All They Need (22 page)

Flynn looked up as she closed the final feet between them.

“Mel,” he said, reaching out a hand to touch her arm, full of concern. “What's going on?”

She caught his hand and turned his palm up. Then she placed her house key in his hand.

“I love you,” she said. “More than I know how to say. You have given me so much. Been so patient and loving and generous. I don't want to be afraid anymore, and I know I don't need to be afraid of you. I trust you, Flynn. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get that, to understand, but I'm here now. I'm ready. I want to do this.”

For a moment he was very, very still. Then he reached out and used his fingertips to wipe away her tears, his gaze warm and tender and full of understanding.

“Good.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his arms a bruising band across her shoulders. She didn't mind, she couldn't get close enough to him, either. She clenched her hands into his clothes and pressed her body against his and kissed him with everything she had in her, trying to convey to him the depth of her feelings.

She loved him. God, she loved him.

After long minutes they came up for air and realized they had a small audience—the woman with the stroller, an old lady, a couple of staff members. Mel felt her face heat as Flynn flashed their audience his most charming smile.

“Our apologies. We'll get out of your way.” He led Mel outside, where they both stopped and simply stared at each other, eyes searching one another's faces. She reached out to touch his jaw, her thumb scraping over
his whiskers, unable to keep her hands to herself now that she'd at last acknowledged her own heart.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” she said softly. “Thank you for loving me. Thank you for hanging in there even when I pushed you away. Most of all, thank you for trusting that I'd find my own way.”

He caught her hand and turned his head to press a kiss into her palm. “Thank you for being so brave, and for trusting me. I know what that means for you, Mel, and I will never use that trust against you. Ever.” His eyes were solemn, and he spoke the words like a vow.

“I know,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. A lifetime's worth. Maybe two. Which may become a little wearing for you at times, but I figure you will probably learn to live with it.”

Somehow she was in his arms again. It felt absolutely right, their tall bodies a perfect match, their hearts—finally—in accord.

“I can handle it,” she said confidently.

She knew she could, too. Because once upon a time she'd been brave and bold, but now she was also wise. She understood that the man in her arms was a remarkable, astounding treasure. A big-hearted, loving, lovely man.

And she was never letting him go.

One year later

M
EL SHUT THE DOOR
on the noise the workmen were making and walked to the front door. Thankfully, this was the last week they would have tradespeople in the house. It had been a long, drawn-out, expensive haul, but, apart from a few minor tweaks, Summerlea had finally been restored to her former glory.

The floors had been repolished, the panelling renewed. New carpets had been laid, the wiring overhauled. No room had gone untouched, but Summerlea was now weather-tight, warm, welcoming and gracious—the last more a testament to Flynn's mother's good taste and perseverance than to Mel's or Flynn's. As Pat had so astutely observed early in the renovation, their hearts were outside in the garden, not in the house. With Mel and Flynn's blessing, Pat had taken over a lot of the decorating choices, offering selections to Mel and Flynn so they could make the final decisions.

It had been the perfect distraction from Adam's health, and Mel knew the older woman had enjoyed it immensely. Mel's only regret was that she and Flynn had not been able to convince Adam and Patricia to consider making their home at Summerlea, too. They'd had the discussion a number of times but Flynn's par
ents were adamant about not being a burden or cramping her and Flynn's style.

As far as Mel was concerned, the discussion was far from over. When things got more intense with Adam, she wanted Pat to be supported, and she wanted to do her bit, too. She'd grown to admire and love Flynn's parents enormously in the past twelve months, and she was not prepared to give up this battle. Not yet, anyway. There was plenty of room at Summerlea for all of them.

She cocked her head, sure she heard the sound of a car engine. A smile curved her lips and instead of turning into the dining room, she continued straight to the door and pulled it open. The old excitement threaded through her veins as she stepped out onto the porch and looked toward the drive.

Her smile faded. There was no car. Damn. Flynn hadn't managed to sneak away from the office early, after all. Just to make sure, she circled the house to check that he hadn't already driven around to the newly restored garage.

No sign of Gertie there, either. She wrinkled her nose. Well, it had been a long shot that he'd be able to get away early. Flynn had hired a new general manager to share some of the workload, but he was still working punishing hours while the other man got up to speed. Once Steven hit his stride, however, they were both hopeful that Flynn could scale back on his hours, maybe even work from home some of the time.

Then they could start to really realize their plans for the garden. Flynn had come up with an ambitious and inventive update on Edna Walling's original design, and bit by bit, patch by patch, they'd been working together to bring his vision to reality. They were
months—years, really—from achieving their ambition to open the gardens to the public again. But they would get there. She had no doubt of that, because her lover—the love of her life—was the most tenacious, patient, creative, loyal, hardworking man she'd ever met. Where he had a will, there would be a way.

Hands tucked into the back pockets of her jeans, she walked slowly around to the front again and gazed out over the garden. Already, they'd achieved so much. The lawns were once again brilliant emerald swathes of well-tended turf. The garden beds had been weeded and reshaped and replanted, the roses pruned, arbors rebuilt. Last month they'd taken delivery of three new garden benches made from local tea tree and they dotted the landscape, providing strategic vantage points for visitors to sit and contemplate the view.

She took a deep breath, her heart swelling with love and pride and happiness. Once, she'd doubted that she could ever sustain this level of happiness and contentment. She'd been scared of it, hadn't trusted it. Flynn had taught her to hold fast and grin and bear it. He'd taught her that anything was possible.

A distinctive engine noise drifted on the breeze and she turned toward the main gate as the Aston Martin drove into sight. Her heart did a little skip-jump in her chest, as it always did when her man came home. He saw her and braked to a halt beside the house rather than drive around to the garage.

“You made it,” she said, walking to join him as he got out of the car.

“I did. I had the world's best incentive—an extra two hours with you.”

She smiled and reached out to loosen his tie for him. “How was your day?”

“Busy. What about yours?”

“The tiler is almost finished. We should have the house to ourselves by Friday.”

He smiled. “Promises, promises.”

She matched his smile and kissed him. As always, desire stirred as he pulled her into his arms, but it was tempered with knowledge and love and certainty that hadn't been there a year ago.

She knew this man, and he knew her. She believed in him. She believed in
them.
She touched his face as they broke their kiss.

“You make me so happy,” she said quietly.

It felt like a small miracle that she could say those words so easily, so truthfully.

His eyes were a warm, deep blue. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you, too.”

More and more every day.

He slid his arms around her shoulder. “Let's go admire our garden,” he said.

“Okay.”

“And if you're very good, I'll let you take my clothes off and have your way with me beneath the trees in the orchard grove.”

“That's very generous of you,” she said, not even trying to hide her grin.

“I'm a generous man. Ask anyone.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist and they fell into step with one another.

“I don't need to.”

She didn't, either. She knew he was generous, just as she knew he was good and a whole other host of wonderful things.

But most of all, she knew he was hers, the same way she was his. It had taken her a while to understand, to
get past her fear, to believe. But she'd gotten there in the end. And he'd been waiting for her with open arms.

Laughing and talking, they walked into their garden.