The Next Season (novella)

by Rachael Johns

  He moved his eyebrows a little, dug his free hand into his pocket and gazed down at the sand as if it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Zoe wiggled her toes, sand sliding between them, and racked her brain for something to say. This felt ridiculously like the pressured finale of a very good first date. In the end, he spoke first.

  ‘I…I guess I’ll text you.’ He glanced down the beach and then back at her. ‘And a word of advice. Next time you decide to go for a swim, maybe plan ahead and bring your bathers or something.’

  Without thinking, her hand lifted and connected playfully with the side of his arm. The friendly gesture seemed natural and she felt the seven years they’d been apart melting away. So many times over those years she’d thought about him, wondered if turning him down had been the worst mistake of her life. But she’d been young and confused and scared by how serious he’d wanted things to be between them when no one had ever wanted her before. Not even her own mother. She’d been terrified of getting close and then losing him, so she’d pushed him away.

  ‘Very funny,’ she said, shoving the maudlin thoughts aside. ‘Ever thought about being a comedian?’

  ‘Nope.’ He yanked his hand out of his pocket and held it up to her. ‘I’m much better with my hands.’

  And although he was referring to his craftsmanship, the way he looked at her said he’d meant the double entendre. She swallowed, remembering exactly how talented those hands had been—despite their inexperience—and wishing, just for a moment, that she could have them once again. On her.

  ‘Anyway…’ He interrupted her thoughts. ‘I’d better take this big guy home for dinner. Look out for my text.’

  Oh, I will, she thought, but managed a nod and a casual smile instead. ‘See ya later.’

  Five

  Zoe did not spend all night checking her phone for messages from Shaun like some kind of lovesick teenage girl. She interspersed the longing glances at her mobile with other things—like playing a painful game of Pictionary with Daniel and little Reese, baking a cake (something that always gave her a buzz) and watching TV with Sandee before finally falling into bed just before midnight. And anyway, the incessant checking was down to her desperately needing a job and nothing to do with the fact that the conversation with Shaun had been the best fun she’d had in ages, even though it had mostly revolved around their tragic love lives. The only thing that could have made their time together more perfect would have been a greasy package of fish and chips to share.

  In the morning, when she checked her phone again—to see the time, not in case of a message—and he still hadn’t texted, she thought maybe he’d decided against recommending her to Hannah. He probably wanted less scatty employees for his dear sister. Not afraid to admit to a little disappointment, Zoe dragged her sorry body out of bed and threw herself into the shower. Half an hour later she was sitting at the table, surrounded by Sandee’s little tribe all munching on toast and shovelling cereal hastily into their mouths so as not to miss the school bus. She’d just poured herself a glass of fresh orange juice when her phone vibrated in her pocket and the message jingle sounded.

  She jumped, having given up all hope of hearing it ever again.

  ‘You okay?’ Daniel raised an eyebrow at her over the top of his Weetbix-laden spoon. ‘You look like you’ve never gotten a text before.’

  She smiled; for someone passed from pillar to post, he was a sweet kid, who hadn’t kicked up a fuss about losing his bedroom to her. She guessed Sandee had a lot to do with his attitude too. ‘I’m fine.’ Then she slid the phone out of her pocket and held her breath as she glanced down at the screen. There wasn’t a name—merely a number because Shaun hadn’t put his details into her phone—but she knew it was from him.

  Sorry I didn’t message you last night. I only just got hold of Hannah. She’s keen and wants to see you at 10am. Can you make it?

  Of course, she texted back. And thanks.

  No worries. Good luck.

  Damn, he was nice.

  ‘Who or what is responsible for that crazy smile on your dial?’ Sandee asked, as she finished wrapping sandwiches for lunches.

  ‘I think I might have found a job.’

  ‘Oh? That’s fabulous? Where?’

  Zoe took a quick breath, knowing Sandee would read more into her answer than she should. ‘I’m going to see Hannah Elliot at her new café. Apparently she’s looking for waitresses.’

  Sandee looked like she wanted to interrogate her further—probably ask exactly how she’d come by this snippet of information—but Zoe made her excuses before she had the chance. ‘Better go get ready for my interview.’ She swiped a slice of vegemite toast off the communal tray in the middle of the table and hurried to her room to dry her hair.

  By ten o’clock she was standing outside the Chocolate Dreams Café, wondering if Shaun had told Hannah how badly she needed this job. She didn’t want to be hired as a charity case, so she was determined to impress her with her experience and work ethic. As the shop wasn’t yet in business—it was opening this weekend according to signs splashed all over the window—she had to knock on the door and wait for someone to let her in.

  She tried to look all cool and carefree but the butterflies in her stomach felt as if they’d overdosed on red jellybeans. And when the door peeled open to reveal Shaun standing in front of her she almost went into cardiac arrest. She’d been expecting Hannah or maybe her fiancé, and it hadn’t crossed her mind that Shaun might be here, looking all DIY-delicious in cargos, a black t-shirt, chunky boots and—oh Lord—an actual tool belt. He could have been Mr January on a handyman charity calendar. And if she owned said calendar, she’d never get to the rest of the year.

  ‘You made it.’ He almost smiled as he gestured for her to come inside.

  She swallowed, attempting to regulate her hormones and her heart. Somehow her brain managed to give her feet the direction to follow him in. ‘Thanks.’ She pulled a smile from deep within, unable to determine whether her skittish pulse was down to Shaun or nerves about the interview.

  ‘Hannah’s in the kitchen with the pastry chef,’ he explained, seemingly oblivious to her nervousness. ‘I’ll just go get her.’

  Zoe welcomed the chance to pull herself together before the meeting with the woman who would hopefully be her future boss. She wasn’t sure whether already knowing her would be an advantage or disadvantage. They had almost been close once, but when Zoe had turned down Shaun’s proposal, his sister had predictably taken Shaun’s side. Although that was years ago now and they’d barely been out of high school at the time, the female of the species were good at holding grudges. Trying to forget about their prior connection, Zoe lingered between the beautifully handcrafted tables and took a look around.

  The cream painted walls perfectly complemented the wood of the furniture and the amazing counter. Also, someone—Shaun she guessed, judging by the tool belt—looked to be in the middle of hanging up frames with quotes about chocolate, which when complete would give the café a lovely warm and friendly atmosphere. There were a pile of these frames stacked on the floor near the counter and she went over and read the quote on top.

  Happiness is an unexpected piece of chocolate.

  Zoe smiled. Or an unexpected run-in with your first love. She pushed that thought aside and read another quote.

  For some, there’s therapy. For the rest of us, there’s chocolate.

  She laughed out loud at that, suddenly desperate for Hannah to give her a job. She had the distinct feeling that working in this happy place would be like food for the soul.

  ‘Zoe!’

  She lifted her head at the sound of Hannah’s voice and saw Shaun’s sister walking towards her. For some reason she’d expected her to look older with a mammoth baby bump protruding in front of her, but you could barely tell she was pregnant and she didn’t look as if she’d aged at all in the last few years. She wore her dark chocolate brown hair in a high ponytail and had a smile that looked like i
t might jump off her face at any moment.

  Zoe opened her mouth to reply but her words were smothered as Hannah drew her into a warm hug. She’d never started a job interview in this familiar manner before, but decided to go with the flow. Maybe Hannah was so consumed in her bubble of love and baby joy she didn’t have room to hold onto hard feelings.

  ‘It’s so lovely to see you again,’ Hannah said, still grinning as she stepped back slightly to look properly at Zoe. ‘When Shaun said you were looking for a job I almost leapt with joy.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Okay, so her excessive excitement was a little unsettling but some people were simply perpetually friendly. ‘I really appreciate you considering me.’

  ‘Considering you?’ Hannah looked at her like she was speaking gobbledegook. ‘The job’s yours.’

  Zoe frowned. ‘Don’t you want to interview me first or something?’ She looked over to Shaun, who’d gone back to fixing frames to the wall and had his back turned. Big mistake. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of him lifting his arm to hammer a nail into the wall and her throat turned to sandpaper. Was there anything sexier than a man who knew how to wield a hammer?

  Ignoring her question, which was a good thing because Zoe had forgotten what she’d asked, Hannah said in a lowered voice, ‘Shaun’s been such a great help with the café. I think it’s helping to keep his mind off what happened with Melissa. Did he tell you about that?’

  She nodded, not wanting Shaun to overhear them talking about him and hoping Hannah wasn’t about to give her the big sister stay away from my brother because if you-break his heart again I’ll break you spiel.

  Totally the opposite in fact. ‘I hate to see him so down and out,’ Hannah whispered, ‘but I’m very pragmatic about it. Melissa obviously wasn’t the right girl for him and once he recovers his pride, he’ll realise that and it’ll leave him free to find Miss Right.’

  ‘Uh huh.’ Zoe didn’t know what to say to that and she wished Hannah would get back to the task at hand. ‘So. The café,’ she said, brightly, tearing her gaze away from Mr January. ‘If you’re opening on Saturday, do you want me to start then? Will there be any training beforehand?’

  Hannah blinked, then gestured to a table. ‘Right. Shall we sit? First I have some paperwork to go through with you and then we’ll find you a uniform. We’ve got the most gorgeous t-shirts and you can wear a denim skirt, shorts or jeans with it. Closed-in shoes of course. I’ll be back in a moment.’

  As Hannah went out the back again, Zoe slid down into a chair at a table a good distance from Shaun. If she kept getting distracted while filling in paperwork, she was liable to spell her name wrong or something. Shaun didn’t look up from his task and that was probably a good thing. She didn’t know what was going on between them—probably nothing—but her body was certainly getting ideas. Before she could contemplate this worrying fact any more, Hannah returned with a tall, tanned, dark-haired man. He looked to Zoe like one of the alpha heroes from Sandee’s Mills & Boon books come to life—all smouldering looks and the kind of stubble you imagined running your fingers along. If this was the fiancé Matt, she could see why theirs had been a whirlwind romance.

  ‘Zoe.’ Hannah smiled and gestured to the man. ‘This is Toby, my chief pastry chef. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted one of his chocolate creations.’

  Zoe stood as Toby stepped forward to kiss her on both cheeks. ‘Hola, bonita. I cannot wait to cook for you.’

  Zoe felt herself blush. She never been good at foreign languages but she guessed bonita was a term of endearment. ‘Thank you. But I’m here to work, not eat.’

  ‘No reason you can’t do both.’ Toby wriggled his thick dark eyebrows at her. ‘Work should be fun, should it not, Hannah bella?’

  Hannah laughed. ‘I’m hoping this place will be fun for customers and staff alike.’ She sat down at the table, placed a folder in front of her and gestured for Zoe to sit again.

  ‘I shall make something special for you to drink.’ With that promise, Toby turned in the manner of a Latin dancer and flounced back into the kitchen.

  ‘Isn’t he lovely?’ Hannah asked.

  ‘He’s quite a character, that’s for sure.’

  Those words had barely escaped Zoe’s mouth when a shriek, followed by a curse, sounded from Shaun’s direction. Zoe and Hannah snapped their heads to look at him, only to see a spray of bright red blood across Hannah’s pristine wall.

  ‘Oh my God. What have you done?’ Hannah leapt out of her chair and hurried over to her brother. Of course, Zoe followed.

  Dammit. Shaun dropped the hammer and clutched his throbbing thumb to his chest. He’d known it was a bad idea skiving off his real job to come hang frames for Hannah. It was a task he could have done after hours when Zoe wouldn’t be here as well. He couldn’t even explain why he’d come—it wasn’t like Hannah would put Zoe through the ringer and he’d known the job was a done deal. And besides, after dropping everything to craft the furniture for the café, they had a backlog of work and orders at Elliot’s. But…

  ‘Let me take a look at it,’ Hannah demanded as she landed beside him.

  Wincing, he drew his thumb from his chest and held it out. Bright blood dripped from beneath his nail.

  Hannah’s face went pale. ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ she gushed before covering her mouth and fleeing towards the shop’s convenience. Fat load of help she was.

  Zoe appeared in her wake and winced along with him. ‘That looks painful,’ she sympathised. ‘I’ll see if I can find some ice and something to wrap it with in the kitchen.’

  Nodding, he flopped back into a seat and wrapped his good hand around his bad thumb while she went off to seek first aid supplies. It was an effort not to wince too much at the throbbing pain. How could he have been so damn careless? He’d been using a hammer and far more dangerous tools since before he could even read, and unlike his older brothers he’d never had a work-related injury. Still, the idea of Zoe nursing him wasn’t altogether bad.

  As a matter of fact he’d been having a lot of ideas about Zoe since she waltzed back into town. He didn’t know how—or even if—he could be just friends with her, but in the short time she’d been back he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. The last two nights he’d barely slept because every time he closed his eyes, images of her haunted him. Memories that had been buried somewhere deep in the back of his mind reared up and reminded him how into her he’d been seven years ago.

  They’d been the couple of Wildwood Point High School from almost the moment she’d been farmed out with Sandee. They’d met at the school swimming carnival, where Zoe had swum better than most of his class. Even the boys. Her skill and determination in the pool had wowed him, and the way she’d looked in her swimsuit hadn’t hurt either. They’d got chatting and he’d asked her about surfing. She’d said she’d never tried and he’d offered to teach her. One thing had led to another until not only could Zoe wield a wave almost as well as him, but somehow they’d become inseparable.

  In addition to their love of the water, they’d shared other interests. They liked the same bands, the same TV shows; they both loved mushrooms on their pizza but hated anchovies. Academic subjects bored the bejesus out of them, but they thrived at Technology and Enterprise, Home Economics and Phys Ed.

  And then there was the chemistry. Fuck! The chemistry had almost blown his seventeen-year-old red blood cells into outer space. They’d been each other’s firsts so granted they didn’t have anything to compare with, but he hadn’t been able to imagine how sex could ever be better with anyone else.

  If he were honest with himself, it never had been.

  Of course his mates had teased him about being under her thumb, and his parents had worried about him getting serious too young, but he’d known his mind and nothing could put a dampener on the feelings he had for Zoe Bennett.

  Maybe it was these feelings of old and the fact she’d returned so soon after what had happened with Melissa, but he
didn’t trust himself around her.

  He found it hard not to flirt with her, and in the short time they’d spent together he’d already had to tamp down that instinct a number of times. The last thing he wanted was get carried away and say something he’d regret. Like begging her to go out with him. Because she’d rejected him once and a sucker for self-punishment he most definitely was not.

  Despite the pain and his tumultuous thoughts, Shaun managed a smile as Zoe emerged from the kitchen looking victorious.

  ‘I went for ice, but I found something even better.’ She grinned and then stepped sideways, gesturing behind her like a model on some cheesy TV game show. ‘Apparently Toby is trained in senior first aid.’

  Holding up an icepack and what looked to be some sort of first-aid kid, Hannah’s new chef smiled in a way that grated on Shaun’s nerves. ‘Let Toby have a look, now,’ he said, referring to himself in the third person as if Shaun were a two-year-old child who needed things spelled out.

  The last thing Shaun wanted was Toby touching his injury. It was his fault he was in this predicament in the first place. If he hadn’t been flirting with Zoe, accentuating his ridiculous accent and kissing her cheeks, Shaun would never have been so distracted as to hammer his thumb instead of a nail.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said through gritted teeth as he shot into a stand.

  ‘You have accident like this before?’ Toby asked, leaning forward to peer at Shaun’s mangled thumb.

  ‘No,’ Shaun hissed, but Toby didn’t appear to notice. He’d already turned his attentions to Zoe. So much for being all gung-ho about applying first aid.