All They Need(53)

Finally he shrugged. “Okay. I can’t believe I’m saying that, but okay.”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Thank you. Now that I have your permission, can we get on with it?”

“As soon as you put these on.”

Her gloves hit her in the chest. Her reflexes weren’t as fast as his and they slid to the ground before she could react. She started to object but he shook his head.

“I’m not using your gloves while you go without. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve got some old gardening gear in the trunk.”

He crossed the lawn to where he’d parked the Aston Martin in the street. Half a minute later he returned minus his leather jacket with a pair of dirt-stained gardening gloves on his hands.

“Okay, bossy pants. Show me what you’ve got,” he said.

She huffed out a laugh. “Bossy pants?”

“You heard me.”

She gave him a look that promised payback, then bent her legs and got a grip on the tie. On three they lifted, then she counted off again before they hefted the beam to their shoulders.

“All good your end?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that.”

“Get over it, Randall. It’s called girl power.”

They headed toward the clearing.

“You’ve really done this six times already today?” he asked.

“At least.”

“Remind me never to arm wrestle with you.”

She was still smiling when they rounded the last corner to find the men of her family lounging like lizards on the stacked ties. En masse, they made quite the picture: Harry, close-shaved head and bulging arms covered in inky black tribal tattoos, his ears shiny with piercings; her father, equally muscular in a white wife-beater tank top with his dark horseshoe mustache; Jacob, dressed in an old Metallica T-shirt, his hair spiked into a David Beckham faux-hawk, a hand-rolled cigarette dangling from his lips.

They looked exactly like what they were—three working-class men enjoying a laugh in between bouts of hard labour—and she couldn’t help but notice the assessing glances they threw Flynn’s way.

The men in her family had never rated Owen. They had never said anything to her directly, but she’d sensed the tension whenever they were in the same room as her ex-husband, which, fortunately, hadn’t been very often, particularly toward the end. She didn’t blame them, since Owen had always either been falsely hearty or smugly patronizing in most of his interactions with them. He’d never tried to simply engage with them person-to-person—probably because he’d not-so-secretly believed he was better than them and that her family was a waste of his valuable time.

Now, she watched as her father, brother and brother-in-law took in Flynn’s leather boots and designer jeans and cashmere sweater and felt herself prickle defensively on his behalf.

“You owe me fifty bucks,” Harry said to Jacob as they moved to one side to make way for the tie she and Flynn carried.

Mel threw her brother a sharp look, ready to step in if it looked as though he and her brother-in-law were making a joke at Flynn’s expense.

Her brother shrugged a big shoulder. “I bet Jacob you’d rope your mate into helping out.”

“For your information, Flynn volunteered,” she said as she and Flynn set down their tie.

Flynn immediately nodded toward her father. “Good to see you again, Mike.”

“You, too. Don’t suppose you’ve met my son, Harry?” her father said, jerking a thumb toward her brother. “And the idiot with the nicotine addiction is Jacob, my son-in-law.”

“So, how’d Mel talk you into helping out? Bribery? Threats?” Harry wanted to know as he and Flynn shook hands.

Flynn shot Mel an amused look. “Like Mel said, I volunteered.”

“You poor sucker.” Harry slung his arm around Mel’s neck and pulled her into a loose headlock.

“Do you mind?” Mel said. She tried to wriggle free, but Harry simply ignored her.

“You should know she’s been luring guys to their deaths for years now, making them do stuff they don’t want to do. My sister, the siren of Frankston.”

Mel gasped with only partly feigned indignation. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb. Remember Peter O’Donnell?” Harry addressed his comments to Flynn. “Idiot went on the Forty Hour Famine with her and passed out during a footy match he was so hungry. Then there was Simon what’s-his-name. He painted her name along the side of his car when she broke up with him. Oh, God, and that one who kept playing his guitar outside her bedroom window…” Harry made a pained strangling sound.