she’d stared at him as though she couldn’t quite believe her ears. As though no one had ever said anything even remotely supportive to her about that night.
It was beginning to dawn on him that perhaps Owen Hunter was a bigger dick than Flynn had ever believed. He’d never had much time for the guy—it seemed to him that Owen was always on the make, always desperate to flash his wealth around and assert his social superiority—but he’d never considered Hunter truly malicious. Until now.
Flynn had always been pleased to see Mel when he ran into her over the years, even though they’d never really had a chance to get beneath each other’s social veneers—a brief conversation at so-and-so’s charity fundraiser or what’s-his-name’s cocktail party was hardly conducive to forming a deep understanding of another human being. But he’d liked the sense of Mel that he’d garnered from those superficial meetings.
He didn’t like the thought that Owen had put that wounded look in her eyes. Didn’t like to think about what a man might do or say to a woman to make her so tentative and wary.
Mel unclipped her seat belt the moment he pulled to a stop in her guest parking area.
“Thanks for letting me poach some ideas. I promise not to rip them off too slavishly.” The nervousness was back. She was practically humming with it.
“Thanks for keeping me company.”
She gave him that uncertain smile again, then reached for the door handle. “Enjoy the rest of your stay.”
She slipped from the car and shut the door firmly behind herself before he could think of an excuse to keep her talking. By the time he climbed out she was halfway to the house, her stride brisk.
He stared at her rapidly retreating back, wondering. Then he grabbed his gear and made his way through the garden to Tea Cutter Cottage.
He might like Mel, but she was none of his business. His dance card was full to overflowing with his father’s illness and Randall Developments. And now, of course, he could add the beautiful, impractical, expensive white elephant that was Summerlea to the list.
As what had happened with Hayley had so brutally illustrated, he was not in a position to be interested in a woman.
He let himself into the cottage. He dropped his bag in the bedroom, then walked to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Five minutes later, he opened the rear door and sat on the steps that looked out over the garden. The temperature had dropped a little, but he simply turned up the collar on his coat and curled his hands around his coffee cup.
For the first time in a long time, he had nowhere to be, and no one relying on him for anything.
He stayed on the step for a long time.
TWO WEEKS LATER, Mel exited the local bakery and collided with a wall of hard, male chest.
“I’m so sorry—” She looked up into Flynn’s blue eyes and forgot the rest of her apology. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi. How are you doing, neighbor?”
She glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see Hayley, but he appeared to be alone. Again.
“I’m good, thanks.” She straightened her sweater, wondering why she always seemed to be at her worst when she ran into him. Last time she’d been covered in mud, this time she was covered in paint splatter. Then a thought occurred. “You’re here to pick up your keys, aren’t you? Summerlea is yours.”
He held up a chunky key ring and gave it a triumphant shake to confirm her guess.
“Congratulations. That’s great. Are you staying the weekend?”
“I am. Although it’s going to be interesting.”
He lifted the shopping bag he was holding and she saw he’d bought what looked to be a month’s supply of candles in all shapes and sizes. It took her a moment to join the dots together.
“You don’t have power?”
He shrugged sheepishly. “Some idiot forgot to have the utilities connected. So I’m camping out, old-school style.”
She frowned. “You know the temperature is going to drop into the low single figures overnight, right?”
“Brian and Grace didn’t quite get around to installing central heating, so I’m not missing out on anything there. But there’s a woodpile the size of a small country behind the garage so I figure I’ll be right.”
All very well for him to say, but he had no idea how cold it got here on the peninsula sometimes. Without all the concrete of a city to hold the heat of the day, the nights could be bitterly