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Mitch shrugged. “No biggie. We’re friends.”
“Aye.” And it felt damn good to have people around him, watching his back. He’d spent most of his life in the cutthroat world of professional soccer, where each man looked out for himself. He hadn’t realised until recently just how much of an impact his upbringing and professional life had on his character, or the people around him. As much as he complained about coming home, Invertary had given him back his life.
And it’d given him Abby.
They sat quietly for a while, staring at Flynn’s state-of-the-art motorhome. The land looked bare without the donkeys, who were currently eating their way through the field between Abby’s and Matt’s houses.
“You ever going to build the house you’re supposed to be building?” Mitch asked.
“Don’t think so.” Flynn grinned at him. “I like this house. Think I might just move in here. Will save a load of effort.”
“And another one bites the dust.” Mitch shook his head. “I stopped drinking the water in this town years ago. There’s something in it that makes the men sign away their freedom and shackle themselves to the first woman who falls at their feet.”
“One.” Flynn held up a finger. “Abby didn’t fall at my feet. If she heard you say that, she’d sock you. Or set the terrorist on you. So I’d keep the thought to myself if I were you. Two.” He held up another finger. “I’m not shackled. I’m still a free man. I just choose to spend my freedom enjoying one woman instead of millions.”
“Millions?” Mitch scoffed. “Your ego knows no bounds.”
“It’s my superpower,” Flynn said solemnly. “And three”—he held up another finger—“I intend to be the first one laughing when you get shackled.”
“Don’t hold your breath. Many women have tried to pin me down. I’m unpinnable.”
“What if it happens the other way round? What if you meet a woman you want to pin down?”
“Never. Going. To. Happen. There isn’t a woman alive I’d chase hard enough to catch.”
“Famous last words. I might get them printed on a T-shirt for you.”
Whatever Mitch was going to say was lost in the sound of an engine revving. The two men watched as a car sped up the road. It cut across his field and headed straight for his RV.
“I think your producer just found out his show’s been cancelled.”
“Pity I’m not home to take his call.” Flynn sipped his beer.
“I don’t think talking is what he has in mind.” The car’s speed increased. The engine roared.
A few seconds later there was an almighty bang as the car rammed the side of the van. It reversed out, tyres squealed and it hit the van again.
“I’m really glad the animals are out of there,” Flynn said.
Mitch cocked an eyebrow at him. “You got insurance?”
Flynn nodded. “Good job, too.” A thought hit him. “There’s no way Abby can send me home after this.”
“Dumb ass.” Mitch shook his head.
“Got to look out for those silver linings.”
They drank their beers as they watched the car hit the van again. Metal ripped. Tyres burned. It was nasty.
“What the heck is going on?” Abby came running out onto the porch.
“Hey, sugar, you feeling better?” Flynn moved over to make space for her, on the side of him away from Mitch, who laughed when he saw the move. Flynn ignored him as he tugged Abby down to sit beside him. She looked delightfully sleep-rumpled.
“Aren’t you going to stop him?” She pointed at the car, which was ramming the van again.
His poor van wasn’t designed to take that sort of abuse. It was crumpling before his eyes. The car didn’t fare much better, but it was still in one piece. Pretty much.
“Nope,” Flynn said. “Better he gets it out of his system on an object rather than a person.”
