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He looked taken aback by the non sequitur, but then he straightened away from the counter and she knew this wasn’t just surprise at the sudden change of topic. Because he looked a lot less relaxed.
‘I can’t hug him. I shouldn’t even touch him really. It’s a child protection thing.’
It was her turn to be surprised. ‘You mean you’ve never given him a hug?’
‘It would be crossing a line I’m not allowed to cross.’
Bullshit was her first thought. And her second. ‘Who said you’re not allowed to give him a hug? I can’t believe my mum told you that.’ Her mum thought Trey was God’s gift to childcare, and from what she’d observed while he was looking after Aldo—when she wasn’t allowing her judgement to be coloured by jealousy—her mum had got that right. ‘You’re important in Aldo’s life, you must know that.’
His jaw went rigid, and she saw the glint of annoyance, so unlike him. ‘I’m not his dad, or his big brother. I’m a paid employee.’
He had to know he was more than that. Especially to Aldo. But then she remembered a line from her GCSE English, something about protesting too much. Was it Shakespeare? She couldn’t be sure because she’d barely scraped a D in English Literature. But even so, it applied. Trey was definitely protesting too much. The question was why? Then she thought of him standing beside her at the park, that blank look on his face, his fingers curled into a fist, and she had her answer.
‘You weren’t protecting him, were you? You were protecting yourself.’
The bell on the oven timer chose that precise moment to ping. He grabbed the mitt and slid the cupcakes out of the oven. But she already had her answer, his rigid expression a dead giveaway.
Trey had no parents and no siblings. He had no family at all by the sounds of it. Was he lonely? Wouldn’t it be terribly isolating to work with a family, to become important to them, the way he’d become to Aldo, and not be able to become too invested? Was he scared to get too involved?
‘These smell delicious,’ he said as buttery steam filled the kitchen and made her stomach rumble. ‘Thanks for helping out. I owe you one.’
He didn’t understand the dynamics of sibling relationships, that much was obvious. But did he even understand the dynamics of a family relationship? How long had his mum been sick before she died? Had he been the one caring for her? Was that why he was so adept at looking after Aldo?
‘I guess we should wait for them to cool down before icing them,’ he said, clearly trying to fill the void with inane conversation.
‘I need to go have a shower,’ she said, feeling indescribably grimy all of a sudden. Certainly some eyeliner wouldn’t go amiss. Especially now she had a plan.
She liked Trey; he was a nice guy. And, for the first time ever, despite his lame taste in polo shirts, ‘nice’ didn’t feel like a euphemism for ‘boring’. Could this be a sign of her own maturity? Had she finally grown out of wanting to hook up with bad boys who thought they were cool but were really just creepy and sex-obsessed?
Having Trey’s warm brown gaze stray involuntarily to her tits had made her feel excited, not dirty, the way Liam had when he’d told her he wanted to come on her boobs.
Trey was hot, and totally cool in his own way. Even if he didn’t know it. But he was also way too reserved and serious.
An intervention was called for. He needed someone to shove him off the sidelines and into the action. And she was the perfect person for that job. She’d spent so much of her life shoving herself into the action.
If that meant passing her flirting proficiency test, so be it.
‘I’ll be back in ten, and then we can ice them.’
‘Cool,’ he said, deliberately nonchalant. But she was sure she could feel his chocolate gaze warming her arse as she dashed out of the room.
Score one to Lizzie Best’s Play Trey Initiative.
Chapter 14
‘OK, folks, you’re all set.’ Chad, Wilderness Kayaks owner and apparently sole operator, placed the cooler packed with freeze-dried rations, beverages and ‘other essentials’ into the hatch in the kayak’s bow and sealed it. ‘Step in and I’ll give you a boost.’
‘Cheers, mate.’ Luke stepped into the fibreglass boat’s front cockpit, sat down to extend his legs under the hull and then leaned back to catch the paddle Chad chucked him. All in one fluid movement, with barely a wobble.
The man could have been born in a bloody kayak. Even in the chunky life vest—or personal flotation device, as Chad had called it—Luke looked cool and competent and mouth-wateringly sexy.
Whose stupid idea was that kiss again?
Nine days into their ‘extreme bonding activities’ and Halle had come to regret that errant lip lock more and more, the odd hormone bump having morphed into an increasingly severe case of can’t-take-my-eyes-off-you syndrome.
Their companionable chat at the waterfall hadn’t helped. There was only so much distraction smutty novels, work commitments and scenic walks to the reception to phone or email her children could provide when she was sharing a cabin with a man she was actually conversing with again.
But much more frustrating was the wealth of stuff that remained unsaid. Stuff she had become increasingly aware Luke was determined would remain unsaid. His lightning-fast reflexes to deflect the conversation elsewhere every time they strayed anywhere near the topic of their past were something to behold.
