Not going there, no matter how much my palms itch to get my hands on those curves. It’s hot in this kitchen and judging by how full the fridge is, she’s been prepping food for days, so it stands to reason she’d be wearing cut-off denim shorts and a midriff baring tank top. But the skimpy outfit reveals expanses of skin I can’t keep my eyes off. Her hair’s longer than I remember too, hanging in a strawberry blonde plait halfway down her back, but her eyes haven’t changed. Glowing green and gold flecks amidst a knowing hazel, like she can see right down to my soul.
We work in companionable silence, scrubbing pots, loading the industrial-size dishwasher, wiping down bench tops, but I can’t resist sneaking glances at her, mesmerised by the small smile playing about her mouth.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
A faint blush stains her cheeks, as if I’ve caught her doing something naughty. “Cleaning grounds me.” She winks. “Plus, it’s cheaper than therapy.”
We smile and I say, “But the pots don’t talk back.”
“That’s the whole point.” She slings a dishcloth over her shoulder and fixes me with those eyes that see so much. “Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?”
“Is that your way of asking if I’m single?”
“No, just curious.”
“I’m flying solo, as usual. You?”
“Same.” There’s a hint of vulnerability beneath her defiance that slays me a little. “Do you think Tom is nuts for marrying Pauline after only dating for six months?”
I nod. “He’s certifiable. But I’ve caught up with them twice in Brisbane and they seem happy.”
“They are, but wait until the gloss wears off.” A tiny frown appears between her brows. “People change all the time. Howcan they predict their feelings in another six months? A year? Two?”
Some jerk has hurt her, but it’s not my place to pry, no matter how much I want to.
“Yeah, but some people change together and that’s why they celebrate golden anniversaries.”
“Can you imagine being tied to the same person for fifty years?” She mock shudders. “No, thank you.”
“Not a romantic, huh?”
“A cynic, and proud of it.”
“Lucky I didn’t bring you flowers.”
“You brought me a ham, and that’s better.” She presses the back of her hand to her forehead and pretends to swoon. “My hero.”
We laugh and I’m struck again by how easy this is. No fake small talk, no awkward pauses, just genuine chatter and banter, and I swear our camaraderie is almost as appealing as her curves.
“Hey, I’ve got a question for you.”
I’m treading a dangerous path because technically Emery is off-limits, but I’m thirty-five years old, and tired. Tired of travelling. Tired of coming home to no one. Tired of all the BS that accompanies transient dating.
I want to explore the connection with Emery, for however long she’s here.
If Tom wants to beat me to a pulp for messing with his sister, he can do it after the wedding.
“You’ve got a funny look on your face.” Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “You’re not going to propose, are you? I mean, I understand the Pad Thai was good, but I’m prickly and judgemental and messy. And I hate flying.”
I grin and jab a finger in her direction. “That right there is why I’m going to ask you this.”
Even her nose is adorable when it crinkles. “What? Me being a smart-arse?”
“You being you.” I thrust my hands into my pockets because I’ll be tempted to reach for her regardless of her answer. “Want to go for a walk along the beach and use some palm fronds instead of mistletoe?”
Her jaw drops, but before she can answer, a loud crack of thunder followed by an enormous gust of wind slams the door open, revealing Armageddon.
5
