Flynn looked around the room, hoping an answer would present itself. It didn’t. He had no choice but to go with honesty. “I heard you at the stream.”
Abby gasped. Her hand flew to her chest. Her face went pale. Flynn’s muscles tensed, ready to run for her if she looked like she was going to drop. He’d pay for it later—his leg didn’t want to run; it barely wanted to walk—but he couldn’t let her topple to the floor. Again.
“Take nice, easy breaths, sugar. It’s going to be okay. Why don’t you sit down? There’s a chair right behind you. That’s right,” he encouraged as she plopped onto the chair.
“You heard me?” Her voice was a trembling whisper. Her eyes were glassy. Oh hell. It wasn’t fainting. It was crying. Flynn wanted to run now for sure. Except this time he didn’t want to run to her rescue—he wanted to head out the door and keep going until he was back in London.
“It’s okay. It’s fine. Nothing to worry about.” He aimed for the same gentle tones he’d once used years earlier when he’d talked an injured dog out of a corner.
“You heard me?” she whispered again, and a tear ran down her cheek.
Oh hell. The dam had cracked. With a grimace, Flynn limped over to her. He bit back a grunt of pain as he knelt on his good knee in front of her. Awkwardly, he patted her shoulder.
“There, there.” He was pretty sure that was what people said in situations like this. He was equally sure that the words he’d used with the dog—“Come on, boy, be brave and I’ll get you a juicy bone”— wouldn’t help here. “It’s okay,” he said instead.
“It’s not okay.” Her big chocolate eyes were melting. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to David. You weren’t supposed to listen. No one was supposed to hear.”
At the sight of more tears, Flynn broke out in a cold sweat. Would she be okay for a minute alone? He just needed enough time to call Matt or Harry. They had women. Either of them would know what to do. Right? Abby’s big brown eyes looked up at him, and he knew he couldn’t leave her side. There was no choice but to grit his teeth, comfort the woman and hope like crazy he didn’t screw things up further. What to say? What to say? Inspiration struck.
“It’s a good job I heard you. Your husband isn’t in any fit state to help out, but I can. I want to.” Okay. So that didn’t come out the way he’d intended. He pushed on. “Aye, it shocks the hell out of me too. But I do want to help. I got you into this mess. I want to help get you out of it. Sure, your kid is the spawn of Satan, but you like her so you should get to keep her. I’d feel bad if she went away. It’s not like you have a backup. She’s the only one you have.”
Abby blinked several times as though stunned. Did hearing he wanted to help send her into shock? Was that even possible?
Flynn ran his hand down her back in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “There, there,” he said again, then gave himself a mental eye roll. “I’m going to do what I can to fix this. I promised you I’d clean up my act. That’s why I’m here. To help you out.”
“By buying my daughter a pool?” She seemed confused. Was that a symptom of shock?
“It’s just a pool. It’s no big deal.” He didn’t think it was a good time to mention the other items on the little terrorist’s list. “And if it gets her to stop dropping information bombs this week, it’s worth the money. I only want to help. Let me help.”
“But...” She closed her eyes for a moment before looking back at him. “I don’t think I can trust you. This situation with Victoria is delicate. You could really screw it up.”
Okay, that was a slap in the face. He decided her reaction was just another symptom of her obviously shocked state, and carried on regardless.
“I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m growing up. You should know it’s a painful process, but I’m embracing it.” He caressed her cheek with his palm, while his other hand continued to rub her back. “Let me help, Abby. I feel bad and I can’t stand it. I’m not used to guilt and I don’t know what to do with myself. Let me help.”
“You drive me crazy. I’m not even sure I like you.” Still, she relaxed under his touch.
He quirked a smile. “Aye, I know, but you do like my kisses. And you like me to touch you. Don’t you, Abby?” There was a rumble of desire undercutting his words. It was impossible to be around this woman and not feel desire. She was beautiful, and good, and clean and kind and...well, everything Flynn wasn’t. And she owned a closet full of sexy shoes. He was defenceless against her.
Her cheeks burned red as her gaze fell to her knees. “You weren’t supposed to hear that either.”
“I’m glad I did,” he whispered, leaning in closer to her. His thumb stroked over her full bottom lip. “I like kissing you too, Abby.” She shuddered under his touch, making him instantly ravenous to taste her. “Don’t worry about things so much. Go with the flow. Let me help you. Let me touch you. It’s all going to be fine.”
“You’re a dangerous man, Flynn Boyle.” But it was said with resignation. Acceptance. Desire.
He felt heat flare throughout his body. “So I’m told.” His words were a breath against her lips.
And then he was kissing her. Gentle. Soft. Slow. Everything their last kiss hadn’t managed to be. Her taste and scent stole his mind. His arm clamped tight around her. He felt her nails dig into his shoulders and almost wished the flannel shirt was gone so he could feel the bite in his skin. She tilted her head slightly as she sipped at his mouth. Her tongue darted out to taste, a nervous little move. He slanted his mouth over hers, met her tongue with his and kissed her slowly and thoroughly.
Never before had kissing a woman felt so perfect. He could stay like this for hours. Tasting her, listening to her panting breaths and tiny whimpers of need. It was bliss.
“I told you no kissing!” The shout from the door had Abby jerking away from him.
Katy stood with her arms folded and her face like thunder. The look was somewhat ruined by the pink tutu and yellow gumboots.
“No more kissing,” she ordered. “If you kiss him you have to marry him, and I don’t want him as a daddy.”
Even though Flynn didn’t want to be her father either, the words stung. What was wrong with him? He’d make a great dad. Probably. Maybe.