Chapter Four
Eight Years Ago
“But it’s not safe to leave children or animals alone in hot cars.”
Pete scowled, arms full of gaudily wrapped Christmas presents. “Kid, I’ll only be a minute.”
“No.”
“Adele, stay in the vehicle.”
“No.”
“Come on, just—”
“Your air-conditioning is broken and it’s like forty degrees today.” Squinting into the midday sun, I joined him on the driveway of a large beige brick home. My green cotton dress was already stuck to my back with sweat. “There’s not even a bottle of water in the car. I’ll wait on the patio in the shade, where I won’t die of heat exhaustion, thank you very much.”
He swore under his breath.
“Oh, relax,” I huffed. “You won’t even know I’m there.”
God knows what look he was giving me through the dark glass of his shades. But I bet it wasn’t pleasant. Today was not working out how I’d planned.
“Who lives here, anyway?” I asked. “Is it some new girlfriend you don’t want me to meet? You didn’t actually finally get serious about one, did you?”
“It’s not a girlfriend.”
“Then who?”
Not only did he not answer, but the muscle in his jaw jumped. Not good.
“I’ve been waiting all year to hang out with you and now you don’t even want me around.” My shoulders slumped. “Why did you call?”
He lowered his chin, looking at me over the top of his shades. “Calm down. I said I wanted to spend today together catching up and we will.”
I said nothing.
“I’ve just got to get this out of the way first, okay?”
The lawn in front of the house was neat. Precise even. But there were no flowers, bushes, decorative plants, or indeed any type of attempt at a garden. Who did that? There was minimalism and then there was bland to the point of ugly. This property fell into the latter.
Pete stepped closer. “This is my dad’s place.”
“Your parents?” I asked with a smile.
Almost wearily, he shook his head. “Yeah. But we’re not really on the best of terms.”
“Oh.”
“Peter?” a voice called from the front door, safely hidden behind a security screen.
“Do you want me to go back to the car?” I whispered.
“Too late,” he said. “Come on.”
I followed him up the drive. With the click of a lock, the door opened. An older man stood waiting. His expression was far from welcoming. Despite it being the weekend, he wore shiny shoes and gray slacks, and a business shirt with the buttons done up all the way to the top. Not a single wrinkle in sight.
“Just wanted to drop these off for Christina and the kids,” said Pete, hovering on the doorstep.
“Come in,” said the man. “Who’s this?”
“Adele. My boss’s daughter. I’m looking after her today.”
And that made me sound about eight years old, but I chose not to comment.
A grunt from the man.
“Adele, this is my father, Carl.”
“Hello, Mr. Gallagher.” I attempted a smile. It didn’t quite work.
Carl looked me over with a frown. “I see.”
What he saw exactly, I had no clue. Nor did I care to ask. At first, there’d been a little surge of excitement in my gut at meeting Pete’s family, and a sudden desire to make a good impression. But Pete was right; the sooner we got out of this place, the better. The weather might be hot, but this man seemed stone cold.
The inside of the house matched the outside. White carpet and an ivory leather couch. Everything seemed pristine and expensive, but entirely uninviting. As if no one ever sat on the couch and used the big screen. As if no one really lived here at all. A couple of family photos sat on a teak sideboard, the only color to be found. A happy, newly married couple. A laughing young family of four at the beach. And an older photo of an elegant woman with dark hair who reminded me of Pete.
“I didn’t bother with a Christmas tree,” he said, tone of voice suggesting he was well beyond such festive nonsense. “Just leave them in the corner.”
“Alright.”
“There’s more than I thought there’d be,” said Carl. “I’m going to have to take an extra suitcase.”
“That’s why I offered to mail them,” said Pete.
Carl didn’t look appeased.
“Right.” Pete gave his best fake smile. “Work’s going well. I’m buying a piece of land just outside Palmwoods. Settling next week, actually.”
Nothing from his father.
“Going to take my time, plan the house and work on it myself.”
A nod.
“Well, it’s been nice to see you, Dad,” said Pete, taking my elbow and ushering me toward the door. “Hope you have a good trip. Tell Christina I’ll call.”
“Don’t forget, Perth is two hours behind.”
“I won’t,” said Pete. Then, prodding me forward, he urged, “Let’s go.”
I didn’t talk until we were back in the car and halfway down the street. Far, far away from the horrible man he had to call a father. Yes, I was curious. But since Pete hadn’t wanted me to go in his family home, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to talk about their history. So instead, I just said, “I’m sorry.”
“That you didn’t stay in the car?” he asked, a wry smile on his face. “I bet you are.”
“No. I’m sorry that you have to put up with him being like that.”
Pete sighed, reached over, and patted my hand.
“You’re great and he shouldn’t treat you that way.”
“Thanks, kid.” The lines in his face and stiffness in his shoulders gradually eased. “What can you do? Family’s complicated. Let’s forget about him. It’s just you and me now. What do you want to do today? Hell, what do you want to do this summer?”
I grinned. “Actually, I have an idea.”
Thursday . . . Now
When I woke the next morning at around ten, the house was empty. No surprise; builders started work early. I, however, was on vacation and deserved a sleep-in. Pete had left directions for working the coffee machine along with an almond croissant in a brown bag from the local bakery. I’d bet any amount of money he still went jogging into town before work. But given our midnight swim and the scotch, I’d have thought he’d be in need of a sleep-in too.
I had a text from Shanti telling me to give her a call when I was up and about. Instead, I put on some denim cutoffs and a T-shirt and walked across the street. After eating the croissant and downing lots of coffee, of course. The door to their house was open, a coolish breeze blowing through the big old Queenslander house.
“Hello?” I called out.
Shanti stuck her head out of Dad’s office, a phone attached to her ear. She smiled and whispered, “Help yourself to coffee, Adele. I shouldn’t be long. Your father is out back.”
I nodded and she returned to her conversation.
The outside of my part-time childhood home hadn’t changed any. But the inside was drastically altered. In a good way. All of Dad’s crappy furniture had been replaced. A peacock-blue velvet love seat sat beside a long white couch. Dark wood lamp tables and a low, long coffee table were nearby. Large, interesting, minimalistic paintings in monochrome colors hung on the walls. Touches of silver and splashes of the peacock blue and a harmonious emerald green were scattered about via ornaments and throw cushions. It probably never would have occurred to me to try putting those colors together. There was a cool fifties retro vibe to certain pieces of furniture. All in all, the place looked like something out of a magazine. Shanti knew her stuff.
In the back of the house, the wraparound verandah had been widened since my last visit. My favorite big old jacaranda tree still stood in the yard, however, providing some shade and making a pretty mess. The beautiful little purple flowers were everywhere.
“You used to tell me you were going to bed, then climb down that tree and run off to hang out with Pete,” said Dad, on his knees in the new section of decking, paintbrush in hand.
“I didn’t know you knew that.”
“I knew.” Dad smiled. “He told me so I wouldn’t worry if I found you gone.”
“And I thought I was so clever sneaking about. We were usually just stargazing.”
A nod. “Coffee in the kitchen if you want some.”
“Yes, Shanti told me. I’ve had my requisite three cups, though. I’m good,” I said. “You got another brush?”
One brow rose. “You want to help?”
“Sure.”
“Over on the table.”
I grabbed a paintbrush and squatted down near enough to reach the tin of decking oil, but far enough to be out of Dad’s way. Thank God I’d worn sunglasses; the day was hot and bright. The smell of oil and wood conjured all sorts of old memories of hanging out around Dad’s jobs. Underneath those, the scent of rich red earth and lush foliage. It was good to be back after so long in the city.
“Pretty sure Shanti has plans for you two today,” he said. “Consider yourself warned.”
“Got it.”
A few minutes of silence.
“Are you being careful of splinters?” he asked. “I should get you some gloves and something to rest your knees on.”
“You’re not wearing gloves.”
“I’m covered in calluses. My skin isn’t soft like yours.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Do you want a coverall? The oil won’t come off your clothes if you get a splash, you know.”
I laughed. “I’m fine, Dad. Relax.”
“Well, it’s on you if you spend the rest of your day smelling of turps. I can tell you from much experience that it isn’t Shanti’s favorite scent.”
I nodded wearily. This wasn’t my first rodeo with a paintbrush and decking. For a little while longer, we worked in silence.
“You still up for the Buck’s Party/Hen’s Night combo thing tonight?” he asked. “It won’t be anything big, just getting together with a few friends at the pub. Neither of us feel the need for tequila shots and strippers.”
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“You can meet Pete’s girlfriend.” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye.
I kept my face good and blank. “Yeah? What’s she like?”
“Seems nice enough. She’s a lawyer, I think,” he said. “All of the women he brings around seem nice enough. None of them tend to last long, though. Think you might have picked up on that.”
“As I recall, it took you a while to find Shanti and you weren’t exactly dying of loneliness in the meantime.”
“Fair call,” he acknowledged with a nod.
“I really like her, by the way.”
“Good.” Dad beamed. “She likes you too. Wouldn’t stop talking about you last night.”
A kookaburra started up somewhere close, its laughter filling the air. Some miner birds screeched in protest, and all the while, insects hummed. The sound was like a continual wave, rising and falling, but never quite disappearing. Nature, the whole world, seemed especially vivid and alive.
“How’s your mother?” asked Dad.
“Good,” I said. “She’s been selling a few paintings and her classes are always popular. She seems happy.”
“Good.”
I grinned. “She thinks I should throw it all in and go travel around Europe. Go sit on a Greek island for a while or something.”
“This does not surprise me,” he muttered. “Your mother’s answer to everything was to run away.”
“You two were badly suited.”
“Very. Is that what you want to do, go travel?”
“I wouldn’t mind doing some traveling, but my savings aren’t really up to it,” I said. “Sydney’s expensive.”
“You come work with us, we can sort out time off for you to go places.”
“Claims of nepotism don’t concern you?”
He sat back on his heels, wiping the sweat off his face. “Sweetheart, either you’ll flourish in the job or you’ll fail. That’s on you. I can only offer you the opportunity.”
“Only you and Pete can offer me the opportunity, you mean.”
“Right.” He shrugged. “For all his bitching, he’d be fine with you coming onboard.”
“Hm. What if I leave my life in Sydney and move all this way only to find that I suck at the job and you fire me?”
He grimaced. “Well, on the bright side, Shanti should have the guest room ready by then, so you’ll have somewhere to stay if you’re down and out.”
“Great,” I said drily.
“Sweetheart, you were always interested in the business. Enjoyed looking over the jobs and being part of it in small ways, talking to people.” His gaze was dead serious. “I think you could be good at this. Helga’s been great, but she was never interested in developing the role beyond admin support. We need more. You work with us, take over some things, eventually we’ll look at bringing in other admin assistance if needed.”
“Have you talked about these things with Pete?”
“Yeah, ’course,” said Dad.
I just looked at him.
“Just thought maybe he’d react better to the idea of it being you if he had less time to think about it.”
“That’s so wrong. He’s your partner now.”
“Nuh.” Dad smirked. “It’s just good strategy.”
“Adele, what on earth are you doing there?” Shanti emerged from the house, dressed in a gorgeous sheath dress. “Not only are you on vacation, but it’s our spa day. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”
“Spa day?”
She put a hand to her head. “Did I forget to tell you? I’ve had so much on my mind. But, yes, we need to get going. Facials, massages, nails, you name it, head to toe. My treat.”
“Wow. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, but we need to get a move on.”
“Okay.” I rose, dusting off my knees. “Am I dressed too casually?”
“No,” said Shanti with a smile. “You’ll be fine.”
Dad took back the dirty brush with a wink. “Have fun.”
The location for the Buck’s Party/Hen’s Night was the over-a-century-old Palmwoods Tavern. It had a great beer garden, which made it ideal for the night’s events. Open and airy, with lots of bromeliads growing in pots scattered around and twinkling fairy lights strung from a mango tree. I’d imagined Shanti would be used to less humble surroundings. But the woman pulled up a stool at one of the tall tables in our party’s area and started knocking back a beer, no worries. The crowd seemed to be a mix of people from the happy couple’s jobs, along with a few other friends. Dad and Shanti had given me a lift after I had a quick shower and got changed.
Pete was apparently busy. Which was a shame, since I felt like a new woman. I’m not sure if my glorious maturity was showing as Hazel had suggested, but the spa day had been magnificent. Lavish in all the ways. I’d been waxed, buffed, and blow-dried to within an inch of my life. I’d offered to pay for my half, but Shanti wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t mess around when it came to luxuries.
I’d decided to show off my shiny French manicure with tan open-toe wedges, skinny jeans that lifted my butt and made the most of my long legs, and a flowy white cotton top. It happily skimmed my belly. The spa day included full makeup and hair, so I was pretty damn sure I looked shiny with my long, flowing locks. Confident enough to face anything, up to and including Pete’s latest girlfriend. Hopefully.
I was sipping a Coopers Pale Ale when Pete and his date walked in. And of course she looked like a model who’d decided to try slumming it with us normal folk. Way beyond your basic nightmare. Long red hair and an amazing face. Every inch of her precise perfection.
Shit.
Not that I was ugly. I was okay looking. Generally pretty. But Nicole Kidman’s doppelganger had just turned up on the arm of my first love.
Pete, meanwhile, had worn black sneakers, black jeans, and a fitted gray T-shirt. Damn. He looked relaxed, yet hot as hell. As much as I might joke about his good looks to Hazel, the fact remained that it was frustrating to be so seriously affected by a guy so far out of reach. My gaze roamed the bar, searching for superior eye candy. Someone to momentarily distract my raging hormones with. But no luck. No one else even came close to comparing.
It had been seven years, but my libido did not seem to have lost any of the teenage lust for Pete. Summoning up all my maturity and self-respect, I made a point of not noticing his arms, which were of the nicely lean muscular variety, and not at all worthy of odes. He’d gone and gotten a new haircut, shorter on the sides, longer and slicked back on top, which I also did not notice. All of that tanned skin and beautiful crinkly steel-blue eyes were entirely wasted on me. Or at least, I wish they were.
He met my gaze and I was the first to look away. While some would have described him as breathtaking, panty-wetting goodness, I just quietly despaired.
No, forget that—I was over him. Had been for years. I dated. I had sex. Some of it was even good. Simply because a few old misplaced feelings lingered didn’t mean a thing. A silly schoolgirl’s crush, nothing more. Any thoughts to the contrary were reckless and wrong. Nonsense best ignored. Honestly, this sort of heartache and confusion were exactly why I’d been in no rush to return. No matter how much I missed the area.
“Adele?” Shanti slipped an arm around my waist. “I want you to meet a friend of mine, Jeremy. He makes bespoke furniture and home accents here on the coast using only local recycled woods. Incredibly talented. Already, he’s selling into Europe.”
“Shanti, you’re too kind. But I’m really just a humble woodworker.” Jeremy was around my age, with long dark hair tied back and a friendly smile. A classic Greek god kind of face. Definitely marble worthy from an artistic point of view. Yet he lacked the idiosyncrasies that so endeared Pete to me. Dammit. “Nice to meet you, Adele.”
“Yes. Hi,” I said, shaking his hand. His skin was warm.
Shanti patted him on the shoulder before turning to me with a grin. “Adele, doesn’t he have pretty eyes?”
Oh God.
The man just laughed.
“Jeremy, this is Andrew’s daughter, Adele,” said Shanti. “A beautiful, bright young woman.”
Beneath all of the expertly applied makeup, my face flamed.
“It’s all true. You know, Jeremy, she’s considering moving up from Sydney to join the family business and helping to expand the office,” Shanti continued. “If so, you’ll be talking to her about any jobs from now on.”
Jeremy’s brows rose. “Is that so?”
“It is indeed,” said Shanti. “But it’s all very hush-hush. She hasn’t made up her mind yet. I’m trusting you to help us persuade her.”
“We’ll see,” I said, trying to get my embarrassment levels under control. “For now, I’m just visiting for the wedding.”
“She doesn’t have a date for that either,” said Shanti in a low voice. “Something to think about.”
Give me strength. “Shanti . . .”
“What?” She batted her eyelashes. “A new stepmother can’t help her darling stepdaughter along with meeting people?”
I laughed. Much awkward. Overflowing with it, in fact. “Okay. I think you’ve helped enough now. Thank you.”
Jeremy gave me a look. Something along the lines of, what can you do?
With a parting wave, Shanti thankfully glided off to join my father.
“Sorry about that,” I mumbled.
Jeremy just smiled. “I’ve never seen anyone bulldoze people as gracefully as Shanti. You’re too busy pleasing her to stop and think. She’s remarkable.”
“That she is. She’s like Tinder on steroids.”
He grinned. “Adele, would you like another drink?”
“That’s a splendid idea.”
“Excuse me. You’re Jeremy Karas, right?”
With a small smile, the redhead sidled on up to where Jeremy and I had been sitting and drinking for a couple of hours. He was a nice guy and a great distraction from the whole Pete-with-a-drop-dead-gorgeous-woman-hanging-off-of-him thing. Well, he had been a great distraction, until the drop-dead-gorgeous woman appeared at his side. We turned politely to her.
Pete stood next to her, of course. His eyes flitted up to mine as I turned to face them. Whoa. Flitted up from where? If it had been any other guy in the universe, I could have sworn he was checking me out. But that was impossible, of course. Pete was far above such things at the best of times, especially when he had a supermodel beside him. Also, I was me. And he’d made his not entirely favorable opinion regarding me more than well known.
Meanwhile, the redhead was simpering at Jeremy. Or she might have been just being friendly. I don’t know; my mood had been a little off for a decade or so.
“Leona Addams. I have one of your side tables,” she said. “Absolutely exquisite.”
“Thank you very much.” Jeremy gave her a welcoming professional face. I bet he sold lots and lots with those sleepy, seductive green eyes. “I’m delighted to hear you’re enjoying it.”
She twirled a glass of white wine in her hand, allowing the men to make their introductions.
“Pete.” He nodded at the younger man. “Good to see you.”
They shook hands. “Liked your work on the Johnson place.”
“Thanks,” said Jeremy. “Things you can do when there’s no limit, huh?”
“Exactly.” Pete laughed. “Adele. You look nice.”
I raised my gin and tonic. “Thank you. So do you.”
“You didn’t say I look nice,” said the woman.
Pete gave her a slow smile. “That’s because you always look amazing. ‘Nice’ would be a gross understatement.”
Kill me now.
“Leona, this is Andrew’s daughter, Adele,” said Pete.
I held out my hand for shaking. Her slender fingers were limp, dismissive. Fine with me. Down within my shallow depths, I wanted to dislike the woman anyway. I’d have to take off my shoes to count all the ways in which she and I were different, and I’d still run out of fingers and toes. She looked like the type who was sleek and slender and shiny on a day-to-day basis. It took me a whole fucking six-hours in the spa to look this put together. Talk about unfair.
“You’re staying with Peter?” she asked me.
“Yes. Just for a few days.”
“Lovely.” Curious eyes looked me over. Then she downed the last of her drink, depositing the glass on the table. “I have an early start.”
“You need to go?” asked Pete.
Thank God she wasn’t staying for a sleepover. The last thing I needed was to lie in bed listening to squeaking bed frames, imagined or otherwise. An axe to the head would be kinder.
“Call me.” She placed her hand on his chest, leaning in to give him a kiss. Pete’s hand sat at her waist. At least there wasn’t tongue. I might have had to gouge my eyes out if there were. Then, with a heated look, she wiped away a trace of her pink lipstick. “I heard about this amazing seafood restaurant we should try. Apparently the mud crabs are the best on the coast. Maybe tomorrow night?”
“What a wonderful idea.” I gave her my best fake smile. “Isn’t it, Pete?”
He shot me an irritable glance. “I’m allergic to shellfish. As you might remember, Adele.”
“Oh.” Leona frowned, fingers tightening around her designer handbag. “Jeremy, so wonderful to meet you. Adele, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Jeremy stood. “I have an early start too.”
“It was nice talking to you.” I smiled.
He gave my hand a quick squeeze, and said, “You realize within a minute of me leaving, Shanti will be texting me making sure I have your number.”
“I do realize that. Here, put yours in my phone.” I passed it to him. “No promises either of us will use it, but at least we’ll be covered for Shanti’s inevitable interrogation.”
There was some more nodding and handshaking and good nights. Then Pete sat beside me, stealing my drink and taking a mouthful.
“You’ve been seeing her for how long and she doesn’t even know that shellfish could kill you?” I asked sweetly. “What do you talk about with these women?”
“I don’t know. Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Stuff,” he repeated. “Are you giving me relationship advice now? Should I have candlelit dinners where we exchange allergy lists? I can see why your relationships didn’t last.”
“Very funny. But I thought at least you’d have hit her with the story about when you ate prawns as a teenager and blew up like the Michelin Man. That cracked me up every time.”
He smiled for a moment, either at the memory of it happening or the memory of me laughing at the story. Then his gaze darkened, and he stared into the gin and tonic. “I don’t talk to everyone like I do with you. Did. Like I did with you.”
An old Aussie Crawl song started and some of the boys from my dad’s office cheered at the next table. Apparently they were making the most of the open bar. Beer glasses were piling up.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think there was a lot we didn’t talk about.”
“I had to keep it age appropriate.” He took another sip of my drink, and then handed it back to me with a smile. “And you say scotch tastes like ass.”
“Bombay Sapphire is a gift from God and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”
We sat in silence for a minute, taking in the scene, listening to the music. A couple was passionately kissing in a dark corner; loud conversations were happening all around. Even Shanti was laughing, head thrown back, delighted grin. Dad stood beside her chair like a sentinel, just watching her enjoy herself. It was sweet.
“Sorry I was difficult, with your girlfriend,” I said eventually.
He sat back in the chair, ankle propped on one knee. “I don’t know if I’d call her my girlfriend exactly. We’re friends.”
Huh.
“Jeremy Karas, huh?”
I shrugged. “Shanti introduced us. He seems okay.”
“Sure.” His fingers tapped out a beat against the metal armrest. “Talented guy. He’s an artist, really. I wouldn’t have minded buying a piece myself, but the fucking prices he charges.”
“Well, you’re getting older,” I said. “You can’t just go wasting money. Need to save up for all that Viagra.”
“That is a gross and ageist generalization, young lady,” Pete said sternly. “And not applicable in this particular instance, as it happens.”
“Confidence is important. I understand.”
“You really weren’t spanked enough as a child, you know that?”
I laughed.
“Also, you talk about sex stuff when you’re nervous.”
“No, I don’t.” I scrunched up my face. “Now you’re just imagining things. Early onset dementia. So sad.”
He just shook his head.
“The thing is, I find it hard to care too much about what I say around you.” I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I burned all the best-friend bridges with you all those years ago. It’s liberating in a way. I can say whatever I think.”
“Hadn’t noticed you holding back. Ever.” The low lighting cast mesmerizing shadows on his cheeks, the harsh line of his jaw. Even the slight cleft in his chin. “You liked him, then?”
“Jeremy? Sure.” With one finger, I played with the lemon slice in my drink, pushing it under the surface.
“Not sure he’s really your type.”
“Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, just a feeling.”
“You know, this is what I missed out on when I was younger,” I said. “Getting dating advice from you. Though you’re going to need to be more specific than just a feeling. But I could ask you all the questions I’ve always wanted to ask a guy and you’ll give me the information.”
The little line between his brows deepened. “About what?”
“About sex!”
“I am not talking with you about sex.”
“But it’s age appropriate now,” I said.
“To the contrary, we are now far too old for such frivolities.” One corner of his mouth lifted a little. At least I could still make him smile when I wanted to.
“So last time I was here I was too young, and now I’m too old?”
“Precisely.” He nodded. “There was a four-minute window about three years ago where such a discussion might have been appropriate. Too bad you missed it.”
The music changed to Cold Chisel and the table next to us cheered yet again. Someone growled, “Barnesie.”
“God, I haven’t heard this in years,” I said. “They’re playing all the classics.”
“What, you only go to hipster cafés?”
“I have to get my smashed avocado on sourdough somewhere.” I grinned, sucking the gin off the end of my finger, because ladylike.
Pete’s hand stilled, his gaze intensified. “You know, in some ways you’ve changed. But in others, you’re exactly the same.”
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t know.”
I cleared my throat. “I have a theory.”
“What’s your theory?”
“That people grow more into themselves over time.”
Slowly, he nodded. “Makes sense.”
“Actually, that probably came from my best friend, Hazel,” I said. “She’s a therapist. Sometimes our conversations wander into areas of philosophy and general emotional growth and well-being. Or K-pop. But then BTS is important to everyone.”
“What the hell is K-pop and . . . BTS?”
With a groan, I looked to heaven. “How out of touch are you?”
“Apparently a lot.” He laughed. “Thank God you’re here to tell me what’s what. Why don’t I fetch us another round, and then you can catch me up?”
I watched his tall form wend its way through the crowd, and into the thick throng of people milling around the bar. The workers from Dad’s business were definitely taking advantage of the free drinks, and good luck to them.
“Hey.” A thick, heavy voice dragged my attention back to the here and now. A young man stood before me, his eyes bloodshot with pure alcoholic joy. His wiry arm was wrapped around the neck of his somewhat older yet similarly inebriated friend, though it was hard to tell who was holding up whom.
“I’m Fitzy,” he said. “This’s my mate, Larry. Can you settle a bet for us?”
“I don’t know,” I said, just a little wary.
“Larry says that you were the one who booby-trapped Pete, all those years ago when Andrew slugged him.” The guy gesticulated toward me with his half-empty beer.
“Booby-trapped.” Larry smirked. Who knows how many beers it had taken them to manufacture that pun?
“Wildly original and hilarious,” I muttered. My shoulders sagged. Maybe it was too much to expect the scandal to have disappeared over the years. Probably I could come back to town in fifty years and there would still be young building-industry types regaling each other with stories of the boss’s daughter who flashed her tits on her eighteenth birthday.
It was the stuff of legend.
“But I say it can’t be you, because you have an awesome rack, and no one could complain about copping an eyeful of that.” Beside him, Larry nodded soberly at his friend’s logic, in the way that only the totally wasted can manage. “It’s only natural.”
“Anyway,” Fitzy continued. “We were figuring that, if they’re good enough to flash for Pete, maybe— Ow!”
Fitzy’s head bent violently to one side, arching upward to expose his right ear. Standing behind him was Pete, his face thunder. He had the smaller man’s earlobe in his fist, twisting it hard around and upward. Fitzy jolted upright, his drunken legs straining as he tried to raise himself high enough to relieve the pain. But all it did was bring him face-to-face with Pete, his brow creased with anger.
All of the laughter stopped dead.
“I think you’ve had enough, Matthew,” Pete growled. Apparently “Fitzy” was just for friends, and Pete did not look friendly.
Even on his tiptoes, the younger man barely made it to Pete’s height. Beside him, Larry made a run for it, apparently deciding that discretion was the better part of mate-ship.
“Yes, boss,” Fitzy squeaked, sounding suddenly much soberer. “Sorry, boss.”
“Apologize to the lady.” Pete swiveled him around by the ear to face me, like a puppet held on a single string.
“Sorry, miss,” he stammered. “Ma’am.”
Pete pivoted him back around, so they were once again eye-to-eye. “You do not speak to her again,” he said. “You don’t even fucking look at her. Is that understood?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Maybe if you get out of here fast enough, the whole thing will have slipped my mind by Monday morning.” Pete released him, and he stumbled off into Larry’s arms, one hand nursing his ear.
“Sorry about that,” Pete said to me.
“It’s fine.” I could really quite happily go about my night (and life) away from this oh so humorous scene. Bound to happen, but I didn’t need to be a part of it. I rose to my feet, finishing off the remains of my drink. “You do realize I could have handled the situation myself?”
“He’s an employee and this is a work gathering, to a degree. I’m unfortunately responsible for his behavior.”
I wasn’t entirely convinced.
“I know you can look after yourself, Adele.”
Shit. Even Dad was looking over now. What a prime example for why me being here amongst these people again was such a wondrously bad idea. Even the ones who hadn’t been at my eighteenth had obviously heard about what went down. I was just an embarrassment.
Pete pressed his hand against the small of my back. “Why don’t we go? We don’t need to be around this.”
“Might as well.”
We wove our way through the crowd and over to Dad. “Something happen?” he asked.
“No. I think the drive has caught up with me,” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m ready for bed. ’Night, Shanti. Thanks again for today.”
She gripped my hand, giving it a squeeze. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re driving her home?” Dad asked Pete, standing behind me.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Adele, tomorrow I want to hear all of your thoughts on Jeremy,” ordered Shanti.
I just smiled.
Dad gave me another probing look. He wasn’t falling for my bullshit at all. Next his gaze shifted to the men at the table. “Time to cut them off, I think. They’ve had more than enough for one night.”
“Good idea,” said Pete. “See you tomorrow.”
Via the hand still sitting just above my butt, he directed me toward the exit. He shouldn’t have been touching me. The warmth of his skin sinking through the thin cotton of my top was much too comforting. Thoughts of how his touch would feel in other places came far too easily. Such as his fingers stroking down my arm, sliding between my own fingers to hold tight. Along with more pornographic scenarios that we won’t go into. My imagination could go from sweet to explicit in no time at all when it came to Pete.
Away from the noise and lights, the night was quiet. A fruit bat flew overhead, a darker shape against the dark sky. The parking lot was still half full at ten o’clock.
We parted at the back of his vehicle, a reasonably new big double-cab ute. My skin wasn’t tingling because it was where his hand had been. Most likely, it was due to a rash or something. The jeans were helpful for climbing into the passenger seat. In the backseat lay a mess of papers, some tools, and a couple of items of clothing. It smelled of sawdust, a little earth, and a hint of cologne. Maybe coffee too.
The engine purred to life and Vance Joy was playing on the stereo. I stared out into the night. “I like this song.”
“Yeah?” he sounded pleased.
There was something intimate about being in the dark together in such a small enclosed space. Something old and familiar, comfortable and special. Not that the drive home took long. Past a gift shop, a news agency, a chemist, and other such places. Farther out of town, on the way to the highway, there were a couple of pineapple farms. Some paddocks of fruit trees and dams. A lot of the large properties had been sold, however, broken up, and developed into housing estates in the last decade or so. It was sad to see. Dad had bought his block of land about fifteen years ago, off the main road, tucked away from the rush and noise. When Pete started working for Dad, he talked the lady who owned the land nearby into selling since she wasn’t doing anything with it anyway and he loved the area.
“They’ll forget about it,” he said, pulling into the driveway. “It’s not like all of them haven’t done stuff they regret over the years.”
“I’m not really worried about it.”
He parked the car in the garage attached to the side of the house. “Careful getting down.”
“I’ll be careful getting down.” I smiled. “You don’t need to baby me.”
“I’m not babying you; I’m looking after you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“You dad would kill me if you got a hair out of place on my watch.”
“Right,” I said. “Well, considering the man actively encouraged me to climb trees and play football, I don’t think he’s all that worried.”
A low laugh. “If you think I won’t be proving to your father that you’re safe with me until the end of time, you’ve misread the situation.”
“I seem to do that a lot.” I followed him up the front stairs. “Though I doubt I’ll be around much, so don’t feel you need to dedicate your life to the cause.”
Keys jangled and he unlocked the door, turning on a light. “You’re really not interested in the job?”
“Do you want me to be?”
“Huh.” A wallet and the keys were tossed onto the dining room table. “For all your talk of burnt bridges, you sure do seem to care about what I think.”
“I wouldn’t even consider it if you don’t want me there—I’m trying to do less of the aggressively inflicting myself upon you these days,” I said. “As a general rule.”
He leaned his ass against the table, watching me with interest.
“It just makes sense, right?” I held up my hands. “If having me in your place of work would be an issue for you, make you uncomfortable, then that’s the last thing I want to do. Neither of us would be having a good time in that situation.”
“True. But I’m out on site most of the time.”
“Still . . .”
He crossed his arms, cocked his head. “What if I didn’t have a problem with you coming onboard?”
“Then I guess I would need to think it over.”
Nothing from him.
“Anyway . . . thanks for the lift back. And everything.” Hesitantly, I took a step toward my temporary end of the house. I used to be able to read him much better than this. Figure out his moods, have a vague idea of what was going on inside his head. These days, I had nothing.
“Right,” he said. “’Night.”
“Good night.”
Only he didn’t move and neither did I. Then he grabbed the back of his neck, turned away, and asked, “Feel like a swim?”
“Ah, sure. Why not?”
“Great,” he said. “See you down there.”