It had been a no-brainer to buy the Pavlova, he’d known all along it was her favourite. It was the same reason he’d bought a small one for her birthday and they’d shared it.
“Better put it in the ‘fridge for after tea.” She smiled up at him.
Yeah, he should, but he couldn’t move. Instead, he just continued to gaze down at her, the memory of the kiss buzzing in his brain, her floral scent teasing his senses, the warmth of her body so close to his a temptation.
Flynn didn’t back away. Nope. She just looked back up at him.
It was time to make a move. He’d waited, danced around the edges, never been quite game to push the boundaries, but now was definitely the time.
Ben leaned down and kissed her.
A press of lips to lips, the softness of her silky skin, the lightest of brushes.
She sighed, swayed into him.
At the unspoken invitation, he wrapped his arms around her, drew her up against him and kissed her the way he’d wanted to, had fantasised about all this time.
Reality was so much better.
Soft breasts pressed against his chest, her hips pressing into him, and her lips - oh God, so soft, so sweet, shaping so deliciously beneath his.
The desire for her that simmered all the time sparked, warmth filling him, growing quickly hotter when her lips parted to allow him inside.
His arms tightened, pulled her hard against him as he kissed her deeper, tasted the warm honey that danced along his tongue.
Flynn’s arms twined around his neck, her moan a welcome vibration against his tongue as he licked deep.
He pressed her back against the bench, one hard thigh sliding between her softer ones, kissing and tasting, his hand dropping to the back of her waist, lower to the gentle curve of her bum.
It was Heaven and Hell all rolled into one.
Heaven because his sweet Flynn was finally in his arms, her taste in his mouth, her curvy body pressed against him.
Hell because voices passing the kitchen window brought them both reluctantly back to their senses. They weren’t alone.
“Damn.” Closing his eyes, he rested his forehead against hers.
“Bugger.” She sighed.
Opening his eyes, Ben grinned ruefully. “Later?”
“Later.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners.
Straightening, he released her to grab the box holding the Pavlova.
The back door opened and Archie walked in holding a six pack. “Got beer.”
“Huh?” Flynn blinked.
“For the barbie.” He placed the pack on the bottom shelf of the ‘fridge.
“Ah…”
“Your Gramma invited me. I do like me some good barbecued meat.” With that he disappeared back outside.
Going by the expression on Flynn’s face, she’d had no idea Archie was coming.
“Do you want me to get some more food?” Ben offered. “I’ve got some ham and stuff.”
“No, no. There’s plenty of food.” She picked up a packet of paper napkins. “Come on, let’s go.”
Archie had taken over cooking the meat, standing beside an annoyed Gram while wielding the tongs. Gramma was busily directing where everyone was going to sit.
No sooner had Flynn and Ben sat down side-by-side than the grey-beared bikie from across the road arrived with his own beer. A whole slab. “Hey.”
Gram’s eyes lit up. “Rocky, you made it.”
Going by Flynn’s dropped jaw, she’d had no idea he was coming as well.
Ben frowned. Seriously, didn’t her grandmothers have any sense of decency? It was Flynn’s home, her BBQ, they could at least have asked her first.
Seeing his expression, she shook her head.
“Want me to fix this?” Ben whispered.
“No.”
“Just say the word and some of these guests are gone.”
“No. No, I don’t want to spoil everything.” She forced a smile.
“Flynn-”
“You’re here.” Reaching under the table, she squeezed his hand. “That’s what matters. This is what matters. Family, you know?”
That was both sweet and painful. Sweet because she included him as family, painful because he noticed the unhappiness in her eyes right before she blinked it away.
“Besides, Christmas is almost here,” she said. “Time for goodwill and all that shit.”
He actually had to choke back a bark of laughter.
Watching Rocky disappear into the house with the slab, her lips tightened. “Excuse me.” Getting up, she followed him inside.
Ben figured he’d give her five minutes before he went in after her as reinforcement. He had no idea what she was saying in there, but whatever it was he was backing her up one hundred and ten percent.
Within two minutes Rocky came back out the door, his expression annoyed. He stomped over to Gram, they whispered, Flynn came out with her head held high and dropped into the chair beside Ben.
Stretching out his arm along the back of her chair, he studied Rocky. “Everything all right?”
“Yep.”
Gram shrugged. Rocky didn’t look appeased. Archie waved the tongs around.
“What did you do, Flynn?” Gramma asked.
“I told him I wouldn’t tolerate over drinking. He can have a couple of cans, I don’t care, but most of that slab is going home.”
“Bet Rocky took that well,” Ben drawled. “Not.”
“I don’t care. I won’t have drunkenness at my barbie.” Flynn stared across at the trio standing at the BBQ. “I’ve seen Rocky drunk and I won’t have a raging lunatic at my place.”
“I quite agree.” Gramma nodded.
Gram started talking to Rocky again, and whatever she said must have appeased him because he nodded reluctantly.
Archie shook his head, rolled his eyes.
Ben raised an eyebrow at them, daring them to try and argue with Flynn.
“I’m not a party-pooper,” she muttered.
“I know.”
“I just don’t like it when people get drunk and lose control and fall over and stuff.”
Soothingly, he trailed his fingertips in a circle on her shoulder.
“I’ve seen happy events soured by it.”
“Me, too. Its okay, Flynn, to lay some ground rules. It’s your place, your BBQ. People need to respect your wishes, especially when they come uninvited.”
“Archie and Rocky were invited, remember?”
“Not by you.”
She shrugged. “It’s done.”
Sally sat down opposite them, a frown on her face as she read the mobile screen. “Sid’s been held up.”
Gee, what a shame.
Seeing as there were more than enough people cooking and organising, Ben was more than content to sit and watch.
“Busy day?” Flynn leaned against him.
Oh yeah, this was nice. “Very busy.” He eased her closer.
Nestling in, she rested her head on his brawny shoulder. “But a good day?”
“Every day working with animals is a good day.”
A faint breeze stirred her hair, a strand tickling along his chin. “No bites or scratches?”
He held his arm out for her inspection. “I got a war wound from a grumpy old tabby.”
“Aw, poor baby.”
“I know, right? That’s a long scratch.”
“I meant the tabby.”
“Of course you did.”
A soft chuckle was her answer.
Smiling, he rested his cheek atop her head. Oh man, this was the life. Flynn in his arms, a steak cooking on the barbie, a quiet sunny evening relaxing after work. Could anything be more perfect?
He watched Gram and Gramma snipe at each other under the guise of friendliness. Rocky and Archie were talking to each other, albeit a little stiffly. Understandable, seeing as they didn’t really get on. Rocky drove a ‘bloody noisy monstrosity’ as Archie put it, while Archie was an ‘uptight grumpy old coot’ as Rocky put
it. There was no love lost between the two. Nor, for that matter, between the grandmothers.
So yes, the only thing more perfect would be if it was just him, Flynn, Scruff and Phoebe in the yard.
Watching the forced politeness, Ben murmured, “What’s with the grandmas?”
“Neither ever thought the other’s kid was good enough for their own.” Flynn sighed. “They got into it a bit today.”
“Bad?”
“Bad enough. I thought they were going to get into a full-on brawl.”
“One of them would have had a heart attack.”
“The other wouldn’t have done CPR, let me give you the tip.”
“Think one would have helped the other pass over instead?”
“I’d put my betting money on it. If I betted. Which I don’t.”
“Never mind.” He pressed a comforting kiss onto her silky hair. “It’s been a long day for you, too, huh?”
“Bloody oath.”
This time he couldn’t stop the snort of amusement.
Tilting her head back, Flynn eyed him narrowly.
“Sorry.” He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Don’t think that peck will make things better.”
“I promise to make it up to you later.”
“I’m holding you to that.” She poked him in his belly, her eyebrows rose. “Whoa, what’s this?”
Ben looked quizzically down to where her palm was pressed firmly against his abdomen. “What?”
“Mate, have you got a six pack?” She explored the area with interest.
Holy shit, if she kept massaging any lower past his belly button, she’d find something else to be impressed about.
“More of a two pack,” he managed to say.
“No, there’s definitely more.”
“Four. Possibly.”
“Cool.” She winked mischievously. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”
“Great idea.” His blood was already starting to pound in his ears. “Let’s ditch this mob and go to my place.”
She started to laugh, only to have her attention caught by something from the direction of the house. Hilarity turned to dismay. “Ah no. Is that seriously…?”
Glancing over his shoulder, Ben saw Rosie practically floating down the pathway. Over one arm she held a straw basket topped by an honest-to-God red and white checked cloth. Her straw hat had a posy of sunflowers on one side. Her maxi dress billowed, the straps over sun-tanned shoulders, her feet in flat sandals. The dreamy smile on her face was matched only by the happiness in her eyes.
“Hi,” she said cheerfully. “I brought homemade lemonade and apple pie.”
“You don’t say,” Flynn said faintly.
“Where’s Dax?” Rosie looked around dreamily. “He invited me.”
“Of course he did.”
Oh boy. Ben rubbed Flynn’s back comfortingly. “Where is Dax?”
“Not here yet.” She smiled at Rosie already drifting off to investigate her ‘adorable cherub statue’ in the garden. No sooner had she gone from earshot than Flynn groaned and dropped her forehead onto Ben’s chest. “Remind me again why I invited my rellies for Christmas?”
“Because you’re a good¸ kind, thoughtful person.”
“I don’t suppose you have any animal tranquilizer at your house?”
“Not something I generally bring home with me.”
“Damn.”
“Tell you what,” Ben suggested. “We get through this evening and then I’ll smuggle you over to my place later where you can join me, Scruff and Phoebe in a quiet few hours watching TV without anyone else around.”
“We could do that now.”
Ben was more than happy to grant that request.
“But alas,” she said resignedly, “I have to be a bloody good, kind, thoughtful person.”
“Bugger.” He sighed. “Luckily I’m a patient bloke.”
Good thing he was. Because the shit was about to hit the fan. Big time.
Just not quite yet.
Chapter 5
Archie might be a cranky old coot but he cooked a mean steak on the barbie. And not just the steak. The chops, the sausages, the onions, they were all mouth-watering.
Steak and salad clamped between a bread roll, Ben ate appreciatively. The only thing that would make this perfect would be six less people at the table, but it couldn’t be helped. One day it would be just him and Flynn at the table. He could wait.
He stole a side-long glance at her. For her, he could wait forever. Hell, it seemed like he’d already waited forever for them to even get this far, so right now he was happy. He’d be delirious with joy in a few hours when they were alone together but heck, he could enjoy this time meanwhile.
Besides, the food was undeniably good.
The company, however… He transferred his attention to the group.
Flynn was chatting to Rosie, who was sitting and talking in her dreamy, romantic, hippie, country-girl way, her hands fluttering around like delicate birds on the ends of her slim wrists. The girls had landed on the topic of flowers and their meanings, like that really mattered, but at least they’d found something to talk about.
Gram and Gramma were pointedly ignoring each other and talking to their men.
Rocky was on his second beer and sulking a little because Gram had agreed with Flynn. It was his second and last beer because even Gram didn’t want him drunk.
Gramma and Archie were chatting about days gone by and were decidedly more cheerful.
Ben had tried to strike up a conversation with Sally but she responded with the occasional ‘uh-huh’ while scrolling continuously through her mobile, checking her emails, social media and who knew what else. The occasional selfies made it onto her page.
For crying out loud, how many photos of oneself did a person need? He actually paused in the act of a bite of food when she took a photo of her meal - what the hell? - and posted it on social media. Because someone might be interested in the fact she was eating? Like that was news or something? Who gave a rat’s arse what she was eating? Unless she was a vegetarian who shouldn’t be eating that big-arsed lamb chop, then yeah, her veggie mates would find that news. Horrifying, but news.
Mentally shaking his head, Ben took another bite of food.
Sally scrolled, stopped, frowned. “What the…”
“Well, it’s about time,” Gram said.
“Dax, where have you been?” Gramma demanded.
Ben glanced up as the black, leather-clad figure stopped on the other side of the table. Then he did a double-take because Dax wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a buxom young lady in a sleeveless black velvet gown that stretched from just above her breasts to below her knees, cinched in at the waist with a black corset, black fishnet stockings with a rip in them, ankle boots, a black band around her white throat, and long black gloves. Her long black hair framed a face painted white. Her lips were black, her eye makeup black, and she had a row of piercings along her eyebrow. Even those rings were black. Her irises were black, which just had to be lenses because seriously, no one’s eyes could be that black. There was a black tear drop tattooed at the corner of her eye.
Goth Boy had acquired a Goth Girl.
“Crap on a stick.” Gram shot an alarmed look at Rosie.
“Uh…” was all Gramma managed.
Archie’s disdain was plain to see.
Rocky was mournfully trying to suck out the last drop of beer by keeping the tin above his mouth while shaking it.
Flynn had a resigned expression on her face. “Hi.”
Right. Another uninvited guest. Did this family have no manners?
“This is Amaris,” introduced Dax. “I met her today.”
“Hi.” Amaris waved, then her gaze caught on the mound of meat on Rocky’s plate. “Some things suffer for our pleasure. It’s the pain of ecstasy.”
“I think you got your metaphors mixed up,” Gram said. “You’re looking at the meat but you might be thinking about s
ex.”
Gramma choked.
Amaris fixed a bland look on Gram. “Pain and sex are one thing, pain and suffering another.”
“Pain and suffering generally go hand in hand.”
“The suffering of living creatures resulting in our consuming of their flesh.”
“Oh yeah. Now I get you.” Gram turned to Rocky, rolled her eyes.
“Take a seat.” Flynn pointed at the spare chairs. “I brought more out for the extra guests. I got to the stage I wasn’t sure how many more there was to come. Ha ha.”
Ben slanted her a look. Maybe she wasn’t as calm as she appeared. Wait. No, she looked calm. Good act. There was a slight tick at the corner of her mouth that gave away her annoyance. Who could blame her? She was probably wondering who else might come waltzing in to join the family BBQ she’d planned for family only.
It still warmed him that she regarded him as family.
“There’s salad,” Gramma offered. “And bread rolls.”
Sitting with a rustle of material, Amaris poised a hand over the plate.
Maybe she was trying to decide whether she should take her gloves off or not.
There was a loud clearing of a throat and everyone switched their attention to Rosie. She was smiling at Dax but somehow some of the floaty-type impression had vanished a little.
Dax stared back at her, then he kind of got this faintly astonished expression, blinked, and winced. Just a little, mind you, but enough for Rosie to realise what was going on in his mind.
Not to mention everyone else.
“You invited me.” There was a very careful edge about her smile. “Did you forget?”
“Lovely of him to invite you, too,” Flynn cut in. “Have some salad.”
“It’s really good.” Gramma reached quickly for the bowl, held it out to Rosie.
Amaris speared Rosie with a narrow-eyed gaze. “Dax invited me.”
Rosie’s smile didn’t vanish, but it grew sharper. “Dax?”
“Uh…”
“So, anyone need a drink top-up?” Flynn stood, looked around almost desperately. “Anyone?”
“I’ll have a beer-” Rocky began then caught Flynn’s glare. “Or a lemonade.”
She reached for the bottle only to have Rosie snatch it away.
“I made my lemonade for you.” Rosie wiggled the bottle at Dax. “I bought the lemons and made lemonade.”
Christmas Blue at Flynn's Page 7