Prita.
Not that she was a dragon. Far from it. His attraction to her was, though. An attraction that was as unwanted as it was impossible to ignore. He’d tried. Christ knew how he’d tried, but despite everything he’d done to put an end to it, to deny it, to ignore it, it had just grown, making a mockery of his vow to Anna.
He sighed. He better get her a fresh drink and then go find her. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible.
As he walked to the drinks table, the smoke from the BBQs wafted in his path.
He jerked to a halt.
Bile filled his mouth and his chest tightened.
Damn it. Not now. Not here. When would this stop? It was just a gas BBQ for crap’s sake. The smell of charred meat was beautiful grass-fed beef, not animals who hadn’t got out of the fire’s path in time. The smoke that caused that harsh, dry tightening at the back of his throat was not from the smouldering ruins of the bush. It was totally different. Not the same. Not the same.
Then why couldn’t he breathe? Why did he feel like he needed to run and throw up all at the same time?
Laughter sounded, loud and bright, to his left, startling him, making him take a gasping breath, half expecting to gag on the scent of smoke. But the air had cleared, the breeze shifting, taking the smoke from the BBQs away from where he was standing, frozen.
Shit. Shit.
Sweat prickled on his neck, his brow. He swiped a hand across his forehead, under his nose and wiped the damp evidence on his dark coloured shorts. Had anyone noticed? He glanced around. No. They were all too busy chatting and drinking and having a good time. And he was just standing there. What had he been going to do?
There was a plastic wine glass in his hand. That’s right. He was getting a drink for Prita and then going to ask her about the cricket match for the kids. It was something to do. Something to focus on.
He got side-tracked twice on the way to the eskis—thankfully they’d been set on the other side of the backyard from the BBQs where they were shaded by the massive old ghost gum in the far corner of the yard. He’d have to get the branches checked for Prita to make sure it was safe. Ghost gums had a habit of losing limbs. It was set right away from the house, so it shouldn’t cause any damage to the house, but it was best to be safe. He, better than anyone, knew the danger of such things.
Making a mental note to take care of it, he picked out a bottle of the Late Harvest Pinot Gris he knew Prita liked from a little winery in the Yarra Valley, and after emptying out the warm wine in her cup, poured her a fresh glass. He couldn’t see her when he moved out of the shade of the ghost gum, so she must still be on the phone to her father. Should he go find her? Disturb her? No, better leave her alone to talk to her dad. Although, he’d not asked her about the cricket. And she might be thirsty. Two reasons to go find her straight away. He had promised the three musketeers after all. And she needed her fresh glass of wine.
He headed up the side of the house, guessing she’d made her way to the porch at the front where she’d be able to get away from the noise of the crowd.
He rounded the corner of the house and came to an abrupt halt at the sound of a raised voice. A male voice.
Bob Thompson was standing next to Prita, his face red, spittle shooting out of his mouth as he shouted at her. ‘You’ve broken contract. There was an understanding you’d take on the property.’
‘Not an understanding with me.’
‘Of course not with you, you stupid woman. I spoke about it with Doc Simpson.’
Prita stiffened, her mouth tightening as she stared up at the larger man. Flynn watched, fascinated as Prita stood her ground against the bull-headed man in front of her. He should probably go and help her, but knowing her, he’d get a tongue lashing for rushing to her rescue. Prita wasn’t someone who seemed comfortable with accepting help—Barb had bulldozed through her objections about them helping her with her new house until she’d given up and worked harder than any of the rest of them. But generally, she didn’t accept help at all. He didn’t feel comfortable walking away though, even though he was certain Prita was more than capable of dealing with Bob Thompson herself. He edged a little closer, prepared to rush in if necessary.
Neither Prita nor Bob seemed to notice him.
Prita flicked her ponytail back over her shoulder then crossed her arms. ‘Doctor Simpson does not arrange business matters for me.’
‘You wouldn’t even be here if not for me and him.’
‘I don’t know what you’ve got to do with me being here. I was employed to take over while Doctor Simpson recovered from his heart attack. He then asked me to stay on when he was able to come back to work because he couldn’t take on his full work load. None of that had anything to do with you.’
‘You were living in one of my rental properties. You broke your lease.’
‘I paid you out, so we’re done. Now, I would ask that you remove yourself from my property before I am forced to call the police.’
‘Why you little bitch.’
She wiped a piece of spittle from her cheek and glared at him. ‘And while you’re at it, stop with the harassing calls.’
Harassing calls? What the hell?
Flynn edged closer.
‘You can deny it all you like,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘But I know you and Doc Simpson are
