Downstairs was too grand a name for it. ‘Dinner is served.’ Was he serious? He hadn’t had time to cook. She peeked down and saw that he had scrubbed down the table and there was something on it. She considered staying where she was just to make the point that he couldn’t push her around, but it had been a long time since breakfast. Summer climbed down the ladder, holding her breath at the creaking of the rungs, and very conscious of Flynn’s eyes on her ass as she descended. Flynn whistled. ‘Very nice. You have great legs. And a great arse. And –’ ‘If you’re quite finished.’ Summer gave him an icy glare, channelling her father, who could make grown men shrivel with a glance. She wondered if she should have let him say what the other great thing was, then pulled herself up. She had no intention of spending a month here with this oaf, but for whatever short time she was here, she was going to make it clear that she was in charge. ‘I haven’t even started, sweetheart,’ he assured her.
