3. She Didn’t See His Attempt at Flirting
She Didn’t See His Attempt at Flirting
Lola
Early morning sun peeked under the front door. The tag on my dress had nearly made it out with me, but I’d yanked it off just in time, grabbed my bag, and reached for the knob.
My phone buzzed.
Please… Not yet…
I blinked at the message lighting up the screen.
Mum
Thank God you’re okay! It’s been two months! We’ve all been worried sick!
Where are you?
My forehead fell against the door, and I sighed into the wood. This was my own fault. I’d sent a message letting my parents know my new phone number, washed up the breakfast dishes, headed for the door, and— ding! —there was my mother.
Two calls from Mum had gone unanswered. The text—I couldn’t decline. Despite her accusations, I did love her, but she’d asked me the one question I couldn’t answer: Where was I?
A thousand miles from where I should be. Exactly where I wanted to be. Safe.
I’d never wanted my family to worry, but I couldn’t risk telling them the truth. Not this time.
Chris was intelligent. Driven. Relentless .
Those traits made him a formidable lawyer, but his perfect shell was fragile, cracked in ways I didn’t understand.
No amount of my love patched him up. A lesson learned the hard way.
I also knew I couldn’t risk him finding me.
The day I’d fled Sydney, I’d deleted every trace of my existence from my old phone, dumped it in a bin under the flashing neon sign of a greasy takeout place, and disappeared.
I had to. Four failed attempts. Chris had always found me.
My parents would have to wait.
Lola
I’m okay, Mum. I’ll try to call you tonight. Love you xxoo
I wouldn’t call.
After slipping my phone into my bag, I sucked in a breath deep enough to conquer the world and turned the knob.
The door cracked open. Sunlight poured in a gap just wide enough for me to peek outside.
If I scrunched into the corner and angled myself just right, I could see a sliver of my front garden.
Yolanda often hovered near the gate…
My next-door neighbour loved to chat. The day I’d moved in, she’d announced that her roses were the best in town, and I quickly realised her prize-winning blooms needed an awful lot of extra love around the time I left for work each morning.
I squeezed the doorknob tighter to stop the tremor in my fingers.
This wasn’t the morning for one of Yolanda’s chats.
Anxiety left my nerves dog-eared and worn, the battered pages of a story I’d read too many times.
I thought I’d have longer before the reality of my old life collided with the fantasy I was creating in my new one.
I inched the door open a little wider. I glanced left. Right.
All clear.
Diving outside, I pulled the door shut, checked the lock twice, and raced for the gate.
“Morning, pet.”
Balls.
I plastered on a smile before I turned my head.
The wafer-thin skin around Yolanda’s eyes crinkled when she smiled back.
Her hair was a puff of steel-wool curls, and after she popped the cigarette in her mouth, her hands were free to cinch the belt of her purple bathrobe tighter around her waist. The tips of bunny ear slippers peeked from underneath.
“I couldn’t help noticing you had a visitor yesterday,” Yolanda said, a grey eyebrow arching as she took a drag of her cigarette.
No doubt she’d seen plenty when she’d hung out her front window gawking as Aiden’s black beast of a truck pulled up out front. Yolanda made it her business to know everything that happened on our street.
“Aiden, um… just… you know…” My laugh was a mess of noise plagued by more nerves. “He gave me a ride home.”
Yolanda blew a thin line of smoke into the air. “Did he?”
The surprise in her voice only fuelled the flutter in my chest. “It was nothing,” I said.
To most people, it would have been nothing.
Five minutes of silence. Me, biting the inside of my cheek, unsure what to say.
And still, the memory of sitting next to Aiden left my face burning.
A well-read copy of The Count of Monte Cristo had sat on his dashboard.
I’d ached to ask him about it. What was his favourite part?
Who was his favourite character? Did he love reading too?
And when I’d ducked my head, sneaking a peek at his strong profile, I’d stopped myself from blurting out, “Why do you smell so good?”
Thankfully.
I’d embarrassed myself enough for one afternoon.
“So, it was nothing, eh?” Yolanda said.
“Aiden offered.” Grimacing, I added, “I needed some help after going a little bit overboard with some online shopping.” Really overboard.
Receiving my pay was like winning the lottery. My money. In my account. To spend any way I wanted.
I didn’t miss the crisp white envelope of money Chris had shoved at me.
The small allowance he’d trusted me to manage had barely been enough to cover our food.
My stomach had grumbled more than once, and some weeks, I’d been so very grateful there was a complimentary fruit basket at the clinic where I used to work.
After paying for everything Chris needed, there had never been much left over for me.
“Nice man, that Aiden McKinnon,” Yolanda was saying. “Strong. Proud. Built like a soldier.” She took another drag of her cigarette and smirked. “Not much to say for himself, though.”
That was true. Aiden rarely said much, but he was always watching. Thoughtful. A blush crept up my neck as I absently traced the neckline of my dress. And those eyes . I could drown in his stormy grey eyes.
“Fancy him going out of his way like that,” she added.
I spluttered a protest, reassuring her, “It was on his way home.”
“No, pet. It’s not. He lives up there”—the cigarette cradled in her fingers pointed in the opposite direction of the cottage—“in the hills.”
“Oh.” My heart fluttered against my ribs. He’d driven me home for no reason other than wanting to?
“Oh, she says.” Yolanda smirked. “Easy on the eye, isn’t he? A man like him catches the attention of the tourists coming through. He’s never shown much interest, though. Prefers keeping to himself, that one.”
“Perhaps he enjoys a simple kind of life?”
She croaked a laugh. “A man like him needs a woman. He’s rattling around in that big house with no one to share it with. And don’t you listen to any stories about Aiden and Ruth Wilks. She’s a beauty, make no mistake, but nothing you’ll hear is true. They’re friends. That’s all.”
I bit down on my lip. Who was Ruth? One of Yolanda’s friends from the church? Someone else I’d wandered past in town and never realised? I’d never seen Aiden talk to anyone except Harry… And he grunted his way through most of those conversations.
“That’s…nice,” I said.
“Nice, she says.” Chuckling, Yolanda blew a puff of smoke into the air.
“I’m sure Aiden will find someone.”
That comment got her eyebrow up again, and her steely eyes narrowed on me.
I pressed my lips together, but my chin still trembled. I knew what Yolanda was doing. Matchmaking. Interfering . And yet, I could imagine sitting next to Aiden on a hundred drives home without ever growing tired of the comfortable silence.
But whoever that sweet man found to share his big house in the hills wouldn’t be me.
Fear stamped a black patch over my new life.
Love was out of the question for someone like me.
I was flawed. Useless. Too stupid to do anything right.
And as much as I tried to blot out the words Chris had roared at me too many times, his cruelty drowned out any whispers of hope when I dared to dream about something more.
And I dared to dream about Aiden more than I should.
Brooke flipped the lock on the clinic door. “I thought today would never end,” she moaned. “I’m going home to drown my sorrows in a bubble bath, a glass of the sparkling wine you brought over for our pedicure day, and binge-watch too many episodes of Soccer Mum Socialites .”
I tugged my tote higher on my shoulder. “Today wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Rose Parker almost had a heart attack!”
“She most certainly did not.”
Despite Rose declaring her impending doom to the waiting room, my official diagnosis was heartburn from indulging in too much chocolate.
A good way to go, if you ask me. After some extra fussing, an antacid, and sharing a cup of ginger tea, she’d pottered out of my room an hour later, as good as new.
Brooke grinned. “Did she convince you to meet her grandson yet?”
“She may have suggested catching up for a coffee with him.”
“He’s one of the firefighters in town, you know.”
“A fact she reminded me of many times.”
“So, what did you say?”
“I politely declined.”
“Because?” When I only stammered out some sounds, Brooke’s grin widened. “Does your reluctance have something to do with a certain cabinetmaker, perhaps?”
“No…”
She snorted a laugh. “Sure thing, Lolly. Well, the next time you just happen to bump into Aiden, can you put in a good word for me?” She tossed her hair off her shoulders. “I need all the help I can get with Harry.”
“You’re interested in him?”
“I’ve been prancing around for a year trying to get that man’s attention.”
“No bites?”
“Not even a nibble!”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I promised . “If I happen to bump into Aiden.”
After waving goodbye, the fact I headed straight to the store had absolutely nothing to do with tempting fate. No. That wasn’t my plan at all.
The basket clutched in my hand swung empty as I wandered around the aisles, my mind lost, imagining how bristly Aiden’s beard would feel against my skin if he kissed me.
It was a silly fantasy that plagued my thoughts more and more.
Stopping in front of the baking section, my fingertips brushed over my bottom lip, a spark rippling over my skin.
I decided kissing Aiden would feel wonderful .
Still distracted, I tossed a bag of flour into my basket and turned the corner—only to halt, my heart stuttering to a stop just as I collided with a broad chest blocking my path.
I pushed my glasses up my nose. “I—I’m so s-sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The rich rumble of Aiden’s voice rolled over me. I almost dropped my basket. “H-hi,” I said.
He squared his shoulders and tugged the buttons of his flannel shirt as if he were trying to make sure they were extra straight. “Evening, Lola. You, um…” He stuffed his hand in his pocket. “Is that one of your new outfits?”
Nodding, I suddenly became self-conscious, twisting my fingers in the belt of the floral dress. “It’s a little…much…”
“No. It’s nice. Pretty.”
“Thanks.” The word whooshed out of me. Nice . Pretty . I couldn’t remember the last time a man had complimented my outfit. My chest filled with a warmth as soft and satisfying as fresh pancakes out of the pan. “And thank you. For yesterday.”
His shoulder lifted. “No big deal.”
My heart would have sunk if his cheeks hadn’t darkened to a hot pink under his beard. Maybe it was a big deal.
“I, um… I noticed your book,” I said. “In your car. I didn’t mean to peek. It was on your dashboard. The Count of Monte Cristo .” I nibbled on my bottom lip to stop the rambling.
“I like reading.”
“Me too! I haven’t read that one yet. I’m making my way through all the classics now that…” I’m allowed to waste time reading . I couldn’t say that, though. I hoped the smile I managed didn’t look forced. “I have more spare time for reading these days.”
“It’s a good book. Long, though.”
“What do you like about it?”
Aiden’s head tilted, thinking over my question. “It’s just… sort of… timeless.” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Most people assume it’s only about revenge, but I think it’s about redemption. Finding hope where there shouldn’t be any. Finding…love.”
“O-oh.”
“Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s a bit heavy after a long day at work.”
“No! Not at all. It sounds brilliant.”
He smiled. “I picked up some vintage hardbacks at an antique store in the city a few years back. Five volumes. Illustrated. Real leather binding. Gold embossed trim.”
Impressed, my mouth dropped open.
He chuckled. “Yeah. Nice, right? I’ll let you borrow them sometime if, um…” His shoulder went up again. “If you’d like that?”
“I’d love that.” Pressing my palm against my chest didn’t calm the frantic thump underneath. “I promise I’ll take such good care of your books.” The slow way his eyes noticed that movement and locked there only made my heart pound harder.
“You would,” he said. “What wouldn’t be safe in your little hands, Lola?”
Aiden’s tone was gentle. He wasn’t flirting. Why would he be? But the naughtiest thoughts popped into my head.
None of him would be safe from my hands.
I wanted to tear open the neat buttons of his flannel and run my hands over the white T-shirt he wore underneath. He looked so strong. His body would be magnificent. Masculine . I’d beg him to let me crawl into his lap so I could pet him everywhere… Run my fingers through his beard… Kiss him…
Dazed, I stared up at Aiden. “Caramel,” I sighed, twirling a strand of hair around my finger.
A confused chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest. “Sorry?”
I shook myself from the fog of my embarrassing daydream with a nervous laugh. “Caramel is the one thing I can’t cook,” I explained. “I never get it quite right. The sugar always burns.”
I quickly turned away and sucked in an enormous breath, trying to regain some composure. It didn’t work. Nerves slipped out in a humiliating giggle.
Balls.
My palm landed on my forehead. Panic smothered the giddy feeling of imagining a future with the man standing in front of me with a blank look on his face.
I’d promised myself I’d be stronger this time.
“You okay, lov—Lola?”
“Y-yeah! Yeah!” I wheezed. “Totally…totally fine!”
The hopeless romantic still foolishly lurking inside me wanted to pin my unfulfilled dreams of true love on Aiden.
Why? The answer wasn’t hard to find. His rough charm and strong arms would shield me from old ghosts—sure, that certainly didn’t hurt.
But deeper, beneath all that, I knew it was because Aiden was the first man who’d shown me genuine kindness in a very long time.
I wouldn’t find what I needed rolling in my sheets with this gentle beast—if he’d even have me. I needed to live my life for myself. On my terms. Just…
On my own .
“Well… I guess I’d better, um…” I held up my shopping basket. Yes, it was definitely time to go. “It was lovely catching up with you, Aiden. Thank you again for last night.”
If he said goodbye, I didn’t hear him.
Like a coward, I scurried past, dropped the basket of groceries by the door, and bolted out of the store.