Page 14 of Coming Up Roses
“I’ve got it.” Flynn approaches me again, his hands out to take the box, an easy smile on his face.
“I’m fine,” I say, again. “I can manage.”
“I have no doubt you can, but I’m happy to help.”
He smiles again, looking so laid back and relaxed. I feel my brows draw down and my lips tighten. I can do this. I have to prove to Olivia and Dallas that I’m capable. I can’t do that with Flynn swooping in to save me all the time.
“I don’t need help.”
“Okay.” He holds up his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Do you need muffins though?”
“Muffins?” I eye him. He’s looking way too pleased withhimself.
“Yep,” he says, popping the ‘p’. “The best you’ll get in Kauri Creek.”
“That’s a bold claim,” I say, setting down the box I was carrying and trying not show how much effort it took to carry it across the short distance. I don’t want to eat muffins with Flynn, but my stomach is beginning to get annoyed with me.
“Well, Violet made them, using my mum’s recipe. It actually doesn’t get better. Come on.”
Flynn grabs an ice cream container off the shelf by the door and waves for me to follow him.
“But, I’m working,” I say to his back as he disappears out the door.
“Come on, Abigail,” he calls and even though I should be focussing on my job, I follow him.
He’s waiting for me at the corner of the barn, and when I catch up he heads around the side, towards the wedding lawn and lake. He collapses onto the bench seat in the gazebo, slouching to the side so he can kick his boots up on the seat across the corner.
I perch across from him, chewing on my lip as I take in his lanky frame spread halfway across the gazebo.
Flynn snaps the lid off the container and pulls out a muffin. They do look delicious, huge and golden with a crust of cinnamon sugar baked into the top.
While he’s focussed on unwrapping the muffin I let my eyes linger, taking him in properly for the first time.
His auburn hair flares redder, with little flashes of gold, when he tilts his head and the sun hits it. Right now his hazel eyes are closed in bliss as he chews his first mouthful, but I’mnever going to forget the concern in them from that first day we met … both times.
His body is long and lean and he wears his worn-out jeans, t-shirt and heavy brown jacket like they were made specifically for him.
“Here.” Flynn holds out the container, but I have no chance of reaching it unless I stand. “Come over here,” he says. “The view of the pond is better.” He smirks, like he’s laughing about me calling it a pond.
Those muffins really do look good, so I step across the gazebo and lower myself down next to him, gingerly taking a muffin from the container he’s still holding.
The pond is pretty and all, but sitting across from him wasn’t exactly a hardship. I kick that stray thought out of my head the second it crosses my mind. Absolutely not.
I can feel his attention on me while I turn my focus to unwrapping the muffin. I can’t just take a massive bite like he did, especially with him watching me like this, so I break off a portion and pop it in my mouth.
I actually groan. Out loud. In front of this virtual stranger who is my work colleague. That’s so embarrassing.
“Oh my god. That’s so good,” I say, wanting to hit myself in the head as the words tumble out.
Flynn positively beams at my reaction. “Told you,” he says, settling back against the seat and looking out across the pond/lake again.
“Who did you say made them?”
“Violet. She’s an amazing cook. You should come up for lunch. Muffins like this almost daily.”
“You said something about your mum?” I ask, not sure why I’m heading down this line of questioning, but something in the way he phrased it is niggling my brain.
“Yeah. It’s my mum’s recipe. One of her favourites. She’s the one who taught Violet to bake.”
