Inconsolable (Love Triumphs 2)

“I’m the same that way.”

He smiled. Not as ridiculously broadly as she was doing, but it was a recognisable uptick of lips, a tightening of the

skin around his eyes as brief as it was transforming, as it was heating. If he did anything like that again she’d steam up the windscreen beyond what the air-conditioning could handle. Why did he have to be so this? Why couldn’t he be older, crustier, toothless, smell like cat piss and food gone bad?

“I feel like a burger from Fat Barney’s,” she said.

He turned his face to look out the front of the car. Whatever had been going on between them there, that moment of understanding, of mutual enjoyment, was over. Thank goodness. She reached forward and turned the aircon up. The rain was making it more humid, making her face feel hot. Barney’s was casual, people showed up still wet from a swim wearing towels around their hips. He wouldn’t be out of place there and neither would she in her tatty shorts.

“Barney is the dog.”

She looked across at him as he reached for his seatbelt.

“The chef’s name is Paul. Barney is a lazy old beagle. I sometimes wash dishes there. I like their burgers.” He clicked the belt in place and his eyes came up to hers, and they were connected again. His skin was that golden brown cliché made real, and his eyes were so light, paler crinkles in their corners from squinting in the sun because he didn’t own sunglasses. “I could go a burger.”

Oh God. Why wasn’t he a more obviously fucked up homeless guy? It made no sense but she could so go him.

“Okay, let’s get a burger.”

“Dutch.”

It mattered to him, not being her charity case. “If you let me get coffee and dessert. I’d be lost without my wallet, truly.”

He inclined his head and she took that for agreement, flicking the blinker on and pulling out.

The rain lifted, the storm was blowing out to sea, and by the time she’d parked near Fat Barney’s clear skies poked through cloud, the first stars showing. Drum trailed behind her on the walk to the restaurant. She had half an idea she’d turn around to look for him and he’d have disappeared. She guessed he was worried she’d be embarrassed to be seen with him.

The restaurant had outdoor tables where the more casually dressed people tended to sit, people who’d come off the beach and still had sand between their toes and salty hair. Drum wouldn’t look out of place at one of those tables.

Foley turned to suggest it to him with a wave of her hand.

He shook his head, but caught up, overtaking her. “I know a better place.”

Now she was tagging behind him as he entered the restaurant through a back door. She followed him up a set of steps and found herself in the clattering heat of the noisy kitchen. Drum was talking to a bloke in chef’s whites. And he was smiling, engaged, using his hands to gesture. It was like looking at his doppelganger. If you put aside the ripped shirt, the ragbag shorts and shoes, the man she was watching might’ve been normal, better than normal, might’ve been the most interesting date she’d ever been on.

But this was not a date and Drum was not normal. It wasn’t normal to want to live without plumbing, heating, walls.

Burgers were being plated, the food smelled delicious and her stomach grumbled. She felt stupid standing there. She was in the way, a foreign presence in a hectic workplace, collecting sideways glances, and Drum was so into his conversation, he might’ve forgotten about her. But across the servery, over the heads of two crazy busy kitchen-hands, he caught her eye. And he might as well have kissed her, she felt him all the way to the rough crust of skin on her heels.

He beckoned and she stumbled forward, in a daze of confusion, a waiter glaring at her as he stopped to let her pass. She was supposed to be the one in charge here. Impassive, professional. She wasn’t supposed to feel anything particular when the homeless man looked at her.

She followed Drum again. More stairs. These leading out onto a rooftop deck strung with fairy lights and with a view of the beachfront. There was an outdoor setting and a made to order sky-pinked sunset that would reverse the process she’d watched this morning.

“Oh.” She went to the balcony rail, the last of the sun was at her back and the suburb was at her feet. She was supposed to be treating Drum for his kindness and he was surprising her with his.

He stood behind her. “This is where the staff eat. Paul said it was okay for me to bring you here.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“Your council won’t let him serve customers up here.”

“Ah.” She laughed. “That probably has to do with fire regulations. Not my department.”

“I ordered for us.”

She turned to face him. He lowered his eyes. He’d been watching her. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I don’t need you to look out for me.”