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“We lost because we didn’t win.”
Cristiano Ronaldo, Portuguese national player
As the afternoon progressed, Abby’s tension grew.
Flynn hadn’t returned to his motorhome. In fact, he seemed pretty settled inside her house. He padded around on bare feet, shouted at the TV and lectured Katy on soccer rules. He also ate everything in sight. Every time he was near her, her need ratcheted up a notch. When he smiled a secret little smile just for her, she felt it sing straight through her body, waking every cell and derailing her thought process at the same time. And when he reached into her space with one of those oh-so-casual touches, everything within her paused.
By the time dinner came around, she was wound up tight and barely able to breathe. They ate together, Flynn and Abby staring at each other over the wooden table as Katy chatted away, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension in the room. As Katy ran off to get changed for bed, Flynn helped Abby clear the table. When he brushed against her, she blushed.
“Stop jumping every time I’m near you.”
“I can’t help it. I... My... I’m...” Nope, she had nothing.
“You’re thinking about later.” Flynn boxed her into the corner beside the fridge. “You’re wondering how it will be with us. You’re wondering when we’ll get to touch. You’re thinking it will be explosive.” He nuzzled her neck, just below her ear. “I feel it too. It’s anticipation.”
Her fingers curled into his shirt at his waist. He brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. “Try not to worry. No pressure.”
“Yeah, right,” she scoffed.
Flynn’s big hands cupped her jaw. There was no trace of the usual mocking amusement in his eyes. “I’m serious here, Abby. I want you. I can’t hide it. But we go at your pace. I’m not the dickhead most people make me out to be.”
“Well, not totally.” Abby smiled up at him.
“No,” he conceded. “Not totally.”
He leaned into her and nipped her bottom lip, stealing her breath just as fast. As Abby clung to him, she wondered if it would always be like this with Flynn. If he would always steal her mind and strength with just one touch. She looked into his dark eyes, lost for a minute before she remembered there was no always, there was only now.
“You got it sorted?” he asked softly, as though he’d been party to her thought process.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Good.” His mouth covered hers in a gentle kiss.
“I better get a pony, Flynn Boyle.” Katy’s voice cut through Abby’s desire like a knife. She jumped back from him only to find her retreat blocked by the fridge. Flynn stepped away from her, but stayed close.
Katy had her arms folded over her Minion pyjamas. “You promised me a pony if I let you kiss my Muma. You better not forget.”
“Katy!” Abby stepped towards her daughter. “Flynn is not buying you a pony.” She glared at Flynn. “Tell her.”
Abby could tell Flynn was struggling with his answer. His eyes said he really wanted to tell Katy she could get a pony. He shuffled nervously.
“This is one of those things your mum has to decide,” he said at last. “I’ll talk to her about it, okay?”
Abby narrowed her eyes at him. Did he think it wasn’t obvious he was plotting behind her back? She wouldn’t be surprised if a pony mysteriously turned up on her doorstep one morning.
“Then you can’t kiss her.” Katy pointed at Abby. “She belongs to me and I get to say who can kiss her.”
“No you don’t, young lady.” Abby scooped up her daughter. “Your mother chooses who she kisses.”
“But,” Katy said, “Jonathan said you have to marry the people you kiss, and I don’t want you to marry Flynn. Jonathan said he wouldn’t make a good daddy. Jonathan said a good daddy has a proper job and a house. Flynn doesn’t work and he lives in a bus. Plus, he doesn’t know how to play tea party.” She glared at Flynn over Abby’s shoulder. “And he ate all my snacks.”
“If you’re not fast you’re last, kid.” Flynn showed no remorse.
“I think he’s got worms,” Katy said. “Jonathan’s dog had worms and he ate all the time, just like Flynn. His bum was itchy, too. Is your bum itchy, Flynn?”
As Abby stared at her daughter, Flynn reached around her and plucked Katy out of her grip. “I don’t have worms. It’s time for a bedtime story. Tonight we’re going to learn all about a guy called Maradona. He was a great footballer, who not only ran rings around England during the World Cup in ’86, but cheated in the same match. That’s not on. Cheating is bad. Remember that.”
“What colour did he wear?”
“Pale blue.”
“No pink?”
“No pink.” Flynn looked utterly disgusted. He turned to Abby. “Give your mum a kiss and we’ll go read the story.”
While Flynn held Katy, she wrapped her arms around her mum’s neck, squeezed tight and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I know what to get Flynn for Christmas. A pink football shirt,” Katy whispered loudly in Abby’s ear before giggling.
“Enough of this,” Flynn ordered. “Time to learn something useful. Like the fact you never ever use your hands in a football game. Especially when it’s the quarterfinal in the World Cup and you’re playing against a country you were at war with. Goals should be shot with your feet. Not your hands. Got it?”
“Got it, Flynn.” Katy rested her head on his shoulder and he carried her up the stairs.
Abby felt her eyes tear up as she watched them go.
Flynn Boyle was stealing her baby’s heart. And Abby worried hers was being stolen right along with it.
As she turned to go back into the kitchen, the doorbell rang. Abby detoured to open it and was hit by blinding light. She stepped back as she shielded her eyes against the light. It took her a second to blink enough to see again. That was when she spotted the camera aimed at her face. She was about to slam the door shut when a hand reached out to stop her.
Abby saw the long red fingernails first. Then she saw the woman. She was poured into a red minidress, her feet clad in sky-high matching stilettos. Her hair was long and teased out to give it lots of volume. Her makeup was perfect. Her eyes were calculating. And they were focused on Abby.
“I need to speak to Flynn.” Her voice was sharp.
“Flynn?” Abby stepped back.
“Yes. I have something that belongs to him.” She pointed at the porch beside her.
Having been blinded by the lights, Abby had missed the dark shape. It was a baby carrier. A car capsule. And in it, smiling up at her, was a beautiful little baby.
“Junior wants to meet his daddy,” the woman said.
Abby blinked at the woman. At the camera. Then years of training snapped into place. Her back straightened. Her chin went up.
“Of course. Give me a moment and I’ll fetch him. Excuse me.”
She closed the door with a polite nod, leaned her head against it and closed her eyes.
Baby.
Flynn.
Cameras.
The air thickened, making it difficult to breathe.
Reality smacked her in the face. Even if Flynn was trying to change, he would still have to deal with the consequences of his past behaviour. Consequences Abby wasn’t ready to let into her life. One look at the woman and her baby was like ice water over her brain. What was she doing? An affair with Flynn could never remain secret, and there was too much at stake to gamble that it would.
It was time to stop listening to hormones.
It was time to stop playing around with Flynn.