“Score? Geez. Now listen-”
Mitch laughed.
“Keep on grinning, you big ape.” Danny held his hands up, palms out. “Now settle down, Em. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh?” Arms folded, she glared at him.
“I didn’t take this stray on just to impress my sister’s roomie, okay?” He paused. “You don’t look convinced.”
“I wonder why,” she replied.
“Ooohh, burn!” Licking his fingertip, Mitch stuck it on his arm and made a sizzling sound.
“You are such a wanker,” Danny said.
Mitch’s grin widened.
“Not to mention a shit-stirrer.” Danny’s attention switched back to Emma. “Yes, my sister has been at me to take in this stray she’s been feeding. I was at her place last night and saw the stray myself. I felt sorry for it and agreed to take it on.”
Emma arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, Katie’s roomie was impressed, and while that’s a bonus, I swear to you I didn’t take Moses on because of her.”
“Moses?” Mitch echoed. “What, did you find him near the rushes or something? Was he floating along in a basket?”
“Will you stop banging your gums for two seconds?”
“Well, I was just asking.” Mitch sucked in his lower lip. “You’re a little sensitive. Did the roomie give you the brush-off already?”
Danny stared at him for several seconds before disregarding him and looking back at Emma. “I actually happen to like animals, I’ve just never gotten around to getting one. Moses needed a home, I’ve got a home.” He shrugged. “It just kind of all fell into place.”
“Like the roomie did at your feet after you opened up your huge heart and took the cat in?” Mitch queried.
“Stop it.” Emma gave Mitch a shove, which didn’t shift the broad-shouldered, tall man an inch. “Danny…” She looked searchingly at him.
He met her gaze squarely. “I swear, Emma, I wouldn’t do that to an animal. Mitch I might, but not an animal.”
“Bloody lovely,” Mitch muttered.
At the honesty in Danny’s eyes, she blushed sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“Nah, it’s all good.” He shrugged. “When you’ve got big-mouth here throwing insinuations everywhere, everyone gets their wires mixed.”
Mitch rolled his eyes.
“Seriously,” Emma said. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throat like that.”
Amusement lit his eyes. “You did get a little fiery.”
“I know. It’s just…animals, you know? They don’t always get treated so well.”
“I understand.”
“So, when I thought you only did it to get a woman’s attention…” She sighed. “I should have known better.”
“I’ll accept both,” Danny said. “The apology and the undeniable.” At her blink, he added, “You should have known better.”
Now she felt low. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“Hey.” Leaning forward, he gave her ponytail a gentle tug. “It’s all good, Em. I’m just teasing you.”
“Truth hurts.”
“Pshaw.” He snorted. “You have every right to be concerned about an animal.” He glanced at the man by her side. “The drongo beside you excluded.”
“Lovely,” Mitch said. “Just lovely.”
“Anyway.” Danny looked at the contents of his trolley. “I reckon I have enough food for Moses for awhile.”
“I think you might,” Emma agreed.
“Seeing as how numb nuts is out of trouble and therefore my entertainment is over,” Mitch said, “let’s change the topic. Emma, my sweet, are you cooking for the barbie tonight?”
She cast him a suspicious look. “You got Danny into trouble on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Moi?” Placing his hand flat on his chest, Mitch fluttered his eyelashes.
“Wouldn’t be anyone else,” a new voice said.
Emma grinned as Harriet walked up. “Hey, Harriet.”
“I came just in time to hear you get roasted.” Harriet smirked at Danny.
“Totally uncalled for,” he replied. “She apologised and everything.”
“Emma, Emma, Emma.” Harriet shook her head. “Have I taught you nothing?”
“Good grief.” Danny pulled a face. “Will you stop trying to corrupt this sweet sheila?”
“Never.” Harriet cast a look over the two trolleys. “Cat food, cat food and more cat food.” Beseeching eyes lifted to Emma’s face. “Please tell me you’re going to bring something other than cat food to the barbie.”
“You’ve got something against cat food?”
“It’s the smell. Goes right up my hooter and gets the old gag reflex going.”
“That’d be something to see.” Mitch rocked back and forth in his sneakers. “Going to give us a demo?”
“Cheeky boy.” She gave him a smart backhand in the stomach, making him grunt. “Now then, Em, tell me Doc spoke to you.”
“Doc spoke to me.”
Harriet waited.
Laughing inside, Emma waited.
“Oh for-” Harriet rolled her eyes. “Did he ask you to cook Pavlova? The Pavlova?”
“Ah.” Emma nodded seriously. “The Pavlova.”
Danny looked at Mitch. “The Pavlova.”
“Oh boy.” Mitch rubbed his belly in anticipation.
“The Pavlova,” Harriet repeated. “Doc did remember to ask you to cook it?”
“No.” At everyone’s sudden stricken expressions, Emma grinned. “Yes.”
“And you think I’m corrupting her?” Harriet shook her head. “It looks innocent but it isn’t.”
“It’s right here,” Emma pointed out.
“Is it going to do The Pavlovas?”
“Yes I am.”
“Yes!” Harriet did a fist pump, narrowly missing Danny, who flinched.
Mitch widened his eyes at Danny behind Harriet’s head, which earned him another backhander to the gut.
“I know what you’re doing,” Harriet said as he winced and stepped back. “Now Emma, there’s going to be quite a few people there tonight, what with family and friends. You’ll need to cook more than one.”
“It’s all under control,” Emma assured her.
“You’ll need help to get them all there.”
“I can help.” Mitch held up a hand.
“You?” Danny snorted. “We’ll be lucky if any Pavlova makes it out the door.”
“Someone has to taste-test.”
“I think I’d better help you, Em.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got it all planned,” she replied. “I’m bringing the cream, strawberries, passionfruit and banana separate. I’ll add them to the Pavlovas at Doc’s house. It’ll be easier, plus no chance of the topping getting messed up by being in the car.”
“Are you sure?” Harriet queried. “I could swing by.”
“No worries, it’s all under control.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I’m sure.”
“You can always ring, you know.”
“That’s what a phone’s for.”
“Smart-arse.”
After a few more minutes of shared laughter and teasing, they all went their separate ways.
At home, Emma unpacked the grocery bags while CK stuck her head into every bag and pawed at things. The only way Emma could get her to behave was to give her a tin of food, which CK scoffed down before waltzing out of the kitchen to find a place to snooze, which would be either the sofa or Emma’s bed.
Cleaning off the benches, Emma took out the recipe book that had been handed down through the family and set to making the Pavlovas that had quickly become a favourite amongst her friends.
Once she had them cooking, she whipped the cream and set it in the ‘fridge to put in the car later. With the next few hours free, she curled up in an armchair with a Diet Coke and a book, settling down for a relaxing time. Apart from getting up to make a sandwich and replenish her drink, she stayed i
n the armchair, luxuriating in the peace and quiet. Sounds of children playing nearby, the bark of a dog and the calling of birds outside the window were the only things disturbing the air, but it added to the lazy afternoon atmosphere.
CK wandered in after an hour to plop herself in Emma’s lap, curling up and purring happily.
“This,” Emma informed her, “is the life.”
Time passed and it was with a small sigh that she realised it was time to shower and get ready for the BBQ. While she liked the idea of having a nice time with friends, she wasn’t so sure about Shane.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad, girl.” Emma looked at CK who had followed her into the bathroom. “Or maybe it could be, if he’s found out.” Turning on the water, she held her hand under the spray until the water warmed. “I wonder if Doc’s already told him.”
Not a pleasant thought.
So far no one knew and she wanted it kept that way, but Shane was also now her employer, so… Besides, he had to keep it quiet, didn’t he? Employee confidentiality and stuff, what happened in the clinic stayed in the clinic. Employee information was confidential.
But he could make things unpleasant if - “Stop it,” she scolded herself, stepping under the spray. “Just stop it. You’re spooking yourself before anything’s even said or done.” She reached for the soap. “Nothing you can do about it anyway but wait and see. So stop being such a worry-wart.”
With renewed determination to enjoy herself as well as find out what Shane was like among his family and friends, she soaped up, rinsed off and returned to the bedroom to dress.
A BBQ was a relaxed environment; no one would be dressed to the nines. She chose a short-sleeved pale lilac polo shirt and a pair of floaty shorts that skimmed around her knees. A pair of low-heeled sandals completed the comfortable ensemble. Her hair she chose to leave loose, the waves falling around her shoulders. A light touch of lipstick and mascara, a spritz of perfume and she was good to go.
Carefully, she packed the Pavlovas into three containers, retrieved the car keys from the little bowl on the kitchen bench and went out the front door to put the Pavs in the car.
Coming down the step from the veranda, she crossed to the car, only to stare in disbelief before groaning in vexation. The back tyre was flat.
“No no no.” Placing the containers on the car seat, she stood back to survey the flat tyre in dismay. “Why now? Curses!” Shoving a hand through her hair, she closed her eyes tight and opened them again, but nope, the tyre was still flat.
Hands on hips, she glared at the offending tyre. “Why now? Huh?” Glancing down at herself, she groaned again. Changing the tyre would mean she’d have to change into old clothes first otherwise she’d end up as grubby as the tyre. “Oh, for…” She gave the tyre a hearty kick. “Argh!”
“Problem?” a deep voice called from the road.
Glancing around, she did a double-take. Of all the dumb luck. Shane Armand was sitting inside an older style, dark green Holden Commodore looking at her through the open passenger window.
“Um - no, everything is fine,” she called back hastily.
“You sure?” He didn’t look convinced.
“Absolutely.” She plastered a smile on her face. “I’ll see you soon.”
He was silent.
“At the barbie.”
He nodded slowly.
“At your Dad’s,” she added lamely.
“Yeah.” He turned to face the windscreen.
Relief spiralled through her. He was going, he was - turning off the engine and getting out of his car. Walking around the back of it, his gaze on her as he strode with easy confidence up the driveway, his scrutiny never shifting from her once as he drew to a stop beside her.
Unnerved a little by the intensity of his eyes, Emma looked down at the tyre. “Just a little flat.”
“A little flat,” he echoed.
“Yep. I’ll change it and then get going.”
“How about I change it for you.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ll be fine, but thanks.”
“No need for thanks.” He moved past her, opening the driver’s side door to pull the latch and pop open the boot.
“Mr Armand, really-”
“Shane. It’s Shane.” He passed her again, this time going to the boot. “Mr Armand is my dad.” He popped his head around the edge of the open boot to give her a sudden wink. “I’m not that old yet.”
The wink caught her off-guard. She blinked.
He disappeared behind the boot lid again. “And I’m not so old and decrepit I can’t change a tyre for a lady.”
“Um…thanks.” Not quite knowing what to say, Emma decided to accept graciously. After all, his offering to change it was chivalrous, and truth be told, she liked it.
Chivalry was a fast fading manner.
Shane appeared with the jack in one hand and the tyre lever in the other, placing them beside the flat tyre.
“You’ll get dirty,” Emma felt compelled to point out.
“No worries, old clothes. I haven’t changed yet.” He went back to the boot, reached in, and the spare tyre thumped out onto the ground, bouncing twice before he steadied it with his hands and rolled it around to lean against the car. After peering through the driver’s window to check the position of the gear stick and brake, he hefted the tyre lever easily and dropped down onto one knee to position the jack under the car.
She couldn’t help but eye him in his bent-over position. His old t-shirt was thin and clung to him, outlining some very nice biceps and triceps that bulged and flexed as he positioned the jack, pushing and pulling it to where he wanted, and when he bent right over to peer under the car, his shorts stretched across the back of some pretty impressive thighs, the muscles taut beneath tanned skin. The old t-shirt rode higher on his back and she couldn’t miss the faint ripple of abdominal muscles as he straightened and twisted to grin at her over his shoulder.
He wasn’t a muscle-bound man, true, but the muscles he did have were still nice.
“This will, of course, have to be paid for,” he said.
Startled from her unbidden admiration of his male physique, Emma raised her eyebrows.
“Extra Pavlova.” Fitting the handle into the jack, Shane started pumping it up and down. “The Pavlova, I believe it’s known as.”
“Oh.” She smiled. “It has somehow gained a reputation. I’m not sure how.”
His grin was a flash of white teeth. “My mother raved about it this morning. My Gran raved about it. I’m surprised Daz hasn’t tried to talk you into baking it for his café.”
“Daz cooks his own baked goods, and he’s a good cook.” She could attest to that personally. His baked goods were extremely yummy.
“Yeah, but from what I hear, his Pav doesn’t match yours.”
“Well, you’ll be able to make up your own mind on that.”
“That I will.” He licked his lips. “I do love sweet things.”
“As a doctor, aren’t you supposed to set a good example?”
“It’s do as I say, not as I do.” He turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Not wanting to stand and gawk at him working - goodness knew she hated people peering over her shoulder - Emma returned to the house.
CK was ogling the happenings through the lounge room window, her gaze never leaving the image of Shane and the car.
Not that Emma could blame her.
Going back into the kitchen, she packed the cream and fruit into several bags and left them on the bench to take out as soon as Shane left.
She was sipping on a glass of water, wondering if she should offer him a drink, when a knock sounded on the front door. Going to the hallway, she saw his silhouette at the security screen.
“All finished.” Shane jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”
“Would you like to come in and wash your hands?” she asked.
To be honest, she didn’t expect him to accept, so she was caught
by surprise when he swung open the door and walked in with a cheerful, “Thanks.”
“Bathroom’s through there.” She pointed. “Though I guess you already know that.”
“Yep.” He disappeared down the hallway into the bathroom.
Of course he’d know what the house layout was, it belonged to his father so he’d probably been in here before he left for the city. Maybe he’d even lived here for awhile. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d like the rose scented hand wash, and what he’d make of the fact that she’d hung a print of roses on the bathroom wall. Everything she had in there complimented the tiny rose-print wallpaper.
Even back home she’d matched everything, wall colour to towels and doona covers and things. Pictures, all the extra little touches that made everything blend and match seamlessly, creating warmth and comfort. She hadn’t been able to bring everything with her when she’d made this new life, but slowly she’d had things sent over, selling anything not needed as the house came fully furnished. Luckily her own choices were a little old-fashioned, so most of her personal stuff suited this old house.
She’d just always planned to furnish her own home with her own furniture and stuff, but things had changed. Maybe one day…
She was staring sightlessly at the floor when Shane appeared in the kitchen doorway. “You okay?”
Taking a deep breath, she glanced up at him. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You just looked…I don’t know…” He studied her face. “Sad.”
Her smile was a little forced. “Not at all. Thank you for changing the tyre. Would you like a drink of something cold?”
“Thanks, but no.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I like what you’ve done to the place.”
She followed his glance. “The furniture was already here.”
“Yeah, but it’s the little touches.” He nodded towards the pale green gingham curtains at the window, the green placemats on the table, and the little green vase with the yellow roses in the middle of the table. “No way would Dad have done that.”
“Might have been your Mum.”
His lips twitched in amusement. “Definitely not Mum. She’s more of a buy-and-throw-together stylist.”
Secrets (Hope Bay) Page 5