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‘He doesn’t belong here. I don’t understand why you think he’s so great,’ she countered. She didn’t like the fact that Ray and Ryan had established such a good rapport in such a short time. In little more than two days they seemed to have become as thick as thieves. It undermined her satisfaction in her petty revenge, which she had already discovered was rebounding on her in other unpleasant ways.
‘It’s a guy thing.’ Nina’s eyebrows whipped up incredulously and the old man chuckled. ‘I picked that up from my granddaughter.’ His faded grey eyes sobered. ‘But, then, why shouldn’t I like him, Nina? I’ve listened to him talk and my instincts tell me he’s a good lad. What have you really got against him?’
She transferred her hold on the chair, hugging it to her chest like a shield. ‘What’s he been saying to you?’ she demanded sharply.
‘Probably nothing he wouldn’t say to you…if you were interested enough to ask the right questions.’
Alarm flashed in Nina’s eyes and her mouth pulled into a stubborn line. ‘I just don’t trust him, that’s all.’
Ray chewed thoughtfully on his makeshift toothpick as he turned to watch Ryan start down the ladder again.
‘Maybe it’s not him you don’t trust,’ he said. ‘Maybe your prejudices don’t quite jell with what your own instincts are telling you. I wonder why you’re so anxious to dislike him?’
And with a tug on the battered canvas hat covered with fishhooks that he wore summer and winter, he stumped back over the grass, pausing for a word with Ryan before climbing the warped steps that were the next thing on his amateur workman’s agenda and settling into his rocking chair on the porch, the plate of biscuits on his lap. Zorro, with his unerring instinct for a free feed, immediately rose from his lazy sprawl at the base of the ladder and skittered up to investigate the oaty aroma.
Ryan scooped up a plastic bottle of water from the ground and strolled across the grass to Nina, wiping his shiny forehead with the back of his arm, revealing the black tuft of hair in his damp armpit.
‘What do you think?’ he said, flicking his head towards the house.
Impressive, was Nina’s impulsive response, but she kept her mouth sealed and quickly shifted her eyes from his chest to his workmanship. ‘I still think you’re a hairdresser.’
He grinned appreciatively at the put-down and crammed a biscuit into his mouth.
‘Those weren’t supposed to be for you,’ she complained.
‘Then why did you bake so many?’
‘Anzac biscuits are Ray’s favourite,’ she said evasively.
‘Mine now, too.’ He took another one from his pocket and crunched into it with relish. ‘I think Ray gets the better end of the deal he has with you—you’re a good cook.’
She refused to be warmed by the praise. ‘I like baking. I find it soothing.’
‘Did you feel in need of a double batch of soothing this morning?’
He couldn’t have known about her restless night…the haunted images of him that had pursued her even into sleep. She had spent far too much time over the past few days watching him, thinking about him, hugging her secret knowledge to herself and subtly tormenting him with his ignorance. That had meant seeking out his company instead of avoiding it, and too late she was realising that in doing so she was opening herself up to examination.
Her thoughts and feelings and past experiences were just as frequently the subject of the conversation as his, and since she was ostensibly eager to help him regain his memory, she could hardly object when he peppered her with questions about her amnesia in an effort to understand his own.
‘I told you, I always bake extra Anzacs!’ Fortunately, her words had the ring of truth.
A wink of light caught her eye—a bead of sweat rolling down his muscled shoulder. She stared at it in unwilling fascination as it hovered on the outer ridge of his collarbone.
‘It’s surprisingly hot work up there,’ he said, following her gaze. He lifted the crumpled tail of the long-sleeved shirt he had tucked through his belt loop and slowly blotted at his upper chest and throat. ‘I bet it gets scorching here in the summer. That metal roof traps a lot of heat, even in winter. I nearly fried like an egg scrambling around on it. I managed to peg everything back down, though, so Ray shouldn’t have any leaks.’
