Leave Me Breathless

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

“I’d like to.”

  I don’t put up a fight and instead move forward, unlocking the door for him as I feel his scrutinizing gaze on me. I move away, the tension unbearably thick. “Thank you,” I say, feeling the craving in me fading under his lingering questioning stare. I can’t help but resent myself for acting so irrationally over something so silly.

  “No problem.” Ryan goes outside and I keep myself busy around the kitchen finishing my tea, leaving him to it. As I’m putting the milk back in the fridge, something catches my eye across the room, and I frown as I close the fridge door. My phone? I wander over and collect it off the window ledge. It’s been missing for days, and I didn’t see it sitting there bold as brass?

  “Where is it?” I hear Ryan call.

  I shake away my wonder and collect my tea. “You can’t miss it, Ryan. Against the fence.” It’s a twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot courtyard, so it’s not like there’s much space to search.

  He appears at the door, his expression tired. “Hannah, your bike’s not out here.”

  “What?” I frown and step forward, setting my mug of tea to the side as I pass. And when I reach the doorway, no bike. “I put it out here myself,” I say to the empty space. “The night you nearly killed me.”

  He ignores my unintentional dig and edges past me. “You been out here since?”

  I shake my head, lifting my hand and pointing. “I dumped it right there.”

  “You sure?”

  I feel anger wrestling past my bewilderment. “Yes, I’m sure,” I snap. “I’m not crazy, Ryan.” I know what I did.

  His hands come up, his face pacifying. “Hey, don’t get upset.”

  “I’m not upset.” I’m not sure what I am. Annoyed? Pissed off? Worried? I scan the walls of the courtyard, and then stomp over to the gate and check the bolt. All secure. “It can’t have disappeared into thin air.”

  “Maybe one of the kids in town took it for a joyride,” he suggests, and I sigh. It was mangled. Why would any kid want a broken bike?

  I slowly turn and rest my back on the gate. “I really loved that bike.”

  “It looked pretty old to me.”

  “It was. I got it from a secondhand store in Grange. But it was…” I fade off.

  “Old,” Ryan says, and I roll my eyes.

  “I liked it.” I traipse back inside, swallowing hard when I brush past Ryan.

  I reclaim my tea and stare at the wall as I sip it, my mind racing in circles, my body singing again with just that one minuscule brush of my body against his. “Thank you for the thought, though,” I say, turning with a smile. But it falls when I find I’m alone.

  Chapter Seven

  RYAN

  As I walk back to my truck, I can’t help but think that there’s something not right with Hannah, and with all the will in the world I can’t help wondering what. She was fine, playful even, and then out of the blue she shut down. And shut me out. The latter bothers me more than it should. I look back over my shoulder to her store but make sure I keep my feet moving. What’s your story, Hannah Bright?

  “Don’t know her, huh?” Alex says, her question tinged with too much sarcasm. I return my attention forward, finding her casually leaning against the side of my truck with one leg bent, the sole of a Van resting on the paint.

  I make it to the door and pull it open. “I didn’t say I didn’t know her,” I point out over the roof of my truck. “I said I didn’t know the store.”

  “You lied,” she accuses, and what do I do? I glare at her. It’s the only defense I have. What does she care, anyway? “Why would you lie?”

  “I didn’t lie.” I throw myself into my seat and start the engine. “Get in.”

  She’s beside me a second later, scanning the cab. “Where’s the shopping?”

  I’m confused for a second, searching the cab with her. “Huh?”

  “I left you in the store. So where’s the shopping?”

  “I abandoned it to look for you.”

  Throwing herself back in the seat dramatically, she kicks her Vans up onto the dash. “Can’t leave you to do anything,” she sighs. “Hannah must have you really distracted.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “You fancy her.”

  I put my truck into reverse and pull out. “I do not fancy her.” I don’t fancy anyone.

  “Whatever.” She pulls a lollipop from the glove box, unwraps it, and has a few sucks. “Just saying, it makes a change.”

  “What does?”

  “Well, everyone fancies you. You fancying someone is new.”

  What’s all this talk of fancying? I take the turn at the end of the high street and follow the dirt track that leads up to Len’s workshop. “Alex, I do not fancy Hannah. I do not fancy anyo—”

  “Oh my God, if she fancies you, then you two are totally gonna make out.”

  I choke on nothing and swerve, hitting an enormous pothole. “Make out?” What is this language she’s speaking?

  “Yeah, you know.” She grins at me and puckers her lips. “Mwah!”

  Oh Lord, someone help me. “Enough,” I snap, more harshly than I mean to. Though it does the trick. She shrinks into her seat and shuts up. Good. Peace. Enough of this crazy talk.

  Does Hannah fancy me?

  * * *

  After having my truck looked at by the local mechanic, I’m told it needs respraying and the closest garage is in Grange, so I make a call and arrange to take it in on Saturday.

  Watching Alex fly up the lawn onto the veranda fills me with a joy like no other. “Don’t slam the—”

  Bang!

  “Door,” I sigh, following on behind with my arms full of bags. I shoulder my way into the cabin and find Alex with her head in the freezer. She swings around, armed with our vice, and nudges the door closed with her thigh.

  I dump the shopping on the counter and grab two spoons from the drawer. “Share,” I demand. She comes over, hops onto the counter, and takes one of the spoons. We both dive in, and there’s silence for a few moments as we get our fix. The quiet time has my mind wandering again to…

  The sound of my phone saves me from the imminent straying thoughts, though I can’t help being less than grateful. Darcy. I pluck the spoon out of Alex’s hand and throw it in the sink with mine. “Go fetch some coal for the barbecue.” I lift her down and send her on her way. I don’t miss her quick glimpse of my phone screen before she leaves. “Darcy,” I answer as soon as Alex is gone, replacing the lid on the Chunky Monkey and taking it back to the freezer.

  “My brother is visiting. Mother and Father have arranged a special family supper to welcome him. I need Alexandra home by six tomorrow.”

  “I only just collected her, Darcy.”

  “You can have her back Wednesday.”

  I start to pace the cabin in an attempt to walk off my building aggravation. “No.”

  “She hasn’t seen him in over six months. Her cousin will be here. Stop being selfish, Ryan. It isn’t always about you.”

  This woman isn’t for real. “It’s never about me, Darcy. It’s about Cabbage.”

  “Will you stop referring to my daughter as a vegetable.”

  “Our daughter. She’s our daughter. Has always been our daughter, despite the fact that you tried to tell the world otherwise when she was born.” I’m fucking seething, which is standard when dealing with Darcy Hampton. “I’ll stop calling her Cabbage when you tell that dick you married to stop telling her to call him Dad.” My fist clenches, and I push it into the wooden paneling firmly. “He is not her father.”

  “He’s a good influence,” she hisses. “A provider.”

  A provider? Give me a break. I earn and I earn good, but I don’t wipe my arse on fifty-pound notes, and that makes me a bad influence. Oh, and the cabin. Apparently that’s a good enough reason to try to banish me from my daughter’s life, too. “I’ve always provided for her, Darcy, and not just money.”

  “Casper is a stable man in her life.”

  “He�
�s a toffee-nosed prick, that’s what he is.” The man is an uptight arsehole. How perfect they pretend to be, a happy little family. Casper taking over the horse-racing world and earning a mint, Darcy playing the doting, spoiled wife, and my daughter shipped off to boarding school to learn how to be a proper little lady while they live the high life. I am a thorn in their side. A defect in their flawless world. “And to be clear, Alex is my priority. She has been since I found out you’d lied to me about whose daughter she was.”

  I’ll never forget that day—the day I won the right to a paternity test. Darcy’s face said it all. I’d well and truly fucked up her plans to live happily ever after with my daughter and Casper Rochester. Alex had just turned one. Casper and Darcy had been married for over a year. He was in. No way out without losing face. I lost the first year of my daughter’s life because of that scheming bitch, so forgive me for feeling bitter.

  I hear Darcy breathe out her irritation. “Well, if she’s your priority, then you should be happy to bring her home so she can see her uncle and cousin. I don’t see what the problem is.”

  “The problem is, I haven’t seen her for two months because she’s been holed up in that school you ship her off to. This is my time, Darcy. It’s precious.”

  She sighs, and for a moment I think I might be getting through to her reasonable side. But then, this is Darcy Hampton. She doesn’t have a reasonable side. “I’m afraid I must insist.”

  The woman exhausts me. I slump where I stand, my back hitting the wall behind me, and I look up to see Alex standing at the door with a basket of coal in her arms. Her face is pensive, and I hate that she’s just listened to me ranting down the phone at her mother. I pull my mobile down from my ear and push it into my chest. “Grandmother and Grandpa are hosting a dinner tomorrow evening for your uncle.”

  “Will my cousin be there?” she asks quietly. Nervously. Fucking hell, she wants to go. I’ve heard her talk about her cousin often. She’s great fun, apparently. Who am I to stop her having fun without me? So pushing aside my need to keep her all to myself, I nod and give her a small smile to ease her guilt. And she smiles right back. I lift my phone to my ear. “I’ll drop her off tomorrow.” It irks me when Darcy responds with a satisfied sniff. She thinks she’s won. Let her think it. This isn’t about winning. It’s about Alex.

  I hang up and nod at the coal in her arms. “Your mother would have a hernia if she saw the state of you.”

  Looking down her front to the dollops of paint and the smears of black from the coal, Alex shrugs before returning her eyes to me. “Do you really hate each other that much?” she asks, and I fold with guilt.

  “I don’t hate your mother.” Lying to your daughter, Ryan. Shame on you. “I love her because she gave me you.” Eventually. After I’d fought tooth and nail in court to prove Alex was mine. I knew what it was like to grow up without a father around. Mine left Mum pregnant and without a penny. I’m the man I am today because of my mother, and making her proud has always been so important to me. Being a good dad would make her proud. I swallow and look to the heavens, mentally hearing her telling me to keep my cool. Easier said than done, Mum.

  I push my back off the wall and head for the fridge. I need a beer. Standard after dealing with Darcy.

  “Can I have one?” Alex asks.

  “No.” Cracking off the cap, I swig and make my way to Alex. “How about we go check out the bridge?”

  “Sure.” She steps outside and drops the basket of coal on the veranda, then slides her arm around my waist and hugs into my side as we make our way down the steps. “Love ya, Dad.”

  I smile and swing my arm over her shoulder. “Love you, too, stinky Cabbage.”

  She giggles and nudges me, and my smile widens.

  * * *

  “What are you gonna do?” Alex asks when we pull up the drive to the estate the next evening. I spot a gleaming Rolls-Royce under the canopied driveway and roll my eyes when the driver appears, polishing down the side of the passenger door.

  “Cry,” I quip, coming to a stop.

  “Very funny.” Unclipping her belt, she dives across the cab and lands a wet kiss on my cheek. “Be good.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I shove her away halfheartedly. “Clear off.”

  I look up when I hear someone squeal my daughter’s name, seeing a young girl dancing out of the grand entrance. “Hazel!” Cabbage shrieks in my ear, making me flinch, before scrambling out of the truck. She flies across the driveway and into the arms of her cousin, and they proceed to dance around in circles together.

  “Goodness gracious, look at the state of you.” Darcy throws a glare my way and marches over to the truck, getting up close to make sure her words aren’t heard by the girls. “She looks like a homeless stray.”

  “She looks like a kid who’s had fun,” I retort quietly. “There’s more to life than appearances.”

  She looks me up and down on a curled lip. “Obviously.”

  “Oh, come on, Darcy,” I coo, reaching out of my truck and cupping her check. She stills, and I know it’s because she’s remembering the last time I touched her. I bet amid this perfect life full of luxury there are a few things missing. “You hunted me down like a wolf eleven years ago.” And she caught me. Okay, so I was under the influence of alcohol and my balls were blue after a particularly long drought, but I can’t deny, she’s a fine-looking woman on the outside. Even if she’s ugly as sin on the inside.

  Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t remove herself from my touch. “It was a mistake. I…I…”

  “Loved every second,” I finish for her confidently, because I’m right. She purred like a pussycat all night long. And then panicked in the morning because God forbid Lord and Lady Hampton found out that their precious daughter had bedded an animal like me. “Bet it’s missionary all the way with Casper, right? Does he shower straight after?” I let a little gasp escape. “Does he make you shower before?”

  “Fuck you, Ryan.”

  “That’s really no way for a lady to speak, Darcy. What would Mummy and Daddy say if they heard such vulgar language coming from their precious daughter’s mouth?”

  Her pink lips straighten. “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you, dear Darcy, need a good fucking to loosen you up. Good luck with that.”

  “Fuck y—”

  “Mum?”

  I quickly remove my hand from Darcy’s face, giving her a cheeky wink, and she proceeds to try to compose herself. It’s quite amusing. She’s flustered. Still affected by me, even though I’m sure she fucking hates me. Good. The feeling’s mutual. Damn my blue balls. But then Alex appears, looking rather concerned, and I retract my previous thought. I can’t damn my blue balls. They’re the reason I now have my Cabbage.

  “Hey, precious,” Darcy sings, her voice shaky. On a swallow and a flick of her eyes to mine, she turns toward our daughter. “I was just talking to Ryan.”

  “You mean Dad,” Alex corrects, and I smile. “He’s my dad, Mum.”

  “Yes, your dad.” She may as well have spat it out.

  “What about?”

  “Oh, just this and that.” Claiming Alex, she walks her up the gravel drive. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for dinner.” Looking over her shoulder, Darcy shoots me down with another glare, trying to win back some dignity. It’s hilarious. I sound my horn and pull away.

  So…what am I going to do with myself now? Once again I feel like my right arm is missing. I get to the end of the driveway and sit idle for a few minutes. I could turn left and go home. Tomorrow will come quicker if I hit the sack. Or I can turn right and head to the pub for a beer.

  I indicate right and pull out.

  Chapter Eight

  HANNAH

  Karaoke. What was I thinking? But when Molly showed up and asked me if I fancied a drink, I really did. Or needed one. She neglected to mention that tonight is karaoke night, one of the most popular nights at the pub. It’s packed, and the noise is cutting as Hampton’s fines
t take to the stage. Mrs. Hatt is currently hogging the mike, delivering her version of “What’s New Pussycat.” She actually sounds like a cat, too. One that’s being strangled.

  I cringe and take refuge in my wine. “She’s been spending too much time with her pussies,” I mumble around the rim of my glass. “Good Lord, kill me now.”

  Molly starts chuckling as she cracks open our second bottle. “Well, you know what they say.”

  “What do they say?”

  “If you can’t beat them—”

  “Don’t join them,” I hold out my glass for her to top up. “There is not a chance in hell you’ll get me on that stage.” I inspect the makeshift platform that looks like something Bob threw together in an emergency. “And not only because I don’t want to sing. That stage looks like it could collapse any second.” Mrs. Hatt isn’t helping, flinging her old body around it with gusto.

  “Safe as houses,” Molly says. “Has been for years.” Turning toward me, she moves in closer so I can hear her speak at a normal volume over the painful sounds of Mrs. Hatt. Her eyes are dancing. “A little birdie told me that a certain local was in your store,” she says.

  Oh. Now, it should be easy to guess which certain local Molly is speaking of, since he is one of the only people in town who has ventured into my store, but I still find myself playing dumb. And who is this little birdie? I stare at Molly as she stares at me, waiting for my counter. I don’t have one, or I’m not prepared to feed her curiosity, since there’s nothing to be curious about.

  “Oh, come on, Hannah.”

  I sigh and take more wine, feeling a lovely numb fuzz taking hold. “You must be talking about Ryan.”

  “No, no, no.” Molly shakes her head and raises her finger, and my eyes fall to it, following it from side to side like a pendulum. “I’m talking about Ryan all-hot-and-outdoorsy-and-without-doubt-an-incredible-lay Willis.”

  “Oh, that’s his full name? I did wonder.” I roll my eyes and break out in laughter when Molly snorts and wine sprays from her nostrils. “Oh God,” I choke, slamming my glass down to snatch a tissue from my pocket.