Family Ties - Bonnie K. Winn Mills & Boon Love Inspired

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It wasn’t simply an empty assurance for Flynn.

      “Veggie burgers are probably good for us,” he offered finally.

      Cindy’s laugh spilled between them. “Then you’ll love the carob-chip cookies.”

      “I don’t suppose you have any genuine chocolate in the house.”

      She tried to resist the pull of his eyes. “Well, I’m not a fanatic!”

      “So you can be tempted?”

      Oh, so tempted. She scrambled for a reasonable reply. “I eat the way I do because I like it, not to prove a point.”

      “Do you ever eat out?”

      “Of course. I’m willing to try most anything.”

      His expression was reflective.

      When he didn’t reply, she prodded him. “What?”

      He shook his head. “Nothing really. Just that Julia never wanted to try anything new.”

      Of course not. Steady, dependable Julia never made Flynn grimace in displeased surprise. “That must have been a comfort.”

      “Yes,” he agreed.

      His reply took away her words, her desire to keep the conversation flowing. She was so everything Julia wasn’t. So everything Flynn despised.

      The following day Flynn examined the progress on the office space he had rented. The renovations weren’t coming along as quickly as he’d hoped. Although they were only weeks from completion, he wished it were mere days. He needed to get his office out of Cindy’s house.

      Never having had to wrestle with a woman over the issue of control, he found himself uncertain how to deal with Cindy.

      Julia had never questioned his opinions, in fact preferring to let him assume all the responsibility and worry of their decisions. It had become their custom for him to decide and for her to comply. It irritated him that Cindy had him wondering if that had always been for the best.

      A knock sounded on the outer door. “Hello, anyone here?” a man called out.

      “In here,” Flynn responded, rounding the corner.

      A tall, dark-haired man approached, extending his hand. “I’m Michael Carlson.”

      “Flynn Mallory,” he responded automatically.

      “Katherine’s Carlson’s husband,” the man continued.

      Flynn searched his memory.

      But Michael began to grin. “I see that my wife and her friend didn’t tell you about this visit.”

      Flynn shook his head.

      “Katherine and Cindy are friends.”

      “Oh, the pastor,” Flynn remembered.

      Michael’s grin spread. “Yeah, that’s what I thought at first, too.”

      “Sorry, I—”

      “It’s okay. Most people aren’t used to women ministers. Actually, Cindy asked me if I could stop by, take a look at your renovations. She said your contractor’s behind on the job.”

      “Oh.” Flynn issued the solitary word.

      “I see she didn’t tell you. Listen, if you’d rather call someone else, fine by me.”

      “I need to get this place operational as soon as possible. But you’ve probably got a lot of important jobs to be overseeing rather than looking at this dinky office.”

      Michael shook his head. “I work on all kinds of jobs. I do a lot of remodeling as well as building stores, offices, the new headquarters for Adair Petroleum. And like I said, Cindy asked.”

      “And that’s all it took?”

      “Yeah, pretty much.”

      Flynn couldn’t hide his surprise. “Guess things work differently in a small town than a place like Houston.”

      “I imagine so. All I’ve known are small towns. I didn’t grow up in Rosewood, but a place pretty close in size.” Michael looked around at the partially demolished space. “So, what’s this going to be?”

      Flynn smiled. “Software Development.”

      Michael nodded. “And you can run that kind of business from anywhere. Rosewood’s as perfect as Silicon Valley.”

      Flynn studied the other man with new respect. “My thoughts exactly.”

      “You’ve picked a good town, lots of good people here.”

      “That’s what Cindy’s been telling me.”

      Michael studied him. “But you’re not sure yet. That’s okay. I don’t judge an orange by its peel, either. Get to know us first.”

      Flynn wasn’t accustomed to this much directness, but it struck a chord. “Good advice.”

      Michael’s gaze roamed around the building. “Now, let’s see if you like the rest of it.”

      Hours later, Flynn headed back to Cindy’s house. Michael Carlson had carefully examined the office structure. Then he’d offered to have a word with the contractor Flynn had hired. But Flynn wasn’t comfortable accepting help from strangers. Or friends for that matter.

      Even though he hadn’t appreciated Cindy’s interference, Flynn liked Michael. Instinctively Flynn believed he was honest, capable.

      Still, that brought him round to why Cindy had asked Michael to stop by. Why she felt a need for control, one he hated to admit equalled his own.

      Entering the house, he didn’t hear anyone; in fact it seemed deadly still. The panic that had struck him once as a child and never fully disappeared now crawled into his throat.

      His walk a near run, he traveled through the front rooms, finally jogging into the kitchen. He was ready to turn back and tear up the stairs, when he heard the hum of voices from the backyard. The French doors were closed. Only one kitchen window was slightly ajar, dimming the sounds.

      Pulling open the doors, he searched for and saw his daughters. Relieved, he watched for a moment as they played with three children he hadn’t seen before.

      And in the background Cindy’s distinctive, upbeat voice blended with that of another woman’s. Flynn took a few steps forward.

      It was bright in the yard, the warming spring sunshine pushing past overhanging branches, muted only by the slats of the faded white lattice arbors. And Cindy sat in the sunshine and shadow.

      There was something different about her, he realized, walking farther into the yard. Fully animated, unreserved, she was as brilliant as the deep fuchsia azaleas blooming around her.

      Glancing up, she spotted him, and some of her vivacity faded. Still, she smiled in welcome.

      “Hello, ladies,” he greeted them.

      Her friend tossed back long dark hair and extended her hand. “I’m Katherine Carlson. I’ve heard so much about you and your daughters. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

      He hesitated for a moment, amazed that this attractive woman was the “female preacher.”

      She noticed and her grin widened. “Yep. It’s true. I’m the woman minister.”

      He collected his manners, shaking her proffered hand. “No wonder your husband looks like such a happy man.”

      Confident, unflappable Katherine blushed.

      Cindy, to his surprise, winked at him with an equally wide grin. “Then I guess that means Michael found you this morning.”

      Katherine recovered a trace of her composure. “I hope he was able to help. Michael

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