Chapter 15
Olivia
The pool water shimmers like glass, with the sunlight scattering diamonds across the surface.
It’s one of those Wattle Creek spring afternoons in early October, where the sprinkling of heat starts humming in your bones. Xavier’s already half in, lounging at the edge with Callie splashing him. Gracie’s in her floatie beside Isla, who now has her sunnies perched on her head.
On the other side of the pool, Harrison is sprawled on a deck chair, with Imogen perched beside him, her daughter Hope in her arms. My toes are dipped in the water, from where I’m sitting on the edge of the pool, watching Joseph’s careful concentration as he tries to blow bubbles from his floatie.
“Why aren’t you at work?” I call across to Harrison once Joseph’s distracted by his toys again.
Imogen answers for him, adjusting Hope on her hip. “He got FOMO. Said he couldn’t let us have fun without him.”
Harrison smirks. “Michael wanted to kill me.”
“I bet,” I laugh.
“He’ll be right.” Harrison leans back with a smug grin. “He doesn’t need me breathing down his neck anymore.”
Imogen rolls her eyes. “Translation: he was bored.”
“No. I’m being the supportive brother, letting his younger brother run the shop now,” he corrects, but Imogen’s laugh says otherwise.
Xavier straightens suddenly, squinting toward the far end of the fence. “Liv, grab Joseph. Now.”
I blink up at him, confused, but something in his voice gets me moving anyway. I scoop Joseph up just as Imogen frowns. “Why? What’s—”
“No way. What the fuck? Where’d that come from?” Harrison’s voice slices through the air.
Imogen whips around. “What is it?”
“Shh.” Xavier’s tone is sharp. “It’s fine. Don’t make any sudden movements.”
Oh, fantastic. That voice? That’s the snake voice.
I know it well. Comes out every spring or summer when someone slithery decides to sunbathe where they shouldn’t.
I’ve seen my brothers do this dance a dozen times.
The perks of country life—your neighbours have eight eyes, or scales, and a death wish.
I glance over to where Xavier’s looking, and sure enough, there it is.
A python, coiled tight in the garden bed, just metres from where I’m sitting with Joseph. Harrison makes a noise I’m ninety per cent sure isn’t human, somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. Isla, bless her, immediately gathers the girls and ushers them to the far side of the pool.
Xavier barks at Harrison to shut up, already stepping toward the snake. I can’t help but laugh, pointing toward the snake. “Imogen, didn’t you just say you wanted another pool noodle? Because, babe, there’s one slithering right there.”
“Funny, Liv,” she deadpans, and Isla chuckles.
“Your husband’s about to wrestle Satan’s belt, and you’re laughing!” Harrison retorts. “That’s a fucking pool noodle from Hell,” he adds, as he clutches the chair arm, like it might protect him.
I can tell Imogen is trying her best not to laugh at her poor, frightened husband, because her lips are pressed tight, and her shoulders have a subtle tremor to them.
“Uh-oh, Daddy said a bad word,” Joseph announces from beside me, eyes wide.
“Daddy’s just scared.” Imogen snorts, responding to her son.
“Scared of the snake?” Joseph tilts his head. “I’m not scared.”
“Well,” I say, grinning down at him, “you’re braver than your dad, bud.”
Xavier carefully moves closer, and the snake hisses in response, loud enough that Harrison practically levitates out of his chair.
Laughter bursts out before I can stop it. “Oh my God, Harrison, you big baby!”
“Excuse me for not wanting to die before lunch!” he snaps, but even he can’t conceal his laughter at himself.
Xavier shoots him a look. “If you’d stop talking, I could actually get the damn thing.”
Imogen presses a palm to her forehead. “I’m so embarrassed right now.”
“You chose me,” Harrison fires back, gesturing to himself. “You picked this, baby!”
“Regretting it every day,” she says, biting back a grin.
Xavier’s crouched now, rake handle in hand, slow and calm like he’s done this a thousand times. The snake hisses, coiling tighter.
“Xav—” I start, but he lifts a hand to hush me.
Xavier moves calmly, slipping off his cap, gently placing it over the snake’s head, so it doesn’t see him coming.
In one swift movement, he grips the python just behind the head, lifts it smoothly, then gathers the rest of its thick body before it has a chance to coil around his arm.
He walks it a few metres away and lowers it gently into the bush, releasing it like he’s done it a dozen times.
Harrison jumps back in his seat. “I don’t care what anyone says, that’s not normal. Humans aren’t meant to just… grab snakes!”
Xavier brushes off his hands as he returns. “Relax. Nobody died.”
“Yet.” Harrison mutters. “Have you not been bitten before?”
“A few times.” Xavier shrugs. “But python bites won’t kill you. They just hurt like Hell.”
Joseph breaks into wild applause. “Uncle Zee saved us!”
I can’t help the laugh that slips out. Zee. The poor kid still can’t say Xavier, so we’re all rolling with it.
Callie’s little voice pipes up next. “Daddy’s brave!”
“He sure is, baby,” Isla responds, beaming at her husband.
“See?” Xavier smirks, puffing out his chest. “Hero status restored.”
“More like local idiot confirmed,” Harrison mutters, deadpan.
Imogen snorts, pushing her wet hair off her face. “At least the kids now have a story for show-and-tell.”
Laughter ripples around the yard easily.
Someone splashes someone else, Joseph squeals, and just like that, everyone drifts back toward the pool; sun, water, chaos resuming like the snake never happened.
I reach for my towel, ready to follow them in, when my phone buzzes on the table.
One glance at the screen, one name, and my pulse does this ridiculous, completely unnecessary skip.
Sebastian: Did everything go alright this morning? Teddy didn’t have a good night last night.
Me: No issues at all. Is everything okay?
Sebastian: Yeah. Just a rough patch. He’s been waking up more lately. Probably growing pains, or the storm last night. Hard to say with him.
I soften a little reading his message. He always sounds so steady, even when he’s worried.
Me: If he needs to talk about it, I’m here. Might be good for us both if we stay on the same page anyway.
Me: And you too, of course. I’m great at making conversation.
Sebastian: Oh, I know.
Sebastian: But yeah… you’re probably right.
I stare at the screen, thumb hovering. I should stop here. This is the logical, professional stopping point. But my logic is apparently way off because the next message is already sent.
Me: How’s work?
Sebastian: Busy. Your brother is being an overbearing brute as usual.
Me: Hah. I know someone else like that.
Sebastian: Better not be referring to me, Little Mitchell.
Me: And if I am?
The second I hit send, I want to throw my phone in the pool.
What am I doing? Am I… flirting? There’s a long pause, one bubble, two, and then nothing.
Fantastic. I’ve officially embarrassed myself.
I’m mid-self-pep-talk about how I need to stop making impulsive decisions, when my phone buzzes again.
Sebastian: Careful, Olivia.
Sebastian: If you’re trying to find out how ungentlemanly I can be, keep going. You’ll learn fast.
My stomach flips. Is he flirting back with me?
Good grief. I stare at the screen, while my pulse drums in my ears.
Did I really just accidentally flirt with my boss?
My brother’s best friend. A man who’s supposed to be all structure and discipline and perfectly pressed uniforms. And yet…
I can practically hear the low rumble of his voice in my head, that dry, confident edge that makes everything sound like a dare.
My fingers tighten around the phone. What the hell am I supposed to say back?
God, you’ve really lost your touch, Olivia.
Too many tragic dates have dulled your spark, or maybe this one message just set every single nerve alight.
“What are you smiling at?” Isla’s voice cuts clean through my internal meltdown. I jolt so hard, I nearly drop the damn thing.
“Huh? I’m—uh—just something Amelia texted me.” Her eyebrow arches, so I force a laugh. “She sent me a meme. You know, teacher humour. Real funny stuff.”
She smiles, still clearly unconvinced, but too polite to pry. Imogen, on the other hand, never met a boundary she didn’t leapfrog. “So,” she starts, passing Joseph his towel, “how’s this nanny gig going?”
“Babysitting,” I correct, maybe a little too fast.
“Right. Babysitting,” Imogen says, exchanging a knowing look with Isla.
I toss my braid over my shoulder and focus on Joseph splashing in front of me.
“It’s going great, actually. Teddy’s really cute.
We’ve finally gotten a routine down. He’s quiet, but I think he’s actually starting to come out of his shell.
” My chest softens just thinking about his pinky promises and tiny smiles. “He’s a good kid.”
“And the father?” Isla’s tone is pure mischief.
“What about him?” Xavier pipes up from behind his sunnies, pretending not to listen but clearly listening.
I roll my eyes so hard, it might count as cardio. “He’s fine. Broody. Predictable. Allergic to small talk.”
Imogen grins, leaning back in her chair. “So your type, then.”
I snort. “Please. If I wanted a man who speaks in grunts, I’d just date a farm animal.”
Xavier gestures lazily toward the paddocks. “You’re surrounded by eligible options. Take your pick.”
“God, you’re all insufferable.” I take a long sip from my water bottle to hide my smile. “He’s just my boss. Who cares?”
Imogen tilts her head thoughtfully. “Funny. From what I’ve seen, Sebastian doesn’t seem broody at all. Quiet, sure, but he’s more upbeat than that.”
“Yeah, well,” I say lightly, shrugging, “maybe it’s a facade.” My voice dips lower in my head. Or maybe he just doesn’t like me.
Imogen hums, not buying it for a second. “I dunno,” she says thoughtfully, tossing her towel onto the chair beside her. Before I can come up with a decent comeback, or better yet, steer this away from my boss, Isla slides her sunglasses down her nose.
“How long is this gig for? What are you going to do when the kids go on school holidays in December?”
My heart dips a little.
“I don’t know yet,” I admit finally. “Sebastian’s supposed to have some time off work, so… guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.”
Imogen lifts a brow, lips twitching. “Well, maybe he’ll at least hand you the steel.”
I raise a dubious brow at her. “Hah. You’re lucky I like you, Price.”
Harrison perks up. “Huh? What about me?”
“Not you. The better Price, obviously.” Imogen jabs a thumb, grinning.
I huff out a laugh and shove my phone into my bag before I do something irrational.
Like reread his message. Because I definitely didn’t just blush over a man who calls me Little Mitchell and parents his kid like a pro, and pretends not to like watching Disney movies.
I bet he’d secretly cry at them. I shouldn’t smile at the thought, but even surrounded by family chaos and teasing, it feels like something is humming beneath the noise.
Something I probably shouldn’t want as much as I do.