All They Need(18)

Which had been through sheer determination and not a little swearing. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Come on, let’s do this.” He knelt beside the tree and began untying the twine she’d used to keep the hessian covering in place.

She stared at his down-turned head, baffled by his determination to be helpful despite the obvious risk to his clothes and his complete lack of obligation to her. He was her guest, after all. She was supposed to be at his beck and call, not the other way around.

“I’ve done this a few times over the years, but it’s always a bit heart-in-your-mouth, waiting to see if you’ve done more harm than good,” he said as he tugged at the twine. “It drives me crazy when people plant trees where they think they will look pretty rather than where they’ll grow well. A sixty-second conversation with someone in a garden center would have told them that citrus sinensis need sunlight, the more the better. How hard is it to ask the right questions if you don’t already know the answers?”

He glanced up at her to gauge her reaction and suddenly it hit her.

“You’re a gardener.”

The amused look was back in his eyes again. “You say that like it’s a miracle. Or at least about as likely as Bigfoot being real.”

“Sorry. It’s just not what I expected.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Let me guess. You had me pegged for a polo player, right? Maybe a yachtsman?” He spoke with an exaggerated British accent.

She smiled before she could catch herself. “Something like that.”

“My mother is a keen gardener. She recruited me as her slave when I was a kid, and I’ve been getting my hands dirty ever since.”

Mel dropped to her knees and pulled her penknife from her pocket, making short work of the knots he’d been tugging at without much success. He gave her a wry look and she shrugged apologetically.

He turned to inspect the hole she’d dug before glancing at her in an assessing way. “Would it offend you if I offered some advice?”



“I guess it depends on what it is.”

“The hole isn’t big enough. You want the soil around the roots to be a little loose and aerated, so the tree can grow new feeder roots easily.”

“You’re lucky I don’t slap your face,” she said, deadpan.

She immediately felt a dart of alarm. She’d always been a bit of a smart-ass—impossible not to be growing up with a father and a brother who took no prisoners when it came to teasing and pranks—but her quick tongue had consistently gotten her in trouble with her ex. Owen had hated it when she said something provocative or racy or pithy. He’d wanted her to be discreet and elegant and sophisticated, not mouthy and cheeky.

She waited for Flynn to signal that she’d overstepped the mark with her off-the-cuff response. Waited for the friendly smile to fall from his lips or for his blue eyes to turn cold. But he simply smiled at her appreciatively before pushing himself to his feet.

“I was wondering where your sense of humor had gotten to.”

She stared at him as he pulled the shovel from the mound of dirt. “Excuse me?”

“Your sense of humor. You always used to make me laugh.”

Her lips twisted. She knew what this was about. “You mean because I jumped in the fountain at the Hollands’ party?”

Flynn had started to dig, widening and deepening the hole, but he stopped to consider her. Almost as though he understood exactly how brightly that incident burned in her memory.

“I was under the impression that you fell in. And I didn’t think it was particularly funny until you took your bow. Hamish Greggs was an idiot for letting go of you. I hope he groveled at your feet the next day.”

She smiled grimly. “The Hollands ‘forgot’ to invite us to their black-and-white ball. I guess they were afraid I’d take a dive into their koi pond.”

“You’re kidding?” Flynn looked incredulous. Then he frowned. “I knew there was a reason I never liked them.”

For a moment she thought she’d misheard him, but the disgusted expression on his face was undeniable.

He didn’t blame her for the incident. He didn’t think she was vulgar or stupid or attention-seeking or clueless because she’d set out to help a woman in distress and wound up in the fountain. He didn’t think she’d gone out of her way to cause trouble. He was sympathetic. Maybe even supportive.