by Eva Scott
‘I’ve heard that. I think you and I probably qualify, don’t you?’
‘Well, I certainly do. One deceased husband after a terrible battle with cancer. Having to struggle on with this place on my own … no children … getting about covered in goat dribble and who knows what else … I’d say I qualify.’ She smiled, keeping her tone as playful as possible. ‘How about you?’
‘Me? Let’s see.’ He pulled on an imaginary beard, falling in with her attempt at light-heartedness. ‘My childhood sweetheart divorced me after nearly twenty years of marriage. We tried for children. Nine failed attempts at IVF. Now I live alone in a too big house, and I don’t even have a cat to share it with.’
Lexie laughed. ‘I’m not sure you’ve got the right credentials to become a crazy cat lady.’
‘Now there is the problem with the world. It’s perfectly acceptable for women who have suffered great disappointment to buy loads of cats and shore themselves up in their houses, only venturing forth for cat food at odd intervals. But men? What do men do? No one ever talks about crazy cat men. There’s no equality in this space at all.’
‘If ever there was a time in history to set things right, I’d say it’s now,’ she said, marvelling at his ability to laugh at himself. She could learn from him.
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ He winked as he took a sip of his sparkling wine.
Billie Holiday crooned her pain and defiance in that oddly gentle yet fierce way that was unique to her. The cicadas, never respectful of art, loudly sang their own song in the background.
‘I’m sorry for … your losses.’ Lexie couldn’t let Geoff’s confession pass unnoticed, yet she couldn’t find the right words to convey the sadness she felt at the thought of Geoff and his wife wanting a child so badly and being disappointed time after time.
‘As I am sorry for yours,’ he said with a mournful look in his eyes that stripped away all the joking and fake cheerfulness to reveal the never-ending sadness lurking underneath. She felt it too.
The air around them charged again, as if the energy between them had simply been taking a rest between courses, waiting for the next opportunity.
Lexie shrugged. ‘I guess that’s life, right?’ She offered him what she’d hoped would be a dazzling smile, but it came out all wobbly.
He held out his hand.
She stared at it. Should she take it or not? It was an invitation, but to where exactly? Definitely across the line, that was for sure. Was she ready, even for such a small step?
He waited patiently.
She could hear Bea in her head. Take it. What’s the worst that could happen? He has sweaty palms or something?
Lexie placed her hand in his, carefully, tentatively. His skin, warm and smooth to the touch, seemed powered with the very essence of him. She could sense the hidden depths to him, transmitted through the connection of flesh to flesh.
He drew her towards him. She looked up into the dark fathomless depths of his eyes, seeking a clue to his intention, losing herself in the emotion she saw there.
Her heart jumped to her throat, beating a rapid tattoo to rival the cicadas. Her breath became shallow and tight, her body on alert as if she were preparing to jump out of a plane or bungee jump off a suspension bridge. There was no physical danger here, of that she was sure. Steadying herself, she let him lead her closer still until she could feel the heat radiating from him, enveloping her.
He slid his arm about her waist, sending shivers running along her skin, little eddies of pleasure swirling down her spine.
‘Shall we dance?’ he whispered in her ear as he interlaced his fingers with hers.
Her body came to rest naturally against his, her curves fitting against him as if designed to.
At first Lexie held her body stiffly, slightly away from his, trying to keep some sense of propriety, some sort of boundary, in place. But the warmth of him, the safety of him, seduced her. She allowed herself to relax a little. First her shoulders, then her back, letting go incrementally, as if testing the waters before surrendering to them completely.
He drew her a little closer until she pressed against him, her cheek coming to rest against his shoulder.
She inhaled the smell of him, a warm woody aroma that was inescapably male. His heartbeat sounded as fast as hers and she realised he was suffering nerves the same way she was. The thought offered her comfort and she sighed, sinking a little deeper into him. He tightened his arms around her just enough to let her know he’d felt her surrender.
They swayed gently to the sound of clarinets, trumpets and the double bass, transporting them to another time far away from here where the past didn’t matter, and the future didn’t exist. The candles flickered in the gentle evening breeze, holding back the shadows and keeping the world at bay.
Meanwhile Lady Day encouraged her man to leave as she liked him much too much and wanted him more than she should.
Lexie understood her predicament perfectly.
She let herself be carried away by the moment, which asked nothing of her except to be in it. Geoff’s chest, hard beneath her fingertips, provided the rock she needed, somewhere to rest awhile. She sighed contentedly.
So caught up in the cosy sensation of having a man’s arms around her, she didn’t register what was happening when he gently tipped her head back, his fingertips soft against her skin. His lips, warm and firm, descended on hers. The kiss began lightly, hesitantly, like a question which she answered without thinking. A hibernating lust awakened in response, deep and primal. Its gathering power swept through her, leaving her longing to feel the skin of this man against hers.
Then, from the same deep place, a sadness swelled to fill every available space. This man was the wrong man. His hands moved on her body differently. His kiss, while delicious, was not Malcolm’s. His smell, earthy and woody, was unlike her husband’s.
It was too soon. She needed more time.
Chapter 4
Christmas 2017
‘It’s not too late to back out.’
‘Bea! Of course it’s too late. The man is parked in my driveway. I can’t very well turn him away after accepting his booking and taking his money.’ Lexie crouched down by the window, peeking out from behind the curtain.
‘Then let him in,’ said her sister, stating the obvious in a way Lexie found extremely annoying. She sighed.
‘I intend to let him in, it’s just …’ Hardly a day had gone by without her thinking about Geoff, and now he was here. Flesh and blood. She hadn’t a clue how to handle this situation. The book she’d ordered from Amazon didn’t cover this sort of thing.
‘You fancy him,’ Bea crowed, enjoying Lexie’s discomfort.
‘I never said that,’ Lexie hissed, blushing horribly even though no one was there to see it.
‘You didn’t have to. Handsome man, romantic dinner, dancing to Billie Holiday … sounds like a perfect recipe for romance to me. Shame you lost your nerve.’
‘I did not lose my nerve,’ Lexie snapped. ‘I simply wasn’t ready.’
‘For what? A kiss? Wasn’t like the bloke was looking for marriage or anything. You’ve got to loosen up, Lexie.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ she muttered as the door to the blue Honda rental car opened.
‘Have a little fun before you hit forty.’
‘Hey! I take umbrage at that. I have plenty of fun, thank you.’
Bea snorted down the line. ‘Yeah, right. And I’m Meghan Markle.’
‘In your dreams. You’d be lucky to be let in the country, let alone Buckingham Palace,’ Lexie retorted.
‘You know what you need?’ Bea let that one go through to the keeper. ‘You need a transition man, and where are you going to find one in that backwater town you call home?’ Anyone listening would think Bea was the elder of the two the way she bossed Lexie around.
‘What the hell is a transition man? Sounds like the sort of guy who comes with an invoice.’
‘Did I say gigolo? Did I say male h
ooker?’
‘Bea! Seriously. Are your children where they can hear you?’ She shook her head, certain her sister only said those things to shock her.
‘A transition man is the man you have after you’ve lost the man you loved. He’s not the next man, he’s the man in between. Everyone needs one.’ Bea sounded like she knew what she was talking about, although Lexie happened to know she’d never been with anyone else other than her long-suffering husband, Charlie.
‘Right. An in-betweener. Before I move on. Have I got that right?’ Her breath caught and her heartbeat ratcheted up a notch as she caught sight of Geoff. He looked even better than he had the first time she’d met him. Was that even possible?
She turned and checked her reflection in the TV screen. It showed her a blurry, yet flattering, picture of herself. She hadn’t told Bea she’d ducked into town to have some highlights. Her hand moved of its own accord to tuck the stray strands of her ponytail into place. Too late to fix things now. She’d have to do as she was.
The brass door knocker echoed down the hallway. Three sharp raps.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she whispered to her sister.
‘I expect a report.’
‘I’ll text you,’ she hissed.
‘I want details …’
‘Goodbye.’ Lexie hung up.
Shoving her mobile phone in the back pocket of her jeans, Lexie stood up. ‘I can do this.’ She smoothed her T-shirt down over her hips. Her jeans were clean, no goat dribble this year. Small mercies. ‘Walk to the door and open it. Easy.’ Only it wasn’t. Her heart now beat triple time in her chest and her palms had grown clammy.
What if she opened that door and didn’t find him attractive anymore, or worse, he didn’t find her attractive?
Well, at least that would solve her dilemma. To take the next step with Geoff … or not. She had no doubt that when she opened that door she’d be like Pandora, opening the box from which things would come, the kind of things you couldn’t take back. The energy that had fired between them, arcing like fireworks, had been unmistakable. He’d felt it too, of that she was certain, although no words had passed between them.
She could see his outline through the frosted window next to the door. Déjà vu. Twelve months ago, she’d stood here in this exact same spot, waiting to open the door, changing her fate by offering her house as a bed and breakfast.
Now she stood here again, waiting to open the door and potentially challenging her fate.
Lexie wasn’t sure she was ready, even if Geoff was destined to be her transition man. Bloody Bea! She’d put the idea into Lexie’s head and now it wouldn’t quit.
Could she get away with not opening the door? The reality of him, standing there only inches away, was far different from the idea of him when he was a thousand miles and twelve months away.
The truth was, she’d spent every day since the day he left thinking about him. Every day. At some point he would cross her thoughts, no matter how hard she tried to resist him. Once, she’d googled him, like an infatuated schoolgirl. And she wasn’t sorry for it. It had served as her one guilty pleasure, a look inside a world so very alien to hers. What she had seen had drawn her closer to Geoff and distanced her at the same time, leaving her as confused as she’d been in the beginning.
It was as if each day that passed since they’d first met had rubbed away at her grief, like sand smoothing the edges off a jagged piece of glass.
The door knocker crashed again.
Oh God! He couldn’t see her standing there like a lunatic in the middle of the hallway, could he? Frosted glass went both ways.
‘Pull it together,’ she counselled herself. Fat lot of good that will do. ‘Be calm, cool and collected.’ Yeah, right. ‘Just open the door, like last time.’ Thanks, genius. ‘Real fast.’ Like ripping off a bandaid.
‘Okay.’
Lexie reached for the door handle.
The door opened, delivering a visceral jolt as it revealed the woman he’d been obsessing about since last Christmas. She looked the same, yet something had changed; he could see it in her eyes, the way she stood there looking at him with a mixture of delight and fear. He knew that feeling.
Lexie hung on to the door, like the siren-keeper of a portal to another world in some Greek legend. He had the sense that if he responded the wrong way to whatever question she might pose, he’d be sent back to where he came from.
Her T-shirt hugged her curves and her burnished ponytail had grown longer, even more tempting to set free.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Hello.’
Neither of them made a move. Should he be the first? To ask permission to enter her world, knowing he meant to change it if he could? He searched her green and gold eyes, looking for clues, all the while drawn to her physically as if he were iron and she the magnet.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said. Much better than looking at photos of you on the farm’s Facebook page.
He’d meant to contact her but every time he’d sat down to compose something meaningful his fingers had refused to produce anything other than sappy rubbish. He’d deleted every single attempt, feeling like a foolish teenage boy with a crush on a wholly unobtainable girl.
She ducked her head as if embarrassed. ‘Good to see you too.’
‘Shall I come in?’ He gestured to the long airy hallway stretching behind her. ‘Or I can stay here on the veranda if you’d prefer. Nice breeze out here,’ he joked, trying to break the tension and get her to let her guard down, get them back to that night when all barriers had fallen away and he’d held her in his arms as if she’d always belonged there. For that moment in time, she’d trusted him. He’d been convinced of that.
‘Oh! Of course.’ A delightful blush flooded her cheeks. ‘Sorry.’ She stepped back to usher him inside.
‘There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.’ He said it in such a way he hoped she’d know she didn’t have to be sorry for anything: for last Christmas, for the way she’d reacted to his kiss. He was the one who was sorry for frightening her off. Something in their kiss, in that moment, had sent her into retreat. But she’d responded, had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her.
‘Can I show you to your room?’
He had to break down the oddly stiff reserve she’d adopted. He wanted to say it’s me, Geoff, please relax. ‘I can find my way. Straight down the corridor and turn right.’
She nodded. ‘I guess I’ll leave you to it.’
Her getaway. He’d anticipated this move, planned for it.
‘It’s Christmas Eve. Meet me on the deck for sunset drinks?’ He was happy to give her the space she needed and let her adjust to having him here. She had to know he was here for her and not the view.
Lexie hesitated. ‘Okay,’ she said at last, possibly remembering the last time they’d met for drinks on the back veranda, and what it had led to. ‘Meet me as the sun hits the top of the mountain.’
He could see the crest of the mountain framed in the doorway at the other end of the hall. ‘You’ve got a deal.’
She nodded. One strand of hair the colour of jarrah slipped free from its bondage. As she tucked it behind her ear, a look of confusion crossed her face. She turned to go, hesitated again, made a full circle before ducking off in the direction of the kitchen.
Geoff smiled. Nerves. They only served to prove his theory that she was as aware of him as he was of her.
He carried his small suitcase down the hall to his room, dumping it on the bed and unzipping it, keen to unpack and settle in. In his mind, this room belonged to him now. Had anyone slept in it after him? He didn’t want to know.
Shaking out the shirt he’d brought with him, the one he’d picked for the night of seduction he had planned, he hung it up in the hope the packing creases would drop out. T-shirts, shorts—all in the dresser drawers. The act of putting away his meagre collection of things gave him a sense of setting down roots, of re-establishing his belonging.
The r
oom hadn’t changed. Same hand-crocheted throw across the bed. Same yellow walls. Same glorious view.
He checked his reflection in the mirror. Should he change? Although he’d shaved before he’d left the house this morning, a dark five o’clock shadow lined his jaw. He ran his palm over the stubble, relishing the prickly feel against his palm. Shave or not to shave—that was the question. He had no idea of Lexie’s views on facial hair. They hadn’t got that far.
Odd, to feel a sense of intimacy and connection with someone you barely knew at all.
He checked his watch. Still a couple of hours to go before sunset. Every fibre of his being wanted to stalk Lexie, to spend as much time with her as possible, cracking the last of her reserve to savour the sweet soul inside. Common sense told him to go easy, as slowly as he could manage.
Memories of last Christmas reinforced that sound advice. Everything had been going so well. He’d had Lexie in his arms as Billie Holiday sang the blues, fairy lights and candles twinkling while cicadas chorused their summer song.
The air had charged with possibility and desire. She’d relaxed, surrendering her resistance and letting him lead the dance. The top of her head had fit under his chin exactly as if it had been made to do so. Fragile, vulnerable, strong and fierce—he’d never met a woman who managed to embody so many opposites. She fascinated him.
Then he’d kissed her. Lexie had tipped her face up to his to say something, he never found out what as the proximity of her lush lips, those green and gold eyes … He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. And he didn’t try at all.
Geoff sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sending it spiking up in all different directions. He had to get it right this time. She’d tolerated his kiss for a nanosecond before pulling away and fleeing, leaving him standing there by himself on the veranda wondering what the hell had just happened.
The feel of her under his hands, the scent of her, had stayed with him, haunting him every day since then. Which was why he’d come back. Something Melissa said had made him stop and think. She’d told him that life was short and true love happened so rarely a person must take their chance where they found it and not let love slip through their fingers. If Geoff had been blessed with a second chance at love, he’d be a fool to walk away without at least trying to make it work. That philosophy had got her a beautiful family; maybe it would help him find true happiness too.