Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“Can I talk now?” Katy wailed.

Abby grinned at her, her head giddy with the women’s generous approval. “Of course you can, sweetie.”

“Great. I need to go shopping.” She waved two fifty-pound notes in the air. “I need to buy a gazillion Barbies.”

Abby’s eyes shot between her daughter’s beaming face and the huge amount of money clutched in her fists. She felt herself still. “Where did you get the money, Katy?” She tried to keep her voice steady.

There was silence in the room. All attention focused on Katy.

“Mr Boyle gave it to me to make me go away.” She scrunched up her nose. “I wanted him to sit on the naughty step because he was badly behaved yesterday, but he wouldn’t do it.”

Abby felt her blood turn to ice. “Mr Boyle gave you a hundred pounds?”

“Uh-oh,” one of the women mumbled.

Katy nodded. “Uh-huh, and a T-shirt. But I kept tripping over the T-shirt so I put it in my bedroom. I think I’ll give it back to him. He probably needs it because he never has enough clothes to wear.”

Abby’s vision blurred. She was going to kill the man. She wasn’t sure how she would do it, but it would happen. As soon as she calmed down, she was going to Google how to murder someone.

“Honey,” she said to Katy, making sure her voice was soft. It wasn’t her five-year-old’s fault their neighbour was an idiot. “You can’t keep the money. Mr Boyle shouldn’t have given it to you. It’s rude to pay people to go away. And that is an awful lot of money for a little girl. You need to return it.”

“No!” Katy clenched the money to her chest. “It’s my money. He gave it to me. I’m not giving it back. You told me it’s rude to return presents. You’re making me be rude.”

“Katy, listen to me. The money wasn’t a gift—it was a bribe. It needs to be returned.”

“I won’t do it!”

With a wail, her daughter ran from the room. There was stomping and a door slammed. Katy was locked in her room. Thankfully, Abby had a key. Once Katy calmed down they’d have another chat. In the meantime, there was someone else she needed to talk to.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Abby stood calmly. “I need to speak to my neighbour.”

“Don’t mind us, dear.” Margaret Campbell had a wicked gleam in her eye. “You go sort him out.”

“We’ll look after Katy,” Heather said. “Give my nephew a good piece of your mind. He shouldn’t be handing out cash without talking to her mother first.”

“No. He shouldn’t.” Abby felt her lips thin as she stalked out of the room.

This is the life, Flynn thought as he kicked back on the lounger. The sun warmed his skin and bleached his eyelids. It was so quiet he could actually hear the birds. And if he kept his eyes shut he wouldn’t see the mess all around him. It was a win-win situation.

The production crew were sitting over at their van having lunch. Their quiet voices didn’t bother him. Their weaselly producer was glued to his phone as he paced back and forth beside the stream. From the angry glances the weasel cast in his direction, Flynn could only assume the conversation was about him and it wasn’t going well. In two weeks the jerk, along with his cameras, would be gone. In the meantime, Flynn planned to do a whole lot of nothing for them to film. He was going to kick back, enjoy his quiet time and relax.

“Mr Boyle, I need a minute of your time.”

And there went his relaxed state.

Abby McKenzie’s voice was a pin to his happy balloon. Flynn kept his eyes shut and hoped she’d go away. A shadow blocked out the sun. She wasn’t taking the hint. He peeked out one eye.

“Abby,” he drawled. “You’re blocking the sun, sugar. Could you move a couple of steps to the right?”

Her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed. But she didn’t move.

“Mr Boyle.” Her tone was ice. “You can’t give my daughter money. You certainly can’t give her a hundred pounds. I want you to go over there and explain you made a mistake. In the meantime, here’s your money.” She placed five twenty-pound notes on his bare chest.

“That isn’t my money, sugar. I gave the terrorist two fifties.”

Her jaw clenched. “Take the money and get up. You have a mess to sort out. I need you to explain things to Katy.”

He shrugged. It was hard to keep his focus on her words. The woman was seriously hot when she was riled. “Explain what? We had a deal. Why is this different from paying another kid to mow my lawn? She did a job. I paid her.”