What Love Sounds Like

by Alissa Callen

  She placed her bowl on the rug and tilted her head to study him. ‘There must have been some foods you were given as a child for special occasions…or as a reward.’

  He rested the water bottle against his leg before looking out over the garden. Mia too looked at the manicured lawn, established shade trees and garden beds lush with fragrant summer colour.

  ‘Well,’ he said after a moment, ‘after I’d help my grandmother dig in the garden, we’d have a cool drink and scones with jam. Do scones qualify?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, scones count as a treat.’ Mia’s voice gentled. ‘Maybe Tilly and I could make you some?’

  She anticipated the quick shake of his head but not the visible tensing of his muscles. It was as though his body prepared for a flight response to a threat.

  She pulled a final tub out of the cooler even as he uncrossed his legs getting ready to stand. ‘Now we have one last flavour to try. Maybe you could serve this one up Kade, as it has been in the freezer for the longest and will be frozen solid?’

  She set the tub on the rug before him and handed him the ice-cream scoop. Would he stay or would he go?

  His tanned fingers didn’t wrap around the white plastic handle.

  ‘Kade?’ Her eyes searched his. ‘Tilly and I promise you’ll like this flavour.’

  Tilly nodded, worry pinching her heart-shaped face.

  His lips tightened but then he took hold of the ice-cream scoop and sat back onto the rug.

  ‘Do I have your word that I won’t choke?’

  She placed her hand on her chest. ‘Cross my heart. This flavour is just plain vanilla with not a sprinkle or lolly in sight. ‘

  Kade picked up the tub.

  Mia turned her attention back to her own ice-cream. She tasted a cold mouthful. Beside her Tilly continued to watch Kade, her own ice-cream forming a forgotten rainbow puddle in her bowl. Mia’s heart bled. Tilly remained concerned her uncle would still leave. She had to ease the little girl’s anxiety.

  ‘Kade, I still can’t believe you don’t like Fairy Surprise Sprinkles. Maybe I should have bought the Wicked Wizard Sprinkles, but even I draw the line at eating tiny, warty, green toads.’

  Tilly giggled, her little shoulders relaxed and she began eating her ice-cream.

  Kade didn’t comment. Instead he whisked off the container lid and, despite Mia’s words of reassurance, he examined the contents as if looking in a waterhole for dangerous objects.

  ‘Coward,’ she said.

  Teeth, as white as the tub of plain, safe, ice-cream in Kade’s hands, flashed in a broad grin.

  Mia stared. Her spoon halfway to her mouth.

  Kade had just smiled. Not a remote-smile, an almost-smile or even a half -mile. But a full, unguarded smile. At her.

  The ice-cream on her spoon slipped. Too late she raised her bowl. The rainbow-blob fell onto her chest and then with inexorable slowness slid beneath her dress to fill the sensitive valley between her breasts. Her lids closed.

  Please don’t let Kade have noticed.

  Her eyes opened to his large hand offering her a red napkin.

  ‘Need any help?’ His grin again flashed white.

  ‘No. Thanks.’

  She reached for a serviette from the pile on the rug and took two attempts to pick up the napkin. Kade’s rare smile had left her more light-headed than any outback heatstroke. She stripped all breathlessness from her voice and fought for composure. ‘This is something I can handle on my own.’

  He chuckled softly. ‘Coward.’

  Kade’s amusement vanished as quickly as the ice-cream had disappeared beneath the top of Mia’s dress. Strain corded the muscles in his neck. So much for putting an end to her and Tilly’s unproductive fun. He couldn’t be around Mia for longer than two minutes before his focus melted.

  If he’d thought she looked a pretty picture from his office window, up close she was stunning. She’d swapped her formal shirts and trousers for a cooler, casual sundress. Every so often the right strap would slide down her slender shoulder and the dress front would dip a little lower.

  He swallowed a large helping of vanilla ice-cream, uncaring that it would numb his palate. It didn’t matter if Tilly turned her sad eyes on him, he had to leave. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to realise that Mia had become his new personal kryptonite. One gentle question about his childhood and personal information had left his lips at a rate of knots. One brush of her fingers against his hand and all reason vanished. One spoonful of renegade ice-cream and business contracts were the last thing on his mind.

  He placed his spoon into his empty bowl and stood. Mia placed the serviette in the basket and rose to her feet too. The breeze moulded her dress against her. Her wayward strap again slid down her right shoulder.

  ‘Kade,’ she said, voice quiet, ‘when will Tilly see you again?’

  He glanced at his niece who was busy stacking the used bowls and placing them into the picnic basket. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve work to do.’

  ’She misses you when you’re not around. It was a long two days for her.’

  Kade ignored the twinge of his conscience. He shrugged his shoulders and stepped off the rug. ‘I’m a busy man.’

  ‘What’s so important to keep you from a child who needs you?’

  ‘Ten million worth of dollar signs.’ Even as he uttered the glib words he knew he was out of line. They might be normal talk in the corporate jungle but they had no place at an outback ice-cream picnic.

  ‘I see.’ Disgust pressed her lips together.

  What was so wrong with being driven? Money gave him options and was a tangible measure of his success. Neither life, nor his own father, had ever given him cause to think anything other than money was what mattered. His flippant ten million dollar comment had been uncalled for but if anyone knew how upper management operated, it was Langford Windsor’s daughter.

  He turned to Tilly to hide his confusion. ‘I really must go. Thank you…for a nice picnic.’ She smiled and he found himself smiling in return.

  He reached for the vanilla container to pack into the cooler. Mia’s hand was quicker. The tub hung between them like a cable car suspended over a gorge.

  ‘I’ll put the things away.’ One of Mia’s eyebrows arched. ‘We don’t want to keep you let alone cost you any money.’

  She was so close he could see the softness of her mouth that would taste as sweet as ice-cream and feel the chill of her condemnation. Tension coiled around his chest. He wanted Mia’s approval, not censure. He wanted her to listen to him as she listened to Tilly and wanted her to smile at him as she smiled at his niece.

  What she thought of him shouldn’t matter. Money. Focus. That’s what life was all about. Not people. Not feelings. And especially not an auburn-haired speech pathologist with music in her laughter and secrets in her large eyes.

  He released his grip on the container. He needed to get to work and back to the only world he could control. If Mia wanted to place the tub into the cooler herself, she could. She wasn’t the one he should be battling.

  He had a war to win with himself.

  Chapter Six

  MIA FROZE. Her ears strained, but the only sound to disturb the midnight quiet was her breathing. She eased her strangle-hold on the book clutched to her chest and continued along the hallway. The cotton of her pyjama shorts whispered in the intense silence. Stop it. There was no reason for her senses to be on high alert or her nerves as jittery as a red-lolly fuelled toddler.

  Her pulse leapt again at a faint scrape of sound behind the door on her left. It wasn’t as though Kade was going to step out from the shadows and surprise her. She glanced out a hallway window toward the large shed that housed his helicopter. She’d heard the whir of rotor blades and the barks of the workmen’s dogs hours ago. He’d be well and truly asleep after his day trip to Sydney.

  She released a slow breath and headed for the stairs. She’d no doubt that yesterday on their picnic the first bricks in the wall between him and Ti
lly had been dislodged. Then he’d put the making of money ahead of her welfare and every single loose brick had been firmly wedged back into place. An impression confirmed this morning at breakfast when he’d appeared power-dressed in his charcoal suit. He’d barely looked at Mia and only shot his niece a stiff nod, before piloting his helicopter to Sydney for a meeting. Kade could avoid Tilly all he wanted but Mia wasn’t about to abandon her unofficial duty. She would make room in Kade’s life for Tilly.

  Mia pushed open the kitchen door. Two things registered as she entered the dark room. One, the range-hood light was on and two, the light from the open fridge spilled over a picture-perfect set of masculine abs.

  Air quit her lungs. Kade. White shirt untucked. Unbuttoned. Milk wasn’t going to help her sleep now.

  Her fingers clamped around the spine of her book. She had to leave before he caught sight of her and before her professionalism became undermined by spotted-green pyjamas and birds-nest hair. She stepped backward. A floorboard creaked.

  Kade’s head lifted. The fridge door swung shut, plunging his torso into darkness. The remaining range-hood light lit the right side of his face in a soft glow. There was nothing soft about his expression. He looked tired, testy and as uncomfortable as she was about discovering each other in the kitchen.

  ‘Hi. Sorry,’ she said in what she hoped passed as a light and breezy tone. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. You must have had a long day.’

  Not expecting him to answer, she walked into the kitchen and made a beeline for she the row of coffee cups that lined a shelf on the large wooden kitchen hutch. A strained quiet stretched to all four corners of the room.

  She secured her book beneath her elbow and stretched on tippy-toes to wrap her fingers around a mug. The book slid from beneath her arm to land with a loud thud on the floor. Just. Great. She may as well have grabbed a mega-phone to announce to Kade that he rattled her composure.

  ‘Sorry. Butterfingers.’ She bent to pick up the book and place it on the bench. ‘I’ll heat some milk and be gone.’ Mug in her hand, she headed for the fridge and tugged at the door handle. It wouldn’t budge. She tugged again.

  The door jerked open. Her elbow cannoned into rock-hard flesh. Kade’s groan rolled over the top of her head.

  She spun around. ‘I’m so sorry, Kade, I didn’t realise…’

  She stopped. Kade was so near the scent of his woody aftershave infused her senses. So near she only had to raise her arm a little and her fingertips would glide over his bare chest. She fastened her fingers around the mug to stop them doing anything foolish.

  Kade slipped a hand inside his open shirt and rubbed his heart where her elbow had collided. ‘It’s fine.’ Weariness rasped in his voice. ‘I shouldn’t have stood so close. The fridge door sticks. I was going to open it for you.’

  He reached past her into the fridge for the milk. ‘Here you go.’ He passed her the milk bottle.

  She stepped sideways and placed her mug onto the closest bench top. She busied herself pouring the milk and studying Kade as he searched for something in the freezer section of the fridge. Milk suddenly overflowed from the mug. She jerked the bottle upright. So much for multi-tasking.

  Self-disgust swept through her. What was she doing? Since when did she allow a man to distract her? Jack certainly hadn’t enjoyed such a privilege and he’d been the man she’d been prepared to spend the rest of her life with. So why then could Kade, a stranger who’d she’d been blindsided into living with for a fortnight, wreak such havoc on her self-control?

  She plonked the milk bottle onto the bench and went in search of a cloth. She had to get herself together. It was bad enough ever since Kade stepped into her office that memories of her childhood had resurfaced. She now didn’t need a far more adult pain to reappear. She hadn’t thought about Jack for a long time. She’d made sure his duplicity and his abandonment hadn’t contaminated the life she’d made for herself in the outback. She’d put her failed engagement, as well as her father’s rejection, behind her. She lifted the mug and wiped up the spilt milk with swift movements. In the same way she’d worked hard to correct her stammer, she’d worked hard to unpack her emotional baggage when she’d first arrived at Whylandra.

  She returned the cloth to the sink as Kade placed two plastic bags from the freezer onto the kitchen island. His deft fingers secured the buttons of his shirt. ‘Can’t sleep?’

  She nodded and twisted the lid onto the milk bottle. She had to get out of the kitchen before her dignity deserted her like her fine-motor skills had.

  Kade pulled up a stool and sat at the kitchen island. ‘My grandmother also used to give me warm milk to drink when I couldn’t sleep.’

  Despite herself, Mia glanced at him. A strange note coloured his voice. It was the same note she’d hear when a client was determined not to speak and yet still did so.

  ‘Your grandmother?’

  ‘Yes.’ Kade looked around the spacious kitchen as if seeing more than mere cupboards and appliances. ‘This was my mother’s childhood home.’

  Mia picked up the milk bottle from the bench. ‘Your mother was lucky to have grown up in such a beautiful place as Berrilea. I’m sure she has many fond memories of living here.’

  ‘I guess she was lucky.’ He paused. ‘As to fond memories, I’ve no idea. She died when I was born.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. You can’t miss what you never had.’

  She knew she should return the milk bottle into the fridge, but Kade’s matter-of-fact words held her still, words that didn’t match the loss gleaming in his shadowed eyes.

  ‘Then it’s nice that you had your grandmother.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly have her either. I only visited Berrilea…’ he stared over Mia’s shoulder, ‘once when she was alive.’

  ‘Once?’

  ‘Yes. It was for my ninth birthday. For two weeks I stayed and listened to stories about my mother. I remember how old I was because it was the first and last time I ever had a birthday cake.’

  Pain trickled through her. Pain for this grown man who’d only ever had shares not toys. Who had no friends, no treats and only ever had one birthday cake. ‘You didn’t ever come back?’

  ‘Not as a child.’ His tone grew brusque. ‘My father didn’t believe in wasting time on the past and he and my grandmother didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye. Even being my mother’s mother, she didn’t have any legal right to see me and my father hired fancy lawyers to make sure that any petition she made to the courts failed.’

  Mia headed to the fridge to hide the sympathy she knew would be shining in her eyes. She wasn’t the only person whose childhood hadn’t been an idyllic one. But just because both her and Kade’s fathers possessed a skewed view of the world wasn’t any reason to remain in the dimly lit kitchen longer than she had to.

  She opened the door, making sure Kade wasn’t again behind her, and settled the milk onto the top shelf. ‘Did you ever see your grandmother again away from Berrilea?’

  ‘No.’

  His clipped answer told Mia more than if she was actually looking at him. Despite Kade believing the past was the past, the hurt of a motherless boy denied time with his grandmother resonated in his reply.

  She slowly turned. ‘I’m sorry you weren’t able to see your grandmother again. I’m sure she’d be very happy you’re here now. Especially when you’ve brought her great-granddaughter to Berrilea.’

  ‘Technically, Tilly isn’t her granddaughter. My brother and I had different mothers.’

  Kade bent to rummage through a drawer. Mia lost sight of his expression but had no trouble discerning the brittleness of his voice as he continued to speak. ‘I didn’t even know my younger half-brother had married, let alone had a child, until five weeks ago.’

  She placed her mug in the microwave and watched the china go around and around on the carousel. Her frustration at Kade’s ten million dollar comment returned. ‘Unfortunately that’s what happens when money is
put before family.’

  ‘Money has nothing to do with why I lost touch with Brad.’ The noise of drawers opening and closing punctuated Kade’s words.

  The microwave beeped and Mia removed her milk. She didn’t know Brad but she’d learned enough from Tilly’s stories to know he’d been an involved and present father. The making of money hadn’t kept him from his family. But it did keep Kade from his. She pressed the microwave door shut with a loud click. Now would be a good time to leave before their conversation deteriorated any further. ‘It’s late,’ she said. ‘I’ll leave you in peace.’

  Kade straightened to look at her. ‘I’m not like your father.’

  She gave a non-committal shrug and braved a sip of her too-hot milk. A scalded mouth was a small price to pay for not having to give a direct answer. Kade could construct pretty sentences all he wanted but his actions gleamed brighter than every shiny word. In the past three days, he’d seen Tilly twice.

  ‘I’m not, Mia.’

  She chose her words carefully. ‘Sure, you mightn’t be an exact carbon-copy. But even you must admit there are similarities. For one, you both live to work.’

  ‘I’m not like Langford in any way. Everything I do is to help Tilly. That’s why I contacted Dr. Sheldon. That’s why I’m here in the outback.’ His voice thickened. ‘Brad entrusted Tilly to me and I’ll do the utmost to ensure that she has the best life possible.’

  ‘The best life that doesn’t include you?’

  Perhaps if she held a mirror up to his world she would be able to make a dent in the wall between him and Tilly.

  ‘That’s right. The most important thing I can do for her is to employ someone qualified to raise her.’

  Nothing like Langford. Try just like Langford. After cancer had stolen her mother, a succession of cold-faced nannies had been her only care-givers. She’d go weeks without catching a glimpse of her father. She took another gulp of hot milk.

  Kade’s mouth thinned into a grim line. Curse her fair skin for showing every nuance of her thoughts. Her poor opinion would be scribbled all over her face in permanent red marker.