Page 60 of His Own Heaven

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

“What about dessert?”

“You are dessert.”

Toby paid for dinner then wrapped his arm around Lucy’s waist and led her outside. The sun had set and there was a chill in the air, but the sky was clear and the stars bright. The restaurant he’d taken her to was less than fifteen minutes from her house and overlooked the bay.

As they strolled back to the car, Toby listened to the waves gently lapping against the rocky shore, the soothing shushing sound at odds with the chirping and ticking of insects and the chittering squawks and flap of leathery wings as flying foxes passed overhead. But somehow, it just worked.Like me and Lucy.All those noises combined to make something harmonious and special. Beautiful.

Effortless.

Lucy shivered against his side and he hugged her closer, rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

Her dress showed off exactly as much skin as she’d said it would, and even with her hair flowing freely down her back and over her shoulders, Lucy had still been anxious, had still worried people would stare at her. Judge her. So before they’d left her house, Toby had told her to put on the matching pink cardigan he’d seen sitting on the end of her bed. It was thin and wouldn’t keep her very warm, but it would hide her scars.

The ones she was fretting over, anyway.

When she’d looked at him, questioning, the cardigan clutched in her hands, he’d said, “Baby steps.” And she’d thrown herself into his arms and hugged him so tightly he’d thought she’d never let go. He’d also thought he’d be completely okay with that. Toby liked having Lucy in his arms, safe and warm and his.

Or not so warm.

When Lucy shivered again, Toby hurried her to the car and got her inside.

The trip to Lucy’s house was short and relatively quiet. He rested his hand on her thigh, she complimented his choice of restaurant. But when he parked his car in her driveway, they both fell silent, the air between them thick with anticipation.

Toby swallowed hard and tried to calm his breathing. He felt like a teenager, sitting there in his car with a hard-on straining against his jeans and a pretty girl only inches away and not knowing what to say to her. He knew what he wanted to do to her, but in that moment words failed him.

And he’d been doing so well too.

Lucy looked so beautiful, sitting there in her pale pink dress and the darker pink cardie, sweet and sexy and so insanely fuckable. He slid his hand higher on her thigh and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a bright light snapped on and practically illuminated the interior of the car.

“Busted,” Lucy chuckled.

Toby shielded his eyes against the burning white light. “By who?”

But Lucy didn’t answer. Opening the door, she climbed out of the car and walked towards the light. “You can stop blinding us now.”

What the…?

Toby unclicked his seatbelt and hurried after Lucy, continuing to shield his eyes as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, placed himself slightly in front of her. Between her and whomever was hiding behind the light.

When the light dimmed, he blinked repeatedly to rid his vision of the little blacks dots floating in front of him, then stared at the woman standing on the veranda of the neighbouring house.

“Lucy?” He whispered her name and hoped like hell she heard the underlying “What the fuck is going on?” in his tone.

“Toby, this is my neighbour, Mrs Miller. Maisie, this is Toby Bennett, my bo—”

“Boyfriend,” Toby rushed out, just in case Lucy was thinking of saying “boss” instead. “It’s good to meet you, Mrs Miller.”

“I’ve known Mrs Miller all my life,” Lucy said. “She taught me how to make pancakes.”

“Oh, well now I’mreallyglad to meet you,” Toby said with a smile, “so I can say thank you. I was lucky enough to sample Lucy’s pancakes over the weekend.”

Lucy’s neighbour looked to be seventy-years-old if she was a day, and stared at him with thin, over-plucked eyebrows raised high over hawkish eyes. Her mouth was pinched in a look of disapproval, causing creases in her skin to flare out around her lips, and her short hair was dyed the same shade as his jacaranda blooms. A pair of glasses sat perched on the end of her nose and she wore an old fashioned apron over her clothes, the type with the pocket in front that he’d be willing to bet good money contained a handful of sour lollies.

Her gaze darted to his arm around Lucy, then drifted slowly from his head to his toes and back again. A sly grin kicked up one side of her mouth, lessening the harshness of her expression, and when she spoke her voice sounded stronger than her appearance would suggest.

“I seriously doubt her pancakes were the only thing you sampled.”

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