Her Aussie Holiday

by Stefanie London

  Which was exactly why she’d been thrilled to find a guy who “got” her—being in a relationship meant she no longer had to suffer through awkward first meetings and fumbled kisses and that sinking, disappointed feeling she got when it was clear that a limp cucumber had more chemistry than her date.

  “What’s the plan for today?” she asked, folding the blanket and setting it neatly on the couch.

  “I’ve got a mate coming around this morning to help me fix the plumbing and check on the water damage. Then I figured we should get to work on trying to put this bloody scrapbook back together.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand why Liv couldn’t get them a voucher to a nice restaurant. Or buy them a plant or something. She turns everything into a fanfare.”

  “I think it’s sweet.” Cora headed into the little open-concept kitchen where Trent was making the coffee. He placed one steaming mug in front of her along with a carton of milk and a bowl of sugar with a small, gold spoon sticking out of it. “She clearly put a lot of effort into it.”

  “A lot of effort that we will have to replicate.”

  Cora smiled at his use of “we.” It felt like they were a team in this, despite their dramatic first introduction. And being on someone’s team wasn’t a feeling she’d had in a really long time. “So you weren’t big on arts and crafts as a kid?”

  “Uh no, that was strictly Liv and Mum’s hobby. My brother Jace is a comic book artist, so I guess we could put him in that category, too. Well, minus the glue guns and shit. But the rest of us boys were firmly in the sports and outdoor activities camp.” He dumped some milk into his coffee and waded a spoon through it. “Footy, cricket, tennis, surfing. If there was a competition attached—we’d play it.”

  “Sounds like that would take the whole sibling rivalry thing to the next level.”

  Trent laughed. “Yeah, you could definitely say that. You’ll see it in action, anyway. Nick is on our cricket team and Adam fills in sometimes if we’re down a player.”

  “I really don’t think my being on your team is a good idea.” Cora sipped her coffee and tried not to stare at Trent’s half-naked form. The man was literally physical perfection. And, as someone who had great appreciation for the written word, she didn’t use that particular one lightly. “I can promise you the only time I would ever hit a ball would be in self-defense, and only then because the planets aligned and I made contact out of sheer coincidence.”

  Trent shook his head. “You can’t be that bad.”

  “Trust me, if I’m a bad person and I go to hell…it’ll be some kind of batting practice.” She shuddered at the thought. “Growing up, I was that kid with a nose in my book at all times.”

  Well, when her mother wasn’t berating her for being “antisocial.”

  “It doesn’t matter—we’re competitive, but we’re not sore losers. Besides, the biggest thing at stake is a round of beers afterward.” Trent took a long sip of his coffee. “It’s a social thing, and it doesn’t matter if you’re any good. That’s not the point of it.”

  As much as she knew she’d be awful, the thought of spending more time with Trent wasn’t exactly unappealing, to say the least. Like his sister, he was friendly and down-to-earth. A veritable antidote for the snobby people she’d grown up with, for whom judgment and ridicule were their sports of choice.

  “How novel to do something for the fun of it,” she said, a bitter tone lacing her words. But then she shook her head, determined not to let her baggage cast a shadow over her time in Australia. “Anyway, if you accept my total lack of skills, then I look forward to footing the bill for beers afterward.”

  Trent eyed her. Clearly he hadn’t missed her little comment—just another thing she’d shown him about herself, and which she should have kept locked away.

  A knock at the front door interrupted the conversation, and Cora took the opportunity to duck into Liv’s bedroom and change out of her pajamas. If Trent was working on the plumbing, then she’d park herself outside and spend a little time with her manuscript. At least that way she could work on her tan at the same time—multitasking for the win!

  She gathered up her laptop and the printout of the feedback letter her father had written for her, on which she’d scrawled a bunch of notes. Trent was talking to another man—a guy with dark hair, a beard, and a full sleeve of tattoos down one arm.

  “Cora, this is Hale. He’s our local plumber extraordinaire.” Trent grinned. “And Cora is a friend of Liv’s. They’re house swapping at the moment.”

  “I’m also the source of the water damage,” she said, sticking her hand out. Hale clamped his big bear paw of a hand around hers and gave her a firm handshake. He had mischievous brown eyes that crinkled good-naturedly when he smiled.

  “Uh no, that blame lies entirely with this clown here for not turning off the mains.” He jerked his head toward Trent. “Now, if you’d gotten a real plumber to do the job—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Trent rolled his eyes. “Enough with the self-promotion.”

  “Just saying.” Hale held up his hands. “If I were here, there wouldn’t have been a problem.”

  “If you hadn’t moved your noisy girlfriend into our house, I wouldn’t even have been here to start work on the plumbing yet.”

  Ah, so Hale was the former roommate. To Cora’s surprise, the big man blushed. “Well yes, you know…honeymoon period and all that.”

  “I’m joking. You know I think Aimee is great. I haven’t seen you this happy in years,” Trent said with a wink. “I won’t hold the screaming against either one of you.”

  Hale shot him a look that said if his friend didn’t shut up, he was likely to be made to shut up. “I’d say we’re square now, seeing as you don’t seem to own any shirts.”

  Cora clamped a hand over her mouth, stifling a laugh.

  Hale nudged Trent with his elbow, clearly encouraged by her reaction. “Seriously. If this guy walked around with his shirt off any more, they’d start giving him Matthew McConaughey’s movie parts.”

  “Couldn’t come up with a more recent example than that?” Trent laughed.

  “What about Channing Tatum?” Cora supplied. She could very easily see Trent giving it some Magic Mike action. Rolling hips and rippling abs and that sexy, panty-melting wink.

  Ma’am, you need to keep your hormones under control.

  “Oh, definitely,” Hale said. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, Cora. I hope you’re enjoying our little slice of paradise down here in Patterson’s Bluff.”

  “I landed yesterday, so I haven’t seen too much. But from what I can tell so far, I think I’m going to love it here.”

  “Ah well, good thing you’ve got the town charmer to show you around.”

  Cora raised an eyebrow. “Town charmer?”

  Now it was Trent’s turn to shoot his friend a look. “Hale’s jealous I was more popular in high school.”

  Hale snorted. “Yeah right. And you didn’t even finish high school, so I never got the chance to catch you.”

  Something flashed across Trent’s face—so quick and so fleeting, Cora wondered if she’d imagined it. But then he raked his hand through his hair and winked at Cora. “Better to quit when you know there’re better things out there, right?”

  Hmm. Wasn’t that what her ex had said to her? They were from different types of families and no amount of trying was going to change that, so it was better to quit and find a better match. That had cut to the bone. She’d tried so hard to be his best match.

  “Anyway, I’m not paying you to stand around talking shit,” Trent said, slapping a hand down on Hale’s back.

  “I wasn’t aware you were paying me at all,” his friend ribbed back. “But yes, let’s get this show on the road. I’ve got a job at twelve that’s been rescheduled twice already, so I have to be on time.”

  “Yell out if you need anything, o
kay?” Trent smiled at Cora, and it sent a shiver all the way down her spine. When he looked at her, there was an intensity to his gaze—like he saw something more than she wanted him to.

  Maybe that’s why they call him the town charmer. He makes everyone feel seen.

  But no matter how good it felt to have a man’s attention burning her up, she couldn’t get used to that feeling. Cora knew how quickly a fire could burn out—she’d been dumped by every single guy she’d ever dated. Every. Single. One.

  Maybe it was time to stop trying.

  Cora headed outside to where a deck overlooked the backyard. A table sat with two wicker chairs, lovingly decorated with blue-and-white-striped cushions. The backyard seemed to go on forever, with huge trees on all sides leading into dense bushland. Maybe she’d take a walk later, get in touch with nature. And Central Park, gorgeous as it was, didn’t have the same peaceful vibe, what with all the tourists and street performers.

  Cora settled down on one of the chairs and looked at the printout of the rejection letter her father had given her, telling her all the ways her manuscript sucked. It stung, of course. But her father only pushed her so that she would be better. He wasn’t like her mother, burning down every one of Cora’s dreams in order to make her fit some fictional fantasy daughter mold. Her father had a good eye, and she would do everything in her power to make this book good enough that he would take her on as a client of the agency.

  Cora, I finished your novel last night. I know you worked very hard on this and I can see you really want to do well. I love you, sweetheart, and it pains me to tell you this book isn’t publishable. For starters, a character with such insecurities about her own worth is unsympathetic. People want to be inspired. They don’t want to read about a woman who is so desperate to be loved that she has no idea who she is. That woman isn’t a heroine.

  For some reason, that last sentence made tears prick the backs of Cora’s eyes, but she blinked them away. She could do better with her story. She could make her heroine stronger and more resilient. More confident. She could wow her father. Make him proud.

  Make him believe in her.

  And that was a way better thing for her to focus on, instead of how Trent’s lingering gaze made her feel more alive than she had in months.

  Chapter Six

  Trent and Hale stood back and surveyed their work. The plumbing was now in much better shape, with the sink reinstalled and everything sealed up. Trent had the shower running, and only the sound of water rushing against tile could be heard.

  No more ghost-in-chains rattling for this house.

  “Thank God,” Trent said, shutting the taps. “I don’t know how Liv has put up with that sound the past few months. It was so loud, it sounded like the whole bloody house was coming apart at the seams.”

  “Lucky she’s got big brother to help her out.” Hale crouched down to throw the last of his tools into the heavy metal box with his business name etched into the side. “Are you going to tell her about the flood?”

  Trent shrugged. “Why bother her with it? It wasn’t Cora’s fault, and we’ve fixed it all now.”

  “You don’t want to get the American in trouble. That’s sweet.” Hale chuckled and rubbed a hand over his thick, dark beard. “You know, something struck me about her. She looks exactly like—”

  “I know.”

  “Like…a lot. They could be related.”

  “They’re not.” He’d know if someone was related to his toxic Venus Flytrap of an ex. Mainly because the family traits included horns and pitchforks. “It’s an odd coincidence, nothing more.”

  “What ever happened to Rochelle?” Hale asked, picking up his tool kit and heading out into the main room.

  “She moved to the city, got married, and started popping out kids.”

  All with the guy Trent had caught her with. In their bed. He remembered the day like it was yesterday—he’d had a funny feeling when he couldn’t reach her, so he’d come home early to find her screwing her best friend. The best friend she “thought of as a brother.”

  One of the many lies she’d told him.

  Rule number one of relationships: never trust anything that comes out of someone’s mouth unless you can categorically prove it.

  Only Trent hadn’t wanted to let people know he’d been duped—it had made him feel like a dickhead. He never told anyone that she’d cheated on him. Instead, he’d acted like he was bored of her and had avoided anything long-term ever since. He leaned into being the “town charmer” and used his charisma to mask the hurt.

  But Trent wouldn’t make the mistake of trusting someone ever again. Even the people he cared about most in this world—his family—had hidden things from him. And if he couldn’t trust them, he couldn’t trust anyone.

  After Hale left, Trent spied Cora through the sliding glass doors, sitting outside on the little deck that was badly in need of a sand, stain, and refinish. She sat on one of the wicker chairs, her leg dangling over the arm as she worked. Her toenails were painted a bright, fiery red, and she swung her foot back and forth with a gentle rhythm.

  Her hair tumbled down her back, glinting all shades of caramel and toffee and deep gold. Like everything about Cora, it was perfectly styled even if it looked like it wasn’t styled at all. Because a woman like that knew how to pay attention to the details.

  He’d seen the notes she started putting together on Liv’s project—the care and diligence in jotting down every single thing.

  “Arck! Ya bastard!”

  Trent’s head snapped to the open window, where a cockatoo sat, head cocked and crest fully fanned. The damn thing showed up on the daily, looking for the lunch that his sister so happily provided. That was Liv—friend to all, including creatures of any size.

  “You’re a nuisance,” he told the bird. “And rude, too.”

  Joe the Cockatoo whistled. “Who’s a pretty boy?”

  “You, buddy, you’re the pretty boy.” He walked over to the windowsill and held out his arm. The bird hopped straight on, happy to be chauffeured to his meal. His big, gray claws gripped Trent’s arm, the sharp talons scratching against his skin. “Ease up. I don’t want you leaving a mark.”

  He walked the bird over to the bag of bird seed and dug his free hand in, scooping out a small amount the way he’d seen Liv do. Then he nudged the sliding door open with his foot and headed out onto the deck. Joe squawked in protest. Clearly, he wasn’t used to waiting for his food.

  “Hey.”

  Cora almost jumped about ten feet in the air and snapped her laptop closed. “Way to sneak up on me…again.”

  “Jumpy?” He grinned.

  Pressing a hand to her chest, Cora laughed. “I see you brought a friend.”

  “I’d use the word ‘friend’ loosely,” Trent quipped. “Scavenger, maybe. Or sponge.”

  Joe snapped his head toward Trent as if to say, Excuse moi? Scavenger?

  “I think you insulted him.” Cora’s pale eyes sparkled, and she swung her long legs to the ground.

  Trent slowly uncurled the hand containing the seed, and the bird eyed it eagerly. Then he walked all the way up Trent’s arm, across his shoulders, and down his other arm, as if using the man’s body as his own personal climbing equipment.

  “Doesn’t that hurt?” Cora watched, fascinated. “I mean, look at those sharp things.”

  “He’s pretty gentle, actually.” Trent watched as the bird got a good grip on his hand and bent forward to enjoy his lunch, his beak tickling the inside of Trent’s palm. “I suspect he might have been a pet at some point. Possibly belonging to the people who lived here before Liv bought the place.”

  “And they abandoned him?” Cora’s eyes widened. “That’s so sad.”

  “Some people have no idea what trust means,” he said darkly.

  Um, how did you make this about you?

&nbs
p; “I mean…” He scrambled for something to make a connection to that sentence so it didn’t seem like he’d shared something too personal. “People dump pets all the time. The shelter here is always full. It’s disgusting.”

  “I agree.” Cora stood slowly, so as not to spook Joe. Then she came closer and watched him eat from Trent’s palm. “I take it you’re an animal lover?”

  “I’m not the kind of person to make a menagerie out of my home, but yeah. I have a soft spot for the underdogs of the world.” He grinned. “We had guinea pigs growing up, and my parents were always taking in strays and playing babysitter to other people’s animals. One time we had a baby goat with his leg in a splint.”

  “I was never allowed to have pets growing up,” Cora said wistfully.

  “No pets and no sports. What kind of childhood robbery is that?” It sounded like Cora had grown up in quite an unusual environment.

  “Like I said, my parents were strict.” She shrugged as though it wasn’t a big deal, but her face was a smooth, beautiful mask. Hiding her hurt away.

  “Want to feed him?” Trent held his arm closer to Cora, and she bit down on her lip, a mixture of excitement and nerves radiating in the air around her.

  “He won’t take a chunk out of me?”

  “Naw. He’s a softie.” Trent chuckled. “Foulmouthed, but a softie.”

  He moved his arm closer to Cora and nudged the bird so he’d step onto her arm. Joe flapped his wings, his crest fanning out in a flash of brilliant yellow, and Cora sucked in a breath.

  “Easy,” Trent said. “You’re all right.”

  He tipped the seed into her open palm, and Joe repositioned himself and went back to his lunch. The bird’s charcoal beak nudged her palm, burrowing into the little well of seed as he ate.

  “It tickles,” she said, her voice sparkling with unreleased laughter. “Gee. He’s heavy, too.”

  The pure, childlike wonder on Cora’s face made her seem even more gorgeous—because it was something beyond her glossy hair and endless legs and the pearls dangling from her ears. It was more than how incredible she looked in a scant bikini. More, even, than the way her eyes had coasted over him this morning when she thought he couldn’t see her watching him. Those things were attractive, sure.