AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A moment’s pause. “Yep. Sure. See you if I see you.”
She threw the phone on the desk and fought the stupid urge to burst into tears. No mention of Saturday night; no, “that was great, let’s do it again some time.”
As if… It had been a tequila-fuelled mistake. Really, had she gone soft in the head?
With fast and angry fingers, she rifled through the pile of moth-eaten books. They were total rubbish. Soiled. Badly written pot boilers. Not worth cutting down trees for.
She wrote on the box in red texta,No credit note. Return to sender.
Yes. She could be a hard-nosed bitch when she chose to be.
* * *
Aaron tucked his Moschino shirt into his jeans. Pulled it out, ripped it off and put on his ancient Cold Chisel T-shirt, with the hole in the front. It was entirely appropriate for a guy who didn’t give a fuck and it wasn’t as if it was Gran’s actual party. Just a casual get-together to taste cakes. He tucked it in to his jeans. Pulled it out. Out looked better.
He’d taken a lightning-fast shower. Not thought about Alice. Thought about Alice. Resisted doing anything about the massive erection staring up at him. Got out and dried himself until the towel burned his skin. Trimmed his stubble, put product in his hair. Doused his underarms in deodorant and splashed on one of his more subtle colognes.
So here he was, having barely spent any time on prep. Because it was only Alice. And after today he wouldn’t feel like his head had been stuffed full of cotton wool balls and wood chips. Meeting her over afternoon tea would be a civilised way for them to get back on a more even keel.
He grabbed his car keys and phone and exited his apartment, his usual confidence re-emerging… along with something else that reminded him of the popping candy he used to put on his tongue as a kid. Though how it had got into his bloodstream was beyond him.
At Dad’s, there was no street parking so he used his remote to open the underground garage and parked his car between David Blake’s 1954 Daimler and the Golf GTI Oliver had turned up in the other day. He flicked a glance at Dad’s other two classics, a 1962 convertible E-Type Jaguar and a 1973 classic Porsche.
Seriously, Dad had money to burn. The cars, the speedboat moored at the river he hardly every had time to use, the imposing house in the most elite part of town. Except… wasn’t that exactly what he, Aaron, wanted? To be like the David Blakes and Archie Bendts of this world?
He shook off a vague queasiness as the image of Archie leaning over Lauren’s chair came into his head. Since that day, he’d noticed a few more incidents. His imagination was way too active at present. Look what had happened in the shower. One fleeting thought about suspenders and bunny ears and all the blood had migrated to his dick.
Taking the lift from the garage he found himself in the elegant hallway. The flowers were shades of pink and apricot today. Delectable scents of cinnamon and vanilla and something else he couldn’t work out wafted from the kitchen. Voices. Andrea’s soft and melodic, and another laugh that made his toes tingle.
He paused, nearly switched on his heels to go the other way towards the study and then realised he was stuck. He didn’t want to see Dad and Oliver any more than he wanted to see Alice.
Except hedidwant to see Alice. He was desperate to see Alice… to put things straight between them, he told himself firmly. He missed their easy banter, the way he didn’t have to put on a performance in front of her… except now… yeah, he’d really put on a performance the other night, hadn’t he? With agitated fingers he smoothed his hair and willed his pulse to slow. Pressing his mouth tight, he ambled into the kitchen.
Dappled light shafted through the big windows and hit the state-of-the-art appliances and gleaming white cupboards. Outside, a watery sun peered from heavy winter clouds and Andrea had the lights on—modern glass pendants that hung low over the kitchen island bench. They lit up a cast of beautifully iced cakes.
Behind the bench stood Alice and Andrea fussing over cutting up a large, fluffy sponge covered in thick pink buttercream icing. Alice had a smudge of icing on her finger and she licked it off and rolled her eyes heavenwards. His gaze got stuck on the lips enveloping her finger and a sudden flash of those same lips going through similar motions somewhere else had him shove his hands abruptly into his pockets.
Not. Here.
He must have made some kind of strangled sound because both women’s heads shot up. Two pairs of eyes zoomed in, Andrea’s warm and hazel, Alice’s huge and dark and utterly unreadable.
Launching into the room, he hugged Andrea, hyper-aware of Alice standing ramrod stiff next to her, hands now clasped neatly in front of her. He stepped back and gave Alice a nod. Andrea frowned at him. Okay, so maybe he should be a bit friendlier. Leaning forward he pecked Alice quickly on the cheek and tried to ignore the floral waft of her perfume, the same one she’d been wearing the night they… they… lurching back, he bumped into a stool and nearly lost his footing. How could a guy who spent as much time as he did in the gym suddenly feel like a puppy trying to navigate an ice rink? Bracing through his heels, palms on the benchtop, he stared at the array of cakes. “Wow, Andrea, you’ve done yourself proud.”
Andrea pointed her spatula. “Classic Victoria sponge, hummingbird cake, and this one is an angel cake. We’ve just decided we’re going to put violets on the one we choose, because violets are Gran’s favourite flower.”
“We were trying to work out whether we should make the violets out of confectioners’ icing or marzipan,” Alice said matter-of-factly.
He cast her a quick glance. “Are you helping Andrea?”
“I am the chief assistant pastry chef, yes.” Alice’s tone was haughty. He hoped it was joke-haughty. He wanted them back where they were supposed to be. Teasing, playful. Easy. Not all these clunking sharp edges.
“Can I taste?” He ducked a hand out, but Alice slapped it with a wooden spoon and it actually hurt. He drew back. “Ouch.”
She let out a snicker. Their eyes met for a second and it was like he’d been punched in the solar plexus. “Still wearing your contacts,” he muttered.
“Don’t you love Alice’s new look?” Andrea chimed in. “Such beautiful eyes she’s been hiding from the world all these years.”
Alice gave a coy smirk. Aaron wanted to take the wooden spoon and rap Andrea over the knuckles with it.
