Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“I should have called Matt. I should have politely complained.”

“You’ve been polite for well over a month and it didn’t get you anywhere. Maybe going psycho on his ass will. I would have done a whole lot worse in your place.”

“Let’s face it, princess,” Matt said as he came into the room carrying a tray. “You would have tripped, fallen on the knife and bled on the grass while you waited to be rescued.”

To her surprise, laughter burst out of Abby. Matt had a point. Jena was the most accident-prone person Abby had ever known. Matt placed the tray on the floor in front of the women. He flicked on a table lamp and left without another word. There was no wine on the tray. Instead there was a pot of coffee and a plate of peanut cookies Abby had made earlier.

“Guess we’re getting cut off.” Jena reached for a cookie.

“Probably for the best. I don’t need any more alcohol.” Abby glanced at the clock. It was past ten already. Soon she’d fall into bed only to start all over again in the morning. Another relentless day of reacting to other people’s needs, of trying to get ahead and of dealing with Flynn. “I can’t believe I was attracted to the man.”

“Flynn?” Jena sat up straight. “When were you attracted to Flynn? You didn’t tell me.”

Abby groaned. “I saw him at Matt’s dad’s funeral. It was before his injury. He was wearing a suit and he was devastating. Of course, I didn’t know then he was also Satan.”

“Oh, I remember.” Jena grinned. “That was around the same time you announced to the pub your hoo-ha was working again and you were desperate for a man.”

“I did not!” Abby smacked her friend’s arm. “I said my libido was awake after years lying dormant. I didn’t mention anything about being desperate. And I certainly didn’t say the word hoo-ha.” Although, to be honest, Abby’s memories of the night in the pub were filtered through too much wine. She wasn’t sure what she’d confessed to her friends.

“So.” Jena’s eyes narrowed, scheming. “Your hoo-ha wants Flynn.”

“No! And stop talking about my hoo-ha.”

“He’s the first man you’ve mentioned being attracted to since I met you. He must be pretty special.”

Abby scowled. “Stop it. Stop whatever’s in your tiny mind. I don’t want Flynn.”

“I think the lady doth protest too much.”

“I think I should never have bought y

ou a book on Shakespeare.” Abby pushed the cup away from her. “It’s too late for coffee. I have problems sleeping as it is.”

“Want me to get you some tea?” Jena’s face transformed from mischievous to concerned, and Abby wondered again how she would have managed if her American friend hadn’t come to the Scottish Highlands.

“No. Thanks, though.”

“Don’t worry about Flynn, honey. This whole thing will blow over.”

No. It wouldn’t. “Maybe, but I still need to apologise to Flynn. I’ll go over first thing in the morning.”

Jena stopped dead, the cookie halfway to her mouth. “If you apologise, I’ll find a new best friend. One with a backbone.”

“I made a fool of myself. I set a bad example for Katy and I embarrassed my neighbour in front of his friends. I have to apologise.” Being polite was practically wired into her DNA. She wasn’t sure she could not apologise.

“He’s the one who should be sorry. Not you.”

“I know you don’t understand, but I won’t be able to live with the guilt of letting this lie.” She held a hand up to stop Jena from saying anything else.

Jena’s expressive eyes couldn’t hide her emotions even if she tried. “I don’t like it.”

Neither did Abby, but it was the right thing to do, and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t break the brainwashing of her childhood—a Montgomery-Clark always did the right thing, even if the thought of it made her want to gag.

The doorbell rang, and before Abby could struggle to her feet, Matt passed the living room. “I’ll get it.”

“Did you call anyone else?” Jena asked.

“Who else would I confess my bad behaviour to?”