Leave Me Breathless

I squirm my way back to the table and take refuge in my wine.

‘Are you hot?’ Molly asks, pointing her glass at my flushed cheeks. I reach up and pat at them.

Yes, I’m burning up. Hot and bothered.

But obviously still broken.Chapter 5RYAN

My outside shower is one of the things I love most about being home. The mornings are cool this time of year, but that cool air mixed with the heat from the spray is an unbelievably amazing feeling on my skin. Steam from the hot meeting cold. Invigorating.

I grab a towel and wrap it around my waist as I head back inside my cabin to make a coffee. Sitting down at my desk, I check my emails, deleting most, then send a message to Jake for an update. My phone rings almost immediately after I’ve clicked send.

‘Hey,’ I answer, leaning back in my chair. ‘I assume the baby has arrived.’

‘Oh, he’s arrived all right.’ Jake laughs, though it’s tired, and I suddenly hear the piercing cry of a newborn. ‘Caleb Sharp is most definitely here.’ He sighs, now sounding fucking exhausted.

I can’t help my small smile. ‘Congratulations, mate.’

‘Thanks. How’s things up there?’

‘Peaceful.’ I get up and wander to the freezer, grabbing the Chunky Monkey and cracking off the lid.

‘I can relate. I’m getting ready to take Cami and the kids to my country place. No neighbours. No noise. Just me and them in the middle of nowhere.’

I smile. Hampton is in the middle of nowhere. No one comes here. No one leaves here. I momentarily reflect on the time I left town years ago with no plans of coming back other than to visit Mum. I soon did come back, though. Wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. And then I’m thinking again about that paint-splattered woman. No one comes here. But she has.

‘Anyway . . .’ I get a spoon and hold my mobile phone to my ear with my shoulder as I dig into the ice cream. ‘You enjoy your sleepless nights.’ I grin when he snorts, hearing a sound from outside. I glance to my open door. ‘I’ve gotta go. Someone’s here. Love to the family.’

‘Sure. Keep in touch, bud.’ Jake hangs up, and I throw my phone on the couch and move to the window, looking out as I take the first mouthful of my vice. It’s silent, perfectly silent . . . until I hear the sound of branches cracking. I take the few steps to the front door, alert but by no means concerned by the sounds of someone on my property. I’m in Hampton. Nothing ever happens in Hampton.

Leaning my shoulder on the doorframe, I wait for whoever it is to show themselves, my eyes trained on the track where it disappears around the corner. And while I wait, I carry on slowly spooning some ice cream into my mouth.

Then I see something.

‘Well, well,’ I say to myself, slowly swallowing. She rounds the corner, and even from here I can tell she’s fighting with her instinct to retreat. Every time I’ve encountered this woman, she’s been like a rabbit caught in the headlights. The first time, I get it. I’d run her off the road. She must have been shocked. But in the shop? And in the pub the other night? She’s a scared little thing. Or is it something else? I raise my eyebrows to myself. Do I want it to be something else?

She’s gazing around, her awe obvious, as I start munching my way through my Chunky Monkey again. I can’t blame her for being so enthralled. My place is pretty enthralling.

Then she spots me in the doorway and stops dead in her tracks. Her eyes are glued to my chest, and I peek down with my spoon hanging from my mouth, reminding myself that I’ve just gotten out of the shower and have only a tiny towel covering my dignity. ‘You going to bolt again?’ I call softly, digging my spoon back into the tub.

She blinks and looks up from my bare torso. ‘Pardon?’

I smile and take the three steps down from the veranda to the lawn. ‘You have a habit of running in the other direction whenever I’ve seen you.’

Her eyes close, embarrassment tingeing her checks. Or maybe the heat is caused by something else. A little flash of satisfaction courses through my veins.

‘That’s what I came about,’ she says. ‘I’m not usually such a weirdo.’ She can’t look at me now and is playing with a frayed bit of fabric on the bottom of her denim shorts. The long-sleeved baggy sweater she’s wearing swamps her small frame, and the blue scarf in her hair nearly covers her whole head. She’s chic, in a cutesy kind of way.

I approach her, but slowly, mindful that it’s taken all her courage to come here. Her shyness, while almost painful, is quite endearing. ‘I don’t think you’re a weirdo.’ I pop a big spoonful of ice cream in my mouth and relish the small smile she points at the tub in my hand.