Page 6 of Into the Rain


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CHAPTER THREE

LACEY BENT HER knees and threw the flat rock with precision across the water and into the rain. Standing straight, she watched the stone’s progress. One, two, three, four. The stone hopped in four graceful arcs before it sank beneath the water. Lacey gave a little twirl and bent to pick up another pebble. She hadn’t skipped stones since she was a child, but the discovery of all these perfectly flat little pebbles on the water’s edge was too much of a temptation. The ocean was calm this evening, the pattering of raindrops on the surface the only sound. The soft drizzle had kept up most of the day, with no wind to speak of, making the little bay quiet and a tad bleak. Lacey had pulled up the hood on her sheepskin jacket to keep out most of the damp.

Smudge was watching her with some skepticism, gaze alternating from her face, out at the water, then back, as if wondering if she expected him to chase those little stones all the way out there. Because that would be madness; she could see it written in the dog’s confused eyes. She patted Smudge’s wet head and murmured words of endearment. He was such a sweet animal. So trusting and unfailingly happy. She’d forgotten what it was like to have an animal around. Maybe, when she got back to Melbourne, she’d get herself a puppy. Something to give her unconditional love when she came home from a long day at work. That might help to get her through the dark nights. Maybe.

She lobbed a stick down the beach and Smudge took off after it, happy to finally have something to chase that didn’t end up disappearing beneath the waves. She could now see why Bert was a stickler for keeping campers out of the parking lot above this beach. It was a pristine little spot. There was only one other person on the small beach with her this late in the evening. An older lady, wrapped in a waterproof overcoat, had been doing laps up and down in the softer sand at the back of the curving beach, probably her daily exercise. But even she had disappeared a few minutes ago, as the evening drew closer.

The act of skipping a stone, something lighthearted that represented a free time from her childhood, helped to lift the heavy mood that’d settled on her shoulders. The news about her Kombi van hadn’t been good.

Dave was a lovely bloke, and he’d seemed to know what he was talking about as he’d looked at Dotti. It didn’t take him long to announce that she needed a new fuel pump. It’d become corroded, and he needed to order the spare part from the mainland, which would take days, perhaps up to a week. Even when she offered him more money—because money was no object to her—he’d replied affably that she could pay him triple if she liked, but it wouldn’t make the ferry run any quicker, or the courier drive any faster. He placated her by saying that if he got the order in over the phone quickly, because it was only Monday morning, she might be lucky and get the part by Friday.

Lacey was disappointed. Not because she was in any real hurry to go anywhere, more because she didn’t want to impose on Nico’s hospitality any further. She liked being independent. And hated having to rely on anyone. Hated having to owe someone a debt. Because in her world, if you owed someone something, be it big or small, they always made you pay it back tenfold. Or worse, held the favor over your head until it became a dark cloak of guilt they could use to their advantage. Lacey’s mother was the master manipulator when it came to using guilt as a weapon, and Lacey had learned very early on in her childhood that you never got anything for free in this world. There was always a price. At least there was with her mother. Lacey didn’t like to tar other people with the same brush, but it was hard not to when she’d had to grow a solid shield around her heart just to protect herself.

She was sure Nico wasn’t like that. He was probably just doing his duty as a dependable member of this small community, but she still hated to owe him anything.

So, as payment, she’d decided she would cook him dinner tonight. It wouldn’t be anything gourmet, not by a long shot. She was fairly limited to what she could cook on her compact stove. But she’d become proficient in whipping up a tasty meal with hardly any ingredients. There wasn’t even a supermarket in this little hamlet. She’d learned that the hard way when she’d gone in search of fresh ingredients and come across the small kiosk that stocked basics like milk and bread, but not much more.

After Dave had given her the unhappy news, Lacey had pulled up Nico’s number he’d given her last night and asked if she could stay camping on his land for a few more days. When he’d replied it was no problem, she’d invited him to join her in her van for dinner. She had a little table and two chairs she could set up outside on the grass so they didn’t have to eat squashed together like sardines on the couch in the van. They might be cold, but as long as the rain stopped, that was preferable to having to bear Nico’s presence so up close and personal again.

She shivered as her body remembered the effect he’d had on her this morning. In hindsight, she should never have invited him inside her van. The only other person she’d allowed into her van and in such close proximity had been Matt, and he was her brother, so he didn’t count. But she’d opened her mouth without thinking. Part of her had still felt a little ashamed for the black eye and bandaged brow he was sporting this morning and had wanted to make amends. But then he’d sat his large, imposing body on the couch, and she’d had to press in next to him, and that’s when her heart rate had gone into overdrive. She also began noticing all the little things about him she shouldn’t. How he smelled like lemongrass—his soap, perhaps. How his hair flopped over his forehead and he had to keep pushing it away, which inevitably drew her gaze to his prominent brows and then down to the scar on his cheek. She’d been mesmerized by that scar. It made him different. Not quite perfect. But she’d never been keen on perfect, so that was fine. And how his long legs seemed to fill the whole of the inside of her van as he stretched them out beneath her tiny table. It’d made her insides go to jelly whenever she’d glanced over to where he was sitting, looking all cool and charming.

Men had been off her radar since…since the incident. She’d been dating a guy right before, but it’d only been a casual thing, and he couldn’t understand why she’d suddenly shut down, lost her appetite, and became weepy at just about everything and anything. Klaus couldn’t handle her grief and shock and had hightailed if off to find the next bubbly, young girl on his Tinder profile, one who hadn’t just suffered an enormous trauma.

Lacey picked up the stick and threw it again for Smudge, who’d come back looking for more things to chase.

It was funny, but Klaus hadn’t crossed her mind in a long while. She’d carefully put away all thoughts of the time surrounding Cindi’s death, as if that might somehow stop her from being overwhelmed by the images day in and day out.

It hadn’t really worked, but then neither had anything else. Which was why she’d decided to take this trip, get herself away from all things familiar, so she could keep jolting her mind with new and different stimuli, trying to replace the bleak images with better ones.

For once, Lacey allowed her mind to drift back to that time just over a year ago. Before the incident. Back then, she’d thought that perhaps she’d finally found a way to have everything she’d always wanted. Had found a way to break free from her mother’s controlling ways. Lacey had achieved something huge, not only by applying to join the police force, but surprising herself along with everyone else when she actually survived boot camp and became a fully-fledged new recruit. The fact that she was good at her job also was a bit of a wonder. She soon found she had a deep empathy for the often innocent victims of crime. More so than a lot of her male counterparts. And while she might not be the biggest, strongest, or fastest, able to bring down a fleeing felon with a lunging rugby tackle, she was good at the softer side of policing. Talking down a drug-hazed teenager from a rooftop ledge. Soothing lost or hurt children. Getting an abused wife to open up about her husband’s mistreatment and talk them into filing charges to get the dirtbag off the street. Her initial reason for joining up—because it was the absolute last thing her mother would want or expect her to do—had morphed into something much more meaningful and important. She’d decided she could make a career out of policing. And with her judo skills, she could handle the physicality when required.

Until Cindi was murdered by her own mother. That called everything Lacey valued into question, and she couldn’t go on as if nothing had changed. As if everything were still normal in her life.

And hadn’t her mother crowed about that one. Rubbed it in that she’d always known Lacey wasn’t cut out to be a cop. She didn’t have the mental stamina and grit needed. She’d practically ordered Lacey to come back to the mansion in Toorak and give up these fleeting notions of being a policewoman, back to where she would be cared for properly and she could get well again.

One morning, a few months following the incident, her mother had delivered the same lecture about how she was too weak to survive on her own for the umpteenth time, and Lacey had stormed out of the house, determined to make a change in her life. Then she’d seen the flyer advertising the Kombi, and it was no wonder she’d jumped on it like a dying woman looking for water in the desert.

Smudge gave a sudden yelp of recognition and dashed up the beach, breaking Lacey from her introspection. “Smudge, come back,” she yelled, but the dog was already dashing up the road toward home. Luckily, they were on a back road little hamlet with hardly any cars on the roads. Then she heard the low rumble of a motorcycle engine and knew it must be Nico returning home. Another thing to add to his list of cool traits. He rode a big, black road bike. She’d heard him leave on his way to work this morning, leaning out of her door to glimpse the black beast with the tall man on top as they roared off up the road.

Shit, he was home early. She jogged up the blacktop, following the route Smudge had taken. Thankfully, dinner was mostly prepared. All she had to do was boil the rice to go with her easy, four-ingredient chicken curry. They could nibble on some cheese and biscuits while they waited. It seemed as if the rain had finally drifted away, the clouds parting to reveal a cerulean sky. The ground was damp, but the air was clear.

Slowing as she came to the driveway, she tried to get her breath back under control. And rein in her mind at the same time. None of her erratic thoughts about Nico and his impact on her internal organs was going to show on her face tonight. This was strictly a meal to say thank you to a man who was helping her. End of story.

Nico appeared from around the side of the house, motorcycle helmet under one arm, Smudge gallivanting around his legs. As soon as he saw her, his face broke into a welcoming smile, and she felt her heart knock dangerously against her rib cage. It was just the aftereffects of the run up the hill, that was all. Nothing to do with the way his dark-blue eyes bored right into her, almost as if they could see down to her very soul.

“Evening,” he called down to her.

“Sorry, I was just at the beach. But dinner is almost ready.”

“Great. I bought us some white wine. I hope that’s okay?” He held a bottle aloft to show her.

She gave him the thumbs-up as she climbed the last few feet up the driveway to where the ground leveled out and she could stand next to him.

“I’ll get the rice on to boil,” she said, noticing how his hair was tied back in a ponytail today. Must be to keep it neat while he was wearing the helmet. But instead of making him look more civilized, it made him seem more roguish. Or perhaps it was the black leather jacket that added to his bad-boy image. Or maybe the gray bruise spreading over the side of his face, reminding her of the battering she’d given him. Whatever it was, she had to glance away before he saw the hot flush spreading up her body at the sight of him. “Come on over when you’re ready,” she added, not looking at him.

“Will do,” he replied as Smudge followed him up the steps to his house.

“Oh, and wear something warm, we’ll be sitting outside,” she called over her shoulder and then glanced up at the sky, willing the clouds to keep drifting over the horizon so they weren’t forced to go inside her van.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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