Page 5 of A Little Bit More

Aye, that advice might have worked when they were kids. Now, Flynn thought it counted more to beat Lachlan in reality. And from the mocking laughter in Lachlan’s eyes, he knew exactly what Flynn was thinking.

“Behave yourself,” Abby scolded her fiancé instead of the bastard flirting with her. “I only want to talk to Lachy about the house extension.”

“He’s not working on our house.” Flynn glared at the builder.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Abby told him.

“Aye, away and grow up,” Lachlan said with a grin.

Flynn pointed a finger at his face. “No goal head start. No advantage going in whatsoever. We’re gonna wipe the pitch with your faces.”

“I don’t think so.” Lachlan’s pretty-boy features brimmed with amusement. “You’ve no’ met the rest of my team yet.” He glanced over at the changing block. “Here they come now.”

Dread pooling in Flynn’s stomach, he turned in the direction Lachlan pointed. And exploded, “Hell, no! I don’t think so!”

Because, dressed in Invertary Invaders shirts, three women walked toward the pitch. Jena Donaldson, his cousin Matt’s wife and accident-prone DIYer. And Matt’s younger twin sisters, Claire and Megan. All grinned excitedly at them.

“Don’t I look cute?” Jena rushed to her husband’s side.

Matt seemed caught between drooling over his curvy wife and expressing his annoyance. Irritation finally won out. “What the hell are you doing playing for the opposition?”

Jena pouted. “Flynn wouldn’t let girls on your team, but Lachlan didn’t mind.”

“I bet he didn’t.” Matt took a step toward the smug-faced captain of the opposing team.

Flynn smacked a restraining hand in the middle of his cousin’s chest. “Beat him on the pitch, where it counts,” he said with heavy sarcasm.

“I’m beginning to see how annoying that advice is,” Matt muttered.

Matt’s sister Megan rolled her eyes. “You’re all just scared because you know the real sporting talent in this family lies with the women.”

Flynn was about to argue that point when a roar went up from the goal behind him, and the man-mountain that was Grunt came charging down the pitch toward them. Everyone except Claire took several steps back, away from the irate American. She skipped toward him.

“How do I look?” She bounced in front of her frowning husband.

“Baby,” was all Grunt said, but Claire must have taken it as a compliment because she squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around him.

Grunt glared at the players on his team. “Anybody lays a finger on my wife, they get their head ripped off.”

A wail of outrage sounded from Flynn’s team as the opposing team’s captain laughed.

“How are we supposed to play properly if we can’t tackle Claire?” Josh demanded.

Grunt shrugged, making it clear it wasn’t his problem.

“You heard him, boys,” Lachlan called to his brothers, who lined up behind him, grinning like lemmings. “Our tactic is to get the ball to Claire.”

The opposing team cheered.

Flynn studied the sky, looking for strength from above. He’d never had these problems when he was in the Premier League.

“Are we getting this game started or what?” Archie McPherson, their referee, demanded. “I’ve got a game of dominoes over lunch.”

Flynn took his eyes off the sky to look at Archie and instantly regretted it. The old man was dressed in a luminous blue tracksuit, the legs of which were tucked into white socks that he wore with brown leather slippers.

Archie caught Flynn staring at his slipper-clad feet. “What?” he demanded. “I’ve got bunions.”

“This whole thing is a farce,” Flynn muttered.