Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

Abby rolled her eyes at him, gathered her daughter into her arms and headed back to her house. All the while a part of her hoped Flynn would wear the suit when he came over for Katy’s bedtime story. Her cheeks were flushed by the time she made it into the house, and it wasn’t because Katy weighed a tonne. It was from the memory of the gorgeously sexy Mr Boyle.

As her eyes caught Victoria watching them from the front porch, an uneasy acknowledgement coursed through Abby. She was dancing with fire spending time with Flynn, flaunting her familiarity with her neighbour in front of her sister. She squeezed Katy tight. Now wasn’t the time to rebel. It wasn’t the time to attract any attention to areas of her life she’d rather her sister didn’t see.

She looked over her shoulder at Flynn. It definitely wasn’t the time to get involved with a bad boy. No matter how irresistible that bad boy might be.

16

"Without being too harsh on David Beckham,

he cost us the match."

Ian Wright, former England national player

It was a surprise when Flynn actually turned up to read to Katy. Abby expected him to run and hide. Instead, he’d shown up wearing butter-soft faded jeans, a long-sleeved crew-neck tee in royal blue and beaten grey Converse on his feet. He sauntered into her house like he owned the place, rooted around in his gym bag for a minute, came out with a magazine then dumped the bag by the table.

“Where’s the terrorist?”

“Not so fast.”

She was trusting this guy with her child. So what if he came with stellar references from people she trusted? And okay, it was only a bedtime story—it wasn’t like she was letting him take Katy to Disneyland Paris for the weekend. Still, Flynn was an unknown element—an irresponsible unknown element. At the very least Abby wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to warp Katy’s little mind with his choice of reading material. She pointed at the magazine.

“What are you reading?”

Flynn’s smile was devilish and did things to her heart rate she was sure would cause a coronary. He held up the magazine.

Abby’s eyebrows rose. “Sports Illustrated?”

“Note, it isn’t the swimwear edition. I put a lot of thought into this. There’s a great article in here on the future of the Premier League.”

“Premier League?”

“Her education has been sorely lacking, Abby. There’s no way she’ll learn about football from you. Someone needs to step up.”

She shooed him away. “First door on the right at the top of the stairs. Here I was worried you’d wind her up and she’d be awake all night.” She pointed at the magazine. “If you read that to her she’ll be out like a light in under ten minutes.”

“Heathen,” he muttered as he climbed the stairs, holding tightly to the banister.

As Abby watched, she had a sudden flash of him racing up the steps three at a time. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go from being confident in your physical ability to not trusting your own two feet.

“Leave the door open,” she ordered as Flynn hit the top step. “I want to hear if you freak her out.”

“No trust.” He shook his head before stepping into the room. “Hey, kid. It’s your lucky night.” His voice echoed through the house, and Abby realised she needn’t have left the baby monitor on in Katy’s room. She’d hear everything anyway.

She walked into the kitchen, hoping to keep herself occupied by tidying up. Katy’s voice came through the monitor on the bench.

“This better be a good story, Flynn. You owe me.”

Abby smiled. Her child was a terrorist. Not that she’d ever admit it to Flynn.

“This is the best story ever,” Flynn said with genuine enthusiasm. “It’s about the best sports league in the world.”

“Is there a princess?”

“Not unless you count Jesus Navas. He’s a bit of a pretty boy.”

“Boys can’t be princesses.” Katy was clearly disgusted.

“Whatever. Are you ready to learn something?”