There was a plastic wine glass in his hand. That’s right. He was getting a drink for Prita and then going to ask her about the cricket match for the kids. It was something to do. Something to focus on.
He got side-tracked twice on the way to the eskis—thankfully they’d been set on the other side of the backyard from the BBQs where they were shaded by the massive old ghost gum in the far corner of the yard. He’d have to get the branches checked for Prita to make sure it was safe. Ghost gums had a habit of losing limbs. It was set right away from the house, so it shouldn’t cause any damage to the house, but it was best to be safe. He, better than anyone, knew the danger of such things.
Making a mental note to take care of it, he picked out a bottle of the Late Harvest Pinot Gris he knew Prita liked from a little winery in the Yarra Valley, and after emptying out the warm wine in her cup, poured her a fresh glass. He couldn’t see her when he moved out of the shade of the ghost gum, so she must still be on the phone to her father. Should he go find her? Disturb her? No, better leave her alone to talk to her dad. Although, he’d not asked her about the cricket. And she might be thirsty. Two reasons to go find her straight away. He had promised the three musketeers after all. And she needed her fresh glass of wine.
He headed up the side of the house, guessing she’d made her way to the porch at the front where she’d be able to get away from the noise of the crowd.
He rounded the corner of the house and came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a raised voice. A male voice.
Bob Thompson was standing next to Prita, his face red, spittle shooting out of his mouth as he shouted at her. ‘You’ve broken contract. There was an understanding you’d take on the property.’
‘Not an understanding with me.’
‘Of course not with you, you stupid woman. I spoke about it with Doc Simpson.’
Prita stiffened, her mouth tightening as she stared up at the larger man. Flynn watched, fascinated as Prita stood her ground against the bull-headed man in front of her. He should probably go and help her, but knowing her, he’d get a tongue lashing for rushing to her rescue. Prita wasn’t someone who seemed comfortable with accepting help—Barb had bulldozed through her objections about them helping her with her new house until she’d given up and worked harder than any of the rest of them. But generally, she didn’t accept help at all. He didn’t feel comfortable walking away though, even though he was certain Prita was more than capable of dealing with Bob Thompson herself. He edged a little closer, prepared to rush in if necessary.
Neither Prita nor Bob seemed to notice him.
Prita flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder then crossed her arms. ‘Doctor Simpson does not arrange business matters for me.’
‘You wouldn’t even be here if not for me and him.’
‘I don’t know what you’ve got to do with me being here. I was employed to take over while Doctor Simpson recovered from his heart attack. He then asked me to stay on when he was able to come back to work because he couldn’t take on his full work load. None of that had anything to do with you.’
‘You were living in one of my rental properties. You broke your lease.’
‘I paid you out, so we’re done. Now, I would ask that you remove yourself from my property before I am forced to call the police.’
‘Why you little bitch.’
She wiped a piece of spittle from her cheek and glared at him. ‘And while you’re at it, stop with the harassing calls.’
Harassing calls? What the hell?
Flynn edged closer.
‘You can deny it all you like,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘But I know you and Doc Simpson are behind them and I won’t put up with it.’
‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’
She glared at him. ‘I think you should just leave.’
‘I won’t go until you agree to pay me reparation for the damage you and that brat have done to me and my property.’
‘What damage? We made the property look better!’
‘Not after my boy is finished with it. It’s going to look a whole lot worse.’
‘What? You can’t blame that on me.’
‘I’m not blaming it on you. I’m blaming your freaky-eyed son. I know all about the violent fits he’s had at school. I know his mother was a prostitute and a drug addict. His father was probably her pimp. I’ve seen the kind before. That boy will follow in the footsteps of his parents, mark my words. He’s nothing but trash, trash you’ve brought here into our town. It will come as no surprise to people to hear that he was responsible for destruction of property.’
The sound of a slap rang in the air before Flynn even registered she’d moved.
‘How dare you say that about my son,’ Prita said, her voice shaking. ‘Leave. Now.’
The look on Bob’s face as he cradled his cheek would have been funny if not for the fact Flynn knew the man’s temper and the nastiness of his pride. Flynn started up the incline towards them.
‘You hit me,’ Bob said.
‘I’ll do more than hit you. I’ll call the police and have you charged for trespass and making threats.’
‘Why, you bitch.’ He grabbed a hold of her arm as she turned away from him, jerking her back to face him.
Flynn saw red, his fingers crushing the plastic cup he was holding. Cool wine spilled all over his hand, but he barely noticed as he said, ‘Let go of her.’
Bob looked up, surprise and anger warring for prominence on his face. ‘This is none of your business, Findlay.’
‘I said, let go of her.’
‘I will when I’ve had my say.’
‘You’ve had your say, you racist bully,’ Prita said, her voice firm, but calm.
He looked shocked, so shocked he let go of her arm. ‘I’m not a racist.’
She snorted. ‘You’ve made plenty of comments about me and my background to anyone who will listen. Didn’t you think that would get back to me?’
‘That’s because you’re a woman.’
She blinked at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You’re a woman.’
‘I know.’
‘Everyone knows men are better at being doctors than women. You’re too—’ he waved his hand, an expression on his face like he’d just caught a whiff of horse dung, ‘—emotional and all that and I certainly don’t want a woman trying to tell me how to look after myself or touching my—’ he glanced at Flynn, his face glowing and then turned his attention back to her, ‘—stuff.’
Prita blinked a few times. ‘So you’re not a racist, but you are a misogynist. Glad I got that cleared up. Now you can go, or I’ll call the police.’
‘I’m not finished.’ He grabbed her arm again as she went to walk away and jerked her back to him. ‘Listen, you jumped up little bitch. You can’t call me names and get—’
Flynn hit Bob square in the face before he even thought about moving his hand. Bob went down like a sack of bricks.
‘Flynn!’ Prita cried. ‘That wasn’t necessary. I was handling it.’
‘He shouldn’t have grabbed you. Or called you a bitch.’ The crushed cup was still in his hand, the jagged edges cutting into his palm. He loosened his fingers to let go of it. Pain spiked out from his knuckles as the ruined cup fell to the ground. ‘Bloody hell!’ He’d never realised punching someone could hurt so much.
Prita, ever the doctor, dropped down beside Bob to check on him.
‘Get off me, you stupid cow.’ Bob shoved himself upright, making Prita scramble back.
‘I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay.’
‘If I need a doctor, I’ll go to Doc Simpson,’ Bob said as he clambered to his feet. ‘Not to some wet behind the ears jumped up daddy’s girl like you. For all we know the mighty Diarmuid bought you your medical degree.’
She sucked in a breath like she’d been punched.
Bob looked like he was going to continue his tirade. Flynn didn’t let him get that far. His fist plou
ghed into Bob’s flabby gut just under his ribs, making the other man grunt and bend over, then landed a square punch in his filthy mouth, his head snapping back, making him stumble a few steps, although this time, he didn’t go down.
Pain spiked through Flynn’s hand but he ignored it, ready for Bob’s retaliation to come, fury far greater than pain.
But Bob only wiped his hand across his bleeding mouth, and glared daggers at Flynn. ‘You’ll regret that, Findlay.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I will.’ He forced himself to straighten up to his full height, arms casually at his side as if he was fully in control and not bristling with rage, ready to take Bob to the ground and keep punching and punching until the man was nothing but a mess of blood and snot and torn skin. He was aware of Prita staring at him. Shit, what had he done? He grasped a hold of his control, the blinding pain in his hand helping him to see past the rage and focus on the bully before him. Men like Bob Thompson were weak, preying on those they thought wouldn’t fight back. He’d picked on the wrong target if he thought Prita would ever back down. And he would have let her deal with the issue if not for the fact that Bob Thompson had grabbed her and called her things nobody deserved to get called, let alone someone like Prita.
Bob eyed him warily, but then like every cowardly bully Flynn had come across in his life, his gaze flickered away and he took a step back. That mean-hearted gaze landed on Prita and he sneered, ‘We’re not done here.’
Flynn saw red again, but managed to stop himself from hitting the bastard again. ‘I think you are,’ he managed to say, voice low and full of menace as he took a measured, controlled step forward. ‘Leave.’
Bob blanched, stumbled back a few more steps. ‘I’ll get you for this.’ Then he ran to his car parked on the verge across from Prita’s house, hopped in and sped away.
There was a shocked silence and then Prita burst into laughter.
He blinked, stunned. How could she be laughing? That whole scene had been violent and horrible. He’d lost his temper when Bob had manhandled and yelled at her and because of that loss of control, he was going to have to pay. Bob might be a coward, but he would make a complaint to the police, no doubt. Flynn groaned. Shit.
It wasn’t funny.
Yet she was sitting on the ground rocking back and forth, laughing.
‘This isn’t funny.’
‘No.’ She waved her hand, pushing herself up from her position on the ground, gulping in air around the chuckles of mirth. Too late, he realised he should have helped her up.
She looked at him, shoulders still shaking, those dimples on full display. She took a couple of deep breaths, waving her hands in front of her. ‘Sorry, I know it’s not funny. It’s just he said, “I’ll get you for this” and I couldn’t help picturing him on a broom with a green face and witch’s hat, screeching, “I’ll get you for this, my pretties” as he took off, beer gut spilling out of his pants.’ She burst into peals of laughter again.
Flynn’s lips twitched, the image she painted suddenly large in his mind. ‘It was pretty full on.’
She dragged in a couple of deep breaths and swiped at her eyes. ‘Full on. Always one for the understatement, aren’t you, Flynn?’
He shrugged one shoulder as she looked up at him, her lips pressed together as if trying to hold in her mirth, eyes dancing.
Christ, she was gorgeous. He lifted his hand without thinking, to touch a finger to those dimples. ‘Fucking holy hell.’ Spikes of pain jabbed through his hand and up his arm. He clutched it and swore again, cradling it against his chest, turning from her to look at it. His knuckles were covered in blood, the skin torn and already swelling. Damn it! How was he going to handle saddling up twenty horses for the ride tomorrow? Reid couldn’t do it all himself. John was away for the week. Ah crap. He’d have to ask Mac to come in, even though he’d given the older man some time off to spend time with his son, Ben, while he was still here, to do some work in the bush around his house to create a better fire break.
Hell. The man was going to give him hell. As was his mum. She would lecture him about the stupidity of losing his temper and she’d be right. And how was he going to hide this from Aaron? Hadn’t he just told him the other day that physical violence was not the way to solve anything? No, it just caused problems. And often hurt you as much as the other person. He touched his bleeding and swelling knuckles, flinched.
‘Flynn. What have you done?’ Prita was suddenly in front of him, her fluid grace making him feel like a clumsy giant as he stood there, cradling his hand and wondering what the hell had come over him. ‘Flynn.’ Her snapped out use of his name brought his attention back to her as she tried to loosen his tight grip on his injured hand. ‘Stop scowling at me and let me see.’
‘I’m fine.’
Her brow lifted—a perfect arch—and she pursed those full lips of hers, the dent in the bottom one becoming more evident. He so wanted to run his thumb over that dent. Then his tongue.
No! What the hell was he thinking?
‘Flynn. I can see you’ve injured your hand badly. You’ve got blood all over your shirt. Now let me look at it before you make it worse.’
He couldn’t say no to her when she was looking at him like that. He held out his hand and she examined it quickly, prodding gently. He winced.
‘This is bad. Come on.’ She turned and headed to the front door of her new clinic, obviously expecting him to follow. And god help him, he did, unable to stop trailing behind her like some love sick puppy. Pathetic.
Chapter 3
Prita opened the door into the reception area and held it open for Flynn to go in. She was about to follow when her name was called. She turned to see Max Smith hurrying towards her down the street.
She turned to Flynn. ‘Go sit on the bed in the treatment room. I’ll be right in.’
‘Who’s that?’ Flynn tried to look past her out the door, but she let it swing partially closed.
‘Just a new neighbour. I’m surprised you didn’t meet him today. He was at the party.’
‘What’s he want?’
She smiled sweetly at him. ‘I don’t know. I thought I’d take the bold step and, I don’t know, ask him.’
‘Do you need help?’
She shot him a sarcastic look. ‘Certainly not the kind of help you’re offering today. Besides, Max Smith is a softy. I won’t be a moment. Go on.’
Flynn hesitated a moment but she took the decision out of his hands, stepped back out on the front verandah and shut the door in his face.
Max was slightly out of breath as he came up to her. ‘Doctor Prita, are you okay?’
‘I’m fine, why?’
‘I saw what happened. I was heading back to my shop when I heard yelling and turned back to see if I could help. I could see Bob Thompson hassling you. I was about to call the police when that other bloke came out. I’m … I’m afraid I kind of froze when he hit Bob. I don’t like violence.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘No, I’m fine, although, I can’t say the same for Flynn.’
‘Flynn?’
‘Findlay. From CoalCliff.’
‘Oh, Reid Stratton’s uncle?’
‘Yes.’ Prita stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Everyone always focused on TV star Reid, and overlooked Flynn. Not that Flynn seemed to care, so she shouldn’t.
‘Did he hurt himself? That was a pretty fierce fight. I can imagine it’s going to cause quite a stir.’
She looked back at the closed door behind her. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this. It was a bit out of character for Flynn and I know he’s embarrassed.’
‘Oh, okay.’ He looked down at his feet and then up through his fringe, his glasses slipping down his nose a little. ‘Anything for you, Doctor Prita.’
Was he trying to flirt with her? Her smile stiffened. God, a patient crush. Just what she needed. She needed to disengage and try to not hurt his feelings. ‘I appreciate t
hat. But I better get in and see to Flynn’s injury.’
‘Yes. Of course. And if you need me to tell the police what I saw, just let me know. That Bob Thompson is a bully. He’s caused some issues for me too because of the bee hives I plan to keep at the back of my shop. He said they’ll be a menace and is trying to stop me from having them.’
‘Sounds like Bob. He likes to think he’s in control of everything.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s a bully and he shouldn’t have touched you like that. I wish I could have helped more.’
‘That’s kind of you, but unnecessary.’ He did a nod-head-shake-shrug combination that made her think of an agitated puppy. ‘Well—’ she took a step back, ‘—I better get inside to my patient.’
‘Of course. Thanks for inviting me to the party. And for introducing me to people.’
‘Pleasure. You should go back out there.’
‘Oh no, I’ve got some new wax that’s come in and I want to dip some new candles tonight. I need a full stock inventory before I can open.’
‘Of course. Make sure you don’t burn yourself again.’
He dipped his head and smiled shyly at her. ‘I won’t. And if I do, I know who to call.’
‘Of course. I’m always here to all my patients.’
He frowned a little but then nodded, flashed her another smile and scurried back down the stairs.
Prita didn’t wait to watch him go but let herself back inside and locked the door behind her.
It was cool in the room, a lovely reprieve from the heat of the day, but instead of going straight to the treatment room, she leaned against the door and took a moment before facing Flynn again.
Her hand was still tingling from when she’d touched Flynn to look at his hand. Her whole body tingled from standing so close to him. It had been a hot day, but she’d become too aware, as they stood so close, of his heat enveloping her in caressing waves, making her temperature soar as her nerves sung with the tension she inevitably felt when he was anywhere near. With his crooked smile, dark shag of auburn hair and hazel eyes that reminded her of the sunlit-dappled bush, he was rugged and handsome in that clean-cut Australian outback man way, and usually so controlled and calm. The absolute opposite of her.
Blazing Fear Page 3