She stamped her tiny foot. “Then I’m going to tell on you to Aunty Victoria. I watch you all the time when my Muma puts me to bed at night. She thinks I’m sleeping. I can tell Aunty Victoria all about your parties.”
“How old are you, kid? Because you act like a forty-year-old lawyer.”
She just smiled. It was scary.
“Katy? Flynn?” Abby shouted. She sounded brittle enough to snap.
“Coming,” Flynn shouted back. “Fine. Everything except the football and the puppy.” He figured seeing as she couldn’t count, she wouldn’t know if he kept his end of the bargain regarding how many times he endured a story or tea with the dolls.
“Deal.” She bounced on the spot. “And no more kissing my Muma.”
“That’s a deal breaker, kid. I’m going to kiss your mum. If it was so important to you, you should have mentioned it first on your list of demands.”
“Are you two coming?” Abby was near hysterics.
“Let’s go,” Flynn said. “And remember, you need to act like we’re friends. And keep other people’s business to yourself. Stop telling tales.”
“I’m going to tell Muma all about this,” she threatened, ignoring his order not to tell tales.
“That’s the one exception to keeping things to yourself. You should tell your mum. You shouldn’t keep secrets from your mum. It’s the other people I’m worried about. We need to keep secrets from them. And anyway, don’t you think your mum will figure out our deal when a pool turns up?”
She rolled her eyes as she ran from the room. “I want a really big pool. Not one of those baby ones.”
With a shake of his head, he followed her. He’d intended to help Abby, but he suspected his interference might be causing more harm than good.
10
“My parents have been there for me, ever since I was about seven.”
David Beckham, former English national player
It was the Mad Hatter’s tea party and Abby was playing Alice. Victoria was the Red Queen. At any minute, Abby half expected her to point to Flynn and demand Lawrence remove his head. Katy was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. And Flynn, Flynn was the Hatter.
“Damn shame about your leg,” Lawrence said. Lawrence didn’t belong at the Hatter’s tea party. Abby was beginning to think her mother’s lawyer was the only sensible person in the room. “I saw you play at Wembley last year. Great game. I follow Chelsea myself.”
Victoria looked disgusted at this confession, and Abby had to admit she was surprised too. She’d figured Lawrence for a cricket man.
“Ah, Chelsea.” Flynn grinned mischievously. “The pet football team of a Russian billionaire. Boys and their toys.”
Lawrence laughed, as though that was hilarious. “They did win the league last year.”
Flynn shook his head. “It’s amazing what money can buy you these days.”
Lawrence raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying they bought the win?”
“I’m saying if you throw enough money at a club you can buy guys with skill. There’s no denying there are amazing players on the Chelsea side, but are they a team? Nope, just a bunch of egos chasing limelight and money.”
“They still won.”
Flynn shrugged but his jaw tightened. “It’s not the way I like to see football run. Look at Man City. The Emirati come in and buy them up, throw money at them like it’s going out of fashion and the team are edging out Manchester United.” Flynn leaned forward. “But where’s all this taking the game? Isn’t it better to be part of a club that nurtures its players, that fosters real team spirit, that enhances the national side and creates football that’s a joy to watch?”
“Like Arsenal?”
Flynn grinned widely. “Like Arsenal.” He sat back in his chair as though he’d won a debate.
Abby shook her head to clear it. She had definitely fallen down the rabbit hole. She didn’t understand the conversation at all.
“Arsenal?” Abby said, mainly because she felt she should say something rather than sitting there quietly and politely. As though she were a character from a Jane Austen novel who didn’t concern herself with “manly” topics. Great, now she was jumping genres—Alice in Wonderland to Pride and Prejudice. What was next? War and Peace?
Lawrence gave her an indulgent smile as he pointed at Flynn. “Flynn is a Gunner.”
Yeah, now she was totally lost. She looked at Flynn, aware her ignorance and confusion were written large on her face.
His eyes flashed with pain and anger, but it didn’t seem to be directed at anyone in the room. The look was quickly covered with his trademark lazy smile.
“Used to be a Gunner,” he corrected.
Lawrence shrugged. “With your record, you’ll always be a Gunner. You scored more goals for that team than any other player this decade.” He turned to Abby. “The Arsenal players are called Gunners. Flynn here has been with the team since he was a teen. You were in their academy, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, moved down there when I was thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” Abby stared at him. “You went to live in London at thirteen? To play football?”
Flynn’s eyes sparkled at Abby’s astonishment. “I started out with Rangers when I was ten. Was picked up by one of their scouts and played off and on in their academy. A guy from Arsenal spotted me during one of those games and offered a better opportunity. I have relatives in London, Dad’s brother. So I went to board at the academy and my aunt and uncle took care of me. It wasn’t like I was sold into slavery, sugar—I wanted to do it. Hell, I was begging to do it. Do you have any idea how many great players went through the Arsenal academy? I owe them everything. They’re my team. The only one I ever wanted.”
He looked down at the table, suddenly overcome by his thoughts. It took Abby a minute to realise he was grieving. He’d lost his team, his life, when he’d lost the use of his leg.
“I’m sorry, Flynn,” she said.
He gave her a soft smile that melted something within her.
“What’s she sorry for?” Katy asked with a mouthful of cake.
Flynn cocked his head towards Katy. “Remember I told you I couldn’t play football because I hurt my leg? Well, your mum is telling me she feels sorry for me. She knows how much I enjoyed playing. She knows I miss it.”
Understanding flashed in Katy’s face. She placed a tiny hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, Flynn, you can always play other games with me. Like swimming and tea parties.”
She batted her lashes at him and Flynn narrowed his eyes in her direction, although he looked strangely impressed.
“Well played, kid,” he said, making her giggle.
“Is it that bad?” Lawrence said to Flynn, taking his attention from Katy. “The leg. Are you going to make a recovery?”
Victoria’s disapproving gaze shot to Lawrence. Polite people did not ask personal questions. The lawyer ignored her. Abby wished she could do the same when she was on the receiving end of her sister’s glare.
“I won’t recover enough to play.” Flynn’s answer was flat. “My team already let me go.”
Abby was beginning to understand that the more something meant to Flynn, the flatter his voice became. This had to mean a whole lot to him. Everything, she suspected.
Lawrence nodded as though the news was a blow to him as well. He gave a sad little smile. “Broke my heart that you couldn’t play for England. We could have used your skill.”
“I love playing for Scotland, representing my country, but it would have been nice to make it to the World Cup.”
“And we might have won had you been there.”
They smiled at each other, sad but warm.
“Well,” Victoria said in that clipped voice of hers. “I think it’s time to take another walk around town.” She stood. “Are you coming, Lawrence?”
“Going to check up on Abby?” Flynn said.
Abby’s mouth dropped. She suspected he thought his charming smile would defuse the question.
>
Victoria stuck her nose in the air and looked down at him. “I don’t see why that is any of your concern, Mr Boyle.”
“Seems to me it’s definitely my concern. Far as I can gather, you came rushing up to Scotland because Abby got caught up in the documentary being filmed about my life.”
Victoria sneered at him. “We came here because Abby’s behaviour was unacceptable for a Montgomery-Clark. It had nothing to do with your little television programme.”
Flynn leaned forward to clasp his hands on the table. His steely gaze was focused on Victoria. “You know damn well Abby is perfectly behaved. She’s an amazing mother. A valued member of this community. She is nothing but respectable. So she had one little freak-out. I don’t think that gives you the right to judge her—especially seeing as it was my fault. I pushed her to it. Ask anyone. My behaviour would make a saint lose his cool.”
“Flynn, I can handle this. Please…” She wanted to tell him not to interfere. She wanted to tell him this was none of his business. But she couldn’t do it in front of her sister. It would make everything an even bigger deal.
“It’s okay, Abby,” Flynn said. “Your sister needs to know you’re above reproach. And yeah, I know words like that. Lots of them.” He grinned at Abby before turning back to Victoria. “Here’s another one for you—libel. Coming here, accusing Abby of being anything but the perfect mother, neighbour and friend is tantamount to libel and slander.”
Lawrence grinned. “I knew I liked you,” he told Flynn. “He’s not wrong,” he said to Victoria. “If I was representing Abby, it’s an avenue I would definitely investigate.”
Flynn nodded at Lawrence, but spoke to Victoria. “Everyone makes mistakes. Abby’s happened to be caught on film, which is unfortunate, but still, it was just a mistake. No court in the land would use it as a measure of her character. You know it. I know it. Hell, everyone knows it.”
Victoria chilled even further. Her words were ice. “My sister attacked a party with a knife. In front of her child.”
“Your sister punctured a pool filled with foam and topless women. She was saving her child from being subjected to bad influence. I should know. I was the bad influence. She was doing what any good parent would do. Making sure her kid was safe and protected.”
“And yet you’re still here. In her home. Spreading your bad influence.” The words came out like bullets. Short. Sharp. Hitting the mark.
Flynn stood slowly. He leaned over the table towards Victoria, his palms flat on the surface. “We all make mistakes. All of us. Even you.”
Victoria’s back snapped straight enough to break in two. A slight flush appeared on her cheeks. It was so subtle most people would have missed it. Flynn’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“I wonder what mistakes you have hidden in your deep, dark past?” he murmured to Victoria. “Should we judge you on them? Should we set a pack of lawyers on you over them? Mmm, Victoria. What are you hiding?”
Victoria’s eyes flashed wide with fear before she was once again under perfect control. “It was an experience meeting you, Mr Boyle,” she snapped. “I’m sure I won’t be seeing much more of you during our stay, so I’ll say my goodbyes now.” She nodded at him before turning her back and gliding out of the room. The message was clear. It was an order. She didn’t want to see Flynn again and he was to obey.
“Beer and football some night?” Flynn called after Lawrence as he followed Victoria.
Lawrence flicked a glance at Abby before grinning at Flynn. “It would be my pleasure.”
And then they were gone.
11
"Rugby is a game for barbarians played by gentlemen.
Football is a game for gentlemen played by barbarians."
Oscar Wilde, amateur football player
“What do you think you’re doing?” Abby’s hysterical question hit Flynn as soon as the door shut on her sister. It distracted Flynn from his speculation about the sister. There were skeletons in her closet. Possibly ones that would help Abby’s cause.
“I’m helping. Like I told you I would.”
“This is helping?” Her voice became a high-pitched screech. Not attractive.
“Flynn’s in trouble, Flynn’s in trouble,” Katy sang. “Make him sit on the naughty step. He never sits on the step.”
“What did we talk about, kid? You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“Only when Aunty Victoria is here, and she’s gone.” She turned back to her mother. “Make him sit on the stair!”
“That’s it,” Flynn told her. “No story tonight. If you can go back on the deal and freak the hell out, I don’t need to read stories.”
“Children!” Abby shouted then flushed red when she realised what she’d said.
The look on her face would have been funny—if he hadn’t been the one she was calling a kid.
Katy smirked, and Flynn resisted the overwhelming urge to stick his tongue out at her. Huh, maybe Abby had a point?
“I mean,” Abby said with forced calm, “you two stop it.” She pointed at Katy. “She has an excuse. She’s a preschooler. What’s your excuse?”
Flynn couldn’t resist. He pointed at Katy too. “She made me do it!” He burst out laughing.
Abby ran her fingers through her hair, obviously forgetting it was tied in a bun at the base of her neck. Her fingers caught and the hair came loose, hanging lopsided at her shoulder.
“Damn it.” She pulled out the rest of the pins.
Katy’s hands flew to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. “She said the D-word,” she whispered to Flynn.
“Aye.” Flynn pretended disappointment. “Her behaviour is deteriorating. Maybe she should sit on the naughty step?”
Katy’s giggle told him she thought it was a brilliant idea. Meanwhile, Abby was muttering something about cats and hatters. Flynn actually began to worry; yet another emotion he was unfamiliar with. He wasn’t sure how many more times Abby could lose the plot before she lost it for good. She was English. The English dealt with trauma by drinking tea. He could make tea.
“Sit down,” he told the pacing woman. “It’s all going to be fine. I’ll make you a nice cup of tea and you’ll feel a lot better.”
“I’ll help,” Katy shouted.
Whatever. Flynn headed for the kitchen counter with the terrorist at his heels. Abby ignored his soothing advice and continued with her muttering and pacing. Although, he had to say, he enjoyed the pacing. She wore a pale pink dress that skimmed her curves and ended below her knee. It had a high neck, long sleeves and was in no way revealing. Yet on her, it was sexy as hell. Especially seeing as it cupped her curvy backside with every angry step she took. And damn. Those heels. The pink peep-toes were sex in shoe form. He almost groaned at the sight.
“You fill the kettle,” Katy said. “I’ll get the tea bags.”
Flynn dragged his eyes away from her mother, to see Katy climb on a stool and retrieve some tea bags from the cupboard. There was an open box of tea on the counter. Flynn pointed at it.
“Why aren’t we using this tea?”
Katy looked at him like he was the idiot. “That’s loose tea. I don’t know how to work it. Teabags are easier.”
She had a point. Flynn didn’t know what to do with loose tea either. Katy arranged a cup and saucer, then put a bag in it while they waited for the kettle to boil. Flynn leaned against the counter and watched Abby mutter.
“Is this normal?” he asked Katy.
“No.” Katy shook her head. “She once threw a pot at the wall. And a long time ago she cried. I think that was when my daddy died. Muma usually smiles. Except when she’s mad at you. You made her cry too. But only a little bit. Not like the last time. And usually she talks to real-life people. I don’t know who she’s talking to right now.”
“Neither do I,” Flynn said.
Suddenly Abby stopped pacing and spun to them. Her eye twitched. Not a good sign. “Katy.” He voice was saccharine sweet. “Could you go play in your room for a li
ttle while? Muma needs to talk to Mr Boyle.”
“It’s okay to call him Flynn. He’s not really a grownup.”
The eye twitch grew more noticeable. “Honey, go play in your room.”
“Okay.” Katy huffed as she stomped to the door. “But no kissing while I’m gone.”
“We’re not going to kiss,” Abby snapped at the same time Flynn said, “I’m not promising anything, kid—that wasn’t part of our deal.”
“Deal?” Abby’s attention zoomed in on him.
Flynn winced. Yeah, maybe now wasn’t the best time for this discussion. Unfortunately, the terrorist wasn’t on the same page as he was.
“Flynn’s going to buy me a swimming pool if I pretend I like him and I stop telling Aunty Victoria all about everybody’s business.”
Abby didn’t move for a long minute as she stared off into space. She was frozen. System overload. Where was her reboot button? He needed to call a doctor.
“Go. Play.” Her words were even. A quiet command brooking no argument.
With a dramatic slump of her shoulders, Katy did as she was told. Abby stared after her for a long time before turning to Flynn.
“I can explain.” He held up his hands in a reassuring gesture while eyeing the area around her for weapons.
“Yes. You can and you will. Start now.”
Man, she was hot with a capital H when she got all bossy. Flynn dragged his mind out of his shorts and focused on defusing the bomb that was Abby.
“I was trying to help.”
She let out a strangled scream. He carried on regardless.
“I’ll be the first to admit I’m not used to helping people. And maybe I don’t know what I’m doing. But I should at least get credit for effort.”
He looked at her hopefully. She glared back. Flynn charged on, hoping to get the explanation out before Abby went hunting for a knife.
“I thought your sister should know you’re a really respectable person and the blame for any uncharacteristic behaviour rests with me.”
She lips formed words, but no sound came out. She was counting to ten silently. “And you thought coming over here, confronting my sister, being rude and corrupting my child was the way to go about helping me?”
Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5) Page 9