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He drained the bottle into his glass. Yep, he’d admit it. He needed fortification.
“I guess we probably should discuss what we do next,” he said, avoiding her eyes.
“I was thinking you could fly and I could rent another van.”
“Really?” The word blasted so fast out of his lips, he had to slug down another mouthful of wine to stop any more of them gushing out.
“Yeah, I don’t want to miss out on seeing what’s between here and Sydney.” Reasonable enough, he supposed, and then found himself launching into what sounded ominously like an argument against it. “It’s a lot more built up from here, and except for the Great Ocean Road, pretty populated around Melbourne, unless of course you go inland to the Victorian alps or take a detour on the coast to Wilson’s Promontory, but that’s a long way round.”
Steady blue eyes perused him from across the table. “What are you saying exactly, Oliver?”
He rubbed at his forehead. “I’m… not sure.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“Well, ermphhh, you know you could fly back with me to Sydney and then plan a route up the coast… er, visit Queensland and the Barrier Reef and then from there you could fly to Alice Springs.” He was blabbering—actually blabbering.
“Right.”
“And you know there’s a lot in Sydney to see, the Harbour Bridge obviously, the Opera House, the, er, Botanical Gardens, the galleries. And you’ve got the Blue Mountains. That’s a great day trip. You could easily do a week in and around Sydney.”
“I see.”
Silence.
“And you’re welcome to use my place as a base.”
“Right.”
“Do you have anything to add other than monosyllables?” he asked, far more brusquely than he meant to. Her chin rested in her hands in that gesture she had when she was thinking.
He took another slug of wine. “Good little drop, this one,” he said, and then wanted to punch himself for sounding like a pompous prick. He waved his glass towards the gardens, lit with fairy lights. “Luke and Freya have done amazing things with this place. The backyard was all overgrown when they bought it. That was a while back, of course.”
“Yes, Freya said they hadn’t seen you recently.”
“No.” He stared into his glass. “I should have visited.” He’d already had the talk with Luke, the slightly awkward man-to-man one, and Luke had said sorry mate, about the Leonie debacle, and he’d done the pursed lip thing guys do when they feel emotional and nodded and said thanks mate, much appreciated. Leonie had always referred to them as his hippy friends, and the truth was, he’d let himself be led away from people he cared about and into her smart, wealthy Sydney group. Was he proud of that? Categorically not.
He glanced over at her. “Thoughts?”
“About?” Her innocent blue gaze ran tension like a bow line through his nerves. She was really making him sweat here and she knew it.
“About whether you want to carry on alone, or come back with me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I meant—notwithme— but at the same time.”
“I need to think about it. Could you give me until the morning?”
“Sure.” His face suddenly warm like she’d slapped him, he lounged back in his chair attempting nonchalance. “Just let me know and then I—you—whoever, can book an afternoon flight.”
“Okay.” She pushed her chair back and stood up. “Anyway.” A yawn. “I’ll call it a day I think…”
“Yeah, I’ll—” he was going to say “be right behind you”, which was a terrible choice of words, so he muttered instead, “finish off my wine first.”
He watched out of the corner of his eye as she stretched, and willed himself not to look at the pull of her shirt over her breasts.
“Goodnight, Oliver,” she said, and then as Bonnie sidled over, she bent down and murmured affectionately, “Are you accompanying me to my room? What a good hostess you are,” before strolling off, with the border collie ambling alongside.
Oliver scowled after them.
It was totally ridiculous that he could feelthisjealous of a dog.
