All They Need - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,42

second to put it in context with his behavior this morning. The polite smiles, the distance, his general awkwardness.

He was embarrassed for having let down his guard with her last night.

She propped a hip against the kitchen counter and studied him. “Let me get this straight. You’re apologizing for caring about your father?”

“No. I’m apologizing for spilling my guts all over your kitchen table.”

“Yeah. See, I happen to think they’re the same thing. You’re allowed to feel upset, Flynn. You’re only human.”

He shrugged uncomfortably.

“This is one of those male things, isn’t it?” she asked.

“I feel a little uncomfortable talking on behalf of my entire gender, but it’s definitely a Flynn Randall thing. I don’t generally go around blubbering.”

“You didn’t blubber last night.”

“Sure.”

“You know, if you were my brother, I’d punch you right now.”

He looked a little startled. Then a slow smile curled his mouth. “Then I’m glad I’m not your brother.”

“You should be. I pack a mean punch. The bruises last for days.”

“Now you’re just trying to scare me.”

“How am I doing?”

“Might need a little more work.”

“Okay. I’ll get back to you.”

“You do that.”

His phone beeped. He pulled it out to check it. She could tell by the way his face shifted into more serious lines that it was work.

“I need to keep moving,” he said. He sounded tired.

“Busy day, huh?”

“They don’t really come in any other size these days.”

They walked to the door and faced each other across the threshold.

“Good luck with the car,” she said.

“Thanks. And thanks for these.” He indicated the keys.

He turned away.

Before he could leave, she took a step forward and touched his arm. “Flynn.”

He paused, half turning toward her.

“Everyone has tough stuff, you know? Everyone. I don’t even want to think of all the times I’ve lost it over the past year or so. It’s called being human. And I certainly don’t think any less of you because of it. Okay?”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long beat.

“Okay,” he said. Then he smiled, a sweet, small, very sincere smile. “Thanks, Mel.”

The urge to touch him in some way—even just his hand—was so strong that she took a step backward.

“Go make another million. Quickly. The world’s bankers need you.”

She was very aware that she was using humor to diffuse the sudden tension between them and she suspected he was, too.

“If you insist.”

He started down the stairs. Mel shut the door so she wouldn’t stand there like an idiot watching him walk away. Then she went to the kitchen to make herself peanut butter toast. The way she would if this was a normal day and she’d had a normal conversation with any old person.

“Fake it till you make it” had always been one of her favorite sayings.

FLYNN THOUGHT ABOUT his conversation with Mel as he drove into Mount Eliza village to locate her father. She was smart and she was funny and she always surprised him. He liked that about her.

He also liked how she looked in silk.

Fine, sleek silk in variegated shades of blue that clung to every line of her body. He’d taken one glance at her and known she didn’t have a stitch on underneath. The realization had played havoc with his self-control the whole time he’d been talking to her.

He went over the reasons why it would be bad to start anything with her as he pulled into a parking spot at Village Motors, but the old arguments felt as though they were wearing a little thin now. What he felt for her was far more than simple sexual curiosity or interest. He was drawn to her on every level. Which meant that whatever happened between them wouldn’t be a repeat of Hayley.

And it might be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Granted, the argument that the timing was bad still held a lot of water, but like Summerlea, Mel was unique. A one-off, never to be repeated. And he’d already decided that even if the timing couldn’t be worse, he wasn’t walking away from Summerlea.

He was starting to feel the same way about Mel. He glanced up at the building and pushed thoughts of Mel to the back of his mind as he got out of his car. Perhaps he was getting conservative in his old age, but he didn’t think it was appropriate to be thinking about ways to get Mel into his arms, his bed and his life while he was introducing himself to her father.

Village Motors occupied a double block, with a

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