Painting Rainbows

by Kiera Jayne

  Grady bounced on the heels of his feet as he watched Ed dribble the football from foot to foot in front of him. Since his dad was deployed and his mother was a useless sportswoman, the poor boy was lacking in ball skills. Edwin was lucky to have his Uncle Grady to step in to teach him.

  “Come on, then. You going to take the shot, or what, boy?” Grady jeered, playfully getting down to Edwin's level.

  “I don't think I can, Uncle Grady,” Edwin sulked.

  “Why not?” Grady asked.

  “Because I'm not very good. I won't get it in.”

  Grady stepped over to the boy and took him by the shoulders. “Hey. How do you know if you don't try? Huh? Even if you don't get it in at first, so what? You practice until you do, and you don't ever give up. Never give up working for something you want.”

  Edwin lifted his head and smiled. “Okay, I'll try.”

  “Good lad.” Grady dashed backwards to the middle of the kiddie-sized goal his brother-in-law had built before going away.

  Edwin dribbled the ball again. Grady had to stop himself from laughing when the lad put on a serious battle face. Edwin started to jog, kicking the ball along in front of him. Grady widened his stance. Edwin finally kicked the ball as hard as he could. It sailed straight past Grady and into the net. The two guys threw their arms up in the air and cheered.

  “I won, I won!” Edwin cried.

  Grady scooped the boy up into his arms and shook him around. “Ah, you see? You just have to believe in yourself!”

  “I beat you, Uncle Grady!”

  “No need to get cheeky, now.” Grady hung Edwin upside down.

  Giggling, Edwin said, “Hey, put me down!”

  “Are you two playing soccer?”

  Her voice floated through the air like birdsong—was so gentle, so beautiful. When Grady saw her approach them, she took his breath away. The woman could dress down in the sexiest way possible. Her long, dark hair fell around her shoulders and framed her face. She’d put some extra make up on, making those gorgeous green eyes stand out and that pretty little pout of a mouth slightly pinker than usual.

  Grady was torn. He wanted to take Layla in his arms and kiss her hello, but at the same time, he was still pissed at her for the way she'd acted that morning. This woman was making him crazy.

  Grady set Edwin back onto his feet and frowned at Layla. “You did not just call it soccer.”

  Edwin wrinkled his little, button nose and peered up at Grady. “What's soccer?”

  “It's nothing. It's an imaginary, made up game,” Grady informed the boy.

  Layla laughed and folded her arms across her chest.

  Edwin picked up the black and white ball. “Uncle Grady has been teaching me how to play football. I just scored a goal.”

  “Oh, Edwin, that's awesome! Nice work, mate.” Layla said as she gave the boy a hug.

  “Are you here for dinner?”

  She made a show of appearing hopeful. “Do you think you have room for me at your table? Is there enough food for me?”

  “I'll go and ask Mum to make sure,” Edwin decided.

  “Aw, thanks. I'd really like to eat with you,” Layla said with a small laugh.

  “Maybe I could show you my room, too!” Edwin realised.

  Grady tapped Edwin on the head. “Alright, go on, then,” he laughed.

  Edwin raced away without a moments’ hesitation.

  Grady narrowed his eyes at Layla. “I don't think I can forgive you.”

  Layla's face fell. “I'm sorry,” she whispered as she hung her head.

  “So you should be. Calling football ‘soccer.’ You bloody Aussie!”

  Layla looked up, her face a picture of shock.

  “Maybe you need a coach, too,” Grady suggested as he stepped forward. A lump formed in his throat as his nose caught the scent of the paint that still clung to her fingers.

  Layla nodded. “I do. I need a coach to teach me . . . lots of things.”

  “Like what?” Grady whispered.

  Her eyes seemed to glisten and Grady realised there were tears in them.

  “Come on, Layla and Uncle Grady!” Edwin shouted.

  Layla quickly turned away and made her way to the house. Rolling his eyes, Grady tagged along behind her.

  Edwin marched straight into the kitchen and to the refrigerator, and pulled out a carton of juice.

  “And just what do you think you're doing?” His mother demanded.

  “I'm thirsty,” Edwin replied.

  “So, you think you can just have juice, do you?” Myra snatched the juice from his grasp.

  “But Mum, I'm thirsty!” Edwin repeated with a moan.

  “You can have a glass of water. Juice is for tea and breakfast, only, you know that. And before anything else, you can go and wash your hands.”

  “Fine then,” Edwin huffed.

  Grady stepped towards the boy and clamped his hand on his shoulder. “Oi. Is that any way to talk to your mum?”

  Edwin slumped forward. “Sorry, Mum.”

  “That's better. Off you go.” Grady released Edwin and the kid ran off to get ready for dinner.

  “Layla,” Myra said, turning to the Aussie and squeezing her arm, “it's so nice to have you here.”

  “Thank you, Myra,” Layla replied. “I was pleased for the invite.”

  “You're welcome. So, tell me: how are you enjoying your stay in Upper Telwick? I've noticed you've been getting out and about the last couple of weeks,” Myra picked up a crunchy pretzel and offered some to the others.

  Layla and Grady reached into the bowl at once. Their hands brushed and Layla instantly felt a jolt shoot through her skin.

  “Ah, yeah,” Layla said, snapping herself out of it. “Grady and Rosie have been nice enough to urge me to venture out of the cottage a bit more.” She popped the pretzel into her mouth.

  “That's nice. It's good to have someone to befriend. Am I right, Grady?” Myra asked.

  A sliver of a smile touched Grady's lips as he moved to an overhead cupboard and pulled out some plates. “You are.”

  “Grady's been keeping to himself a lot since he's been staying with us, too,” Myra said.

  “Myra,” Grady hissed.

  Layla raised her eyebrows at him. “Oh, he has, has he?”

  “It's not his fault. He's been putting in the hours at the café and helping me around the house and with Edwin,” Myra explained.

  “Myra, stop it,” Grady moaned, sounding much like his nephew did a few moments before.

  “Well, then, its good he's getting out and about now, isn't it?” Layla moved further into the kitchen, oblivious to the knowing glances that passed between the other three adults. She planted one hand on her hip and sent Grady a haughty look. “And is that any way to talk to your sister?”

  His coffee-brown eyes narrowed and Grady studied her for a moment, before pulling out the top drawer. The back of his hand brushed her stomach. Even through her top, she could feel the heat of his skin.

  “You can set out the cutlery,” Grady instructed.

  Layla fished knives and forks out of the drawer and followed Grady into the tiny dining room. It was a tight squeeze between the edges of the brown timber table and the wall and Layla wondered how on earth they would all fit to sit down.

  As she trailed behind Grady placing the cutlery down, Layla's gaze travelled to Grady's fit arse. It was a delicious arse, tight and perfectly rounded. It had felt wonderful to squeeze it when they'd been having sex the other night.

  Grady threw a cocky glance at her over his shoulder. “Are you checking me out?”

  How had he known?

  “No,” Layla responded.

  “Yeah you are.”

  Layla let out a quiet laugh. “Do you have eyes in the back of your head?”

  “Yup,” he responded.

  Layla shook her head and laughed again. “Whatever.”

  “You don't believe me?”

  “It's not a case of me believing you. I j
ust think you've got tickets on yourself,” Layla replied.

  “More to the point, I think you’ve got tickets on me.” He threw the Grady Smirk over his shoulder at her.

  Layla laid out the last set of cutlery. “I thought you were mad at me?”

  Grady set down the final plate, then turned to face her. “I'm frustrated with you. Big difference.”

  Layla hung her head. “I'm sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for? That's what I don't understand,” Grady queried.

  “I’m sorry that I've dragged you into my life when it's such a big mess.”

  “I don't remember much dragging. In fact, I think I recall running after you. As difficult as that was at the time.” Grady covered his crotch with his hands.

  Layla broke into a fit of giggles. She felt his fingers sink into her hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp.

  “I’m sorry, too, you know. I’ve been trying to break down your barriers by getting you to conquer your fears, but I think I’ve pushed you a little too much. In trying to get you to come out of your shell, I’ve not considered your feelings. I’ve been a bit of a dick, to be honest. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Layla flashed him a coy glance. “I guess I can.”

  “I want to see you again, Layla.” Grady's voice was soft, desperate, pained.

  Layla moved closer to him.

  “You're consuming me, gorgeous.”

  “You scare the shit out of me, Grady Bradbury,” Layla returned as her hand joined his, their fingers interlacing in her hair.

  “The good kind of scared?” he whispered against her lips.

  Layla nodded.

  “Then you can overcome it, can't you.”

  It wasn't a question. It was a statement. One that helped Layla feel braver than she had felt in a while.

  “I think I can with your help.” She ran her fingers over the peace beads around his wrist and down his arm.

  Grady smiled a true smile and lowered his lips to hers . . .

  “Dinner time!” Edwin shouted as he bounced into the dining room.

  Layla and Grady jumped apart.

  “Excuse me,” Edwin said, pushing his uncle aside and pulling out a chair between the pair of lovers.

  Layla and Grady stared at each other across the small division the little man had inadvertently created. Heat zinged between them.

  “Layla, will you sit next to me?” Edwin asked her as he pulled himself up into his booster seat.

  Layla checked the small space between the wall and the table. “If I can fit.”

  Grady appeared opposite her and pulled it out a bit. “There. You should be good.”

  Layla muttered a quiet thank you as Myra, Rosie and Hector carried in the roast lamb, vegetables, gravy, and mint jelly.

  “Oh my gosh, are those Yorkshire puddings?” Layla exclaimed, indicating the little, golden, savoury pastries.

  “They are, yes. Would you like a couple?” Myra asked.

  “Please!”

  Grady liked the way Layla's eyes lit up at the sight of a simple Yorkshire pudding. Perhaps she wasn't as hard to please as he had thought. Perhaps she wasn't naturally a neurotic person at all. Something had happened to make her this way. Something not so long ago. He dared to think that it was perhaps only a few weeks ago. That it was the reason she was here.

  Whatever it was, Grady was determined to find out. Even if he had to wait a while, he'd find out. And he would make sure that Layla knew she didn't ever have to hide anything from him again.

  Dinner was delicious and the company was delightful. Laughs and stories abounded. After the meal, the group took tea in the living room. This delighted Layla. It was just like an episode of Downton Abbey to her, only, in this modern-day version, the men and women didn't part ways after the meal.

  While Rosie and Myra went to clean up the dishes and Hector was hustled into the kitchen as well, Layla sank into the lounge beside Grady. Not sure of how far she should proceed, she sat right on the edge of the seat and glanced at the soccer game on the telly. “Who's winning?”

  “No one. It's just highlights,” Grady answered.

  Layla nodded. “Oh. Soccer highlights, huh? The, uh, soccer sure looks pretty full on.”

  Grady laughed and tugged on her shirt until she tumbled backwards. His arms wrapped around her and with a sigh, Layla curled into him. “Bloody Aussies,” he murmured into her hair before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

  Snuggling up to him, Layla listened to the beat of his heart against her ear. It was soothing to her and she could dare to imagine being with him like this on a regular basis. “I want this,” she mumbled.

  “You want what?” Grady whispered.

  “Us. I’m sorry for mucking you around.”

  A tiny groan came from the armchair across from them. Grady pressed his finger to his mouth and pointed at Edwin.

  “Is he asleep?” Layla whispered.

  Grady nodded.

  Layla glanced at Edwin in his spaceman pyjamas, all curled up with one hand under his head and his long lashes brushing the tops of his chubby cheeks. “He's such a special boy.”

  “He loves you. He talks about you non-stop,” Grady said.

  Layla smiled up at the handsome Englishman beside her. “He does?”

  Grady lowered his lips to hers. “Who could blame him?”

  Layla lost herself in his gaze for a moment until he kissed her and her eyes fluttered closed. It was so tender and heartfelt, Layla's breath caught for a moment. When she remembered to breathe again, she deepened the kiss and teased his tongue with hers.

  They broke the kiss and Layla snuggled into Grady again. She turned her attention to the television, just as a goal was scored. “Yay, he got it in!”

  “Hey, now. We don't go for Chelsea,” Grady informed her. He was so deadly serious that Layla had to bury her mouth in her hand to silence her laugh.

  Myra stepped into the living room and peered down at her sleeping son. “Well, now. I guess it's time for beddie-byes, my boy.”

  “Here, let me.” Grady got to his feet and carefully lifted Edwin into his arms.

  Edwin's head lolled against Grady's shoulder, but he woke slightly and mumbled into Grady's neck.

  “It's alright, mate. It's time for bed, eh?”

  Edwin's sleepy eyes zeroed in on Layla. “Can Layla read me a story?”

  “Not tonight, sweetheart. You're too tired for a story.” Myra brushed her fingers through her son’s hair.

  “I am not,” Edwin moaned, even as his eyes fluttered closed again.

  “We should be heading off now,” Rosie announced as she and her husband stood in the doorway.

  “Yep, the B&B can't do without us for too long,” Hector added.

  “Then I guess I'll see you all later.” Layla's gaze lingered on Grady's for a few moments as she got up.

  “But I want Layla to read me a story,” Edwin moaned again.

  “The problem is, Rosie and Hector are my lift back to town, sweetie,” Layla apologised.

  “You know . . . you could always stay,” Myra suggested. “It'd be a mattress on the floor, but you're more than welcome.”

  “No, it wouldn't,” Grady spoke up.

  Layla, Rosie and Myra all turned their curious expressions onto him.

  Grady looked only at Layla. “You're not sleeping on the spare mattress. Stay. The boy wants a story.”

  The boy had already fallen back to sleep, his steady breaths tickling Grady's neck. That didn't matter. Myra, the best sister in the entire world, had given her live-in brother permission to have the girl he liked sleep over. There was no way he was going to let that opportunity slip by.

  “That's okay with you?” Layla asked.

  “Sure it is. Now, go on. Get my son to his bed while I see these two off.” Myra indicated Rosie and Hector.

  Layla turned to the older couple. “Thank you for bringing me.”

  Rosie flashed that warm smile Layla loved so much. “You're
welcome.” She tapped Hector’s belly with her hand. “Come on, love. Back home we go.”

  Myra led them out the front door while Layla followed Grady upstairs. Watching him rock Edwin as he walked made something inside Layla swell. A feeling that was strong—one she couldn't rightly ignore for much longer.

  They entered a room with glowing stars on the ceiling, a spaceship night lamp on a bedside table and some pictures of a handsome soldier in uniform holding Edwin at various ages. The IKEA storage cube shelves held a collection of robots, toy soldiers and dinosaurs, books. Some fossils the boy had collected and some of his paintings from school. He didn’t paint rainbows. His dad seemed to feature in a lot of them.

  Layla pulled the military camouflage covers on his bed back and Grady gently laid Edwin down on top of the space sheets, before tucking him in. Edwin was out like a light and wasn't waking up for anything. Grady placed his hand on the small of Layla's back and guided her out of the room. He pulled the door, leaving it open by mere centimetres.

  They stepped away from Edwin's room and Grady pulled Layla into his arms. “You know, I may have been presumptuous before. If you're not comfortable sleeping in my bed, you don't have to. I can set you up on the spare mattress.”

  “But that won't be as cosy. Who will I cuddle with to keep warm?” Layla wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  “Ah, I see. Body warmth,” Grady said. “I'm your hot water bottle, am I?”

  Layla giggled. “If you like.”

  Grady's arm pulled her tight against him. He buried his face into the crook of Layla's neck and kissed her. “Mm. I like that idea very much. Bedtime, gorgeous.”

  “Are you exhausted?” Layla managed to ask around the heady desire that was taking her over.

  “Not yet . . . but I plan to be.”

  He waltzed her backwards into his room and pushed the door shut behind them. A tiny moan escaped Layla's lips as Grady assaulted them with his own.

  Layla yanked Grady's shirt up and over his head as he did the same with hers. His fingers seared trails of fire along her skin as he reached behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing her breasts.

  “Ohh, fuck, you're so hot,” Grady groaned.

  Layla dragged his bottom lip between her teeth as she made short work of his jeans. She nibbled his collarbone as she grasped his cock, which grew harder at her touch.