Exotic Nights

‘Oh.’ Like that was fabulous?

Her feigned lack of interest didn’t stop him. ‘I like things that go fast.’

She looked at him sharply. He was staring straight ahead, but his grin was sly and it was widening with every second.

Coolly as she could, she gave him her address. The sooner she got home and away from him, the sooner she could forget about it all and get on with her new life.

The fire vehicle outside her house should have warned her—nothing ever went smoothly for Bella. There was always some weird catastrophe that occurred—the kind of thing that was so outrageous it would never happen to other normal people. Like being caught in a ripped fairy dress in the supermarket by her only one-night stand—the guy who’d given her the best sexual experience of her life.

‘Looks like there might be some kind of trouble.’ He stated the obvious calmly as he parked the car.

She stared at the big red appliance with an impending sense of doom intuitively knowing it was something to do with her. She’d have done something stupid. But behind the truck, the house still stood. She released the breath she’d been holding.

‘I’m sure whatever’s happened isn’t that major.’

So he figured it had something to do with her too. She might as well walk around with a neon sign saying ‘danger, accident-prone idiot approaching’. But her embarrassment over everything to do with him faded into the background as she got out of the car and focused on whatever had gone wrong now.

As she walked up the path, one seriously bad smell hit her. The couple from the downstairs flat were standing in the middle of the lawn. A few firemen were standing next to them talking. Silence descended as she approached, but they weren’t even trying to hide their grins. It was a moment before she remembered her fairy dress and quickly put her hand to her chest. Wow, what an entrance.

‘You left something on the hob.’ The head fire guy stepped forward.

She’d what?

‘I think you were hard-boiling some eggs.’

Oh, hell—she had been, the rest of the box because they’d been getting dangerously close to their use-by date and she hadn’t wanted to waste any. She’d decided to cook them up and have them ready for the next day, and then in the rush to get to the café and pack all her party gear, she’d forgotten all about them.

Isla, her neighbour, piped up, ‘They had to break down the door—we didn’t have a key.’

The doors to both flats were narrow and side by side. Only now hers was smashed—splinters of wood lay on the ground, and the remainder of the door was half off its hinges.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled.

She trudged up the stairs and almost had a heart attack when she saw the damage to the door up there too. The whole thing would have to be replaced as well as the one downstairs. Bye bye bond money. And she’d probably be working extra hours at the café to make up the rest of it.

She stared around at the little room she’d called home for a grand total of two weeks. Her first independent, solely occupied home. There was almost no furniture—a beanbag she liked to curl into and read a book or watch telly. But it had been hers. Now it was tainted by the most horrendous smell imaginable and she couldn’t imagine it ever being a welcome sanctuary again. She’d spoilt things—again—with her own stupidity.

‘You can’t stay here.’

She nearly jumped out of her skin when Owen spoke.

‘No.’ For one thing the smell was too awful. For another it was no longer secure with both doors broken like that. She wouldn’t sleep a wink.

She saw him looking around, figured he must be thinking how austere it was. When his gaze came to rest on her again, concern was evident in his eyes. She didn’t much like that look. She wasn’t some dippy puppy that needed to be taken care of.

‘Can I drop you somewhere else?’

Her heart sank even lower into her shiny slippers. The last thing she wanted to do was call on the family. Having finally broken out she wanted to manage—for more than a month at least. If she phoned them now she’d never get any credibility. The two months’ deposit on the flat had taken out her savings, but she didn’t care. She’d wanted to be alone, to be independent, and she’d really wanted it to work this time. She could check into a hostel, but she had no money. She had nowhere to go. She’d have to stay here, put a peg on her nose and her ear on the door.

He took a step in her direction. ‘I have a spare room at my place.’

She looked at him—this stranger whom she knew so intimately, yet barely knew at all.

‘Grab a bag and we’ll get out of here. Leave it and come back tomorrow.’ He spoke lightly. ‘It won’t be nearly so bad then.’

She knew it was a good idea but she felt sickened. It was the last straw on a hellish day and her slim control snapped. Anger surged as she stared at him. Irrationally she felt as if he were to blame for everything. ‘Is your name really Owen?’

He looked astonished. ‘Of course. Why do you ask?’