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Ryan said, “Every man’s been burned like that. You have to admit, women have a boatload of special tricks at their disposal. No harm in getting an unvarnished look first. You should know—I call it like I see it.”
“Excellent,” she said. “So do I. It’s my job.”
“Right,” he said. “Anyway, if you love outdoor sports, you’ll love paddleboarding, and I’ve been told I’m an excellent teacher. Lots of … patience. Martin says you like to swim, so that’s not a problem. You’ll fall off a few times, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Do you swim much out there at this time of year?” What was the “patience” line about? Please, don’t let him be telegraphing that he took his time during sex. That would be so cheesy.
“No,” he said. “I paddleboard. Huh. Martin said you were adventurous and athletic. A little exaggeration?”
She prided herself on doing the rational thing. It was easier, and it got you into so many fewer bad situations. The rational thing at this moment was to call this off and go have dinner with her folks, because this guy was not going to be her dream date. She suspected that hedidenjoy messing with women who’d just applied their false eyelashes and blown out their hair. She might not have been on as many first dates as some women, but she’d seen a lot of human nature, whatever Martin thought. She’d been a family-law attorney. Men who bragged that “I call it like I see it” generally meant, “I am an arrogant jerk,” and she didn’t need that in her life.
Instead, she said, “Sure. Meet you at the beach in fifteen minutes,” and hung up.
Why? Entertainment value, possibly. And, of course, the challenge.
* * *
Janey was lyingon her stomach on the floor, reading a book. Now, she set it down, laid her chin on her hand, sighed, and announced, “I’m bored.”
Troy, who’d been gluing the Shape Guys he’d drawn onto cardboard, cutting them out, then making up a story with them that he narrated in a low voice while Bacon lay beside him, listened with rapt attention, and occasionally emitted a silent but deadly cloud of gas, obligingly said, “I’m bored, too.”
“Can we watch TV, Dad?” Janey asked. “If we were still at home and I had my friends, I wouldn’t be bored, but Idon’thave my friends. I have Alexis’s phone number, so I could text her if I had a phone. If I had anything to text her about, that is. I don’t think you can make friends by saying, ‘Can you come over and be bored with me?’ It has to be something fun. Or we should have video games.Everybodyin the States has video games.”
Beckett’s dad would have said, “If you’re bored, I’ll give you something to do,” and he’d have been cutting grass or cleaning toilets. Beckett and the kids had already cleaned the apartment today, though, and there was no grass to cut. Also, he was pulling out jarred marinara sauce from the cupboard without much enthusiasm and feeling restless himself. Something about a new place, starting to get your bearings, and wanting to get out and see some more of it, maybe. Not depression or those other things people said. He was fine. He wasn’t stuck in a rut; he was shaking it up, challenging himself all over the shop. And the kids would make friends soon enough. They’d never had a problem before, had they?
The truth was, he didn’t know.
Abby had known. Abby had planned the outings, too, had made the fun.
Abby wasn’t here.
He said, “How about heading to the playground by the lake for a bit, and then … burgers for dinner, maybe? Pizza? We’ll celebrate Troy’s first day of swim lessons.”
It wasn’t quite “Take in the nightclub scene,” but it was going out. In a sense. He could have a beer, at least, maybe take the kids someplace with sport on telly. It would probably be American football, which he didn’t understand, but you had to learn the local culture. In Kyrgyzstan, you’d watch blokes on horseback toss a headless goat to each other. In Montana, you watched gridiron and wished it were as exciting as headless-goat polo.
“Burgers!” Troy said. “And chips!”
Bacon jumped up, barked, wagged his tail like mad, then dashed over to Janey and licked her leg before heading back over to Troy, standing on his hind legs, and doing a little dance.
“And ice cream for after!” Janey chimed in. “Can I ring Alexis, then? If we’re having hamburgers, that might be fun enough.”
“Yeah,” Beckett said. “Or—wait. I’ll ring her mum and ask.” He did, then announced, “That’s her coming. Shoes on, and let’s go.” A dinner of fat, sugar, and salt. Activity first, though, and he wasn’t going to feel guilty. It was Saturday night, and he was helping Janey make a friend.
There were some other kids at the playground, climbing on the structures and sliding down the flying fox, and Troy ran to join them happily enough. Janey and Alexis wandered slowly after him, talking about something to do with school. There was heaps of, “Iknow,”and “You’rekidding!”,but not much reason for all the excitement that he could see. Girl-bonding, he guessed. There were also a few people out on the water, taking advantage of the warm day. A kayak, a rowboat, and two people on those stand-up paddleboards. A man and a woman.
A woman in a red swim costume of the strictly athletic type, with short dark hair, a muscular back, and bloody fantastic legs. A woman who was crouched down some to paddle, which gave him a perfect view of her absolutely brilliant arse.
Crikey.
Stop,he told himself.That’s pathetic. Find somebody to flirt with at the restaurant. Somebody willing to overlook the fact that you haven’t flirted in about fifteen years. Somebody who sees a bloke out with his kids in his shorts and thongs, mopping up spilled tomato sauce and milkshakes, and thinks,“Hot!”
He watched the kids some more instead of ogling the judge’s arse, and Bacon sniffed the grass on his lead and lifted his leg against a post.
Not his most exciting evening ever. Until everybody started falling off their paddleboards.
7
THE ORTHODONTIST
