by Allie Parker
‘Oh, hello Flynn, I didn’t think anyone was up here.’
At the sound of Avery’s voice Flynn lifted his head and whacked it on a solid cupboard shelf. Hard.
‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’ Avery moved to the cupboard where Flynn crouched with his hand on the back of this head.
‘What are you doing up here,’ Flynn demanded, not moving from his position with his back to her. Why did this woman constantly expose Flynn’s raw nerves? Flynn considered himself a thick skinned man. A competent man capable of handling any situation calmly and intelligently. Yet whenever Avery was close by, his autopilot failed him, and he felt like she could see below the thick, protective layer and see Flynn’s vulnerabilities. Why else would Flynn have shown Avery his temporary accommodation the other night? Proving what she’d already assumed.
‘Flynn, I can see blood between your fingers. Get out here now so I can have a closer look,’ Avery said in such a school teacher, matter of fact way that Flynn did as he was told. But as he stood too fast dizziness threatened to push him off his feet. He grabbed for the cupboard door and steadied himself, leaving a red smudge on the freshly painted door.
Avery knew better than to try and help steady a strong and strong minded man. She waited for Flynn to straighten himself then she gently parted his blood soaked hair for a closer look. ‘Yep, definitely stitches,’ she said wiping his blood on her paint encrusted pants. ‘Is there any ice in your freezer down stairs?’
‘No,’ he answered with his back still to her.
‘Take your shirt off,’ Avery demanded.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Flynn swung around to face Avery and the dizziness swooned in his head. Avery just raised an eyebrow and Flynn started unbuttoning his shirt, leaving a trail of blood as he went.
Avery knew he had a t-shirt on underneath the plaid shirt; she didn’t have time for modesty. As Flynn peeled off his shirt, Avery’s eyes lowered from Flynn’s face. She could make out the tight muscle definition under the fitted black t-shirt, matching the overall package of a healthy, fit male. Flynn passed Avery his shirt and she neatly bundled the body up leaving the sleaves dangling.
As Avery lifted the shirt and pressed it to the back of Flynn’s head, he caught a whiff of vanilla. Then the pain ripping through his skull pushed any thoughts of Avery’s soft skin away. He winced and lifted his hands.
‘Hold this and apply pressure to help stop the bleeding,’ Avery demanded. ‘And sit down before you fall down.’
Instinctively Flynn stood taller. But Avery was right, bravado wouldn’t help him. He lowered himself to the floor and after awhile he tied the sleeves of his shirt tightly around his head. Avery sat next to him and handed him the water bottle she’d bought along with her. He removed the top and gulped down the cool liquid. She then proceeded to unwrap a salad turkish bread and tore it down the middle. Handing him half she looked at him, daring him to argue with her. Silently he took the appetising sandwich and bit into it. The sumptuous taste of brie and barbeque chicken momentarily dulled the pain in his head.
‘I come up here sometimes to get away from the noise on the lower levels,’ Avery answered Flynn’s earlier question. ‘I don’t make a mess and there’s usually no one here. Especially no one hiding in cupboards.’
‘I wasn’t hiding,’ Flynn said a little too defensively for someone who wasn’t hiding. He finished his half of the sandwich. ‘Stitches you say.’
‘Five in my opinion.’ She didn’t think he’d let her accompany him to the hospital. Given that the colour had returned to his face, she suspected he’d make it on his own. ‘Do you think you can walk the block and a half to A & E,’ she asked. Flynn took another gulp of water while watching Avery over the bottle. When he handed the bottle back to her she said, ‘I should get back to work anyway. I’m in the mood to paint a red sunset for some reason.’ She was rewarded with a weak smile.
When Flynn made it back to the site two hours later, he changed his t-shirt, grabbed a cloth and some disinfectant spray and made his way up to the top floor. Berating himself for getting so distracted from the job. He couldn’t afford time off site at this crucial stage; he was within reach of his on-time on-budget goal. He couldn’t let a woman distract him now. He went to the cupboard where he and Avery had been expecting to find a blood smear on the cupboard door where he’d grabbed it and other debris from their impromptu lunch. Instead he found spotless surfaces with absolutely no trace of anyone ever being there, let alone receiving a gash requiring seven stiches. The thought of Avery cleaning up the mess and then painting a vivid, sunset inspired by the colour of his blood brought a smile to Flynn’s tired face.
Chapter Seventeen
Meg sat in a booth with her coffee and Panini as the wind whipped through the trees outside the café. She nervously opened her laptop and took a sip of her hot coffee while it booted up. She relaxed into the cushions after she checked her inbox and, for the first time in two weeks, she didn’t have an email from her financial advisor. Meg found the almost daily enquires very distracting from her work.
She’d just about finished the second draft proposal for James Madden and she was confident he would be satisfied with the new direction. It was very similar to the way she used to work, before her confidence was stripped away. She had images and drawings detailing close up portraits full of emotion and feeling. Some raw and others soft and compassionate but all of them inspiring and provocative. She was confident James would appreciate the work she’d put in to the proposal and she offered enough options that one combination was bound to please. James could decide which way he wanted to go but there was no way Meg was going to fail again.
Byron had offered to come with her to re-pitch but Meg felt she had to do this on her own. This was the first major step in the right direction that she’d taken in too long. It took the rejection from James to shake her into reality. Avery had also made some comments about her safe, backward steps and lack of progression but Meg didn’t think that was a bad thing, until now.
It seemed like Byron and Simon had opened her eyes to her reclusive, depressive tendencies by treating her normally. Because they hadn’t been exposed to the drama in her life, they were treating her as if it had never happened. Avery was the only friend who Meg let in after Patrick left, but Meg only felt Avery was being kind and saying the things that a friend should say. Therefore Meg didn’t really listen or absorb her friend’s words of advice.
It wasn’t until James told her to rethink her angle, and Byron’s pep talk at the pub, that Meg looked back at her old portfolios, from before Patrick had devastated her life and robbed her of her confidence, that she realised how far she had let her work slip. She was professionally so far advanced from the calendars, postcards and business headshots that she had regressed to. She should be doing field work, special event coverage, working with interior and fashion designers. Doing the things that made her pulse kick and stretched her. Now that she realised it, she was craving the challenge and excitement that James and Byron were offering her. She appreciated the importance of this fork in the path she had stumbled upon blindly. Both personally and professionally. As nervous as she was about presenting to James, she also felt energized and ready.
Some hours later, Byron looked around the studio and smiled at his family and new friends. They had become a solid team, working together and autonomously on their own piece of the puzzle.
‘Okay, to celebrate our achievements so far,’ he threw a special smile Meg’s way, proud of her success with Madden during the day, but not wanting to single her out and embarrass her, ‘I think we deserve a day off. We’ve been working seven days a week since the beginning of this project and it’s time for some well earned R and R.’ Byron had Avery’s polite interest, Meg’s undivided attention, and the part of Simon’s curiosity that wasn’t engrossed in the latest version of their multimedia website.
‘What do you have in mind,’ Meg asked.
‘Grace has managed
to score a day pass for the five of us to one of the vineyards on the outskirts of town. She’s been doing some PR for them and they gave her this as a bonus. It includes a full tour of the crop and factory with wine tastings throughout. Simon, I hear they even do whisky onsite as well.’
Simon finally turned from his computer screen. ‘I’m in, when are you thinking? I’ve still got a bit of work to put into this site, but I guess there’s always time for whisky and wine.’
‘I reckon there’s no time like the present. The forecast is good for Friday, so I asked Grace to check availability.’
‘That sounds fantastic,’ Avery said. ‘To be honest I feel like I’m running low on vitamin D, it’s been that long since I spent more than fifteen minutes in the sun.
Meg was on a roll with this new spurt of inspiration and hesitated to slow down in case she couldn’t get it back. But Grace and Byron seemed to have their hearts set on it, plus it might do her some good to relax a bit. ‘I don’t have any shoots this weekend to prepare for and it sounds like fun.’
‘Great, I’ll text all the details once Grace confirms.’
*
Friday was a stunning spring day, when the group met at the vineyard and checked-in for the tour. It felt like a different world to the one they had all been working so furiously in. The change of pace was welcome with the soft breeze moving the leaves on the vines and the sun warming their backs as they walked through the vineyard. It took everyone some time to absorb their surroundings and adjust to the rhythm of the day.
Grace, in a flowing knee length dress and sandals, put her phone on silent and hid it deep in her handbag. She was here to soak up the atmosphere and help her brothers unwind before they worked themselves into the ground. Byron was absolutely loving the challenge and high-octane nature of the Madden project. She knew he was already researching what ideas Madden was rumoured to have in the pipeline. Simon was committed to the project, as well as fiddling with his new software, and as always, had one eye trained elsewhere. Grace didn’t doubt that he wouldn’t speak to her again if he ever found out that she had once run into Bella and given her a piece of her mind. Leading Simon around with his tongue hanging out, stopping him from forming normal relationships with other women. Bella made Grace so angry. But, it seemed, nothing could penetrate Simon’s focus or persuade Bella to cut him loose. So here they were, switching off for the day to relax and recharge. She just hoped her brother could switch off from her as well as his websites.
Byron and Meg wandered hand in hand, taking in the fresh smell of the vines and soil, while listening to the tour guide. Byron smiled at the thought of the make-out sessions they had indulged in over the past month. But either circumstance or Meg had pulled them up short of taking it any further. Byron fully understood and respected Meg’s reluctance to advance their relationship. He was happy to keep it light and fun while they focused on the Madden job. At the moment, especially taking into account her meltdown after Madden’s initial feedback, she still seemed too emotionally fragile for anything deeper. But when they finished this job, he decided he would broach the subject of a more serious relationship. Which would mean Meg opening up to him about Patrick Heathcliff and the subsequent investigations.
Avery and Simon were listening to the tour guide, but also stopping every now and then to snap a few shots on Avery’s phone. She was explaining to Simon that she was getting inspired to paint a vine series but wouldn’t interrupt Meg’s current process for some proper photographs yet. Avery knew how close Meg had been to losing the drive and focus she had gained with the Madden job. Today was for unwinding and she had purposely told Meg to leave the cameras at home.
Simon found Avery’s company both comfortable and peaceful. She talked painting with such passion, as if it was an extension of her being, not a job or a hobby. It was as much a part of her as breathing. He admired her ability to be consumed in the murals, still have her hand in the Art of East gallery, and also be looking at the landscape around them and conjuring up images in her mind about how she would paint it one day. Avery was unlike anyone Simon had ever met before. She was busy but not frantic, she was perceptive and intuitive, and she didn’t hold back when she had an opinion on something she believed was important. Over the time they had spent together on this job, he was beginning to really respect Avery as a professional and a friend.
Chapter Eighteen
After the tour and tastings, everyone relaxed on oversized, outdoor cushions; Byron and Meg on one; Avery and Simon on another; all watching Grace getting hit on by a man at the bar.
‘I can’t believe she’s giving him the time of day,’ Simon laughed.
‘I can’t believe she hasn’t given him a business card yet,’ Byron added.
‘Well, I think she’s being polite and, hey, he does have a cute butt,’ Avery smiled cheekily over her wine.
‘Oh, really,’ Simon said struggling out of the cushion. ‘Well watch this one; I’ll give him a run for his money.’ Simon made a show of readjusting his jeans and strutting towards the bar. He proceeded to stand between Grace and the guy chatting her up. With his butt strategically placed next to the other guy’s and protruding more than usual.
‘You know what, the man makes a strong case,’ Avery mused.
‘Not bad at all,’ Meg agreed, nudging Byron in the ribs.
‘You guys are incorrigible,’ he laughed.
‘Don’t be jealous, I like your butt best.’ Meg kissed him on the cheek.
‘I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,’ Avery smiled sweetly. ‘Plus, it’s not a real competition unless there are at least three choices to look at,’ she said innocently.
‘Oh well, in that case.’ Byron hoisted himself up, happy to oblige, and walked to the bar. His tailored slacks a snug fit in all the right places.
‘How lucky are we to have found such fun, friendly people to work with,’ Avery commented after her and Meg managed to stop laughing.
‘I think you’re right,’ Meg said, feeling the effects of the wine and not caring. After receiving the encouraging feedback from James, she felt alive and vibrant for the first time in a long time. She wanted to surf the high for as long as it lasted, be it hours or days.
‘And not just professionally,’ Avery prompted.
Meg smiled at her friend. ‘Yeah, Byron is such a nice, legitimate guy.’ She frowned at her own words. ‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.’
‘No, I know what you mean, down to earth, what you see is what you get,’ Avery said and Meg nodded. ‘I think it helps that they’re both so close with Grace. Having that sort of female presence in their life is obviously a real positive influence.’ They looked over to where Grace and her brothers stood laughing in the afternoon sunshine.
‘Yep, she certainly would have pulled them into line if they ever considered doing wrong by their high school sweethearts.’
Across the lawn at the bar, Grace was introducing her brothers to the man who was trying his hardest to invite Grace out without having to beg for it. She was quite enjoying the game but her brothers had other ideas. Soon enough the man gave up, not sure why the other two men kept fidgeting with their back pockets and bending to pick up a loose napkin or tie a non-existent shoelace.
‘Just for that, you two can buy the next round. I don’t know what your game is.’ She looked over to where Meg and Avery were in stiches on the cushions. ‘But I think you both have rather nice rear-ends, in a brotherly kind of way of course.’
‘Ah yes, but are they nicer than your gentleman friend,’ Simon enquired, craning his neck to see for himself.
‘Well, I wouldn’t know because you two scared him off.’ Grace shook her head in mock-disappointment. ‘Let’s get another bottle of Riesling and a cheese plate. Simon, are you on to whisky yet?’
‘Do bears like honey?’ It wasn’t until Simon smiled his megawatt smile that Grace realised she hadn’t seen it in awhile. She made a mental note to quiz Byron about it later.
‘Here.’ Byron handed Simon the wine and fresh glasses. ‘You take these to the girls and I’ll get us some of the hard stuff.’ Once Simon had dutifully returned to the cushions, Byron turned to Grace. ‘So, what do you think of Meg, now that you’ve spent a bit of time with her?’
Grace smiled and thought of the fifteen year old Byron asking her the same question about a girl, hoping to get his sister’s approval. But because he seemed more genuinely interested in her response now, she thought carefully before responding. ‘Meg is pretty, in an unconventional way.’ Grace knew that wasn’t what Byron was asking. ‘I get the feeling she’s an extrovert trapped in an introvert’s body at the moment. She’s very guarded, like someone’s hurt her pretty bad and she’s definitely not ready to move on.’ Grace hoped she wasn’t spreading it on too thick, but since when had that ever stopped her sharing her opinion, especially when it was actually asked for. ‘I think she’s slowly coming out of her shell. You’re doing a good job of nurturing that, I’ve taught you well young PadOne,’ she joked. She deliberately didn’t mention Patrick Heathcliff, this wasn’t the time or place to give her opinion on that. ‘I think that Meg’s making you happy right now and that you’re making her happy too. Just don’t rush things or she’ll be running for the hills, or in this case the calendars, and you’ll be left without a photographer as well as a snuggle-buddy.’
Byron knew his sister’s words were all true. He also knew that she’d done some background work on Meg. But Grace wouldn’t spoil the day by talking about Meg’s past. He knew that they wouldn’t be having this glorious day out all together if Grace didn’t trust Meg or respect Byron’s judgment. Sometimes there was more meaning in what Grace didn’t say than in what she did.