by Andrews, Amy
Amongst her stuff and her family and her town.
Her tribe.
Jumbuck Springs was where she belonged.
She spent the next hour going through all the bags of fabric, finding some scraps and some really funky buttons that would be perfect for the bodice of Connie’s costume, but not finding exactly what she wanted for the mermaid tail. There were a couple of fabrics that were satisfactory, but Lacey Weston didn’t do satisfactory. Not without hunting down every avenue first anyway.
She decided to pop into the haberdashery and see if Mrs Hoff had exactly what she was looking for. But first she drew up a paper pattern to Connie’s measurements. She used the dining table as her work surface, drawing and cutting the pattern with the ease and efficiency of someone used to tackling much more complex projects. Once she was done with that she set up her sewing machine and took a moment to admire her ordered, tidy workspace. In a couple of hours it would look entirely different.
Satisfied with her progress, Lacey headed out. It was another beautiful winter’s day. The sky was an endless blue, unmarred by clouds, and it had already warmed up after the chilly night.
Hoff’s was on the other side of the main street and hadn’t changed in all the years Lacey had known it. It was dark and cosy, crammed with fabric rolls and smelling of mothballs and old lace. It was surprising to see it had survived, given the decline in home sewing and the advent of online shopping.
Mrs Hoff greeted her like a long-lost daughter. She’d been good friends with Elizabeth Weston, and her three daughters, long since gone from the town, had been at school with Lacey’s brothers. Tears pricked the backs of Lacey’s eyes as Mrs Hoff hugged her and exclaimed, “I heard you were back.”
Lacey wasn’t surprised. The gossip mill in a small town always worked overtime and Jumbuck Springs wasn’t any different. The news about little Lacey Weston shacking up with a man at The Stockman was bound to get tongues wagging.
“I’ve missed you so much, my girl.”
Lacey had been one of the haberdashery’s best customers and she knew Mrs Hoff well. The older woman had often kept fabric or buttons or unusual ribbon aside for Lacey because she’d known how much Lacey liked that kind of thing.
Mrs Hoff pulled out of the embrace and grasped both of Lacey’s cheeks between her palms. “And looking more and more like your mother every day.”
Lacey swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. People often said that she looked like her mother. It was hard for Lacey to see given their difference in colouring. Jarrod with his red hair and pale complexion looked like her mother. Lacey took after Marcus and Ethan. But she liked hearing it anyway and hugged Mrs Hoff just for saying it.
“Now. You’re here for some fabric, yes? Just like old times? What can I get for you?”
Lacey explained what she wanted and Mrs Hoff beamed and clicked her fingers and took her to the exact material. It was an aquamarine colour with sequins on it that gave it a disco ball feel but also had the advantage of looking remarkably like scales. But Lacey didn’t stop there, she added some poly stuffing to puff out the tail properly and spent an enjoyable half hour in the shop just rummaging around like old times.
She bought a couple of metres of varying fabrics to add to her collection, because that’s what Lacey did, and drooled over a new supply of curtain material in lace that was so exquisite it seemed a shame to hang it at a window.
She refrained from taking a sample of that too. But only just.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Mrs Hoff called out as she headed towards the exit.
“Absolutely not,” Lacey assured, practically dancing on sunshine she was so happy.
A fabric store was Lacey’s happy place and Mrs Hoff’s was spectacular. Like a lolly shop. With less calories.
Lacey was just about to step off the footpath when she heard her name being called. She turned her head to find a girl she’d gone to school with, Caroline Duncan, waving at her.
“Oh hey, Caro,” Lacey smiled and they hugged.
“You’re back?”
“Yes,” Lacey grinned. “I’m back.”
“Things not work out for you in Bris-Vegas?”
There was no malice in the question but Lacey could tell there was a whole lot of curiosity and that Caroline had obviously heard the gossip. “No, it’s all fine. I’ve just deferred for a year or two. I was homesick. What about you?” she asked, getting in before any other questions could be lobbed at her. “What are you doing these days?”
Caroline took the bait. “I’m getting married next weekend.”
“That’s great,” Lacey said. Caroline was from one of the wealthier grazier families in the district. Her father, Ross, had also been involved in federal politics a few years back and had been awarded some high honour by the Queen around the time Elizabeth Weston had died. “Congratulations. Anthony’s the groom?”
She nodded. “High school sweethearts.”
Lacey nodded politely. She wasn’t going to mention how Anthony had been Danielle Gordon’s boyfriend until he’d dumped her for Caroline. Caroline and Danielle had been best friends and it had caused a huge ruckus at school. Danielle had been heartbroken and done some crazy stalker stuff for a while, including spray painting whore lover down the side of Anthony’s flashy green ute.
Always a scandal in Jumbuck Springs.
They chatted for another five minutes before Caroline had to run off, and Lacey headed back to the pub to start work on Connie’s costume.
It felt good to be sitting at the machine, a tape measure draped around her neck, dressmaker chalk staining her fingers, a pin cushion wristband firmly in place, working on a project that actually excited her. The rhythmic sound of needle going through fabric was immensely satisfying as the outfit came together.
Lacey loved the feeling of creation and control, of being in the driver’s seat. Taking pieces of fabric and turning them into something functional but also beautiful was not only a joy but a privilege.
It was art and she was an artist.
Keeping busy at the machine also didn’t allow her much headspace for Coop. Concentrating on what she was doing meant she wasn’t thinking about their first time together or two mornings ago or him naked in the shower.
Or how he’d knocked her back last night. And the mess she’d gotten him in.
But two hours later, just as Lacey was putting the finishing touches to the costume, the door swung open and Coop walked in. Sweat shone on his brow, his hands were dirty and he had a smudge of grease on his neck and a couple more on the front of his T-shirt, about belly button level, which drew her attention.
Her throat went dry just looking at him.
He was so different from any of the men she’d been with since leaving Jumbuck Springs. Most of the guys she’d met at design school—if they weren’t gay—were exceedingly fashion conscious. Coop was neither, and clearly didn’t give one fuck about clothes, how he looked in them and how they could accentuate him. Lacey knew from old that Coop wore clothes for warmth and modesty only.
But still he managed to look hotter than a dozen male models.
Her ovaries jettisoned some super-charged oestrogen.
“Oh … sorry.” He stopped halfway in the room. “I didn’t realise you’d be here. I thought you’d be helping JJ in the bar. I’m,” he looked down at himself, “dirty. I need a shower.”
Yes he was. And yes he did. Lacey just managed not to offer to wash his back. “Okay.”
He glanced at the table. “You’ve finished?” he said, strolling closer.
She dragged her eyes off his neck. “Yes. I might need to make a few adjustments when Connie tries it on, but yeah …” she held it up, “What do you think?”
The bodice was similar to a man’s waistcoat and made from different strips of yellow and silver fabric that she’d sewn together in a patchwork pattern. Pearl clamshell-shaped buttons fastened it together at the front. The shimmery aquamarine tail was a fitted affair that fell rig
ht to the floor before kicking up at the side into a perfect fluke.
Lacey was particularly fond of the crown she’d fashioned for Connie out of silver lamé, and some pipe cleaners.
“Well … I’m not sure what the criteria is for this kind of thing, it’s really not my field of expertise.”
Lacey grinned at his very male perplexity. He was wearing his field of expertise on his neck and mighty distracting it was too.
“Umm, it’s very … sparkly?”
“Excellent,” she laughed, “it’s supposed to be.”
He laughed too and it was so good to hear the low gravelly rumble. He never laughed much around her. God knew she hadn’t given him a whole lot to laugh about these last couple of days.
Their gazes met. “Well, you passed with flying colours.”
Her eyes locked with his. “Thank you. See, I can do something right.”
He nodded but his smile slowly faded and she kicked herself for ruining the mood. “I’ve got to …” He looked down at himself again, pulled his T-shirt off his stomach a little.
“Yes, of course. Shower. I’m just going to … help JJ at the bar for a bit.”
Because anything was preferable to sitting in the room listening to him shower again, fighting the temptation to join him.
* * *
Coop had arranged for his parents to come straight to his work on Thursday morning. Alec had cleared his schedule as much as possible for the first couple of days to give Coop a chance to settle in, so there wasn’t a lot of work on. He could certainly spend a few hours with his parents.
They were earlier than he’d expected but he’d already cleared a space for Lacey’s car so he directed his father straight into it. He degreased his hands then hugged his mum and shook hands and half hugged his dad. Grainger men weren’t big on public displays of affection but there was nothing awkward about their exchanges.
Lacey was right, his parents were good people and he liked spending time with them. His relationship with his dad in particular had strengthened dramatically after the heart attack, when Coop had gone to help him out at the shop. Maybe his shooting and his dad’s heart had been the universe’s great plan to cement their relationship?
“Bit girly for you this one, isn’t it?” his father teased.
Coop laughed. “That’s exactly why we want it.”
“Well I can’t wait to see what you do with it,” his mother said.
Coop locked up and walked them the two hundred metres down the main street to the pub. The street was wide, with a strip of central parking down the middle splitting the main drag into a divided road. Cars baked under the winter sun as the locals went about their business. Every ten metres there was a big old poinciana tree providing some shade for the vehicles, but those spots went quickly.
He’d planned on taking his parents to lunch at the pub when they arrived, but as he now had a few hours to kill he figured he’d take them for a drive out to the springs in the foothills. They were supposed to be spectacular and his mother loved playing tourist.
But first she wanted to do her motherly duty and check out his living arrangements. He knew she worried about him more since his near-fatal injuries. It may have been almost four years since it happened, but those memories were still ingrained in her. In both of them. Coop knew his father had been just as gutted by the shooting as she had.
He just hoped that Lacey had done as he’d asked and cleared up all outward signs of co-habitation before she’d left this morning. They’d decided there was no point in getting his family embroiled in the subterfuge as well. He’d tidied up as much as he could before he’d gone to work, but with her still in bed there were some things he hadn’t been able to do.
He did not expect to hear his mother say, “Good morning, Lacey,” as she walked into the room ahead of him. Why had he ever introduced them in the first place? Or that Lacey would be standing in the kitchen in nothing but a towel, another wrapped around her head, eating a piece of toast.
She looked at him with startled eyes. “Oh … hi … Mrs Grainger.”
“Oh,” Coop said also, his brain temporarily flatlining, his father backed up behind him. Fuck. Why was she still here?
In a fucking towel?
“You’re still here?”
“JJ rang to say she didn’t need me until later and I didn’t think you’d be back ’til twelve.”
“Sorry,” his mother apologised. “We left earlier than we thought we would.”
Coop watched as his mother looked at the unmade double bed that looked like fifteen cats had chased their way around it all night, then at the pristine single bed that he’d made up this morning with military precision.
“Oh, don’t apologise, please. I was just going to get dressed and go so I’ll …” she placed her half eaten slice of toast on the plate, “just do that and get out of your hair.”
Lacey grabbed some clothes off the end of the bed and disappeared into the bathroom.
His mother turned to face him. “Anything you feel you need to tell us?” she asked, a small smile playing on her mouth.
Coop sighed. What a bloody mess. “Cuppa first?” Although beer was suddenly more tempting.
His mother nodded. “Yes please.”
By the time he’d set all three of them up with a hot drink Lacey was stepping out of the bathroom. He winced when he saw she’d chosen to wear her hair in that high ponytail. With no make-up and bare feet she looked every one of her paltry twenty-one years.
Lacey smiled nervously at him, then at his parents, as she crossed the room and shoved her feet into some shoes. “Well, I’m off now,” she said to the wall opposite as she scooped her bag off the coffee table then turned to face them sitting at the dining table. “It was nice seeing you both again.”
“Likewise,” his mother said smiling. “Why don’t you join us for lunch, dear?”
Her gaze shifted to him and Coop shrugged a little. It was already out of hand now, lunch wouldn’t hurt. But she didn’t look comforted by his assurance as her gaze darted back to his mother.
“Thanks for the offer, Mrs Grainger, but I have …” she glanced at Coop again, “to go to work. Are you eating at the pub?”
“Oh yes, Cooper tells us they have great meals.”
Lacey nodded. “JJ’s menu is the best. The lamb shanks are delicious.”
“There’d be something wrong if you couldn’t get good lamb around these parts,” his dad joked. “Reckon I saw a thousand of the little buggers on the way in.”
Lacey laughed, but it sounded brittle to Coop’s ears. “Anyway … I guess I’ll see you guys when you come in for lunch.”
“That would be lovely,” his mother said with a smile.
Not that Lacey probably noticed in her haste to get to the door. It would have been funny if it had been happening to someone else.
As soon as the door clicked shut two sets of eyes swivelled to him. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m kinda helping Lacey out with something.”
“As well as being a fill-in mechanic?” his father frowned.
“Yes.”
His parents exchanged looks. “That worked out well then?” his mother said.
Coop wanted to try and keep the lying to a minimum. After all, the best way to pull off a convincing lie was to keep it as close to the truth as possible, right? “The Lacey thing came first.”
Two sets of eyes gazed back at him in that patient, unblinking, expectant way he knew so well. “It’s … complicated.” No way was he telling them the real situation.
His father put his mug on the table. “I like Lacey. I think you like Lacey, too. Maybe a little more than is wise?”
Coop blinked at his father’s observation. What the hell did he mean by that? He liked her just fine. Except when she was driving him nuts. Which was often. But not since they’d arrived in Jumbuck Springs. In just a few days he could see the change in her. She was less …
Less frenetic, less needy, less self
-destructive.
More centred, more relaxed, more mellow. Like she didn’t have any kind of a point to prove anymore.
Like she was home.
Nowhere had that been more evident than Connie’s mermaid costume. It had been an absolute hit with everyone and to say Lacey had been thrilled was a massive understatement. She’d been ecstatic and agreed to do the costumes for the local high school play.
Of course, there was more than one way to drive an adult male nuts. Flashes of long, silky smooth thigh. Bright pink toenails peeking out from under the covers. That tape measure slung around her neck had been strangely erotic. Shaking her booty to whatever song was piping into her ear buds. Sexy bras on the bathroom doorknob.
“You need to be careful there, son,” his father continued, dragging Coop’s head out of Lacey’s bra. “She’s young and you don’t want to mess up your friendship with Ethan.”
Oh it was way too late for that. Hopefully he’d be able to repair it again when the truth came out. “I know,” he nodded. “It’s okay. It’s not what it seems. Really.”
“Okay then,” his father nodded and picked up his mug.
His mother didn’t look so convinced. “You know you can talk to us, right?”
Coop smiled and reached across and squeezed his mother’s hand. “I know.” But this was not something she’d understand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
He squeezed again and withdrew his hand. Now if only he could convince himself …
Chapter Eight
‡
Lacey texted Coop when he still wasn’t home by five that afternoon, to discover he was at the auto shop making a start on her car. She’d been nervous ever since accidentally bumping into his parents this morning in nothing but a towel.
What must they think?
It wasn’t like she could have even pretended she was just dropping something off or doing his cleaning or some other such excuse when she’d obviously been fresh from the shower. She supposed another woman may have been able to come up with a plausible excuse but, frankly, her brain had gone completely blank at being sprung practically naked in Coop’s room by his parents.