All They Need - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,47
fiddled with it, and he could almost see her casting about, looking for a safe topic of conversation.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you—my sister has organized a working bee at my place this Saturday,” she said after a few seconds. “I showed her your plans and she got all gung ho. So, we’re going to build my cascading garden beds sooner rather than later.”
“It’s a pity it’s this Saturday, I could have helped.”
“Busy washing the cat, are we? Having a violin lesson?” she joked. “My brother tried all of those excuses before my sister nailed him.”
A part of him that he hadn’t even known was tense relaxed. She was back in form, the bleak look gone from her eyes.
“Your sister sounds scary. And my alibi is water tight—we’re having a family meeting to discuss Dad’s care.”
She immediately sobered. “Because of what happened on the weekend?”
“In part. The thing is, if we don’t take the chance to talk to him now, we may lose it forever. This way, we’ll at least know we’re doing what he wants. Small comfort at the end of the day, but it’s something.” He realized he was going on about his parents again and sat up a little straighter. “So, have you thought about what you want to grow in your veggie patch yet?”
She eyed him sympathetically. “I don’t mind talking about your parents, Flynn. You don’t have to change the subject.”
Their meals arrived before he had a chance to respond. Mel gave an appreciative whistle as she inspected hers.
“Not bad. And I’m a bit of a burger connoisseur.”
“Wait till you taste it.”
She took a big bite. “Oh. Wow. I may need a moment alone with my burger. And a cigarette for afterward.”
“Please, don’t let me stop you.”
She closed her eyes as she took another bite. “This is so good. This has to be Melbourne’s best-kept secret.”
They compared best-burger-ever stories for the next few minutes. As usual, Mel made him laugh. When she wasn’t on her guard, she had a wicked sense of humor and a very quick wit. There was a wild energy in her—an impishness—that appealed to him enormously.
On impulse, driven by an imp of his own, he gestured toward her left cheek. “You have something on your face.”
“Oh. Thanks.” She grabbed the napkin and gave her cheek a good wipe. She looked at him expectantly. “All gone?”
“Almost, but not quite. Here, let me.”
He leaned across the table, hand extended. He was about to touch her cheek when her hand snapped up and caught his wrist. She turned her head to stare at the gob of mayonnaise on his index finger. She shook her head, her eyes dancing with laughter.
“Oldest trick in the book, buddy. The old double-fake face smear. Strictly amateur hour.”
“Nearly got you,” he said, utterly shameless in defeat.
“Close, but no cigar, my friend.”
He grinned, reaching for a napkin to wipe his hands. “I like you, Mel Porter.”
The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. Mel’s smile flickered for a moment, then she sat back in her seat and gave him a dry look.
“Second oldest trick in the book—distraction. Don’t go thinking you’ve gotten away with anything, Randall. There will be reprisals, mark my word. So sleep with one eye open.”
He thought about pushing it, about declaring himself more openly, but everything in Mel’s posture told him it was too soon. He settled back in his chair and smiled at her. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she. There was no need to rush this—whatever it turned out to be.
MEL STARED OUT the train window on the way home from the city. Around her, schoolkids played, the boys shoving each other around and checking out the girls, the girls gossiping and texting and checking out the boys.
Mel’s thoughts were preoccupied with the man she’d left behind.
I like you, Mel Porter.
The words still gave her a thrill, even though it had been a couple of hours since he’d uttered them.
She liked him, too. More so every day.
She felt the now-familiar dart of anxiety as she acknowledged her own feelings. When she was with Flynn, it all seemed incredibly easy. He was so charming and funny and sweet and sexy. Why wouldn’t she want to spend time with him? Why wouldn’t she let instinct take over?
Yet when she wasn’t with him, reality crowded in. She had no business even thinking about being with someone at the moment. Her head was still way too full with the detritus