Page 46 of Always Be My Pumpkin

He tucks his rollie behind his ear and stands to leave. ‘Now, before I go, not a word about this to anyone, please, at least not until you talk to Gemma next week. I promised her I’d let her handle any announcements, and she’ll fill you in on the details. But I know ye’ve been worrying and that’s partly my fault, so I wanted to ease your minds.’

He zips his fingers across his mouth to remind us again. ‘Not a word, promise. Flynn knows too, I’ve just told him, but apart from that, this stays between the three of us.’ We all nod in agreement and Finbarr follows Pat downstairs to lock the door behind him.

Gertrude stands, and she looks ready to hug me, but I can’t seem to lift myself off this chair. She pats my shoulder instead. ‘Is it the promotion you’re worried about, Gracie? Because you don’t need to. You’ll sail through that interview, I know you will.’ She tilts her head. ‘It must be a shock, but when it all sinks in, you’ll be over the moon.’ She smiles fondly and I do my best to smile back, though I don’t feel very smiley. I don’t honestly know how I feel except maybe a bit numb.

‘Flynn persuaded him,’ I say, as much to myself as to Gertrude. ‘Flynn told him to sell.’ I don’t add instead of signing over to him. That was private between Pat and Flynn. And me and Sarah, I guess. There’s no point telling anyone that Flynn could have stayed. Could have opened his own garden centre, like the place he loves working at back in Cricket Falls. There’s no point thinking about it, if he’s already made up his mind that’s not what he wants.

‘Well, that doesn’t surprise me in the least, dear,’ Gertrude says cheerfully. ‘Even when you used to come in here as teenagers, that boy would do anything for you. And from what I’ve seen since he came back, he still would.’

21

Flynn’s not home when I get back to Hazel Cottage, so I pop upstairs to take a quick nap. I only mean to lie down for a few minutes and then get up and have a shower, but I wake an hour later to find a note on my pillow:

Gone for pizza, see you in a bit, and maybe we should have that talk, x.

My hair is stuck to the side of my face and I’m pretty sure that’s drool on my pillowcase. Not the seductive vibe I need to kick-start my shag Flynn plan. I wonder if that’s such a good idea, after all. Maybe some things are not meant to be memories, only dreams.

I drag myself into the shower, and the bathroom smells of sweet verbena, and as hot steam surrounds me, all I can think about is the smell of Flynn’s neck, the taste of his mouth, and the feel of his hands on my body. And by the time I’m back in the bedroom, rooting through my underwear drawer for something sexier than my usual plain cotton, I’m glad I bought a pack of just-in-case condoms because I know I’m going to follow through on my plan. Otherwise, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering. Otherwise, I’ll go out of my mind.

I find my powder-blue lace undies and put them on, then I hit shuffle on my phone and laugh when ‘Guess’ by Charli XCX pops up. I’m singing along to the Billie Eilish bit when I remember I shoved the sheet of notepaper under my side of the bed. Flynn’s already seen the headline, but I don’t want him going through the fine print until I have a chance to explain.

I lean over the edge of the bed and sing out loud to the music as I scrabble along the floorboards to locate my secret sex strategy. It won’t be a secret for much longer if Flynn and I do have that talk. And between my nap and this raunchy music and the feel of soft lace on my skin, I almost feel ready.

‘Pizza time. Woah. Fuck. Wow!’

‘Aagh.’ I pull my head up from the floor, but I’m too startled to move more than that.

Flynn’s clearly startled too. He’s frozen on the spot, staring down at me, stretched across the bed in flimsy blue lace that barely covers anything, and clutching a crumpled sheet of paper listing all the things I want to do with him, and all the things I want him to do for me. I go to drop it behind me on the duvet, but a sneaky draught from the open window whips it from my shaking fingers and shoots it like a missile straight to Flynn.

He reaches out and grabs it and sweeps his eyes along the page. His mouth hitches with a mix of amusement and surprise. Then he swings his gaze back to me. His eyes widen as they travel down my almost naked body, the blacks of his pupils drowning out the blue. He points to the crumpled sheet he’s holding. ‘So, this your plan, Gracie? This is really what you want?’

‘Nooo . . . well . . . maybe.’

I pull myself up on my knees and grab a pillow to preserve my modesty, although I think that went out the window when Flynn read my notes. I glance about for something else to wrap around me, a cardi, pyjama top, anything, but Flynn’s standing at the foot of the bed, and every stitch I own is in the wardrobe behind him. And I’m too mortified to move.

‘Throw me a cardi, please, I’m a bit exposed here.’ I shuffle down the bed and point to my slouchy cardigan dangling on a shelf to his left.

He folds his arms and shoots a cheeky grin. ‘Hmm, you know, I’m not sure I should.’ He moves closer so he’s right at the end of the bed. ‘You’ve done more than your share of ogling me half naked in a towel. And doing my morning push-ups.’ He stretches to see around my pillow and my cheeks blaze. ‘Maybe it’s my turn now.’

‘Flynn!’ I lift my pillow to flick at his chest but he’s too quick for me. He grabs it and throws it aside then takes hold of my hands, gentle but firm, and my legs turn to jelly. I smell forest air and lemon and the scent of a man who’s been working his muscles hard, and the thought of those muscles beneath his T-shirt has heat pooling low in my belly and sparks pricking fire beneath my skin.

‘So, this plan of yours. I thought we were supposed to talk about it first.’ He leans over me and arches his brows, but my throat feels raw and all I manage is a soft whimper. I stare up at him and he’s so close the cool cotton of his T-shirt brushes my breasts, and his eyes drop to the flimsy see-through lace. His voice comes out hoarse as he says, ‘Do you still want to talk first, Gracie?’

I shake my head, my body betraying me. I should say yes, let’s talk. I should at least explain where I’m coming from. But right now, talking is the last thing on my mind. Flynn lets go of one hand and hooks his thumb under the strap of my bra, sliding it along my shoulder. Then he skims his fingers down my arm and across to the thin strip of lace at my hip. His eyes meet mine, raw and hungry, and my head spins, my body pulses. I’ve never felt this before in my life. Not with Jamie, not with anyone. I’m so aching with want, I’d do anything Flynn asked of me, just to feel him inside me, to have his bare skin cover mine.

‘It’s up to you, Gracie,’ he says softly, although the look in his eyes is anything but soft, his body betraying him too. ‘I can get you that cardigan and we can go downstairs and have pizza, and talk, if that’s what you want.’

‘It’s not.’ I shake my head frantically.

I hear the catch in his breath, the low rasp at the back of his throat. He twines his fingers through mine, and the next thing I know, I’m on my back on the daisy print duvet and Flynn’s leaning over me, knees straddling my hips, palms pinning mine by the side of my head.

He dips his head and his teeth graze the line of my neck, nip at my collarbone, drag to the soft blue lace of my bra. ‘Is this what you want?’

‘Yeah.’ I nod twice. ‘Please.’ I arch my body to get closer. He feels too far away and I need my hands free to tear off that T-shirt and those jeans. I push against his palms and he smiles down at me like he has all the time in the world, though his body tells me otherwise. He presses a silky kiss to my mouth, and I quiver and arch again as he pulls back.

‘Flynn.’

‘Gracie.’ He rolls over and pulls me with him, one arm firm around my waist, the other stroking down the curve of my hip to the top of my thigh.