Chapter Fifty-Eight
I stared at Liam, aghast.
‘S-Sorry,’ I stuttered, hands fluttering from my stings to my mismatched underwear. I didn’t know what was more embarrassing – Liam seeing lingerie that was possibly older than him or getting an eyeful of my mummy midriff.
‘I’m not looking,’ he said, averting his eyes.
‘A wasp stung me,’ I explained, lunging for my top. Damage limitation was required. I hastily pulled the garment over my head. ‘And the blasted thing got me twice.’
Why was Liam here? Still half-dressed, I peered over his shoulder to see if Vampy Victoria might be trailing in his wake. Fortunately, he appeared to be alone.
‘Oh, go away,’ I howled as the wasp, battered, but not defeated, zoomed over my head like a bomber plane on a mission.
Liam was over in two strides. He clapped his hands together, instantly killing the wasp.
‘Ouch,’ he said calmly, as the crumpled body dropped to the floor.
‘Are you mad?’ I gasped.
‘Possibly,’ he winced. ‘It’s the damsel-in-distress thing.’ He pulled a face. ‘It gets me every time.’
I gave him a look.
‘Well, thanks for coming to the rescue.’ The red-hot stings were radiating throughout my upper leg and palm. ‘But that was a crazy thing to do. Now you’re hurt too.’
‘Reflex reaction,’ he said, peering at his sore hands. ‘And the bad news is that killing Mr Wasp will have sent out a rescue signal to his mates.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘A threatened wasp releases alarm pheromones. It’s a chemical communication that alerts other nearby wasps.’
‘Oh no,’ I gulped. ‘Look, can we go inside? Apart from anything else, I need some antihistamine. I don’t know about you, but my skin feels like it’s on fire. And excuse the half-dressed look, but I need ointment on my leg.’
‘Carry on. And don’t worry about the half-dressed look. I’ve seen more skin than a dermatologist,’ he deadpanned.
Yeah, but I bet it hadn’t looked like mine.
Oh, to hell with it. What did it matter if he was repulsed by my cellulite?
I wasn’t a woman in her first flush of youth – or even her second or third.
And maybe I should count small blessings and be grateful that I hadn’t stripped off all together.
Now that really would have been mortifying.
‘I know exactly how you’re feeling,’ Liam sympathised as we made for the back door. ‘Except you’ve had a double whammy.’
‘Surely you too?’ I pointed out. The pair of us were now sporting bright red marks where the aggravated wasp had left its stinging signature.
‘You’re right,’ he sighed. ‘It got both my palms. Lead the way to your medicine cabinet.’
Liam followed me into the house via the utility room. I sensed him looking around as we moved through this ancillary area and into the kitchen.
I peered into one of the cupboards. Internally it was a rather messy affair.
This was where I stored all manner of medicines, vitamins, and herbal supplements.
No matter how many times I neatly reorganised it, within days it was upside down again.
James never took any care when rummaging for headache tablets for hangovers.
Likewise, Joy, when looking for ibuprofen to deal with period pains.
And now, just like my kids, I was shoving packets and bottles this way and that while looking for antihistamine.
‘There,’ said Liam, pointing. ‘The yellow box. You just swept it to one side.’
‘Ah, yes. Thanks,’ I said, extracting it from the chaos within. I popped the blister pack and shook a tablet into his hands.
‘Thanks.’ He swallowed it down without water.
I did the same but took an extra two. I was a wuss, and my skin hurt.
‘There’s also some ointment somewhere,’ I said, rootling again. ‘Ah, here it is. Especially for bites and stings.’
I squeezed some into my palm and rubbed it into my thigh and hand.
‘Here,’ I said, passing the tube to Liam. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘Excuse me while I nip upstairs. I can’t put my jeans back on.’ I pointed to my leg now slathered in balm. ‘I’ll grab a pair of shorts.’
‘Take your time,’ he said, as I shot upstairs.
When I returned, it was to find Liam inspecting the contents of the cooler.
‘Do you think it’s too early for a glass of wine?’ he asked.
‘I guess not,’ I said, moving past him. I selected a bottle of Sauvignon and handed it to him. ‘You do the honours,’ I said, fetching the glasses.
Five minutes later we were sitting in the lounge. The formal lounge, not the snug. For some reason I wanted Liam to see a super-duper part of the house, not a scruffy area that, right now, mirrored the lady proprietor.
‘This is a lovely room,’ he said conversationally. ‘Very spacious.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed.
We were sitting on sit-soft sofas directly opposite each other. Between us was an elaborate coffee table. I took a slug of the wine. Lovely. Perfect for frazzled nerves.
‘So,’ I said, as the wine worked its magic. Time to get to the point. ‘Why are you here?’