22. Abi
22
ABI
What Flynn is saying isn’t stupid corny like he thinks it is. It’s amazing.
They’re a chosen family. They choose to be on this team together, and while Violet and Olivia are the owners of the property and officially the bosses, it doesn’t feel like that. They’re all as invested in this place—and each other—as the person beside them.
I love that.
I’m just not used to it. And definitely not used to being a part of something like that.
I’m an only child, but with the surprise arrival of Sadie, to a guy my parents didn’t really approve of—for reasons I still can’t figure out because Dallas is one of the best guys out there—our relationship fell apart.
When everything went wrong for me with Sadie and Dallas, I went grovelling back to my parents. I’ve got to hand it to them, they handled it well. They helped me out, got me into therapy, gave me a place to stay and supported me until I got back on my feet.
They’ve come to terms with being grandparents now, and I think they’re hoping they can be a part of Sadie’s life, once I get the relationship between me and her settled.
But even with their support, it’s still been a solo venture for me. There is no team. There’s no unwavering acceptance.
I clear my throat. “Okay,” I say, my voice raspy. “I’m not used to it.”
He gives me a quick, short nod, the corner of his mouth barely tilting up. I’m a little surprised by the reaction. I was expecting one of his big, easy smiles. I’m so used to seeing his features light up with those grins that to not get one now, when I’m agreeing with him on something so monumental, is jarring.
I pick up a rose from the table nearest me and twirl it. It’s a stunning flower; the colour a deep, smooth red, the scent subtle and refined, the petals perfect.
I glance up at Flynn, holding the flower between us like an offering. “Will you help me? Pretty, pretty please?” I bat my eyelashes and give him a coy smile. I stop before pouting my lips though, because that seems like a step too far.
We’ve already blurred the lines between us and while Flynn’s made it perfectly clear he doesn’t want to go further, I can’t deny that I do.
He’s a wonderful human, and an incredibly good-looking guy.
I remember the first time I laid eyes on Flynn. He sped up on his bike, hair dishevelled and eyes worried after Olivia sent him an SOS text, because they couldn’t find Katie. Flynn and I didn’t speak that day, and I didn’t think I’d ever see him again. I didn’t think I’d end up working here, and when I took the job, Flynn hadn’t crossed my mind.
Then, on my first day, when he found me mid-panic attack, there was no space in my mind to appreciate him. I was too worried he’d tell Dallas I’m not fit to be around Sadie, and too panicked about coming face-to-face with my daughter—a daughter who didn’t even remember me.
But as far as I can tell, Flynn hasn’t told anyone about that day and the state he found me in.
And now he’s standing in front of me, staring down at me with clear hazel eyes, and he looks like a dream.
A really, really, excellent dream.
He watches me for another moment, his face expressionless. I shouldn’t have spoken to him like that. I shouldn’t have been silly and flirty. I’ve got a job to do and things to prove and making Flynn uncomfortable by flirting with him isn’t the way to do it.
I want to turn away from him, but his gaze has me trapped. I’m still holding the flower between us, but my hand is dropping. I suck my bottom lip in and sink my teeth into it. I need to extract myself from his allure and get to work.
Flynn’s fingers brush mine as he takes the flower, his tense expression from a moment ago softening. “Of course, I’ll help you,” he says. “Anything you need, Abigail. Just show me what to do.”
His touch on my hand is electric, but the sparks tingling up my arm snap me out of my stupor.
“Right, well we’ve got a bunch of flowers to deal with,” I say, clearing my throat and smoothing my hands down my front. I try to ignore the way Flynn tracks the movement, his eyes lingering on my hips, but my heart rate picks up just a little.
I cannot be so affected by this guy. Sure he’s a lot of fun and pretty to look at, he has sinful hands and a mouth he knows how to use, but that doesn’t mean my body should be reacting to him like this. I have got to focus.
I pick up a pair of shears, ready to show Flynn how to prepare the flowers so we can create the table centrepieces that were supposed to come fully formed, not as a collection of parts.
“Shall we start with a playlist?” he says, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and interrupting my train of thought. “As beautiful as your rendition of ‘Every Rose Has Its Thorn’ was, I think we can do better.”
My face flames. I can’t believe he heard me singing earlier. Absolutely mortifying.
Flynn smirks at me, and even though it’s at my expense, it’s a much better look on him than that sombre, slightly lost expression he was wearing a moment ago.
“Songs about roses,” he mutters as he taps away at his screen, then he looks back at me. “What’ve you got?”
“What do you mean?” I’m supposed to be showing him what to do, but now I’m not quite sure what we’re talking about.
“Songs about roses. Give me your picks. There’s obviously Poison, and that Outkast one. Oh, definitely need some Guns N Roses.” He taps away, and I realise he’s actually making us a playlist of songs about roses. “What else?”
“That Miley Cyrus one. I know it isn’t roses, but…”
“Love it. Yes. Added. What else? ”
My mind blanks. Like goes utterly vacant. “I have no idea,” I admit.
He frowns down at his screen, looking a little like a petulant child who isn’t getting what he wants, especially with his windblown curls falling in his face. “This is a very sad playlist,” he says.
I hate the almost defeat in his voice. Like he’s about to give up on this ridiculous playlist idea. For some reason I can’t stomach the thought of that, so I grab my phone and search for songs about roses.
The look on his face when I start throwing in contributions makes this completely pointless exercise worth it. His eyes sparkle as he looks at me, the disappointed twist of his lips curving into a brilliant smile as he realises I’ve committed to the game.
“Okay,” he says after I’ve shot a bunch of songs at him from a very helpful webpage. “That should be enough. I haven’t even heard of most of these. They better be good.”
“Can we get to work now?” I ask, trying to hide how much I actually enjoyed creating a stupid playlist. It was fun. That inane process of suggesting songs to Flynn to make a playlist we don’t need filled me with a weird fizzy feeling. I’m not used to it. I’m so used to being serious all the damn time. And Flynn’s right. I don’t always have to be in control of every little thing.
“Sure can,” he says, his smile bright and I have to look away, reminding myself of the piles of roses we have to deal with, before I get trapped in his magnetic pull again.
I also remind myself of the dozens of reasons Flynn is off limits, including me not having time or space for a man in my life. Just this job and Sadie. Sadie needs to be my focus.
And the biggest reason, is that Flynn has already said no. I’m okay with that. I just wish he hadn’t.
I pick up another rose and show Flynn what to do with it. He listens with rapt attention and while I thought for a moment he wouldn’t take this seriously and would be more of a hindrance than a help, he seems determined to get it right, taking extreme care when cutting stems and stripping leaves.
I watch him for a moment as he gets settled into the task to ensure he’s doing it correctly and when I’m sure he is, I let my eyes linger on his hands. Big, strong, calloused and capable. Hands that set my body on fire.
Apparently it doesn’t matter how much I tell myself I can’t look at Flynn like that , my brain doesn’t listen, because all I want is for Flynn to be handling me the same way he’s handling these flowers.