All They Need(79)

And Flynn knew it, too. He hadn’t said anything, but she had seen the knowledge in his eyes as he’d accepted her feeble excuse. The urge to tell him that she’d changed her mind, that she’d find a way to be available, gripped her half a dozen times, but each time she balked.

She didn’t want to meet his parents. And not only because she didn’t have the greatest track record as far as parental approval went, although that was definitely a part of it. She didn’t want to meet Flynn’s parents because it felt like the first step toward something she didn’t want to even think about.

The man is besotted with you, Mel.

Her sister’s words kept echoing inside her head. She pushed them away again and again, but every time she looked at Flynn and saw the warmth and tenderness in his eyes her heart did a little backflip in her chest and she knew that he cared for her deeply.

This was serious for him. It was serious for her, too. More and more so. But that didn’t mean she was ready to meet his parents. It seemed…too much. Too fast. Too heavy. Too real. The ink was barely dry on her divorce papers. She needed time to adjust, for her head to catch up with her galloping, reckless heart.

She almost felt relieved when he left on Sunday night. She waved him off from her front porch, grateful that she was going to have a few days’ reprieve from the intensity of her own feelings when she was around him. Then she went inside and immediately registered how cold and empty her house felt without his warm presence.

Great. He’s barely been gone five minutes and you want him back already. Way to keep a grip on things, champ.

She didn’t call him the next day, to prove to herself that she could. But on Tuesday she caved and called and wound up agreeing to meet him at his place again that evening. She was pulling up in front of his town house when her phone rang.

“Mel, I’m really sorry. I’ve had a problem come up here at work. I’ll do my best to hose things down, but it’s going to be another twenty minutes minimum before I can get away,” Flynn said.

“No worries. I’ll go for a walk and check out your neighbors.”

“I’m really sorry about this.” He sounded frustrated and more than a little angry.

“Flynn. It’s okay. I get it. You have a big, big company to run. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?”

“Okay.”

She killed the time by driving around until she found the local supermarket. She knew from conversations they’d had that he was a sucker for pasta so she bought ingredients for one of her favorite dishes, then threw in a bar of fruit and nut chocolate because she knew he liked that, too. She returned to his town house and had just turned on the radio to listen to talkback when she heard the distinctive rumble of the Aston Martin’s engine. Flynn gave her a wave as he drove past and she grabbed her groceries and her overnight bag and walked over.

“Hey,” he said as he emerged from the garage.

His tie was pulled loose and he looked pale. Her chest tightened. More than anything she wished there was something she could do to lighten his burden.

“Hey, yourself,” she said.

They kissed, his five-o’clock shadow rough against her face.

“I bought makings for dinner, in case you didn’t feel like going out anywhere,” she said as they drew apart.

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

“It’s hardly cooking. Spaghetti with garlic bread crumbs. It’s more assembling than anything else.”

“Mel. How am I supposed to stick to my guns when you offer me spaghetti with garlic bread crumbs?”

“Give in gracefully. It’s the only way to preserve any dignity.”

He dropped a quick kiss onto her mouth. “Deal.”

He unlocked the door and she followed him into the kitchen.

“Give me five to get out of this suit,” he said.

“Show me where your knives are and I’ll get started while you’re gone,” she suggested.

He grabbed a chopping board from beside the oven and opened a drawer to indicate a selection of knives.

“Great. You go do your thing,” she said, waving him away.

By the time he reappeared she’d peeled the garlic and was chopping it as finely as possible.

“Olive oil?” she asked, glancing at him.

He’d changed into jeans and a navy hoodie and his feet were bare, his hair even more ruffled. “Naturally.”

He grabbed a tall bottle from the pantry and slid it onto the counter beside her, his shoulder brushing hers. He leaned close and dropped a kiss onto the nape of her neck.