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En route I pick up my phone to text Carson:
Misunderstanding tonight, mate.
I will call you tomorrow.
I blow out a breath. How in the hell do I explain this situation—what a fucking bitch. Who in the hell does she think she is—fucking sleazebag. She has no idea. A text comes back from Carson:
What time is your operation tomorrow?
Huh—what in the hell is he talking about?
What operation?
A reply immediately bounces back:
The one to get the thumb print on your forehead surgically removed.
Fuck. That’s it. I’m fuming. I throw my phone onto the lounge with such force it bounces back onto the floor and I storm to my gym. I set the pace on high and start to run for my life. If I stay on here long enough I might just calm down enough to be able to go to bed. What I really feel like doing is ringing the boys to come back and pick me up and hitting the clubs where the women don’t speak or call me a fucking sleazebag—or tell my friends to get the fuck out. But I know I will regret it in the morning. I always do. I’ve worked too damn hard to get her back here to fuck it up now. She’s got me between a rock and a hard place and she damn well knows it. I’ll stay on this treadmill all night if I have to, anything is better than getting into bed with that raving bitch.
Two hours later I am exhausted and dripping wet as I leave my gym and head out to the pool. I strip off and dive in and swim a couple of laps. It’s good to be home, I’ve missed my house. I love this pool. It’s a twenty–metre lap infinity pool at one end and the other end has a beach area for kids and a swim–up bar. The overhead trees are all lit up with fairy lights and there are ground spotlights scattered everywhere in the garden. It’s huge, it took them eight months to complete but I love the whole resort feel going on, and it’s great for entertaining. I purse my lips, hmm, there’s a question. Will I ever be entertaining again? I knew my life would be different when I moved back with her but I didn’t expect the change to be rammed down my throat. I trudge up the stairs from the pool and grab a towel out of the cupboard and wrap it around my waist. I head to my inside bar to pour myself a Cointreau and ice. I open a packet of darts and take the bottle and the cigarettes back out to the deck chairs near the pool. I need to clear my head.
I am on my second glass when I am asked from behind.
“What are we drinking?” I put my head up and see Natasha sinking into the deck chair next to me with an empty glass full of ice. She probably wants to grill me about smoking now too. She holds her glass out to me and I give her a small smile and fill it.
“Cointreau,” I reply.
She nods as she takes a sip. “I like it with coke—do we have any?”
I frown. “You like Cointreau?” I ask, quite shocked.
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “Yes but with coke.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I think there is some in the pool bar fridge,” I reply. She rises from her seat and I watch her walk around the pool and down the steps into the pool bar. She fills her glass, puts some ice in her cup and walks back around to sit in the deck chair next to me. I look at her as I bite my bottom lip.
“Nice place, Josh, I like it.” I smile, still unsure what to say and nod. “I’m sorry about before, you’re right I shouldn’t have told your friends to leave. They just caught me off–guard, that’s all. I won’t do it again.” I take a sip of my drink as I look straight ahead. I know I should tell her it’s alright but I can’t. It’s as far from alright as you can get.
“Tash, I have been single all of my life,” I reply.
“I know baby, I forget that sometimes. But I won’t take shit from your friends and you need to talk to them as well.”
“I told you I would but if you could just hold that temper down a bit. It would be very handy.” I smirk at her as I take another sip. She picks up my packet of cigarettes from the table. Oh god, here it comes. Another lecture. To my utter amazement she opens the packet and takes one out and lights it. What the fuck, she smokes. I sit still in amazement as she sits back in her chair and takes another drag. You could knock me over with a feather. I did not expect her to just do that.
“You smoke?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Not really. I probably would though if I knew it wasn’t trying to kill me.”
I smile and nod. For the first time in a while I am seeing her in a different light.
“You?” she asks.
“Same.” I nod. She smiles as she raises her glass and clinks it with mine.
“Let’s not kill each other on our first day. Do you want to call a truce?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, I suppose.” I am riveted to my chair as I watch her blow the thin stream of smoke up into the air as her eyes lock onto mine. Why in the hell is that sight so arousing? It’s just so unexpected, sort of good girl goes wild thing going on here.
