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I jump in and screech into a U-turn. As I turn the curve in the street, though, I catch a glimpse of Robin’s blue Camry. Fuck! I check over my shoulder, shift into reverse, and park in a spot he won’t be able to see from my place. He’s bound to pass it when he leaves, though . . .
I jump out, grab the fir from the truck bed, and stash it under the dashboard on the passenger side. Lying lengthways, it fits, just—though soil spills out of the pot. But that’s a price I’m willing to pay. I chuck my jacket over it to be on the safe side.
I lock the truck and jog down the footpath and through the open gate—
And stop at the sight of Robin sitting with his back against my door, hugging his knees loosely and staring out into space. He runs his fingers absently over the edge of his grey cargo shorts, and then, seeing me, clambers to his feet. “Jase. I thought you didn’t want to let me in.”
I shake my head. That would never be the case. “I was just”—I jerk a thumb over my shoulder—“walking. To, ah, you know. Think.”
“Because of this morning?”
I shrug. “More to peer into people’s gardens and get ideas for Lyle’s yard.”
Of all things, of all possible things, I had to bring Lyle into this conversation.
“You’re working there again tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I step up to the door and open it for us. “Come in.”
“Do you mind if I hang out with Lyle while you’re working?”
Yes, a little. A lot. “Sure thing. No problem.”
He smiles and moves to my kitchen, where he immediately opens my fridge and pulls out a couple of cans of Coke. He cracks one open and hands it to me, and then slumps into a seat at the dining table.
He stares at his can as he speaks, and I slowly move to a chair opposite him. “It was stupid to do lessons in a public pool. I’m sorry. Next time we’ll go someplace private.”
Next time? “Uh, look—” I twist the Coke in my hand and lift it to my lips. “I don’t think we should do it again.”
A pause, and the sound of my hard gulp of Coke.
“At all?” He glances up.
“At all.”
“It was a shit morning. Don’t let it put you off learning altogether. You can do this. Look,” his eyes spark with excitement, “if you practice an hour every day, you could be swimming before your brother comes back. Hell, you could be surfing before he is. When’s he coming back?”
“Next month, maybe. And also, just so you know, he hasn’t forgotten about Dusky.”
“He doesn’t give up, does he?”
“Nope.”
Robin grins. “I hope it runs in the family.”
I blink down towards the table. “I don’t want to be eating ankle busters in front of you,” I say as an excuse.
“It’s a rite of passage. If you didn’t eat any, I’d be pissed off.” He smiles behind his can. “And, you know, you’re in safe hands. I know mouth-to-mouth.”
I jerk my chair back. He looks at me, startled, and I hurry to finish my Coke. “Another?” I ask as I charge towards the fridge.
Robin frowns, looking . . . confused. He drains his Coke. “Please don’t give up. Maybe I wasn’t the best teacher in the world, but don’t let that stop you learning.” He crushes his can and trashes it in the recycling bin. “Do me a favour, ask Lyle. He’ll teach you right.”
Just what I want to hear.
“I should—”
He stops me with a hand on my forearm. “Wait. There’s something else I wanted to ask. Completely unrelated.”
I raise both brows.
Robin smiles. “Do you have plans next weekend?”
Chapter Seven
Originally, he’d planned to take along a workmate, but they bailed last minute, so Robin wants me go with him to a beachside wedding, black tie. His plus one. I’m not thrilled to learn Lyle is also friends with the happy couple and will therefore be there too, but the opportunity is too good to miss.
After work the next day, I head to the nearest menswear store with suits to hire. The place is small and quiet—one shop assistant, and one other customer shuffling about behind a fitting room curtain.
“How can I help?” the assistant asks.
I’m not sure, exactly, but he seems prepared for that and instantly springs into action, taking my measure and providing a rack of options that he wheels to the second fitting room. I take the first option and duck behind the curtain; I’m fiddling with the bowtie when I hear a familiar voice.
I whip my curtain open to find Lyle standing before the mirror, trying to gauge his appearance from the back. His head swings my way and he snaps out of his pose. “What are you doing here?”
“Robin invited me to your friend’s wedding.” I cock my head at his sleek black tuxedo and crisp white bowtie. “Shouldn’t you have organised this earlier?”
