Chapter 5
FIVE
AJAX
By the time the weekend rolls around, I’m a bundle of nerves.
It’s not often I get nervous, but since I was wounded, social interactions are hard—especially with people I don’t know.
Thankfully the pub is quiet for a Friday night—it’s still early, and I make my way to a table and sit.
I fist my hands, digging what nails I have into my palms.
I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so anxious, but I need to get this over with and go home.
The others stayed at the farm which I’m thankful for, but at the same time irritated that they won’t face up to the mess they created.
“Did you want something to drink?”
I look up. Ivy stands in front of me, her hands on her hips. The warm smile that usually graces her lips is missing.
Her eyes are tired.
“I …”
“How about I get you your usual?” Her expression softens, and she looks much more like herself.
What that was all about?
I nod. “That’d be great.”
She turns back toward the bar.
“Ivy.”
Ivy seems to pause before she looks back over her shoulder.
“I’m … umm … expecting someone to join me. Can I run a tab?”
Her smile seems forced. “Sure.”
When she returns to the table, I gulp down half my beer.
“Liquid courage?” she asks.
She does know about the date.
“Something like that.”
She nods and walks away. Usually I’d admire her figure, but I’m too wound up to even do that.
Why couldn’t they set me up with Ivy?
The door opens, and a blonde walks in.
A very pretty, thin, looks-like-I-could-snap-her-in-half blonde.
Is this her?
She looks around, her gaze falling on me before sweeping the rest of the room. Her expression gives away nothing as she makes her way to the bar.
As she leans over, Ivy looks my way and she points the woman toward me.
That’s her?
She’s beautiful, but too fragile for me. I’m painfully aware of my size—both in height and bulk. I keep fit working on the farm and using the gym we set up when we moved, and this woman—Stacy? Well, I just don’t see how we would work anyway.
Especially when I can’t help but think about Ivy’s luscious curves.
I wriggle in my seat as Stacy approaches, and stand as she arrives at the table.
“Ajax?” she asks.
I nod. “That’s me.”
Her gaze goes straight to my scarring. But she takes a seat, and I sit down and smile.
“Did you want a drink?”
She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”
Huh?
“There’s something I need to tell you.” I don’t like talking—if I can use as few words as possible, I do. But she needs to know I’m not behind that profile, and then she can decide if she wants to stay.
Her gaze is fixed firmly on the scar that runs down one cheek. And her jaw is set.
I’m mad as hell with Digby and Cookie, and it’s not Stacy’s fault.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to know. I can’t do this.”
I say nothing.
“ That .” She points at the scar. “It wasn’t in any of the photos.”
I should be angry with Digby and Cookie, but she could have been more gentle. This doesn’t bode well for the future.
“I didn’t make the profile, so I don’t know what photos were used. I’m sorry if?—”
“You didn’t make the profile?” she screeches.
“No. If you’ll let me explain.” I knew this was a bad idea.
“You don’t look like?—”
“Are you really that shallow?” A woman’s voice comes from behind me.
I know that voice. Ivy .
My lips twitch, and I fight a smile.
Stacy gasps. “I’m not shallow.”
“You’ve been here thirty seconds and you’re judging him by the way he looks. That’s shallow.”
Ivy crosses her arms across her ample breasts, and I resist the urge to ogle her. She’s like a fierce warrior, her dark hair scraped into a messy bun on her head, her red-painted lips pursed in anger.
I’ve always found her attractive, but right now?
She’s off the charts.
Stacy gapes, and Ivy moves closer.
“You’re so rude,” Stacy says.
“You’re the rude one. If you had a problem with him, you could have been nicer about it. But no, you’re just being a bitch. You need to leave.”
Stacy huffs, but Ivy’s right on the money. I know my scars intimidate people, but I don’t need to be told they’re there.
She’s been done wrong by my friends, but she won’t even give me the chance to apologise.
One thing’s for sure—this date is a bust.
“Where’s your manager?” Her nostrils flare as her gaze flicks between me and Ivy. Am I supposed to come to her rescue? Fucked if I know.
Ivy points at the bar where Mitchell’s smirk sums this whole situation up. “He’s right there.”
“If Ivy says you’re out, you’re out.” Mitchell doesn’t hesitate.
Stacy glares at me. “I’m your date. Are you going to let them throw me out?”
I shrug. “Seems to me that you don’t want to be here.”
She stands up, her chair scraping across the wooden floor as she pushes it out.
I grimace.
“I’ve never been so insulted in all my life.”
“Hang around,” says Ivy. “I’m sure I can come up with more.”
Stacy glances at me, turns, and then storms out the door into the carpark.
Ivy dusts her hands together.
“Well, aren’t you a little firecracker?”
She tilts her head, her cheeks dimpling as she smiles. “I think today has to be the most you’ve ever spoken to me.”
“I’m a man of few words.”
Ivy’s smile widens. “I’m a woman of too many. I’m sorry if you actually wanted her here, but she was so rude.”
I shrug. “It was a mess from the start. I didn’t really want to be on a date.”
Her brows draw together. “You don’t seem the type to do what you don’t want to. Why were you here?”
“Digby and Cookie set it up. I couldn’t contact her to tell her not to come.”
Ivy shakes her head. “Those two are dangerous together.”
I snort. “Tell me about it.”
She chews her bottom lip.
Why couldn’t they set me up with Ivy? She’s gorgeous, and she’s never recoiled or treated me badly. This is the longest conversation I’ve had with her, but it’s comfortable and that doesn’t come easy to me.
“I’ll get back to work. Wave me over if you need anything else,” she says softly.
I nod. Part of me wants to get out of here—the scene that just happened is humiliating. But at the same time, I can’t just tuck tail and run. At least it’s reasonably quiet in here with just a handful of locals.
I’ll nurse my beer and ogle Ivy’s arse a while longer as she makes her way around.
Life isn’t too bad after all.
A couple of hours later, I’m yet to finish my beer, sitting barely paying attention to the rugby game on the screen. I’m the last customer left.
Ivy approaches as I drain my glass.
“Did you want anything else?”
I shake my head. “No, I might head home.”
She clears the table and heads toward the bar.
Mitchell appears from out the back. “I’m closing up early. You go on home, Ivy. I’ll pay you for the rest of the night.”
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Mitchell nods. “Business is slow and I have a headache. Reckon I’ll have an early night.” He looks over toward me. “You good, Ajax?”
I nod, then stand. “Yep. See you later.”
“Don’t worry about your tab. It’s got one drink on it. I’ll take care of it,” Ivy says.
“I can’t let you do that.”
She shrugs. “I don’t mind. It’s been a shitty night.”
“Then, thank you.”
For a moment, I hold her gaze. She really is pretty with full lips and brown eyes you can lose yourself in. And she has the cutest blush in her cheeks as she looks at me.
“Goodnight, Mitchell,” I say.
His chin lifts. “Night.”
I make my way out to my truck and sigh as I climb in.
While I didn’t expect this evening to change my life, I didn’t think it would go as badly as it did. I’m worth more than that.
The lights go out inside the pub, and the door opens.
Ivy fiddles with something in her bag—maybe her car keys, and my stomach twists watching her. It’s pretty safe around here, but it’s dark, and she’s not paying attention to her surroundings.
I’ve done enough security work for Shane to understand the dangers.
I’ll stay until she’s in her car, safe and sound.
She looks up and gives me a little wave as she pulls something out of her bag.
Wait. That’s her car?
It’s a miracle it’s still on the road, it’s so old.
I want to help her, but it’s not really my business.
Ivy unlocks the door and opens it, throwing her bag inside before she gets into the driver’s side of the car.
Once she’s got the door closed, I start my engine.
Pulling out, I turn toward the carpark exit. I pause when I reach it, and look in my rear-view mirror.
Ivy’s car lights are on, but she’s not moved. She hits the steering wheel before banging her head on it.
Shit.
I slam the car into reverse and back up until I’m beside her.
She looks up at me.
I reach into the glovebox and pull out a torch before getting out and walking to her car, indicating for her to pop the bonnet.
She nods, and when it clicks, I open it up.
Nothing looks out of place.
“It won’t start. It just makes a clicking sound,” she says.
“Maybe the starter motor. Try again?”
She turns the key in the ignition, and the engine doesn’t even try to turn over.
I close the bonnet. “I’ll take you home. There’s nothing I can do tonight.”
There’s silence for a moment, and she nods.
After walking around to my truck, I open the passenger door for her.
She locks her car and then huffs as she takes the step up into the truck.
“You okay? Need a hand?”
“I need to be about a foot taller.”
I laugh—can’t help it, and she turns her worried gaze on me. “Do you think it’s serious? My car, that is. I can’t afford for it to be something big.”
“How about I pick you up in the morning and we get it looked at? Digby could take a look, but he’ll have no parts.”
Even in the dim light of the truck’s internal light, I see her blink back tears.
“I doubt anything can happen until Monday now. Not around here.”
I close her door before rounding the truck and climbing in. “Ivy, you okay?”
“I need that car,” she whispers.
Her hand’s resting on the centre console. I take a deep breath and cover it with mine. She looks up at me with tear-filled eyes.
“Then, let’s get it sorted. I’ll help you, Ivy.”
Her lower lip wobbles. God how I want to kiss her. Instead, I swallow it down and start the truck.
“Thank you,” she says.
“Where do you live?” I can’t do this—have a simple conversation with her. It’s so hard. Stacy’s words play over and over again in my head. She hated the way I looked and wasn’t even prepared to give me a chance.
Ivy’s never said anything. How do I know she doesn’t feel the same way?
She stood up for me, but could she love a man who’s scarred inside and out?
Ivy mumbles the address.
“That’s on my way home anyway. How about I get Digby to meet us at the pub carpark tomorrow morning, and I’ll pick you up? He can take a look, and then we’ll know what you’ll be dealing with next week.”
She nods. “I’d appreciate that.”
“And give me your schedule. I’ll pick you up and drop you off while you’ve got no car.”
Her eyes widen. “I can’t ask you to do that.”
“I’m not about to let you walk in the dark. Unless you have someone else who can do it for you?”
Visibly deflating, she pulls back into the car seat and shakes her head. “It’s just me, Dad, and my brother at home. They won’t … they leave everything up to me. I doubt they’d do anything to help me.”
My jaw tics. “Then I’ll take care of it. I’ll be here for you.”
She sniffs, and I breathe a little easier having said my piece. While her family sounds useless, she didn’t mention a boyfriend or a partner.
Maybe this could be the start of something.