‘Nice to phone-meet you, Netta.’
‘Hi, Mav,’ she said. ‘Sorry about all of this. It’s kind of my fault.’
‘Don’t be.’ His voice was jovial. He was probably very pissed. ‘I’m out in the city tonight and there’s a lot of Christmas cheer going around. Doubt I’d make it home anyway, to be honest.’
‘Maybe stay away from the house for a bit, mate,’ said Mo. ‘The paps will be at the front gate for a few days, I’d say.’
‘All good. Hey, I’ve gotta go,’ said Mav. ‘And Mo? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’
‘Got it.’
‘And Netta?’
Oh no.
‘I hope Santa still finds you tonight, but if not, I’m sure Mo has something inhissack he’d like to—’
Mo snatched the phone from Netta and hung up. His cheeks flamed. That cheeky little fucker. ‘Sorry about him.’ He glanced sideways to gauge her reaction. ‘He was born without a filter.’
Netta’s smile started in her eyes before it reached her mouth. ‘Kind of the opposite of you, then.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘From what I can tell, your filter wouldn’t let a quark through on a skinny day.’
‘A quark?’
‘It’s a … thing. Smaller than an atom. The smallest thing in the world.’
He digested her observation. ‘You think I hold everything in?’
‘Don’t you?’
‘Yeah, I guess I do. Mostly,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I wish I was more like Mav, but then sometimes his big mouth is a liability. I don’t know which is worse.’
‘Maybe somewhere in the middle might be nice,’ Netta said. ‘It can’t be easy holding back all the time.’
Mo choked on his breath. She’d worked him out so quickly. Soeasily.
‘Then again,’ she said, ‘being compelled to crack jokes about your brother’s scrotum to a total stranger might also have its challenges.’
‘Yeah, poor little Mav. We should light a candle for him tonight.’
Netta’s laugh settled on Mo like confetti. ‘How much further is it to the cottage?’ she asked.
He checked the clock. ‘About half an hour. You’ll like it, I think. It’s nice. Cosy. There’s a fireplace.’
Mo glanced at her again, his gaze catching on her lips as they returned from another of her easy smiles. She hadn’t mentioned the kiss. Maybe it wasn’t the cataclysmic event for her that it had been for him. He turned the radio on to muffle his mind and the car flooded with the sound of Bing Crosby singing another fucking Christmas song.
‘Oh, I love this one!’ Netta sang along, swaying, her hands tapping the beat on her knees. Before he knew it—and well before he could believe it—Mo had joined in. And it felt good.Shefelt good. How the hell was he supposed to keep a lid on how he felt, trapped in a fucking firelit cottage by the sea? He might as well be taking her to the set of a Hallmark Christmas movie.
He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the contraction of his forearms a physical reminder of his strength. He could get through two days without making a fool of himself.
He visualised his quark-proof filter and made the tiny spaces even smaller.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
NETTA
