Page 4 of The Reality of Us
He nodded, pausing when he realised her eyes weren’t bruised but rather covered with streaked make-up. God, he thought she’d been … Lulu was right. He needed to get a life.
“Where are you headed tonight?” He walked towards her car.
“Why?”
“The battery needs to charge once I get it going or it might not start the next time you need it.”
“Hypothetically, if I was heading to Wattle Junction, how far away would it be?”
“Five minutes. It’ll need longer.”
Marguerite smoothed her hands over her skirt. “I’ll take my chances.”
“That’s not how batteries work, especially one this old.” There was white crust around the terminals. “You’d be better off replacing it.”
Two minutes later, the Volvo’s engine ticked a couple of times before it caught. A small smile bloomed on Marguerite’s face before disappearing.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly as Owen wound the cables into a neat circle.
“You should still consider getting a new battery. There’s an auto shop in Somers Gully about fifteen minutes that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “Better to be safe than sorry so you don’t find yourself stranded again. A woman like you …”
Her eyes flashed, her posture straightening until her back was ramrod straight. “Like what?”
Walked right into that, hadn’t he? “I only meant it’s not safe to be out here on your own.”
“Because I let my phone and car die? Because I’m a stupid woman?”
Owen’s chest tightened. Great, now she thought he was a misogynistic ass. “I didn’t say that.”
When Marguerite rolled her eyes, it was like a lit match hitting a fuse, the last of his patience burning away to nothing. “No one should be out here at night,” he said, “especially a wo … person who’s obviously not from here.”
She threw her arms in the air, groaning at the starry sky before sending him a look of pure loathing. “Thank you again for the help. And the bonus mansplaining.”
“Now, wait a second …” he started, but Marguerite ignored him, slamming her bonnet shut and flinging herself into the driver’s seat. She flicked on her headlights, yanked the door closed and roared away without so much as a wave. He watched until her rear-view lights disappeared.
You know who wouldn’t have behaved like that?
Horse Face.
Shit. He meant Denise.
Owen needed to get some sleep.
2
When Alice woke, a flock of cockatoos were staring at her. She blinked. Twice. Pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes until everything went fuzzy, and then she remembered.
Phoenix.
The live stream.
Everyone knows my marriage is a sham.
Then finally, the weird Australiana wallpaper and décor at the Wattle Junction Hotel. Her hand slapped at the bedside table until she found her phone.
She forced herself to sit up, leaning against the heavy wooden headboard with gum trees carved into it. The whole room looked like Crocodile Dundee had been commissioned as the hotel’s interior decorator.
Alice said a silent prayer to the universe and turned her mobile on. Notifications filled the screen.
