All They Need(37)

He was playing it very cool, but there had been something in his eyes when he’d talked about his business.

“Why did you fold it?” she asked.

“Dad got sick. So, railway ties, yes or no? Thumbs up or thumbs down?”



She sat back in her chair. “You gave up your business for him?”

He shrugged. “It was always going to happen. Randall Developments is a third-generation business. You don’t walk away from that kind of legacy. When Dad retired I would have stepped into his shoes. In that respect, Verdant Design was always a pipe dream.”

He said it so calmly, so rationally. As though he’d simply swapped one make of car for another instead of abandoning something he obviously loved and changing the whole course of his life.

“You still haven’t answered my question about railway ties.”

She wanted to ask more questions about the business, about him. She wanted to understand, because suddenly he was a lot more than a handsome face and a hard body to her. Suddenly he was a person with depth and flaws and unimagined character.

But he was clearly uncomfortable with her probing, so she dropped her gaze to the paper between them.

“I have absolutely nothing against railway ties. In fact, I’m rather fond of them.”

“Good. How about we think about something like this…?.”

He filled in detail, describing his ideas so she could see it the way he obviously did in his mind. She asked questions, made suggestions, and at some point realized their lasagna was stone cold. She heated both portions in the microwave while Flynn finessed his design and they both studied his finished sketch while they ate.

“You’re really good at this,” she said after he’d explained the simplest way to construct the raised beds.

He shrugged modestly.



“I mean it. This is actually going to be beautiful, and not just some utilitarian jumble.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

“You’re a dark horse, Flynn Randall.”

“Thank you. I think.”

She studied him. He studied her in return and slowly it dawned on her that neither of them had spoken for a while. The nervousness that always seemed to dog her when he was around returned, all guns blazing, and she pushed her chair back with a screech of metal legs on linoleum.

“Dessert,” she said. “Would you like dessert?”

He checked his watch. “Actually, I need to think about heading to Melbourne. What’s the best taxi service to use down here?”

“I’ll get you a number.”

She kept a card from a local driver in the business-card holder beside her phone and she started rifling through it. She could feel him watching her and self-consciousness turned her fingers to thumbs. She almost jumped out of her skin when the phone rang on the wall beside her.

She reached for the receiver while continuing to search. “Mel speaking.”

“It’s me,” her sister said. “I need a favor. Rex just dropped the phone charger down the toilet and Jacob’s got a big job tomorrow and his phone is practically dead. Can we borrow your charger?”

“Sure. Want me to drop it by?” Mel’s sister’s husband, Jacob, was a plumber, and she knew he needed his phone when he was out and about during the day.

“I’m already in the car. I’ll come grab it,” Justine said.

“Okay. See you soon.”



Mel put down the receiver and glanced at Flynn. “Sorry. That was my sister, Justine. She’s got a toilet-bowl-meets-phone-charger emergency.”

“I hate it when that happens.” He sat with one elbow on the table, his big body relaxed, his blue eyes watching her. She dropped her gaze to the holder and gave a silent sigh of relief when she spotted what she was looking for.

“Bingo.”

Now he could call his taxi and she could stop feeling like an idiot.

“Thanks.” He pulled his phone from his pocket as she passed the card over.

She cleared away their dishes while he spoke to the cab company, giving herself a stern talking-to all the while. Yes, he was an attractive man. A surprisingly good man. Yes, they’d had a nice hour or so together and there seemed to be a buzz of mutual attraction between them. But that didn’t mean anything was going to happen. It was stupid to let herself get so jumpy over something so small and everyday.

“Ten minutes,” Flynn said when he ended the call.