction of the cameraman.
“This will ruin his career.” Abby watched the motorhome crumple under the assault.
“We can only hope,” Flynn said as he finished off his beer.
Abby leaned into Flynn. “You know there’s a duck in my downstairs bath.”
“Aye, but she’s on the mend. She won’t be there long.”
“You’re just a big softie, Flynn.” Abby nuzzled the point where his neck met his shoulder, breathing the musky scent of him in deeply.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Flynn whispered.
“Flynn Boyle,” a voice shouted. “I’m going to ruin you. You’ll wish you were dead. I’m going drag your name through the mud. I’m going to sue you for every penny you have. I’m going to…”
Flynn looked completely unconcerned as he turned his back on the weaselly producer who was jumping up and down in the middle of the field. Everything out of the odious little man’s mouth was being taped for the viewing pleasure of the British public. Good. It was the least he deserved. Once the thought was in her mind, she wondered exactly when she’d become so bloodthirsty.
Mitch sauntered back, handed his empty beer bottle to Flynn and winked at Abby.
“The footage will be on the web within the hour. Should be on the news tonight. You’d better call Matt about the damage. Without a police report you can’t claim insurance.”
Flynn sighed, like it was too much effort, but pulled his phone out of his pocket. A minute later he was talking to Matt.
“You need to come arrest someone,” he said. “The producer just trashed my van.”
There was silence. Then outrage. “What do you mean you thought the noise was me? When are you going to get it through your thick head I’ve turned over a new leaf?”
Mitch and Abby started to laugh.
“No,” Flynn said in answer to whatever Matt said. “We’ll come get her in a wee while. I don’t want her staying at Jonathan’s overnight. His mother will just feed her impressionable mind with more crap about Beckham.”
He turned to Abby. “You don’t want Katy having a sleepover at Jonathan’s house, do you?”
“No. And thanks for asking after you’d already made the decision.”
He ignored her and wound up his conversation with his cousin. Abby grinned at Mitch, who was shaking his head at Flynn.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Mitch asked her.
“Does anyone?” Abby said.
“Fair point.” Mitch waved at them both before he climbed into his car.
On the way down the drive, he passed another car coming up. It was Lawrence. And he wasn’t alone. Every muscle in Abby’s body instantly vibrated with tension. Her eyes stayed fixed on the car as she held her breath. Lawrence got out first. He flashed a reassuring smile at Abby. Her heart stuttered at the sight. Flynn came up beside her and squeezed her hand tight.
“We all make mistakes, sugar,” he whispered to her.
As Abby stared, Victoria climbed out of the car. She looked smaller. She looked beaten, drawn and depleted. Her every move was hesitant. Fear and defeat radiated from her. Even from a distance Abby could see her red, swollen eyes. When those eyes looked up at Abby, her whole body shuddered. The pain was like a beacon, there for everyone to see.
I’m sorry, Victoria mouthed.
And Abby was running, down the steps, over the grass and into the arms of her mother. The two women stood clinging to one another, sobbing loudly.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” Victoria whispered over and over.
“Don’t leave me again,” Abby said. “I want to know you.”
Victoria stroked a hand down her hair, and Abby remembered all the times she’d been in the woman’s arms when she’d been a c
hild. When Victoria had barely been more than a child herself. She’d been so happy then. She’d felt so loved. Wanted.
“I need to explain things.” Victoria’s voice cracked. “I know you will never be able to forgive me, but I need to explain.”
“Then stay. Stay here in Invertary. Take your time. Explain it all.”
“I never stopped loving you, my baby,” Victoria whispered. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough to hold on to you.” Victoria’s tears fell.
“You were strong today. Strong enough to stand against Millicent. Strong enough to give me the ammunition I need to fight her. That counts for something.”
There was too much to say. She remembered a time, long ago, when David had told her Victoria had come to visit him.
“She loves you deeply,” he’d said. “I don’t think she knows how to show you, but that sister of yours loves you a lot. I got the impression she’d have me dealt with if I wasn’t good for you.”
“She was always there for me when I was tiny,” Abby had said. “She was more of a mother to me than my own mother. I miss the closeness.”
“Maybe it will come back.” He’d kissed her then. “Don’t give up hope. It took guts for her to come to me. Maybe one day she’ll have the guts to come to you too.”
Abby leaned back and looked in Victoria’s eyes. “We’ll take our time,” she promised. “We’ll get to know each other again. I want you here. Stay in Invertary.”
“It’s more than I can ask.” Victoria’s lips trembled.
“Then don’t ask. Just stay.”
“Okay.”
As they stood there hugging, Abby’s eyes met Flynn’s over Victoria’s shoulder and she realised she had something she’d always longed for.
She had family who loved her.
39
“We’re taking twenty-two players to Italy, sorry, to Spain… Where are we, Jim?”
Bobby Robson, former English manager talking about the 1998 World Cup in France
Flynn moved into Abby’s house. She didn’t invite him. He didn’t ask. He kind of hoped she just wouldn’t notice. He’d been there six weeks and she hadn’t mentioned it so far. He figured if he was lucky, he’d be there another fifty years without her bringing it up.
“Are you going to marry my Muma?” Katy asked him over their usual bedtime story.
This one was about Brazil’s spectacular record in world football, followed by their equally spectacular screw-up when they hosted the World Cup. Flynn had moved on from players to teams, in the hope Jonathan’s mother would stop comparing him to every player Katy mentioned to her son.
“Do you want me to marry your mum?” He was surprised to find he was actually quite anxious about the answer.
“It’s okay with me if you want to. I know you like kissing her.”
The relief Flynn felt was a solid lump in his throat. “I think you’re a little obsessed with kissing. Are you and Jonathan kissing at school and not telling me?”
She scrunched up her nose. “Ew, no. I still haven’t decided if I want to marry him or not. He says I have to, but I want to wait and see. I’ll kiss him if I marry him, but I’m not doing it before then.”
“Good plan. Let’s keep it that way with all future boys too.” Flynn thought he heard laughter coming from downstairs. Sometimes Abby still listened in to story time because she thought they were funny. Katy and Flynn kept explaining to the woman that there was nothing funny about football.
“If you get married, can I have a little sister?”
“That’s up to your mum, but there would be no guarantee you’d get a sister. These things are a crapshoot. It could be a boy.”
“Don’t bother, then,” Katy said in disgust. “Just get me a puppy.”
Flynn rolled his eyes and carried on reading about the Brazilian national team.
“Flynn?” Katy said when he was mid-sentence, making him wonder if she was even listening.
“What now?” he whined.
“I think you make a good daddy.”
His heart stopped dead. He swallowed hard.
“I love you, Flynn.” Her eyes were wide and sincere. And damn if she didn’t look exactly like the evil, conniving cat in Shrek.
“I love you too, kid.”
Her whole face lit up and he felt like he’d been handed the world. “If you really love me, you’ll make sure I get a baby sister. Or a puppy.” She batted those eyelashes at him. “You can get me a sister, Flynn. I know you can.”
Flynn found himself wondering if a fertility clinic could get Abby pregnant with the kid of his choice. A girl. For her sister. His eyes narrowed. The evil genius was messing with him.
“Time to go to sleep, monster.” He put the book on the shelf and she did what she did every night. Sat up, opened her arms and waited for her hug. He held her tight to him, this precious little bundle, and hoped Abby would be open to adding to the family. He’d love another ten just like the terrorist—enough for his very own football team.
“Sleep well,” he ordered as he kissed her cheek.
He tucked her into her bubblegum-pink bed in her Pepto-Bismol room and went to find her mother.
She was standing in her office, a look of shock on her face and the phone in her hand.
“What is it?” He rushed to her side.
Her wide eyes blinked at him, filled with disbelief. “That was Millicent’s lawyer. She’s giving up on taking Katy from me. He requested neither Victoria nor I ever contact her again.”
“That is fantastic news.” Flynn swept her up into his arms and spun her around.
“It’s over,” she breathed against his neck.
“About bloody time.”
He kissed her gently, then put her back down at her desk where she’d been working on her designs.
“We should celebrate,” he said.
“What do you suggest?”
“Well, we could celebrate horizontally. Katy wants a sister.” He grinned at her. “I’m worried if we don’t give in to her demands she’ll take the animals hostage until we do.”
Abby pushed away from her desk and smiled up at him. Her business would start trading online in a couple of weeks, and already she was planning her next season line of products.
“Tell her to save up and buy a baby at the supermarket.” Her eyes sparkled.
“That’s exactly the kind of thing I’d say to her.”
“I know. You’re corrupting me. I used to be good and now I’m borderline bad.”
He perched on the edge of her desk, tugging her hand to make her stand between his thighs. She wrapped her arms around his neck without hesitation. His woman.
“Only borderline? I’ll have to work harder.”
She faked a sigh. “I just don’t think you’re up to putting in the effort.”
“You’re right.” He nuzzled the spot behind her ear that made her weak, and was pleased when he felt her weight press into him. His Abby was easy, although he’d never tell her. It was his secret to delight in. “It would take a serious time commitment to corrupt you fully.”
“Twenty-four hours a day,” she mumbled.
Her head fell to the side to give him greater access to her throat. He sucked the spot that made her tremble.
“Aye, it would take years of round-the-clock effort to corrupt you properly.”
“And how do you suggest you start this intensive corruption?” She popped the top button on his favourite blue tartan shirt as she peeked up at him from under those thick lashes of hers.
“I think the only way to do it is to sign on for the long haul.” His heart raced as she froze in his arms. Flynn was done playing. “Marry me, Abby love,” he whispered.
She leaned over, kissed his throat and inhaled him deeply. “Name the time and place. I’ll be there.”
He couldn’t stop a grin. “Is that a yes?”
“Always.” She kissed his lips softly. “It’s always a yes for you, Flynn Boyle, because I love you.”
/> “I knew it!” He pounded the air. Challenge won. Again. He was a freaking legend.
With a growl of victory, Flynn slanted his mouth over hers and took control of their kiss. And, as always, Abby melted to a puddle of desire in his arms. Just the way he liked her.
Epilogue—four years later
“I retired at age forty because my daughters looked at me one day and said:
‘Dad, being bald and wearing shorts doesn’t look good together.’”
Alfredo Di Stéfano
“Flynn?” Abby’s voice had a hint of hysteria in it.
Flynn looked over at his eldest daughter and winced. “Think she saw them?”
“Kind of hard to miss three alpacas, dad,” Katy said with a laugh.
“I really hope she doesn’t look out the windows on the other side of the house. I was hoping to get her in a good mood before I mentioned the other stuff.”
“What you got?” Little Vicky looked up at him with exactly the same shade of chocolate eyes as her mother. “Muma said no more puppies. You got a kitten, Daddy?”
Flynn ruffled his daughter’s hair, only to have her twin climb up onto his knee and demand her own cuddle. “Is it a pony?” Josie said.
“No ponies, puppies or kittens this time.”
The three-year-olds bounced on top of him, demanding he tell them what he was hiding on the other side of the house. He wasn’t about to give in. Neither one of them could keep a secret worth a damn. Katy laughed, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“This is your fault,” he told her. “You wanted a sister.”
“One,” his nine-year-old reminded him. “I only asked for one. The other one is your problem.”
“Damn terrorist,” he mumbled.
“Goal!” Katy shouted at the screen, bringing Flynn’s attention back to the replay of the Arsenal game they were watching.
“I like the look of the new midfielder,” Katy said.
“He’s got potential.” Flynn wouldn’t let anyone convince him the team wouldn’t have been better off with him in it. Although they were doing well this season.
Katy grinned at him, probably knowing exactly what he was thinking. She insisted on dressing in head-to-toe pink for every Arsenal game they watched—just to cheese him off.
Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5) Page 28
