It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time Page 5

  I nodded wearily. This wasn’t my first rodeo with a paintbrush and decking. For a little while longer, we worked in silence.

  “You still up for the Buck’s Party/Hen’s Night combo thing tonight?” he asked. “It won’t be anything big, just getting together with a few friends at the pub. Neither of us feel the need for tequila shots and strippers.”

  “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “You can meet Pete’s girlfriend.” He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye.

  I kept my face good and blank. “Yeah? What’s she like?”

  “Seems nice enough. She’s a lawyer, I think,” he said. “All of the women he brings around seem nice enough. None of them tend to last long, though. Think you might have picked up on that.”

  “As I recall, it took you a while to find Shanti and you weren’t exactly dying of loneliness in the meantime.”

  “Fair call,” he acknowledged with a nod.

  “I really like her, by the way.”

  “Good.” Dad beamed. “She likes you too. Wouldn’t stop talking about you last night.”

  A kookaburra started up somewhere close, its laughter filling the air. Some miner birds screeched in protest, and all the while, insects hummed. The sound was like a continual wave, rising and falling, but never quite disappearing. Nature, the whole world, seemed especially vivid and alive.

  “How’s your mother?” asked Dad.

  “Good,” I said. “She’s been selling a few paintings and her classes are always popular. She seems happy.”

  “Good.”

  I grinned. “She thinks I should throw it all in and go travel around Europe. Go sit on a Greek island for a while or something.”

  “This does not surprise me,” he muttered. “Your mother’s answer to everything was to run away.”

  “You two were badly suited.”

  “Very. Is that what you want to do, go travel?”

  “I wouldn’t mind doing some traveling, but my savings aren’t really up to it,” I said. “Sydney’s expensive.”

  “You come work with us, we can sort out time off for you to go places.”

  “Claims of nepotism don’t concern you?”

  He sat back on his heels, wiping the sweat off his face. “Sweetheart, either you’ll flourish in the job or you’ll fail. That’s on you. I can only offer you the opportunity.”

  “Only you and Pete can offer me the opportunity, you mean.”

  “Right.” He shrugged. “For all his bitching, he’d be fine with you coming onboard.”

  “Hm. What if I leave my life in Sydney and move all this way only to find that I suck at the job and you fire me?”

  He grimaced. “Well, on the bright side, Shanti should have the guest room ready by then, so you’ll have somewhere to stay if you’re down and out.”

  “Great,” I said drily.

  “Sweetheart, you were always interested in the business. Enjoyed looking over the jobs and being part of it in small ways, talking to people.” His gaze was dead serious. “I think you could be good at this. Helga’s been great, but she was never interested in developing the role beyond admin support. We need more. You work with us, take over some things, eventually we’ll look at bringing in other admin assistance if needed.”

  “Have you talked about these things with Pete?”

  “Yeah, ’course,” said Dad.

  I just looked at him.

  “Just thought maybe he’d react better to the idea of it being you if he had less time to think about it.”

  “That’s so wrong. He’s your partner now.”

  “Nuh.” Dad smirked. “It’s just good strategy.”

  “Adele, what on earth are you doing there?” Shanti emerged from the house, dressed in a gorgeous sheath dress. “Not only are you on vacation, but it’s our spa day. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”

  “Spa day?”

  She put a hand to her head. “Did I forget to tell you? I’ve had so much on my mind. But, yes, we need to get going. Facials, massages, nails, you name it, head to toe. My treat.”

  “Wow. Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome, but we need to get a move on.”

  “Okay.” I rose, dusting off my knees. “Am I dressed too casually?”

  “No,” said Shanti with a smile. “You’ll be fine.”

  Dad took back the dirty brush with a wink. “Have fun.”

  The location for the Buck’s Party/Hen’s Night was the over-a-century-old Palmwoods Tavern. It had a great beer garden, which made it ideal for the night’s events. Open and airy, with lots of bromeliads growing in pots scattered around and twinkling fairy lights strung from a mango tree. I’d imagined Shanti would be used to less humble surroundings. But the woman pulled up a stool at one of the tall tables in our party’s area and started knocking back a beer, no worries. The crowd seemed to be a mix of people from the happy couple’s jobs, along with a few other friends. Dad and Shanti had given me a lift after I had a quick shower and got changed.

  Pete was apparently busy. Which was a shame, since I felt like a new woman. I’m not sure if my glorious maturity was showing as Hazel had suggested, but the spa day had been magnificent. Lavish in all the ways. I’d been waxed, buffed, and blow-dried to within an inch of my life. I’d offered to pay for my half, but Shanti wouldn’t hear of it. She didn’t mess around when it came to luxuries.

  I’d decided to show off my shiny French manicure with tan open-toe wedges, skinny jeans that lifted my butt and made the most of my long legs, and a flowy white cotton top. It happily skimmed my belly. The spa day included full makeup and hair, so I was pretty damn sure I looked shiny with my long, flowing locks. Confident enough to face anything, up to and including Pete’s latest girlfriend. Hopefully.

  I was sipping a Coopers Pale Ale when Pete and his date walked in. And of course she looked like a model who’d decided to try slumming it with us normal folk. Way beyond your basic nightmare. Long red hair and an amazing face. Every inch of her precise perfection.

  Shit.

  Not that I was ugly. I was okay looking. Generally pretty. But Nicole Kidman’s doppelganger had just turned up on the arm of my first love.

  Pete, meanwhile, had worn black sneakers, black jeans, and a fitted gray T-shirt. Damn. He looked relaxed, yet hot as hell. As much as I might joke about his good looks to Hazel, the fact remained that it was frustrating to be so seriously affected by a guy so far out of reach. My gaze roamed the bar, searching for superior eye candy. Someone to momentarily distract my raging hormones with. But no luck. No one else even came close to comparing.

  It had been seven years, but my libido did not seem to have lost any of the teenage lust for Pete. Summoning up all my maturity and self-respect, I made a point of not noticing his arms, which were of the nicely lean muscular variety, and not at all worthy of odes. He’d gone and gotten a new haircut, shorter on the sides, longer and slicked back on top, which I also did not notice. All of that tanned skin and beautiful crinkly steel-blue eyes were entirely wasted on me. Or at least, I wish they were.

  He met my gaze and I was the first to look away. While some would have described him as breathtaking, panty-wetting goodness, I just quietly despaired.

  No, forget that—I was over him. Had been for years. I dated. I had sex. Some of it was even good. Simply because a few old misplaced feelings lingered didn’t mean a thing. A silly schoolgirl’s crush, nothing more. Any thoughts to the contrary were reckless and wrong. Nonsense best ignored. Honestly, this sort of heartache and confusion were exactly why I’d been in no rush to return. No matter how much I missed the area.

  “Adele?” Shanti slipped an arm around my waist. “I want you to meet a friend of mine, Jeremy. He makes bespoke furniture and home accents here on the coast using only local recycled woods. Incredibly talented. Already, he’s selling into Europe.”

  “Shanti, you’re too kind. But I’m really just a humble woodworker.” Jeremy was around my age, with long dark hair tied back
and a friendly smile. A classic Greek god kind of face. Definitely marble worthy from an artistic point of view. Yet he lacked the idiosyncrasies that so endeared Pete to me. Dammit. “Nice to meet you, Adele.”

  “Yes. Hi,” I said, shaking his hand. His skin was warm.

  Shanti patted him on the shoulder before turning to me with a grin. “Adele, doesn’t he have pretty eyes?”

  Oh God.

  The man just laughed.

  “Jeremy, this is Andrew’s daughter, Adele,” said Shanti. “A beautiful, bright young woman.”

  Beneath all of the expertly applied makeup, my face flamed.

  “It’s all true. You know, Jeremy, she’s considering moving up from Sydney to join the family business and helping to expand the office,” Shanti continued. “If so, you’ll be talking to her about any jobs from now on.”

  Jeremy’s brows rose. “Is that so?”

  “It is indeed,” said Shanti. “But it’s all very hush-hush. She hasn’t made up her mind yet. I’m trusting you to help us persuade her.”

  “We’ll see,” I said, trying to get my embarrassment levels under control. “For now, I’m just visiting for the wedding.”

  “She doesn’t have a date for that either,” said Shanti in a low voice. “Something to think about.”

  Give me strength. “Shanti . . .”

  “What?” She batted her eyelashes. “A new stepmother can’t help her darling stepdaughter along with meeting people?”

  I laughed. Much awkward. Overflowing with it, in fact. “Okay. I think you’ve helped enough now. Thank you.”

  Jeremy gave me a look. Something along the lines of, what can you do?

  With a parting wave, Shanti thankfully glided off to join my father.

  “Sorry about that,” I mumbled.

  Jeremy just smiled. “I’ve never seen anyone bulldoze people as gracefully as Shanti. You’re too busy pleasing her to stop and think. She’s remarkable.”

  “That she is. She’s like Tinder on steroids.”

  He grinned. “Adele, would you like another drink?”

  “That’s a splendid idea.”

  “Excuse me. You’re Jeremy Karas, right?”

  With a small smile, the redhead sidled on up to where Jeremy and I had been sitting and drinking for a couple of hours. He was a nice guy and a great distraction from the whole Pete-with-a-drop-dead-gorgeous-woman-hanging-off-of-him thing. Well, he had been a great distraction, until the drop-dead-gorgeous woman appeared at his side. We turned politely to her.

  Pete stood next to her, of course. His eyes flitted up to mine as I turned to face them. Whoa. Flitted up from where? If it had been any other guy in the universe, I could have sworn he was checking me out. But that was impossible, of course. Pete was far above such things at the best of times, especially when he had a supermodel beside him. Also, I was me. And he’d made his not entirely favorable opinion regarding me more than well known.

  Meanwhile, the redhead was simpering at Jeremy. Or she might have been just being friendly. I don’t know; my mood had been a little off for a decade or so.

  “Leona Addams. I have one of your side tables,” she said. “Absolutely exquisite.”

  “Thank you very much.” Jeremy gave her a welcoming professional face. I bet he sold lots and lots with those sleepy, seductive green eyes. “I’m delighted to hear you’re enjoying it.”

  She twirled a glass of white wine in her hand, allowing the men to make their introductions.

  “Pete.” He nodded at the younger man. “Good to see you.”

  They shook hands. “Liked your work on the Johnson place.”

  “Thanks,” said Jeremy. “Things you can do when there’s no limit, huh?”

  “Exactly.” Pete laughed. “Adele. You look nice.”

  I raised my gin and tonic. “Thank you. So do you.”

  “You didn’t say I look nice,” said the woman.

  Pete gave her a slow smile. “That’s because you always look amazing. ‘Nice’ would be a gross understatement.”

  Kill me now.

  “Leona, this is Andrew’s daughter, Adele,” said Pete.

  I held out my hand for shaking. Her slender fingers were limp, dismissive. Fine with me. Down within my shallow depths, I wanted to dislike the woman anyway. I’d have to take off my shoes to count all the ways in which she and I were different, and I’d still run out of fingers and toes. She looked like the type who was sleek and slender and shiny on a day-to-day basis. It took me a whole fucking six-hours in the spa to look this put together. Talk about unfair.

  “You’re staying with Peter?” she asked me.

  “Yes. Just for a few days.”

  “Lovely.” Curious eyes looked me over. Then she downed the last of her drink, depositing the glass on the table. “I have an early start.”

  “You need to go?” asked Pete.

  Thank God she wasn’t staying for a sleepover. The last thing I needed was to lie in bed listening to squeaking bed frames, imagined or otherwise. An axe to the head would be kinder.

  “Call me.” She placed her hand on his chest, leaning in to give him a kiss. Pete’s hand sat at her waist. At least there wasn’t tongue. I might have had to gouge my eyes out if there were. Then, with a heated look, she wiped away a trace of her pink lipstick. “I heard about this amazing seafood restaurant we should try. Apparently the mud crabs are the best on the coast. Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “What a wonderful idea.” I gave her my best fake smile. “Isn’t it, Pete?”

  He shot me an irritable glance. “I’m allergic to shellfish. As you might remember, Adele.”

  “Oh.” Leona frowned, fingers tightening around her designer handbag. “Jeremy, so wonderful to meet you. Adele, I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Jeremy stood. “I have an early start too.”

  “It was nice talking to you.” I smiled.

  He gave my hand a quick squeeze, and said, “You realize within a minute of me leaving, Shanti will be texting me making sure I have your number.”

  “I do realize that. Here, put yours in my phone.” I passed it to him. “No promises either of us will use it, but at least we’ll be covered for Shanti’s inevitable interrogation.”

  There was some more nodding and handshaking and good nights. Then Pete sat beside me, stealing my drink and taking a mouthful.

  “You’ve been seeing her for how long and she doesn’t even know that shellfish could kill you?” I asked sweetly. “What do you talk about with these women?”

  “I don’t know. Stuff.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Stuff,” he repeated. “Are you giving me relationship advice now? Should I have candlelit dinners where we exchange allergy lists? I can see why your relationships didn’t last.”

  “Very funny. But I thought at least you’d have hit her with the story about when you ate prawns as a teenager and blew up like the Michelin Man. That cracked me up every time.”

  He smiled for a moment, either at the memory of it happening or the memory of me laughing at the story. Then his gaze darkened, and he stared into the gin and tonic. “I don’t talk to everyone like I do with you. Did. Like I did with you.”

  An old Aussie Crawl song started and some of the boys from my dad’s office cheered at the next table. Apparently they were making the most of the open bar. Beer glasses were piling up.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think there was a lot we didn’t talk about.”

  “I had to keep it age appropriate.” He took another sip of my drink, and then handed it back to me with a smile. “And you say scotch tastes like ass.”

  “Bombay Sapphire is a gift from God and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”

  We sat in silence for a minute, taking in the scene, listening to the music. A couple was passionately kissing in a dark corner; loud conversations were happening all around. Even Shanti was laughing, head thrown back, delighted grin. Dad stood beside her chair lik
e a sentinel, just watching her enjoy herself. It was sweet.

  “Sorry I was difficult, with your girlfriend,” I said eventually.

  He sat back in the chair, ankle propped on one knee. “I don’t know if I’d call her my girlfriend exactly. We’re friends.”

  Huh.

  “Jeremy Karas, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Shanti introduced us. He seems okay.”

  “Sure.” His fingers tapped out a beat against the metal armrest. “Talented guy. He’s an artist, really. I wouldn’t have minded buying a piece myself, but the fucking prices he charges.”

  “Well, you’re getting older,” I said. “You can’t just go wasting money. Need to save up for all that Viagra.”

  “That is a gross and ageist generalization, young lady,” Pete said sternly. “And not applicable in this particular instance, as it happens.”

  “Confidence is important. I understand.”

  “You really weren’t spanked enough as a child, you know that?”

  I laughed.

  “Also, you talk about sex stuff when you’re nervous.”

  “No, I don’t.” I scrunched up my face. “Now you’re just imagining things. Early onset dementia. So sad.”

  He just shook his head.

  “The thing is, I find it hard to care too much about what I say around you.” I shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I burned all the best-friend bridges with you all those years ago. It’s liberating in a way. I can say whatever I think.”

  “Hadn’t noticed you holding back. Ever.” The low lighting cast mesmerizing shadows on his cheeks, the harsh line of his jaw. Even the slight cleft in his chin. “You liked him, then?”

  “Jeremy? Sure.” With one finger, I played with the lemon slice in my drink, pushing it under the surface.

  “Not sure he’s really your type.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, just a feeling.”

  “You know, this is what I missed out on when I was younger,” I said. “Getting dating advice from you. Though you’re going to need to be more specific than just a feeling. But I could ask you all the questions I’ve always wanted to ask a guy and you’ll give me the information.”