Page 23 of Just Come Over
He’d been able to tell, that was why. He’d thought it over and had realized,Wait. Something was off there.
She’d been fine until he’d accidentally grabbed her, and she hadn’t jumped away. His hands had closed over her in the dark, and she’d been...
Face it. She’d wanted, for that frozen moment, for his hand to move on her breast, his other hand to brush her hair away, and his mouth to come down on her neck. In that sensitive spot just below the hairline, where nobody’s lips had touched her in so very long. That place that would make you shiver. She’d all but felt it happening.
It had been absolutely dark in the kitchen. So dark that you could pretend not to know who was behind you, except that the hard man behind her could never be anybody but Rhys, which meant that the anonymous, swept-away body she was hoping for was... herself.
And he’d jumped back like he’d been burned.
Then she’d made it worse by holding his wrist and wiping the spilled Indian food off his arm, laughing up at him like he was hers. Like it was foreplay. She’d shuddered later that night, thinking about it. For two reasons, unfortunately. Only one was embarrassment. The other was a rush of heat that flooded her body and refused to listen to reason.
She’d felt like she had her life together. Shedidhave her life together. Whose life turned out the way they’d planned it? Nobody’s. You rolled with life, or life rolled you.
She was a good mother, she was a good florist, and her business was growing, if slowly. She owned a home, and she made the mortgage payment every month without holding her breath and checking her bank balance, thanks to her decision to downsize. She’d installed her own Pink Batts and learned how to change out her own kitchen faucet, she’d spent last night researching how you retiled a kitchen floor—how hard could it be?—and if she’d thought she could do it without killing herself, she’d have learned to replace her own roof. And if she was tired, after ten long years, of being the only adult in the room—well, everybody was tired of something. You made your choices, at twenty and for all the years since, and you lived with them.
No matter what Hayden thought, nobody had twisted her arm.
Just like nobody was twisting her arm now, except that they were. For all Hayden’s complaining, he and Isaiah had conquered the first three courses in the treetop adventure park and, when she was thinking longingly of a lovely coffee and muffin, had moved on to the fourth one. The toughest one. Isaiah had said, “We can’t leavenow,Mum! This is the most fun part!” And Hayden, the rat, had said, “Yeh, Mum. Where’s your sense of adventure?” Now, she was facing the highest, most wobbly swing bridge in the history of swing bridges, staring at a narrow wooden plank, barely wider than her foot, that you were meant to balance on whilst holding onto rope handrails, and reminding herself that she’d be clipped in the whole way, while her treacherous brother and son beat on their knees at the other side and chanted, “Zo-ra!Zo-ra!”At Hayden’s instigation, she was sure. He was getting his revenge for being dragged along, and itwasrevenge, because she was going to have a heart attack.
“Afternoon,” she heard from behind her.
“Oh,” she said, and turned. “Hi.”
Alistair Corcoran. Client. Plastic surgeon. Single father, as he’d happened to mention. And right now, welcome distraction.
He smiled. “Stuck?”
“Oh, no,” she said. “A tiny attack of nerves, that’s all. And my son and brother on the other side, being disgusted with me.”
He laughed, but not in a bad way, so she smiled back.
“Dad,”a preteen girl, standing behind him on the platform, said with a sigh.
“Go on,” Zora said, waving her past. She made a “Shoo” motion at Hayden and Isaiah, too. She had a perfect excuse for waiting now.
“This is my daughter, Ruby,” Alistair said. “Ruby, this is Zora, who does the flowers for the office.”
Ruby looked at Zora with absolutely zero enthusiasm, said, “Hello,” and asked her father, “Are you coming?”
“In a moment,” he said, and she sighed again, clipped in, and started across the bridge.
“Sorry,” Alistair told Zora. “I think that was a divorced-dad thing. Electra could come into it, possibly. Also, she’s eleven.”
“No worries. You have a son as well, don’t you?”
“I do. Six years old, and disgusted at not being tall enough to be allowed on this one. He’s having an ice cream down below to console himself.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, I guess we’d better go on, then, or we’ll keep everyone waiting.”
She headed across, when Ruby was done.Mind over matter.The plank wobbled horribly, which she was sure meant something like, “Your core strength is sadly lacking.” Hayden was right. Why would you choose recreation that accused you? It was like going shopping with a friend who pointed out your cellulite.
She made it, though. She had to, since Alistair was behind her. Speaking of cellulite.
How could you get naked with a plastic surgeon? You’d always be wondering whether he was thinking, when he touched your thighs,If I offered her a discount, would she let me take care of that? Or would I have to offer it for free? A little liposuction...
One extremely long, stomach-dropping swoop on a flying fox, a scramble across a ship’s-net-type thing that was going to make every muscle ache tomorrow, and a final flying fox to the ground, and they were done. She may have staggered, coming off. Hayden may have laughed, too. Alistair didn’t. He said, when he brought up the rear, “Good work, Zora. My florist turns out to be not only beautiful, but brave as well.”
Ruby rolled her eyes, Zora could swear Hayden did, too, and Zora said, “Your florist is glad to be done.”
