Why Resist a Rebel?

by Leah Ashton

  Whose party is it? Ros.

  And she was? A friend. He’d managed to say this more confidently this time—regardless, Ruby had still raised an eyebrow.

  How many people could be there? Fifty? He had no idea.

  Where was it? Her house.

  Why don’t you want to go alone?

  To this, he’d simply shrugged, and by then they’d arrived at the small strip of tarmac amongst the patchwork paddocks—and there was no more time for questions.

  Take-off was taken up with a safety demonstration by their stewardess, plus a bit of oohing and aahing by Ruby over their plush leather seats that faced each other and the glossy cabinetry in the little food and beverage galley behind the cockpit.

  ‘This is completely awesome,’ she’d said at the time. Dev agreed—money made life a lot easier and, at times like this, a lot more fun.

  Fortunately, in this instance, it also distracted Ruby from her quest to discover exactly where they were going.

  During the short flight she was ensconced in the jet’s tiny bathroom, courtesy of his explanation that they would need to drive direct from the airport to the party. This had earned him yet another glare, and then later another—from freshly made-up eyes—as she’d buckled up next to him for landing, plucking at the fabric of her jeans.

  ‘I really didn’t have anything suitable to wear.’

  ‘You look fantastic,’ he’d said—sincerely—running his gaze over her brown leather heeled boots, dark blue jeans, creamish camisole and navy blue velvet blazer.

  She’d just rolled her eyes. Which—again—she’d repeated when he’d quickly changed on arrival in Sydney.

  ‘Two minutes to look like that? Really?’

  But she’d smiled, and he’d been stupidly pleased that she’d approved of how he looked.

  Now they sat in the back seat of another black four-wheel drive, this time with a new driver, Graeme having been left a little flabbergasted back in Lucyville. But then, he couldn’t do much given Dev hadn’t booked him onto the flight.

  Which hadn’t been a difficult decision. No doubt he’d hear all about it from Veronica—sooner rather than later. But right now, it was all about tonight.

  Ruby made a few attempts at conversation, but all fell flat. Instead Dev found himself staring at nothing out of the window, Sydney passing him by in a multicoloured blur of lights. As their destination became closer, even the lights failed to register as his eyes completely unfocused.

  Then he didn’t know what he was looking at, or thinking about. Nothing he told himself, but of course he wasn’t.

  Snatches of voices, bursts of laughter, moments of anger, conspiratorial giggles. Memories. None fully formed, more a collage, a show-reel of moments in time. All set in one place, at one house—at one home.

  When the driver pulled into the familiar ornate gates, Dev waited for the crunch of flawlessly raked gravel—but there was none. The tyres rolled across a driveway that had been paved perfectly smooth some time in the past fourteen years.

  The driver expertly negotiated the cars parked along the semi-circular curve, pulling to a stop directly before the tiered garden steps that led to the front door.

  Ruby opened her own door, stepping out of the car almost the moment the car rolled to a stop. Hands on hips, she stood, surveying the house, the gardens—and the guests who flowed around them, walking up from the street in couples and groups.

  Dev sent the driver on his way and joined Ruby, watching her watch what was happening around her.

  Up until this moment she’d displayed not one hint of nervousness about the evening. Yes, she’d been a little bothered about the lack of time to prepare, and had sighed loudly at his halfway answers to her questions. That she was frustrated with him, there was no doubt.

  But otherwise she’d been typically no-nonsense Ruby. Just as she was on set, she’d been calm, and focused. He’d almost been able to read her thoughts: It’s just a party. No big deal.

  Now they were here, however, he could see sudden tension in her posture.

  She turned towards him, tiny lines etching her forehead.

  ‘Who am I?’ she asked.

  It took him a moment to figure out what that meant.

  ‘You mean if anyone asks?’

  Her answering nod was terribly stiff.

  Lord. He didn’t know. He barely knew why he was here, let alone how he should describe his unexpected guest.

  ‘My—’

  He was going to say date, for the reward of that flash to her eyes—that delicious reaction of heat tinged with anger.

  But tonight he found riling her was not on the top of his list of things to do.

  So no—he wouldn’t push, he wouldn’t call this a date when he knew in her head she’d so stubbornly decreed that they would never, ever date again.

  ‘—friend,’ he finished.

  It sounded lame—and like a lie. As much of a lie as calling Ros a friend.

  And somehow it was also the wrong thing to say, as Ruby took a big step back, then looked away, staring up at the moon.

  ‘How about we just go with work colleague?’ she said, with a razor-sharp edge.

  He didn’t have a chance to respond, or to even begin to figure out what he’d done wrong, when she began to stride towards the house.

  He caught up with her well before they reached the door, where a smartly dressed man—but still obviously a security guard—widened his eyes as he recognised him.

  He opened the door for them without a word, and inside, in a redecorated but still familiar foyer, a small crowd of guests mingled.

  Ruby looked at him curiously, and he knew what she was thinking. The guests were all older than them, by a good twenty or thirty years.

  But then the enthusiastic chatter stilled, and one by one people turned to face him, replacing their cacophony with whispered speculation.

  Then, from amongst it all, out stepped a women with silver-blonde hair styled in the sleekest of bobs, and an elegant dress that flattered a figure still fit and trim at—as of today—sixty.

  Her eyes, so similar to his, were wide, and coated in a sheen he didn’t want to think about too much.

  As dignified as always, she approached them politely. Although her smile went well beyond that—it was broad. Thrilled.

  Dev felt his own mouth form into a smile in response—not as wide, not as open, yet he still had the sense he’d been holding his breath for hours.

  He reached for Ruby, wrapping his hand around hers in an instinctive movement.

  ‘Ruby, this is Ros,’ he said, ‘my—’

  ‘Mother,’ she finished.

  Ruby didn’t look at him, she simply smoothly accepted the hand that his mum offered, and wished his mother a happy birthday.

  ‘I’m Ruby,’ she added, ‘a colleague of Dev’s.’

  His mother glanced to their joined hands, then back to Dev, questions dancing in her eyes.

  But no, he wasn’t about to explain.

  A long moment passed, and Dev realised he’d made a mistake. He should’ve hugged his mum, or something...but he’d felt frozen. Out of practice.

  Then it was too late, and his mum said something that was terribly polite, and trilled her lovely, cultured laugh, and disappeared back into the crowd. A crowd now full of disapproving expressions, all aimed in his direction.

  Yes, he knew who he was—the son who’d blown off his father’s funeral.

  This is a mistake.

  He still held Ruby’s hand, and he would’ve tugged her outside, straight back to their car, if more guests hadn’t filled the space behind them. Instead, he pulled her into one of the front rooms—‘the library’, his mum called it, with its walls of multicoloured books and oriental carpets.

  Or at least he thought he’d drawn Ruby into the room—belatedly he realised it was more Ruby doing the directing. Inside, she dropped his hand, and pushed the door shut behind them, hard enough that it verged towards a slam.

 
‘This is your mother’s birthday party, Dev?’ she said. Then on a slightly higher pitch, ‘You invited me to your mother’s birthday party?’

  He nodded, because there was nothing else he could do.

  Her hands were back on her hips again, and she took a long, deep breath. ‘Okay. So, do you want to hurry up about telling me what on earth is going on?’

  Ruby was doing her absolute best to hold herself together. What she wanted to do—desperately—was throw something in Dev’s direction. Something hard, preferably.

  What the hell was he playing at? Just who did he think he was?

  A floor lamp glowed in the corner, and flames flickered in the fireplace, throwing soft light across the room and making the dark leather of the button-backed chesterfield lounge suite shine.

  Into that shininess, Dev sank, stretching his legs out long before him. He tilted his head backwards, resting it along the back of the sofa, and stared upwards, as if the delicate ceiling rose suddenly required his full attention.

  ‘We can go in a minute,’ he said, just before she was about to speak again.

  The low words—quiet and so unexpected—had her swallowing the outburst she’d had ready.

  All of a sudden the fight went out of her—and all she could remember was the reason she’d agreed to come here in the first place: I really don’t want to go on my own.

  ‘Go?’

  He looked at her. ‘Yeah. There’s a restaurant I like, at Darling Harbour. I won’t have any trouble getting us in.’

  Ruby had been standing near the door, but now she crossed the room, perching on the edge of the single chesterfield armchair directly across from Dev, her booted feet only inches from his distressed leather loafers.

  ‘Why would you want to leave your mother’s birthday party? I bet it’s a milestone, too, given all these people.’

  ‘Her sixtieth.’

  Ruby nodded. ‘So why leave?’ she repeated.

  He stood up abruptly, and shoved both hands into his pockets. ‘It was a dumb idea to come. I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  ‘How was it a dumb idea to come to your own mother’s birthday party?’

  Dev’s gaze was trained on the fire, and he stood perfectly still.

  ‘It just was. Is.’

  Now he looked at her, but in the uneven light she couldn’t read a thing. ‘I’m confused,’ she said.

  He shook his head dismissively. ‘You don’t need to understand. Let’s go.’

  His fingers wrapped around the door handle, but before he had a chance to twist it open Ruby was on her feet.

  ‘I don’t need to understand?’ she asked, far from politely, stepping closer so they were almost toe to toe. ‘You’re telling me I’m supposed to just accept that you whisked me across the state and deliberately concealed our exact destination—and ask no questions?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That would be ideal.’

  Dev rubbed his forehead, not looking at her. In the flickering shadows, the darkness beneath his eyes was suddenly even more pronounced.

  Without thinking, Ruby reached out, running a finger whisper-soft along the top edge of his cheekbone.

  At her touch, his hand dropped to his side, but otherwise he didn’t move a muscle.

  ‘Does tonight have something to do with this?’ she asked, her fingertips tracing across to the smudges of black beneath his eyes.

  For long moments, their gazes met, his momentarily open and revealing above her exploratory touch.

  That his unspoken answer was Yes, was obvious—but there was more. A lot more.

  His eyes revealed a depth of emotion she’d only seen before in glimpses. But now, right this second, he’d set it all free—for her to see.

  But what was she seeing? Sadness, she knew. She recognised.

  And loss. Guilt?

  But then it was all gone, gone as quickly as he gently but firmly took her wrist and pushed it away.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said. Again, he reached for the door.

  Ruby touched him again, covering his much larger hand partially with hers.

  ‘I think we should stay.’

  He was staring at their hands. Ruby could feel the tension beneath her palm, the rigid shape of his knuckles.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you want to stay.’

  He looked up, his eyebrows raised. ‘And how, exactly, do you know that?’

  She had no idea. But she did.

  She shrugged, deciding it best to say nothing at all. She stepped away, lifting her hand away from his, conscious that she really had no idea what was going on here. That she was the last person in the world who should be advising anyone on their own family issues.

  Dev was right, really—there was no reason she needed to understand any of this. Not why Dev brought her here, not why he wanted to leave—and certainly not why Dev’s beautiful mother would look at her son with such a mix of instantaneous joy and pain.

  She shouldn’t want to understand. There was no point.

  She was no one to him. A friend, he’d said, for the evening. That wasn’t even true, and yet still she’d felt a stupid, stupid kick to her guts when he’d said those words.

  Work colleague was the accurate term. The only term to describe them.

  She stepped away, suddenly terribly uncomfortable. As she knew all that, believed all that—and yet all she could think about was Dev, and those dark eyes, and that sorrow behind them.

  ‘I think we should stay.’

  Ruby’s head jerked up at the deep, firmly spoken words. As she watched, Dev opened the door, holding it open for her.

  He looked relaxed and utterly unbothered. As if he’d always been the one who’d wanted to stay the whole time, in fact.

  He motioned towards the door. ‘Ready?’

  Ruby just nodded in response, and then he followed her out into the hallway.

  The party spread from the three-storey home’s expansive entertaining areas through concertinaed bi-fold doors to the garden. Tall stainless-steel patio heaters dotted the grass, and fairy lights wound their way through the ornamental hedges and carefully pruned gardenias. The thirty-metre high Ironbarks and Turpentines of the adjacent Sheldon Forest—imposing even at night—formed a towering backdrop to the evening.

  It was—clearly—yet another fabulous party hosted by Ros Cooper.

  For about the twentieth time in the two minutes since he’d walked out of the library, Dev changed his mind.

  He’d been right. He should go.

  ‘Devlin!’

  Dev bit back a groan, but turned to face that familiar voice.

  ‘Jared!’ he said, as forced and false as his eldest brother.

  He blinked as his gaze took him in. How long had it been? Two years? Five?

  Jared had softened just a little around the middle, and his temples sported new sprinklings of grey. But his expression—anger mixed with frustration mixed with judgmental dismissal—that was remarkably unchanged.

  Actually, not remarkable at all. Jared, like his father, wasn’t known for his swift changes of opinion.

  It took barely a minute for Jared to introduce himself to Ruby, to make some irrelevant, meaningless, small talk—and then get straight to the point.

  ‘Mum’s pleased you’re here.’

  Dev nodded. ‘You’re not.’

  ‘No. You’ll just end up upsetting her.’ His brother casually took a long sip of his beer.

  ‘That’s not the aim.’

  Jared shrugged. Over Dev’s shoulder he mouthed hello! at someone behind them. He was always so smooth—always so perfect. The perfect son—one of two both equally, differently perfect: at school, at sport, at socialising.

  Then along came Dev. Not even close to perfect.

  ‘You shouldn’t have come,’ he said, as friendly as if they were discussing a footy match. ‘I wish you hadn’t.’ Now he bothered to catch his gaze. ‘But as you’re here, at least try not to ruin tonight for Mum, okay? It’s her firs
t party since...’ Jared swallowed a few times, and the pain of his loss was clear even in the moonlight.

  Dev reached out—but he didn’t know what to do. So he let his hand flop back uselessly to his side. Jared was oblivious, his stare becoming hard.

  ‘Just don’t let her down again.’ Jared pushed the words out between clenched teeth—and then wasted no time waiting for a response.

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ he murmured to Ruby, and then Dev found his gaze following his brother’s suit-jacketed shoulders as he walked away, across the limestone paving and back inside the house.

  A hand brushed his arm. ‘Dev?’

  Ruby was looking up at him, questions in her eyes. ‘You okay?’

  He nodded sharply. ‘Do you want a drink?’

  She raised her eyebrows, but let him go. When he returned a few minutes later, she’d found a small bench nestled in the garden. A man he didn’t recognise sat beside her, and something he said made her laugh. A beautiful, genuine, honest, Ruby laugh.

  ‘She’s with me,’ he said, sounding about as caveman as he intended as he came to a stop before them.

  The guy looked up and Dev could see the exact millisecond he realised who he was. And that was all it took—the man stood up without a word, and left.

  Ruby looked at him disapprovingly as he sat. ‘That was rude—and inaccurate.’

  He handed her her champagne. ‘It’s what they all expect of me. And, also, it was technically correct. You did come with me.’

  She smiled, just a little. ‘That’s not what you meant.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’ve got other things to worry about than some guy who doesn’t have the guts to stand his ground.’

  She took a sip of her drink, looking out across the garden. ‘Yeah, I’m getting that feeling.’ Another sip. ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

  ‘No.’

  She shifted on the wooden bench, and recrossed her long legs so they were angled towards him. ‘Then why, exactly, did you bring me here tonight?’

  ‘I don’t think I know,’ he said, deciding she deserved honesty—even if he couldn’t provide answers.

  I really don’t want to go on my own.

  That particular moment of honesty in Ruby’s apartment had definitely been unplanned. Until that moment, even he hadn’t known it was true. He’d told himself that she’d make the night more fun, that she’d be—his favourite word when it came to her, it seemed—a distraction.