Page 37 of The Winning Ticket

Friday evening rolls around, and I’m once again relaxing on the terrace with a book when Maddie starts barking and launches herself off my lap, running towards the door.

“Hey, Maddie Moo.” Jake’s voice echoes through the apartment, and my chest squeezes.

“Hey, stranger,” I call out, and moments later, he joins me outside.

I check him out subtly, unable to resist admiring him in his boardshorts and white T-shirt with some brewery’s name on it.

“Hey. I see that you’ve actually moved to the terrace, not the apartment,” he says with a grin.

“Correct. Between the view and being surrounded by all my plant babies, this is my heaven now. I’m never leaving, sorry.”

“I’m fine with that. You do know that you’re allowed to live in the apartment, too, though, right? Cause every time I’m here, it looks like a show home.” He sits at the end of my sun lounger, and Maddie immediately jumps onto his lap.

“She has claimed you. I’ve never seen her take to anyone this fast,” I say, sidestepping his comment.

He scratches Maddie’s ears, and her little tongue hangs out while she stares at him. He gives me a curious look before shrugging.

“I keep telling you it’s because I’m awesome.” He looks at the book in my lap. “Ah, we’ve moved on to another naked man’s chest, I see.”

“Correct. Pretty much the same storyline, though.” I shrug.

I have long refused to be embarrassed about my preferred genre. After years of being a high achiever and doing all the studying, I have found romances easy to fall into, and they relax me.

“I’ll have to check one out sometime, see what all the hype is.”

I raise an eyebrow. “If you are serious, I have a few I can give you to try. I wasn’t sure if you were into reading much.”

“I read mostly crime novels. When I first moved to Stanthorpe, I didn’t have much to do to fill my spare time, so I found the library and discovered I didn’t mind reading after all those years of avoiding it in school. Mum was so proud.”

“I’ll bet. I need to go and check out the store. I haven’t been there in years.” I smile while I think of his Mum’s cute little store.

I remember spending hours there as a kid.

“Yeah, she started giving me so many books when she caught me reading one day.”

“It helps when you aren’t forced to read books you would never pick up of your own free will. I remember how much you hated English,” I say, the memory of him glaring at his homework when we were all studying in the library one day rising to the surface.

“I hated Shakespeare. I didn’t mind when we had to read those George Orwell books, but Shakespeare just didn’t do it for me,” he says with a grimace, as though the memory causes him physical pain.

“That’s because the bard’s writings were meant to be enjoyed as plays, not studied in stuffy English classes.”

“Oh, the Bard? La-de-da, I didn’t realise you were on such close terms with him.”

“Ours was a torrid love affair, it is true,” I say with a grin.

He laughs before nodding back towards the apartment. “Dinner again?”

“Careful, Mr Boyd, a girl could get used to having chef-cooked meals every time you come home if you keep this up.”

He looks at me for a moment, his expression unreadable, before shaking his head with a smile. “It’s just steaks on the barbecue and salad this time. It’s been a long day, and I don’t have it in me for anything fancy.” He finishes with a yawn, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes.

I reach forward and put my hand on his leg. “Why don’t you let me deal with dinner, and you go get settled?”

That same expression flitted across his face. “Are you sure? I don’t expect you to cook for me, Bri.”

“It’s no big deal, and we both need to eat. You just chill out for a bit. I’ll go get it started.”

He moved his hand to cover mine that was still on his leg, squeezing it gently.

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