Matt stalked off to stand beside his wife. Flynn’s mother and Aunty Heather were making tea and sandwiches in the kitchen, even though everyone had told them they weren’t hungry. His father was furious as he stared out of the window in the direction of the lights at Flynn’s place. Harry was tapping on his laptop, Magenta beside him—unsmirking for once. The twins were sitting on the couch while Grunt stood guard behind them. And everyone was mad at Flynn.
Flynn stopped pacing and stared them down. “I did not have sexual relations with that woman.” He pointed towards his land.
Harry was the only one who laughed.
“This isn’t funny, son,” his dad snapped.
“You think I find this funny?” Flynn laughed. It wasn’t pretty. “This is my life. There’s nothing funny about it. I’ve got people crawling out of the woodwork to use me as a stepping stone to get what they want. I’m tied into shooting a tabloid documentary loosely disguised as sports TV. My agent isn’t taking my calls. He did record a special message just for me. It was two words. One began with F. There’s a woman in professional makeup on my lawn and she’s using a baby to get airtime. Abby closed the door on me and probably won’t let me back in. She’s upset and she won’t even talk to me. My leg hurts like a mother. My career is over. My reputation is mud. I have no idea what to do with my life. And I’m trying damn hard to be good!”
Aye. So. He’d lost his cool. Fine. They could cope with it. Right? He scanned the astonished faces staring at him and wondered if he should move. Far away. Somewhere where family couldn’t find him. Somewhere away from film crews. From gold diggers. Somewhere out of reach from his past. Like Neverland.
“Got it.” Harry punched the air then grinned at everyone. “What’d I miss?” he said when he saw the stunned silence.
“Nothing.” Flynn hobbled over to his brother. “What you got?”
Harry pointed at the screen. “Everything you ever wanted to know about Susan Muir.”
“Who?” Flynn couldn’t sit. He was too wired to sit. But standing made his leg ache. He resisted the urge to bend over and rub his knee. Instead he folded his arms, gritted his teeth and focused on Harry.
“The woman in your yard. Susan Muir. She’s twenty-five, she loves the spotlight and she’s better known as Peaches—from her stint as a Page Three girl.” Harry looked up at his family. “Do they still have Page Three girls?”
“Unfortunately, some papers still think topless women are news,” Magenta said dryly. “We protested against them a few years ago, didn’t we?” She grinned at her two best friends, Flynn’s twin cousins.
“Yep. We made placards and picketed the head office in London. We demanded the paper print men with their junk hanging out on page two.” Megan shrugged. “Seemed only fair.”
“Megan wanted to do the protest topless, but we wouldn’t let her,” Claire added.
Flynn stared at the women before addressing his father. “And you think I’m out of control?”
“Back to the issue,” Harry said. “Peaches is currently filming her own reality show about life after Page Three. She’s also written a book.” He read some more as he grinned. “It’s a novel called Tits Up.”
Matt frowned at Harry. “What else?”
“Birth dates.” His fingers flew over the keyboard before he sat back with a smirk on his face. “Flynn isn’t the father.”
“I told you this already.” Flynn threw up his hands. “Doesn’t anybody listen to me?”
His family proved his point by ignoring him.
“According to the dates”—Harry pointed at the screen—“Flynn here was in training camp during the time of conception and the lovely Peaches was filming another reality show in Ibiza. For months, they weren’t even in the same country. There’s no way he could be the baby’s father.”
“Is anyone listening to me?” Flynn was too sore to stand anymore. He pulled out a chair beside Harry and sat down hard. “The woman turned up with a camera crew. The producer from my show was smirking in the background. It doesn’t take a genius to figure this out. The guy is pissed I’m not doing anything to make his programme more interesting, so he’s stirring things up.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Look,” he said on a sigh. “I’m not proud of it, but I’m used to this sort of thing. I know how to handle it. I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about Abby.”
Claire faked fainting. The back of her hand hit her forehead as she swayed before flopping onto the couch behind her. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said to her grinning fiancé. “For a minute there I thought Flynn said he was worried about someone other than himself. I must have been hallucinating, because that can’t be right.”
Magenta and Megan thought that was hilarious. Flynn didn’t. “Abby’s sister is still in town. This new crew filmed Abby’s reaction to my alleged child. This could harm her and the kid. We can’t let it get out. Like I said, I tried calling my agent. I’m getting nothing.”
“You need to fire him,” Harry said. “He isn’t good for you or your career.”
“That’s a moot point now, considering I don’t have a football career for him to manage.”
“I’ll talk to Mitch,” Matt said. “He’ll sort this.” He pulled out his phone and pointed at Flynn with it. “You’re paying his fee.”
“Whatever.” Flynn rolled his eyes. “Just make sure Abby is protected.”
“There it is again,” Claire said dramatically. “I’m definitely hearing things. I think I’m ill. I could have sworn I heard Flynn say he was looking out for someone else.”
Flynn ignored the laughter. This wasn’t a joke. He needed to protect Abby and clean house before his screwed up life caused any more problems for her.
Before Matt hung up on Mitch, Flynn motioned for the phone.
“I need help,” he told the lawyer.
“From what I hear, you’re asking the wrong person. But I can recommend a good shrink.”
Flynn was in no mood for humour. “I need to get rid of my agent and lawyer. And I need it to happen fast.” He let out a sigh. “You’re the only one I trust to sort this out at short notice. So I’m asking for a favour.”
There was silence. No jokes, no ribbing.
“Email the details.” Mitch was all business. “I’ll take care of it.”
Flynn felt relief flood him. “Thanks, man.”
“We’re friends,” was all Mitch said before hanging up.
Flynn looked around the room and suddenly it seemed different. Friends. Family. People in his corner. People who cared about him. Who worried about him.
An unfamiliar determination not to disappoint them swept through him. They deserved better than to deal with the fallout from his life. They deserved a better Flynn.
Suddenly the effort to be good didn’t seem so onerous after all.
26
"If history repeats itself, I should think we can expect the same thing again."
Terry Venables, former England manager
“Come on,” Lawrence told Victoria when she opened her hotel door on Friday morning. “We’re going for a walk. It’s a beautiful day.”
She blinked at him as though he’d suggested they dance naked down the high street.
“It’s just a walk. You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”
“I’m reading.” She motioned to her perfectly made bed with the paperback novel resting on the end of it. “I don’t have time for a walk. I’m expected at Abby’s house in an hour.”
“Get your bag. Put on your shoes. We’re going for a walk. You’ll make it to Abby’s house in time and the book can wait.”
She wavered. Indecision clear in her eyes.
“Chop, chop,” Lawrence said.
“Oh, all right.” She turned back into her room, picked up her grey leather handbag, slipped on a pair of sensible low-heeled shoes, checked her reflection in the mirror over the dresser, patted her hair—which was in a tight bun at the nape of her neck—then turned back to him.
It was only when she closed her door behind her that she really looked at Lawrence. “You’re wearing jeans.” Her shock was endearing. She said it in the same way someone else would say, “I can’t believe you invaded Russia.”
“Got them this morning.” Lawrence looked down at his new jeans. They were a bit pristine for his liking, but he planned to wear them in and mess them up. He also had on a long-sleeved shirt in the softest grey. The woman in the shop said the shirt was designed to be worn with the tails untucked. He’d done as she’d said, but he wasn’t sure about it. He’d spent most of his adult life in pristine suits. It felt strange to let his shirt hang out. Even stranger not to wear a tie.
Victoria considered him for a moment, her expression giving nothing away. Her eyes hit his polished leather shoes. “You may need new shoes.”
For a second he thought she was going to smile. “The woman in the shop suggested running shoes. She told me I needed to go to Fort William to buy them. I’m not sure running shoes are quite me, but Dougal told me to get deck shoes. He said they’re casual, comfortable and stylish. He also offered to go clothes shopping with me, if I needed further advice.”
The horror in Victoria’s face was priceless. “Dougal? The hotel owner? The man who wears pink shirts with green tartan bow ties and matching vests?”
Lawrence laughed. It felt good, and reminded him he hadn’t spent enough time laughing over the past few years.
“I hope you refused his offer.” Victoria was earnest.
“Don’t worry, Vicki. I have more sense than to shop with Dougal.”
“Good.” She nodded, but her cheeks flushed. “One thing…” Her hesitation was endearing. He softened further towards her. Reaching out, he took a chance and gently caressed her cheek. Her shocked eyes shot to his, but she didn’t stop him.
“What is it, Vicki?”
“Your shirt.” She pointed at his sleeves. “May I?”
“Of course.” He dropped his arms to his sides and watched as Victoria rolled up each of his sleeves in turn until they sat beneath his elbows.
Her cheeks were pink when she looked back up at him. “This looks better.”
“Thank you.” And then he did something that stunned them both. He bent over and brushed his lips over hers.
For a second they stared at each other. The air frozen between them.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Lawrence said.
“Yes.” Chin up, back straight, Victoria turned for the stairs.
And Lawrence smiled. He hadn’t imagined the hitch in her breath. Or the tremble in her body. He hadn’t imagined the desire in her eyes.
Nor the anxiety.
Victoria Montgomery-Clark was a puzzle. And Lawrence loved a good puzzle. Grinning, he followed the woman who captivated him.
Abby spent Friday morning berating herself. She should have known better than to get physical with Flynn Boyle—especially while her sister was still in town. She wished she could blame hormones, or a rampant horniness, but really there was no excuse. The man just drew her to him. Like a bear to honey. Even now, knowing what was at stake, she still wished he was with her.
She peeked out from behind the curtains in her living room. The woman with the baby was back. This time in a lime-green minidress. She stood in the driveway just shy of Flynn’s property boundary. The baby was currently being held and, from the looks of it, sang to by the shy woman who worked alongside Flynn’s producer. Abby had only spoken to the woman once, but she’d seemed nice. Far too nice to be working for her boss.
“Can I go see the baby?” Katy asked from beside her. She was peeking out the window too, as though it was a game.
“No, sweetie.”
“That’s not fair.” Katy frowned up at her. “I like babies.” Her face transformed into the falsely innocent look she got when she wanted something. Abby waited for the other shoe to fall. “I’d really like a baby sister. Can I get one, Muma? Can I?”
“You need a Muma and a daddy to get a baby sister.”
Katy’s little nose scrunched up. “I need a daddy fast, don’t I?” She let out a heavy sigh. “Can you still marry Uncle Matt?”
“No, he’s married to Jena.”
“What about Uncle Harry?”
“He’s getting married to Magenta.”
“Huh.” Katy fell silent while she thought about it. “Can you marry Uncle Dougal?”
Abby blinked down at her. “Dougal?”
Katy nodded. “He’s in charge of the whole town. If he was my daddy, I’d be in charge of the whole town too. And I bet he’d give me free chips every time we had dinner in the pub.”
“I’m not marrying Dougal.” Abby tried to imbue the word with firmness instead of horror.
“Because you don’t want to kiss him, right?” Katy said solemnly.
“No, I don’t want to kiss Dougal.”
Katy let out a heavy sigh. “I’m just going to have to let Flynn be my daddy.”
“What? No!” Abby stared down at her determined daughter. “You can’t just pick a daddy. It doesn’t work like that.”
“I know, Flynn said you need to pick him. But you’re already kissing Flynn, so you might as well marry him.” She gave an exaggerated shrug. “He isn’t so bad. I can probably train him. Jonathan said you can train daddies just like puppies. Can I get a puppy?”
“No.” Abby felt like her head was spinning.
“Then I’ll just have to make do with Flynn. A puppy would fetch a ball, but Flynn can teach me to play football. That’s better than a puppy fetching a ball, isn’t it?” She grinned up at her mum, who was trying hard not to hyperventilate. “I’ve decided you can marry Flynn. He can be my daddy and teach me to play football. But I want to play in a pink shirt.”
Before Abby could say anything else, Katy was off running, pleased she’d worked everything out.
“Take off your shoes.” Lawrence laughed at the shock on Victoria’s face. “I didn’t tell you to strip. Just take off your shoes. Feel the sand under your toes.”
“Why?”
“For fun, Vicki. Don’t you have fun?” Lawrence wanted to reach out and tug the woman into his arms. The look of utter confusion on her face broke his heart. He might have been stuck in an endless loop of work and sleep for the past several years, but there had been pockets of time where he’d lived. He suspected Victoria didn’t even have those.
“I read,” she said. “Reading is enjoyable.”
“Take off your shoes.” Lawrence stepped into her space, making her cheeks flush and her eyes dart around in confusion. “Reading is great, Vicki, but you can’t live completely until you experience things for yourself. Look around you.” He entwined his fingers with hers, making her jerk and her eyes go wide. “The loch is a rich blue, the warm scent of summer flowers is in the air and the sky is clear of clouds. Be present. Be here. Take off your shoes, curl your toes into the sand and breathe deep. No one will judge. No one is even watching. It’s just the two of us, stealing a moment to live fully in a beautiful part of the world.”
A flurry of emotion passed across her face. She nodded once, tersely, dropped his hand and bent to tug off her shoes. Lawrence felt like he’d won a great victory. He watched as she curled her toes into the warm sand and her obvious trepidation turned to joy. Her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a small smile. It was better than a medal.
“Move here with me,” Lawrence said before he could stop the words from escaping. “Start a new life, here. In Invertary. With me.”
She blinked in shock. “I can’t.”
He suspected those words were her standard answer to anything asked of her.
“Why can’t you?” He stepped closer to her, standing behind her as she looked out at the loch. Water lapped gently in front of him, the sounds of the town fading behind them. Lawrence couldn’t resist the pull of the woman any longer. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. At once she stiffened, then slowly relaxed into him. “Why can�
��t you stay, Vicki?”
“I don’t understand why you can stay.” There was genuine confusion in her tone. “How can you walk away from everything you’ve built? What makes you think you’ll have a better life here?”
He nuzzled her temple as he considered her question. “When I called my partners and asked them to buy me out, do you know what they said? They said, ‘About time.’” He chuckled. “They’re happy for me. This move wasn’t a surprise. I’d been making noises about changing my life for a couple of years now. One of the guys thought I might buy a house in Provence, but I like it better here than France. I like the people here. I want to get to know them. I want to slow down. I want to learn to fish. I want to feel the sand beneath my toes and listen to the locals rib each other over breakfast in the pub.” He turned her in his arms. “I want to wake up each morning with a beautiful woman beside me.” He ran a finger down her cheek. “With you beside me,” he whispered.
She jerked against him. He tightened his hold. He wouldn’t make it easy for her to escape.
“Why? Why me?” She twisted to look up at him. The absolute rawness he saw in his eyes made him want to crush her to him and never let her go.
“I see you.” He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. “I see you trapped in there. I see all that emotion and need bursting to get out. I see a woman who’s lost herself under the pressure of a tyrant. I see someone who needs to live, just as much as I do. We can do it together. Start again. Go slow. Here. In a place where they don’t mind people who aren’t quite normal.”
“I don’t know if I can.” The words were barely a whisper. He had to strain to hear. “I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“We’ll learn together. You want to spend time with Abby and you want to be a part of Katy’s life. Don’t deny it. I see it. You are full of wonder and joy when you’re with them. But you’re also afraid they won’t want you. They will. Give them a chance. Give us a chance. Don’t let your mother win. Have courage. Have a life. You can do it, Vicki, I know you can.”
Bad Boy (Invertary Book 5) Page 19