He sighed. “Fine. I ran into the arsehole at your apartment last night. I was coming to chew your arse about standing me up last week, and he and some other guy were loading a bed onto a trailer.”
A bed? Judd didn’t own any of the beds, the thieving fucker.
“Andhetold you?” I couldn’t believe Judd would own up to what he’d done.
“Not exactly,” JB admitted. “He said you two had agreed to go your separate ways, and I told him to stop fucking lying and tell me the truth. He did, eventually, but only in so much as he told me he’d gotten bored and met someone else.”
I snorted. That sounded more like Judd. “He omitted the part where he’d been fucking the other guy for five months.”
“Goddammit,” JB growled. “The man is a weasel. I’m not going to say I told you so, but I told you so.”
I groaned but couldn’t disagree. JB hadn’t been shy about the fact that he never liked Judd. “Turns out, I should’ve listened,” I admitted wearily. JB had good instincts that way, but I hadn’t wanted to see it.
“Don’t feel bad,” Lily called from somewhere in the background. “The arsehole fooled me as well.”
“Yeah, but you always see the best in people. It’s one of the things I love about you.” The affection in JB’s voice was unmistakeable, and a twinge of envy rippled through me.
Lily chuckled. “Just as well I do, or I would never have gone out with you. But that fucker is definitely on our shit list now. If you need us to run him over at the supermarket or something, we can arrange that.”
I laughed. JB had met his match in Lily. He’d played the field for years with both men and women. The idea of him settling down had been unimaginable. But then Lily arrived on the scene with her luscious red hair, green eyes, effervescent personality, ballsy attitude to life, and zero tolerance for any of JB’s bullshit, and he’d been hooked at hello.
JB said, “Hang on, I’m gonna put you on speaker. So, who did Judd do the dirty with, anyway?”
I groaned. The man wouldn’t know subtle if it hit him in the head. “I knew you’d ask that.” I hesitated only a second, then said, “It was Phillip.”
You could’ve heard a pin drop.
Lily spoke first. “Phillip? As in your best friend, Phillip?” His name fell from her lips like a cold, hard stone. “Why that shit-licking, cowardly, arsehole of a motherfucker.”
I broke into laughter. “You have an eloquent way with words.”
“Holy shit, Thad,” JB breathed in horror. “I—I don’t know what to say. Are you okay? Where are you? What do you need?”
A smile broke over my lips. Finally, someone on my side. An image of Ryder sprang to mind, and the smile widened. Make that two.
The tow truckdriver and his companion made no attempt to hide their amusement at the sight of my Rover sticking out of Ryder’s compost heap. I wondered what Ryder himself had thought when he’d passed it earlier, but I figured I’d made up for the inconvenience with my role in the great bulldozer showdown, so we were even.
It took far less time than I’d expected for the guys to get the car out of its stinky grave and onto the truck, and in no time at all, I was watching it disappear down the road on its journey to my auto shop.
Ziggy yapped, and I turned and winced at the mess they’d left behind. I eyeballed the dachshund. “How are your shovel skills?”
He stared at me blankly.
“Yep. That makes two of us.” I scanned the mucky mess and blew out a sigh. “Come on. Best we get started then.”
Two hours later, thirty minutes of which were spent finding a damn shovel and wheelbarrow—it shouldn’t be so hard on a landscaper’s property, right—and most of the compost slash manure was back where it belonged. The rest was on me, through my hair, down my gumboots, and up my nose. All of which necessitated another load of laundry and a second shower. Luckily, the first pair of sweatpants Ryder had given me that morning had dried, so I hadn’t needed to go hunting for another pair.
Clean and dry for the third time since I’d woken in the shed that morning, I took a stroll through the inside of the cottage to familiarise myself—okay, to be nosey. My usual taste ran more to glass, concrete, and high-tech specifications, but I appreciatedthe cosy aesthetic and comfortable, relaxed vibe—a lot like the man who lived there.
The cottage was small but not tiny. Rustic and pretty, it was furnished eclectically, with a tasteful recycled feel that brushed up against cheap and tacky without actually crossing into them. Stylishly kitsch-adjacent. I made a mental note to discuss the style name with Ryder and could almost see those blond eyebrows crunching in disapproval. You never knew quite what the next room, or moment, would bring. The single unifying element were the polished plank floors, a deep caramel colour, not unlike manuka honey. The wood felt so yummy under my bare feet that I was tempted to lie down and lick it.
The bedroom I chose for myself sported a brass bedstead that sat atop a threadbare Persian rug and was flanked by two white-washed side tables. It should’ve been a design disaster, but somehow it worked. The open-plan living area was the same with shabby-chic sofas and wide armchairs. Both were strewn with cushions and beautifully woven blankets that screamed “sustainable” and “fair-trade”.
In the dining area, mismatched chairs surrounded a lovely table that appeared to be made from planed scaffolding boards. The kitchen was country-style simple with open shelving and a taste in plateware that ran to grandma-collectable. The entire living space was laid out to make the most of the garden, opening onto a wide deck via two sets of bifold doors.
Ryder had completed some major renovations in high-service areas such as the bathroom and kitchen, but there was still a lot left to tackle. I suspected he’d only done what was necessary before moving on to where his passion truly lay: the garden. I wouldn’t know my geranium from my cucumber, but even I could appreciate the beauty he’d created.
Lucky for me, the council trucks never returned. By five o’clock, I’d investigated every corner of Ryder’s garden, foldedthe washing, talked to the hens who made a lot more sense than most other people I’d spoken to recently, and grabbed an hour’s nap on my bed with Ziggy curled behind my knees.
