The house was quiet. Flynn was gone. One small lamp lit her bedroom. Abby padded on bare feet to her dresser. She picked up the photo that had pride of place on top of it. It was framed in silver. A wedding gift. Abby traced a finger down the smiling face of her husband. While she’d been with Flynn she’d forgotten David. For the first time in years he’d been gone from her mind. She knew it was normal, part of the process of moving on with her life, but it still felt wrong.
She ached as she thought of two very different men. They were night and day. David was all sunshine and gentleness. Flynn was darkness and power. And maybe that was part of the attraction—the fact Flynn was nothing like her husband. She didn’t want a replacement for David. There would never be another man like him. Her heart clenched at the thought.
Part of her was angry at him. Angry that his dying had put her in this situation where she was physical with another man, where she was moving on from him. Part of her hurt because her actions still felt a little like betrayal. David wasn’t there, but the promises she’d made to him were still alive within her. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get past them. At the same time she knew she had to. Living without David hurt. Moving on without him would hurt even more.
“I’m so confused,” she whispered to his image. “How can I touch someone else and still love you? How can I move on? How can I let someone else make me feel good? It feels right and wrong. It feels good and bad. I wish you were here to tell me what to do.” She snorted as tears escaped to run down her cheeks. “How twisted is that? Wishing you were here to give me advice on Flynn.”
Still holding the photo, Abby climbed fully clothed onto her bed. She hugged the frame to her stomach, letting it lie over the ache that never seemed to ease. The ache residing in the place David used to fill. The place Flynn had stirred with his kisses and touch. The place that made her want, at the same time as making her resent herself for wanting. As silent tears fell, Abby let exhaustion claim her. She fell asleep thinking of kisses filled with passion. Kisses, not from her husband but from the bad boy next door.
Brian Flannigan stubbed out his cigarette in Abby McKenzie’s roses. He’d watched, helpless, as Flynn had walked into the house hours ago just to avoid the cameras. He’d listened in the darkness of her garden while Flynn got the widow off. The guy was screwing with him, by doing what he normally did—exactly what Flynn wanted. It didn’t matter to Flynn that Brian was on a deadline. Or that he needed some decent material for his programme. No, all the asshole cared about was getting the pussy he wanted, when he wanted it. Rich bastard never had to work a day in his life. And yeah, he didn’t count chasing a ball as work.
Time was running out and the project was sinking. Brian thought bringing Abby’s family into the mix would stir up some drama, but so far there was nothing. He knew the mother wanted to take her grandkid back to the homestead, and he’d heard murmurs in town that the sister was giving Abby a week to prove her case. Which explained Flynn’s sudden good behaviour.
It made him sick. How was he supposed to get any decent material when Flynn was mooning around and acting like a Boy Scout? Brian stilled. He narrowed his eyes at the house. Unless…
The sister wanted evidence Abby was hanging out with a reprobate. And Brian could definitely help her see the real Flynn Boyle. The guy might have fooled everyone into believing he’d turned his back on his bad behaviour, but his bad behaviour was about to come calling on him instead.
He pulled out his phone, scrolled through his contacts and found the number he wanted.
“Peaches,” he said when the woman answered. “You still looking for a father for that baby of yours?”
The woman was a football slut. She must have slept with Flynn at some point. Why not make it work for her? She might even manage to squeeze some cash out of the bastard if she was lucky. If not, the publicity would help her burgeoning career as a reality star.
He finalised his plans with the woman, then dialled the next name on his contacts.
“Ray? Hey, man, got a job for you. Flynn Boyle wants to throw the party of the century in his hometown. Nothing formal, just a few hundred friends, lots of women and plenty of booze. You know the hip-hop band you booked for the rave in Sheffield last year?”
“The one that got arrested?” You could practically taste Ray’s excitement at the prospect of letting them loose again.
“Yeah, Flynn likes their sound. Thought they got a bad deal. Wants to give them a second chance. Can you arrange it?”
Ray hesitated. “When we talking about?”
“Saturday.” Two days wasn’t a long time to get everyone to Invertary. But it had to be Saturday—it was Victoria Montgomery-Clark’s last day in town. If he wanted to show her Flynn’s true colours, it had to be then.
“It’s gonna cost him,” Ray said.
“Name your price. Just be here.” Brian would figure out the money later. He was pretty sure his boss would authorise it as an expense once he saw the footage Brian got from the band’s appearance. Last he checked, the boys were banned from most radio stations and those feminist groups were camped outside their every gig. One song about rape was all it took to rile them. Couldn’t those women take a joke?
“I’ll sort it. Send me the details.” Ray hung up.
Brian grinned widely as he walked back to his car. It was going to be a busy night. He had a lot more calls to make.
Saturday was going to bring a party the likes of which Invertary had never seen, one even Victoria Montgomery-Clark couldn’t excuse.
Saturday was the day Flynn Boyle’s charmed lifestyle would come to a crashing end.
Saturday was going to put Brian Flannigan on the map.
And he couldn’t wait.
22
“I think I am a man, but I don't believe I need to say it.
But I could also be Peter Pan because I do things my own way and I am free.”
Mario Balotelli, Italian national player
Abby didn’t know what surprised her most on Thursday morning. The fact she woke wearing yesterday’s clothes and mumbling Flynn’s name, or the fact Victoria arrived bearing gifts for Katy. Her sister handed Katy the package in much the same way someone handed over a summons—as though they expected violence when it was opened.
“Goody!” Katy bounced. “Look, Muma, a present.”
Abby barely had time to smile before the wrapping paper went flying.
“Rapunzel!” Katy squealed. She waved the doll in the air. “Look how long her hair is,” she demanded of no one in particular. “Will you help me brush her hair, Aunty Victoria?”
Victoria nodded stiffly. “Of course.”
“I’ll get the hair stuff. I have glitter.” Katy ran from the room.
Abby watched her sister. In her elegant clothes, she looked like a pinched and strained version of Audrey Hepburn. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and Abby could have sworn there was a glassy sheen to her eyes.
“Thank you for Katy’s gift.”
“It was Lawrence’s idea.”
Of course it was. “Please thank Lawrence as well. Is he coming over this morning?”
Victoria frowned. “He’s busy.” Abby thought the topic was closed, but her sister surprised her. “He has some fool notion he’s chasing.”
“Oh?” Was it possible Victoria was trying to have a conversation with her? Had the sky fallen?
Victoria shifted nervously. “He’s talking to his partners today. He wants them to buy him out of their practice. He’s got the idea into his head of moving to Invertary and starting a smaller practice here.” She looked bewildered. “He wants to learn how to fish.”
Abby didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure what this news meant. “The town does need a lawyer. We don’t have one.”
“That’s what Lawrence said.” Victoria stared at the wall. Abby thought the conversation was over. “He wants me to move here with him to run the office.” The statement was so soft Abby wasn’t sure she’d heard it. �
��Of course, I told him his idea was preposterous. Mother would never allow it.”
“Does she have to allow it?” What am I doing? Do I want a permanent spy living in town? She looked at her sister and knew the truth. If she could have family nearby, if she could have a chance to get to know Victoria properly without their mother getting in the way, she wouldn’t hesitate. “It’s your life. It’s up to you.”
Victoria gave a most unladylike snort. “This hasn’t been my life for years.” She seemed startled when the words came out of her mouth.
Before Abby could say anything else, Katy ran into the room and straight to her aunt. “I have glitter, and colour, and hair clips, and ribbon, and face paint, and glue.”
“Glue?” Victoria said.
Katy rolled her eyes. “In case we want to keep the hair in a nice shape.”
“I’ll get hairspray.” Abby smiled at her daughter. “You confiscate the glue,” she told Victoria.
Victoria nodded as Katy continued to talk a mile a minute. Abby left them to it as she headed upstairs to fetch the hairspray. As she passed the front door, someone knocked. Thinking it was Lawrence, she opened it. And found Flynn standing on her step. Her heart raced. Her cheeks warmed. And part of her, a secret part, softened just at the sight of him.
His jeans were worn and scuffed with age. They fit him like a second skin. The material of his shirt looked so soft she wanted to rub her face on it—right over his pecs where the fabric strained. He thrust his hands into his back pockets and rocked on his heels. He seemed nervous and unsure, which was kind of endearing.
“I was worried,” he snapped, as though the statement was an accusation. He frowned at her. “About you.”
Abby was bewildered. From his attitude it seemed he wasn’t pleased to be worrying about her. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to someone other than himself taking up space in his head.
“Thanks?” she said.
Flynn gave her a look of chastisement, took his hands from his pockets and walked into the house. As though he belonged there. Without thinking, Abby shut the door behind him. Seemed he wasn’t the only one who thought his presence in her home, and life, was normal.
He turned towards her, crowding her space, making her back up against the front door.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes?” Why was everything coming out as a question?
He trailed a finger from her cheekbone to her jaw. “You said you needed time to process. Have you had enough? Because I really want to kiss you again.”
Something inside her melted at his confession. She blinked up at him as her body swayed towards him. Her body didn’t need time to process. Her body had no problem letting Flynn loose with it.
“I know how hard it is to move on from something you thought you’d have forever. I know you’re confused about letting another man near you. But I’d really like the processing time to be over. Is it over, Abby? Can I taste you again?”
The way he whispered the words, not a hairsbreadth away from her mouth, made her wonder what kind of tasting he meant. Heat rushed through her body, followed very closely by desire. He was staring at her. He seemed to expect an answer.
“My sister is in the living room.”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“Then I’m okay,” she whispered. She couldn’t tear her eyes from his.
“Thank you, Lord.” He cupped her jaw in his huge hands, tilted her head and captured her mouth with his.
Every time Flynn was near, every time his scent engulfed her and his strength bracketed her, she turned to mush. Delighted, happy mush. One of his hands flattened against the small of her back to pull her into him. Abby softly moaned her approval into his mouth. Her arms felt weightless as she wrapped them around his shoulders. Her fingers entangled in the golden hair at the base of his skull. All the while, his lips and tongue teased, entwined, duelled with hers. Bliss. Mind-stealing bliss.
His kisses became less intense, until he gently nibbled at her lower lip.
“Damn, Abby, you’re addictive.” His breathing was ragged. “I feel like I’ll never get enough of you.”
She blinked up at him. Her eyelids felt unreasonably heavy. Her body was boneless. She didn’t want to stop, but through the fog in her head she heard Katy chatting to Victoria. She let her forehead fall onto Flynn’s strong chest. He clasped the back of her head and nuzzled the hair at her temple. She wanted to roll in his warm, masculine scent.
“I don’t want to stop,” he said.
His fingers curved around her chin and he lifted her head to look into her eyes. His emotions seemed raw, much as she expected her own were. “This isn’t the time, but we’re finishing this, Abby. You’re going to be in my bed.” He leaned into her, pressing his strength against her length. His lips caressed her ear, sending shivers through her. “And I’m going to be in you,” he whispered. The words took what little strength was still in her legs, and she sagged against him. Flynn’s silver eyes studied her. “If you don’t want that, tell me now, Abby.”
She stared up at him. She couldn’t say the words. She couldn’t deny him. Deny them. Against common sense. Against reason. She wanted the man until it burned.
“Yes?” he murmured.
“Yes,” she whispered.
His arms clenched around her. “Damn, I don’t know how I’m going to wait. I want you now.”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh. Or maybe it was a moan.
“You are killing me.” He let out a rueful chuckle. “I can hear your monster and your sister not ten feet from here. And I still want to pick you up and take you upstairs.”
She blinked. “You’d just hurt your leg.”
Flynn barked a laugh before calming to stare into her eyes with such intensity it humbled her.
“It’d be worth it.”
Before she could reply, he released her and stepped away. She felt cold and her body swayed to follow him.
“Got anything to eat?”
“You are always hungry,” she reprimanded with a smile.
“In more ways than one, Abby love.” His eyes flicked to her lips.
She licked them, a deliberate tease, but took a step back from him. “There are croissants in the kitchen.”
“Great.” He cupped her cheek once again before turning and stalking to the back of the house.
Abby watched him go, a study in lean muscle and raw power. Did she really want him in her bed? Even though it wasn’t the responsible thing to do? There was no doubt. No hesitation. The answer was instantaneous. Yes. She did. She wanted him badly. And the guilt that normally accompanied the thought was strangely absent. Mustering her energy, Abby climbed the stairs to her bathroom, splashed water on her face and grabbed the hairspray.
On her way through her bedroom, she spotted the photo of David. He seemed to be smiling right at her. And there wasn’t any judgment in his eyes. With a fragile lightness she didn’t want to examine too carefully in case it broke, Abby headed back downstairs.
Victoria was sitting in the play corner of the living room. The look on her face was a mixture of awe and fear as she listened to Katy’s instructions on how to style Rapunzel’s hair. There was no sign of Flynn, but she could hear banging around in the kitchen. Strange—the fact the man was making himself at home made her feel warm inside rather than threatened. A couple of minutes later, Flynn appeared in the doorway. A mug of coffee in one hand, two croissants in the other.
“Flynn!” Katy ran at him as though she hadn’t seen him for a year. She wrapped her arms around his legs and hugged tight.
Flynn seemed bewildered. “We’re hugging now?”
Katy looked up at him. “This is what normal people do, Flynn. You need to get used to it. Aunty Victoria isn’t used to hugs either, but she’s toilet training them for me.”
“Tolerating,” Abby corrected without much thought.
Katy scrunched her nose. “Toilet rating.” She grinned up at Flynn.
He balanced the pastries
on top of the mug and used his now empty hand to pat her head. His action was stiff and awkward. “Close enough, kid. We done here? I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry,” Katy complained, but let him go.
“So your mum tells me.” Flynn ignored Victoria’s glare and plopped into an armchair. He thumped his feet onto the coffee table in front of him.
“Get your feet off my table, Flynn Boyle,” Abby snapped.
He gave her puppy-dog eyes. “But my leg hurts. It’s more comfortable if it’s raised.”
She rolled her eyes at him, grabbed a cushion from the sofa and put it under the ankle of his injured leg. She knocked his other foot off the table.
“I’ll take what I can get.” He grinned before biting off half a croissant.
“Does Mr Boyle live here now?” Victoria’s voice was icy with disdain.
“Flynn lives in a bus,” Katy said helpfully. “He’s building a house.”
“I don’t see any building,” Victoria said.
“It’s in the planning stage.” Flynn seemed unconcerned.
“You have an architect?” Victoria asked.
“I have a field. I’m still getting a feel for it. Wouldn’t want to build something before I know what kind of house I want there. It needs to be comfortable.” He looked around. “I like this house. I like the high ceilings and the spacious rooms. The big windows are good too. And those things.” He pointed at the top of the wall.
“Cornices and moulding,” Abby told him.
“Aye, I like those too. I might build something like this. But I’m in no hurry.”
“You don’t need a house,” Katy said. “You can stay in your bus and use my pool.”
“Exactly.” Flynn polished off the rest of his croissant, then batted his eyelashes at Abby. “There are some croissants left. Do you need them?”
Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5) Page 17