Where There's a Will

by Virginia Hale

  “Hi,” Beth said softly.

  Dylan’s eyes were on her uniform, her embossed name beneath the Sydney Historic Preservation Association logo. “What are you doing here?” Dylan asked shakily.

  Her heart pounded. “I…I work here.”

  The car keys dangled in Dylan’s grasp. “You work here?”

  She nodded.

  “Is this a joke?”

  “They would have had to train somebody, and they wanted me to do it, and Brian kept pestering me and pestering me, and after a while I just figured that I could take it. That I wanted to take it. I tried to call you about a month ago—”

  “How long have you been back?”

  Beth’s mouth was parched. “A fortnight. The house reopened ten days ago. I sent you a text.”

  “Yeah, a text saying that you wanted me to call you. You failed to mention that you were in the Lakes again.” Her eyes narrowed. “When are you going back to Sydney?”

  “I’m…” She hesitated. “I’m not going back to Sydney. I live here now. Permanently. Well, not here,” she said. Blood rushed in her ears. “Nobody lives here. I work here. I’m renting from Rose again. But I’m looking for my own place. To buy.”

  Beth’s nerves sparked at Dylan’s cold stare. She remembered Dylan’s last outburst all too well, how her calm friend’s temper had erupted.

  Dylan rubbed at the back of her neck. Her brow furrowed. “Okay, so let me get this straight.” She looked genuinely confused. “We sold the house. We got our money. The settlement was finalised. I lost my job. Lost my home.” Her voice was thick as she ticked each off her fingers. “But nothing changed for you.”

  “Everything changed for me,” she acquiesced softly.

  “Bullshit, Beth.” She paused, shook her head like she couldn’t believe it. She turned her back to Beth and looked out at Old Quarry Road. Beth barely had a chance to read the Jembala Lakes Bowling Club logo printed boldly across the back of the shirt before she spun back around. “I’ve driven past here every day, watched cars go in and out of Hadrian’s fucking Wall you’ve got out the front—which, by the way, looks bloody ridiculous—and you’ve just been in here carrying on like nothing’s changed?” Dylan stared at her like she was a stranger, like she couldn’t recognise her. “I thought you couldn’t be here anymore. I thought the house creeped you out.”

  It had—before. Back when she was plagued by guilt, convinced that the house knew her every secret. And perhaps it had, teased and taunted in the quietest, most subtle of ways. But for the past two weeks, she’d felt completely comfortable there by herself, opening and closing alone.

  “Guess you really would do anything for a good paycheque, hey?”

  The remark hit Beth like a blow. She realised how it looked—if the tables were turned, she’d feel the same. But she hadn’t returned to Jembala Lakes just for the job. The work made her happy, of course, but it was the certainty that their worlds would collide again that had driven her to make the treechange. Now, Beth was hellbent on making things right.

  “Dylan…I called you before Christmas. When Brian told me about this job, I told him that you were perfect for it. I said that he should try you first, that you were better suited to the job than me, that you had so much more experience. I pushed for you.” She paused. “He sent you a letter. Emails. He called you so many times.”

  Dylan dropped her gaze. “Yeah. I got the letter. I didn’t open it.”

  She sighed. “Why not?”

  She watched, silent, as Dylan scuffed her sneaker against the dirt ground. “I’ve been busy. I thought it was just stuff about the homestead. Thought anything important would go through the solicitor,” she mumbled, her cheeks darkening.

  “Well, it’s not too late. Brian is in the process of training a worker to come up here to assist me.” Dylan looked up at her. “I could tell him that I’ve found someone. That I’ve found you.”

  Dylan dropped her gaze back to the ground. Beth’s heart broke at the sight of her uncharacteristic shyness. Who was this woman and what had she done with her confident friend? She watched as Dylan looked up at the house.

  “Would you like to come inside?” Beth asked.

  Dylan shot her a glare. “No.” She looked skyward, as though trying to blink back tears.

  “Can I at least buy you drink in town?”

  Dylan lowered her eyes and met her stare. “You think everything can just go back to the way it was before? That now you’re out of debt and not tied down, now that everything’s all right for you, we can just start again?”

  God, no. That wasn’t what she had meant. Not at all.

  “It doesn’t work like that, baby,” Dylan said shortly. She waved a hand up at the house. “This was my whole world. You took it and left me with nothing.”

  “You got one point seven million, that’s hardly nothing.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Beth rasped. “Fuck me? I’m the one trying here.”

  “You’re not trying,” Dylan accused. “You feel guilty, just like you always have. Everything good that you do, you only do out of guilt.”

  Beth’s jaw locked hard as she fought against the sting of Dylan’s claim. “I’m offering you a job. I’m offering you your job back.”

  “You’re offering me the job you took from me.”

  “It’s not my problem that you’re so childish you don’t even open your mail! Or, on that note, return phone calls! Brian was open to discussing all of this with you, and all you had to do was listen. You could have everything back if you’d just take it. If you won’t, you can’t blame me for that.”

  As Dylan raked a shaky hand through her hair, Beth immediately softened. “Look, Dyl…just take the job.”

  “I don’t want your pity job,” Dylan said, her voice void of any feeling. The light was gone from her blue eyes—she looked heartbroken. “You think I want to be your assistant?”

  “You won’t be,” she insisted. “Please. Come on. You know we work so well together.”

  Slowly, Dylan’s gaze lifted. Blatantly, her stare caught on Beth’s legs. Mistaking Dylan’s hot glare for lust, she couldn’t have anticipated what came next.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dylan couldn’t tear her eyes away. She knew that skin, could taste the memory of it on her tongue. It haunted her dreams. She knew where Beth was palest, where she was freckled, where she was hottest and where she burned. She also knew that the woman standing before her was unusually tanned, her skin tinted bronze with more than just a summer glow.

  She peeled her eyes away and set her gaze on Beth. “You’ve been on a holiday,” she accused.

  Beth faltered, immediately translating Dylan’s irritation. “I…I spent New Year in Thailand.”

  Rage twisted her stomach into knots. Was she for real? I didn’t give up my life so that she could spend her inheritance riding tuk-tuks and sipping cocktails by the pool of the bloody Bangkok Hilton. “How nice,” she said sarcastically. “I spent New Year in the waiting room of John Hunter while my Dad had double bypass surgery.”

  Beth’s eyes widened in shock. She raised a hand to the base of her throat. “Dylan…I’m so sorry.” She paused. “Is he…all right?”

  “Yeah.” Her gaze dropped. “He’s fine. Well, he’s on his way to fine.”

  Beth’s eyes were blue pools of empathy. That gorgeous, familiar stare calmed her a little.

  “I’m sorry,” Dylan said softly. “I didn’t mean for that to come out so victimised. It’s not your problem.”

  “No,” Beth said. “You don’t have to apologise.” She paused. “That’s a lot for you to take on as an only child.”

  Dylan’s heart bled at the remark. She wasn’t an only child—in responsibility, maybe, but not in her heart.

  “Dylan, if there’s anything I can do—”

  Dylan pressed her fingers to her eyelids. “Thailand? Really?” She could barely think over the loud rush of the water fountain. Her eyes sna
pped opened and she looked over at it, watched the water spill from stone tier to tier. She’d thought the spout fatally clogged, irreparable. But the full pool at the base sparkled in the sun. It looked clean enough to drink from.

  “It was only eight days,” Beth tried. “It’s not like I splurged on a three-month trip to Europe…”

  Dylan shook her head. Beth just didn’t get it.

  “Dylan…it was one point seven million dollars.”

  She knew Beth was a good person, that she only meant well. She had to remind herself that this was still the same woman who refused to leave empties behind at the pub, who stuck a sticky tab to her webcam and ordered the cheapest thing on the menu when she knew somebody else was paying for her meal. But it was so hard to get that to sink in when Beth was standing before her looking like that and just not getting it. It wasn’t fair that Beth got the best of both worlds when Dylan’s life had been turned upside down.

  She watched as Beth pinched at the shirt between her breasts. The top few buttons were undone. While Beth had always dressed professionally—probably to balance the two of them out, she assumed—she’d never worn heels that weren’t boots. These were like those stiletto things her mum had so desperately wanted her to wear to her cousin Katie’s wedding, and on Beth, they looked good. The sensible skirt hugged her hips like it was tailored for her body. Dylan had only ever seen her in jeans. Those bare, shapely calves were so tormenting it felt like she could hardly breathe.

  She swallowed over the tightness of her throat. When she’d fallen for Beth, she’d fallen hard. She missed Beth—missed her deeply. She’d never shared so much of herself with another human being. At night, she lay awake thinking of Beth—Beth in the kitchen in jeans and a scarf, of glances across a bonfire after midnight, of Beth writhing in her lap, desperate and sweaty.

  “I need to go,” Dylan said suddenly. She rounded her car to the driver’s side.

  Beth stepped closer. “Wait, Dylan, please. Can I see you again? Please.”

  She grasped the door of the Jeep and immediately yanked her hands away from its heat from the hot sun. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why?” Beth pressed.

  “Because I can’t look at you without thinking about…”

  Their eyes locked. A blush broke out over Beth’s skin.

  Dylan licked her lips. “See you around, Beth.”

  Taking a sip of her lemonade, Dylan looked out across the lake. The setting sun glittered across the water so brightly that she had to bring her sunglasses down to shield her vision from the bright sparkle.

  A gentle hand settled between her shoulder blades. “Hey.”

  Dylan looked up, her gaze locking on green. “Hey.”

  What was this? February the second—the return of the exes? If only Rose would show up, then she’d have the 2017 trifecta.

  Holly reached out and twisted the point of Dylan’s polo collar between her fingertips. “You look very, very cute in that uniform. Like a country club dream.”

  Dylan smirked. “Do I?”

  “You do.”

  So her confidence is still as hot as ever. Dylan certainly hadn’t had that bravado when she was in her early twenties. But, Holly…Holly didn’t seem to have a worry in the world what people said about her. And not because she had bigger and better plans, either—she simply didn’t seem to care what people thought.

  Dylan twisted around to look back into the pub. A few eyes over by the bar were on them.

  She turned back. She knew people talked about them, that everyone in the surrounding postcodes knew they’d shared a bed. She didn’t give gossip a second thought, but the embarrassing part had been that everybody knew it wasn’t serious between them. Dylan was the first and only woman Holly had ever been with, and while she’d wanted it as much as Dylan—each and every time—Dylan knew it would never go anywhere. As much as Dylan liked company, Holly liked attention—it worked when it worked, but that was where it stopped. Dylan had always been content with the way it was between them, but that didn’t mean she wanted everyone in the Lakes thinking of her as disposable, reckless, desperate. People thought enough about her as it was.

  Holly looked down at Dylan’s lemonade. “You’re not drinking?”

  She shrugged. “Had one. Thought I’d stop there.”

  Holly placed her beer on the railing of the pub patio and pulled a packet of cigarettes from her back pocket. “Do you mind?” she asked.

  Dylan minded—being around smokers wasn’t good for her asthma, especially in the thirty-degree heat. “Go ahead,” she said anyway, watching as Holly wrapped her lips around the filter and rolled her thumb over the lighter.

  “I heard you bought a Mercedes,” Dylan said.

  Holly took a drag. “My dad bought a Mercedes. I bought a loan.”

  “A loan?” Dylan grinned. “A loan from your dad?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I’m going to take a wild guess that this loan is without interest.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What’d you do? Shake on it and promise to show up at every Christmas dinner until you’re fifty-five?”

  Holly scoffed.

  “Jeez, I wish my dad owned a Thoroughbred stud.”

  “Shut up. I just have to hope nobody around here keys it.” Holly blew smoke out into the stifling hot air. “Want to come for a ride? I’ll even let you drive.”

  Dylan knew there was more to the offer than a test drive. She smiled. “No, thanks. I, uhh, I’m going to my parents’ for dinner.”

  “Right.” They were quiet. “So what are you brooding about out here?”

  She stared out across the lake. “Nothing.”

  Holly turned to her, slipped closer so her body was pressed against Dylan’s side. “Are you going to tell me why you haven’t called me this year?”

  She turned her head, let her gaze drop to Holly’s mouth. “I’ve made a resolution to stop sleeping with straight girls.”

  “Well then who are you sleeping with?” Holly played.

  She paused. “Nobody.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Holly teased. “It’s not Rose Plympton. I know that because she’s been dating some shrink from Cessnock since spring.”

  Her gaze flickered back to the lake. “I never slept with Rose.”

  “Yeah, try to get that one past me.”

  They grinned at each other. Holly’s laugh was sweet and light. She traced her finger around the curve of Dylan’s almost empty glass and swiped at the beads of condensation. “I heard that city girl likes the girls…”

  Her chest constricted. “What city girl?”

  Holly arched an eyebrow. “Don’t play games. I know you have a thing for her. I used to see you in town together all the time last year before you sold.”

  She couldn’t do this, not after the afternoon she’d had. She could hardly think about Beth, let alone talk about her with Holly. “Where’s your car?”

  Holly grinned.

  They went out front.

  “Wow.” Dylan whistled. “Impressive.”

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Holly said, dancing her false nails across the silver bonnet.

  “I’ve always thought it strange how objects get the female pronoun. Cars. Ships. She’s one of a kind. She cost a fortune. Ain’t she grand?” Dylan said contemplatively. “Storms, too.”

  Holly leaned against the side of the car.

  Dylan moved closer. “Why do you think they do that?”

  Holly seemed disinterested in talking. “You read way too much,” she said, and pulled Dylan in.

  As her lips moulded against Holly’s, pain twisted in her chest, spear-like. This was the first time she’d touched another woman since Beth, and it didn’t compare, didn’t even come close. Holly tasted like smoke and her lips weren’t as soft. But what was missing was that give and take that was so perfect with Beth, so earned, so deserved. Their relationship had been built on a strong foundation of friendship and mutual unde
rstanding and respect, and when they’d finally come together, it had been all-consuming. The sex had been earth-shattering for her, and she was certain it had been that way for Beth, too.

  She could barely focus on Holly, the sweet tease of her lips as she sought more. She’d spent all afternoon thinking nothing but Beth. Beth and her tanned legs. Beth and her kisses. Beth and her sweet little sighs. Beth in that shirt with so many buttons undone, her sternum freckled and bronzed. Once upon a time, Holly had really got her going, but the truth was, Doctor Hordern had ruined her for anyone else long ago.

  Dylan pulled back.

  “So you want to go for that drive?” Holly asked.

  “I’m too old to be having sex in cars,” she joked. “I think twenty-five is the cut off for that.”

  “Good, I’m twenty-four…”

  “Seriously?” she deflected. “I thought you were at least twenty-six.”

  “Screw you.” Holly peered up at her. “Well if car sex is no longer your thing…I heard you bought a place…”

  The moment stretched on too long—the answer was a clear no.

  “Have you had too much to drink?” Dylan asked softly. “Do you need me to drive you home?”

  “Yes…” Holly drawled coyly, refusing to give up as she reached down and linked her fingers with Dylan’s.

  She smiled softly. “I’m serious, Holly.”

  Holly’s flirtatious smile dropped. “I’m fine,” she said shortly, releasing Dylan’s fingers. “You don’t have to play the gentleman. I get it. You’re not into this right now.”

  “I’m sorry.” She ducked her head, her cheeks burning as she felt the tears well. A hot flush broke on her chest.

  “Wow, she really did a number on you,” Holly whispered. “You’ve got it bad.”

  “Yeah,” she rasped.

  “What happened to that wild woman I used to know?”

  “I think she grew up a little bit.”

  “That’s a shame.” Holly squeezed her arm comfortingly. “Want to go key this city bitch’s car?”

  Dylan laughed and Holly smiled. “Well, I’ll promise you one thing—if you don’t try it with her again, I will,” she joked.