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She raised a hand and stroked a finger around the opening of his shirt, along the line of his neck. He stifled a shiver, barely able to stop himself pulling her close.
“I really appreciate you coming,” she said quietly. “I’m just pretty wired about tonight.”
Now her fingers were at his collar, neatening it. He gulped hard. “What are you worried about?”
“That Dad’s drinking will get out of control. That he’ll make a complete idiot of himself. That he’ll ruin it for everyone. He’s always been good at destroying things and really bad at putting them back together again.”
“Surely Mim, and your brother and Kate wouldn’t have planned this if they didn’t think he’d cope?”
“Mim lives in hope. But, yeah.” She patted down his collar. “I guess it’s been a couple of years since his last big blowout. He’s been trying. He’s even been to see me in Perth a couple of times. It’s always felt kind of awkward.”
He gave in to the longing and covered her hand with his. Her fingers fluttered before she slipped her hand out and backed away. He stifled a wave of disappointment. At the door, the old coquettish Polly was back, head on one side, dimple pinned to her cheek. Safe, now she’d got away from him.
But he was far from safe.
“Guess I’m not going to behave the same here as back in Perth,” she said. “So don’t expect, you know…”
“Is that why you’ve given me your gran’s room?”
“To keep temptation at bay. Absolutely. I’ll meet you back in the kitchen.” And then she vanished.
Solo hoisted his bag onto the bed. Took out his toiletries bag. He knew what was in here with his toothbrush and hair gel—those little foil packets clearly weren’t going to get a look-in this weekend. He smiled at the way his balls kept leading his brain astray. What had he been thinking? That they’d actually be rolling around in the hay together all weekend?
Shaking his head, he hung up his gear. He could do with a shower after his ride. They’d left him a towel and a guest bar of soap but it could wait. It was more important to meet Polly’s dad.
And, okay, if he’d been effectively tossed into the friend basket for the weekend, he was liking getting to know these other facets of Polly Fletcher’s life. Perhaps a little too much.
* * *
When Polly arrivedin the kitchen, Dad was sitting at the table eating a doorstop-sized cheese and pickle sandwich and reading the paper.
He looked up and his face took on that mix of overly cheerful and apologetic. Like he was always trying to repair the rips he’d torn in the fabric of their relationship but hadn’t got a clue how to sew.
She hauled in a breath and gave him a hug. His arms came around her, he smelled of axle grease and grass, and she wished she could feel something more. But there was just that familiar knot in the pit of her stomach. She tried to return the hug but her arms felt like they were being operated by remote control.
She made an effort and squeezed.
“Hi sweetheart,” her dad’s deep voice rumbled in her ear before she pulled back. “Looking good.” His eyes skimmed over her, that same embarrassment, almost like he’d never got used to the idea that he was her father.
“You too, Dad.”
“Yeah, Mim’s been keeping me busy. Never lets up, that one.”
“Gah, get away with your grumbling,” Mim growled.
Ted’s eyes, the same deep shade of green as her own, skimmed past Polly and she swung around to see Solo standing in the doorway.
Her dad’s head jerked. “Is this your lad?”
“No, Dad, just a friend.” Had she imagined it or did Solo stiffen? “This is Solo Jakoby. We work together—he’s a doctor on the ward.”
The dogs were up and both sniffing around Solo again. They’d been in their baskets, knowing they might as well not waste their time with the family.
“A shrink?” Ted grinned—he’d fixed up his front tooth, thank Jesus. He’d left it missing for years, never owned up to how he lost it, but Joe had told her it was in a drunken brawl at some pub in another town.
“Afraid so, but a relatively normal one.”
“No such thing as a normal shrink,” Ted said.
