Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“Kid,” he said. “Don’t stop breathing. You need air. Don’t worry about the germs. Your mum’s got some special medicine that will kill the little buggers before they party in your nose.”

“Flynn!” Abby shouted. He ignored her.

“Do I need to get the medicine now?”

“No. You’re covered. Germs are scared of pink, and this room is full of it.”

“Flynn! Get down here.” Where she had a knife? He didn’t think so.

“Thanks, Flynn,” Katy said, and for some reason he wanted to pat her head and tell her it was all going to be fine.

He squelched the urge and dragged himself back to deal with her mother.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Abby said as soon as he entered the kitchen. “Don’t try to fix things. From now on, limit your conversations with Katy to football. That would be safest.”

He was pleased to see she’d put down the knife. Her eyes blazed, her mouth pursed and her cheeks flushed with irritation. He found himself taking another step towards her.

“You’re overreacting. She’s not dumb. She wouldn’t do anything stupid.”

“She’s five. She lives for stupid. It’s the mission statement of all five-year-olds—find stupid, do stupid. She doesn’t need any encouragement.”

His brain told him to get out of the house before he did something stupid. Unfortunately, his mouth wanted to pick a fight. “Did you have to paint her room pink?” And apparently any topic would do.

He studied the counters for leftovers, even while he waited for her curt reply. Guess the rumours were true: men could really eat under any circumstances.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. There’s a container in the fridge. Pop it in the microwave. And yes. It had to be pink. She’s a girl. She likes pink.”

Flynn pulled the plastic container out of the fridge. He popped the lid and inhaled. “Fettuccini?”

“Do you care?” She banged around in a cupboard. Smacking pots together as though they’d offended her.

“Nope.” He popped it in the microwave and leaned back against the counter. The position left him staring at Abby’s back. It was a fine back, topped by luscious shoulders and a silky-smooth neck. But it all paled in comparison with her well-rounded backside. A well-rounded backside he wasn’t allowed to touch.

“You know, I’m pretty sure she’d like other colours if you encouraged them. Maybe some blue to break up the pink.”

“Will you stop talking about the décor in Katy’s room? I don’t care about it. You don’t care about it. You’re just trying to drive me mad.”

“Is it working?”

Although she didn’t turn around, he could have sworn she clenched her teeth. The microwave dinged. Flynn took the tub of pasta to the other side of the counter from Abby, pulled out a stool, grabbed a fork and dug in.

“Don’t you want a plate?” she snapped.

“Does my lack of table manners offend you, your majesty?” He made a production of forking some pasta into his mouth.

Her strangled scream of annoyance made him smile. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. It was the smile of a man pleased that someone was suffering alongside him.

He ate as he watched Abby bang around the kitchen. Barely contained rage radiated from the woman. Every move he made, every sound he uttered, had her head snapping in his direction, a frown on her face. It was a matter of minutes before they gave in to the tension and ended up shouting at each other about nothing at all.

This was stupid.

Flynn couldn’t take anymore.

As Abby thrust her hands into a sink full of soapy water, Flynn left his seat and came up behind her.

“This is insane,” he said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her tone was snippy.