Broken Dreams Boxset

by Rebecca Barber

  All I could think about for the entire fifteen-minute drive were those aqua blue eyes. I began wondering if I should sell the house first and then sell the unit once that was settled so I could draw out the time I could spend with Joel. Shaking my head, I realized how completely and utterly infatuated with him I was.

  By the time I arrived at the restaurant, a delicious Middle Eastern style restaurant, the girls were already waiting. Squealing with delight, Rhiannon jumped up and hugged me tightly. “Hey!” she shrieked. The whole restaurant turned and glared at us—a sure sign of a good night.

  “Hi,” Cora sang, standing up and kissing my cheek across the table.

  Heidi waved enthusiastically before filling my wine glass. “Sorry, we couldn’t wait, so we ordered drinks.”

  Taking a long gulp, I realized that this was what I had been missing. Not the support and the condolences, but the carefree, happy friends who, even though they knew what happened, didn’t look at me with pity in their eyes. It helped lift me up rather than bringing me down.

  We sat and ate for hours, picking at the platters of food delivered to us by a waiter with the cutest butt I had seen in years. We ordered more wine and laughed over old times, and caught up on recent events. Rhiannon was kind of seeing her university mentor, but it was only a casual thing, she assured us repeatedly. Heidi was too involved with her studies and her volunteering as a Girl Guide leader to have time for anything—she was one hundred and ten percent focused on finishing her teaching degree and getting into a school—while Cora was madly studying at CIT to be a chef. She had these incredible dreams to travel the world, cooking, eating and being romanced by guys with sexy accents. Within three years her master plan was to be living somewhere in Europe, working in a Michelin star restaurant cooking up a storm for celebrities and royalty.

  They didn’t ask how I was doing directly, but asked a lot of questions about my plans. I told them I still wasn’t sure what I wanted to do but until I figured it out, I was going to try everything. They invited me to join them the following week to try a new Ethiopian restaurant that had just opened, which I immediately agreed to. It was good having them back in my life. Everything was so easy. We already knew each other’s pet peeves and bad habits, so there was no tiptoeing around pretending not to notice them.

  After the fourth bottle of wine was finished, they needed to head off. Rhiannon claimed she had a “study” session early the next morning, but I would have put money on a late-night rendezvous with a professor. Heidi was off on camp the next night and needed to get some rest before she became responsible for a dozen screaming twelve-year-olds. I decided that I had just a little too many glasses of wine to drive just yet, so I was going to go for a walk and find a coffee. We said our goodbyes and promised to catch up next week. I secretly couldn’t wait for the next instalment of Rhiannon’s deranged sex life.

  It was only ten o’clock as I walked along the BMW-lined street, and despite the cold, the cafes and restaurants were still buzzing. Tables were full to capacity and the laughter reverberated from the buildings. As I approached the corner, I noticed a velvet rope and a man dressed immaculately, all in black, complete with a top hat and white cotton gloves. “Miss, can I interest you in a cocktail?” He smiled warmly.

  For a moment I just stared blankly at him before I noticed the name tag on his shirt. Julian worked at the bar upstairs. “It’s warm up there,” he suggested, looking at how I was hugging my chest. “Take this up.” He handed me a half price voucher for the first cocktail purchase of the evening.

  I took it as a sign. A half price drink on a Friday night was a pretty good start. “Thanks,” I replied gratefully, accepting the voucher and walking quickly up the stairs. By the time I reached the landing halfway up, I could feel the wine haze hovering over me, but more than that I could feel the temperature rising. I started to unbutton my jacket as I climbed the final steps.

  It was like visiting an antique store, or a really old aunt. It had velvet covered cushions, high backed wooden chairs, none of which matched any of the others, dim chandelier lighting, and floral wallpaper. In the far corner a jazz band played quietly, and people hushed over their cocktails. Bartenders in bow ties buzzed about, clearing glasses. Some people’s heads were nodding along in time with the beat, and the sound of the saxophone drowned out the sound of chatter.

  As I looked for somewhere to sit, I looked at the patrons. Most were middle age, in couples or small groups, all immaculately dressed and dripping in diamonds. Unsure I actually belonged in this sort of establishment, I turned to leave.

  “Excuse me, Miss, can I get you a drink?” a handsome waiter asked.

  Remembering my half price drink voucher, and the infectious rhythm of the jazz band, I decided that one drink wouldn’t kill me. “Sure, I would like a…a…”

  “Can I suggest you try the kiwi and basil mojito? It’s the perfect blend of lime juice, fresh basil, kiwifruit, white rum and syrup,” he offered.

  I had to admit it sounded refreshing, and unlike anything I had ever tried before. Since I was starting off on a clean slate, this seemed like the sort of thing that I should try. “Sounds fabulous.” I snorted, embarrassed. After watching one too many episodes of Sex and the City, the language had even taken over mine.

  “I’ll be right back. And if you’re looking for somewhere to sit, there are a few available seats towards the back,” he pointed out.

  “Thanks.” I made my way through the crowd, starting to relax and enjoy the music. It would have been so easy to just sit here for hours and get carried away by it all. I found an old Victorian style, red velvet chaise towards the back of the room and dropped my coat haphazardly onto the end before sitting down. I was fiddling with the zipper on my boots when the waiter returned with an ice-cold tumbler filled with chunky green liquid. Despite the rather off-putting appearance, the taste was magical. Usually, I wasn’t a big rum drinker, but the other flavours in this were unbelievably refreshing.

  “They’re quite good, aren’t they?” a deep masculine voice asked from behind me.

  Almost spitting mojito across the room and covering the Dior clad lady in front of me, I looked up to see Joel grinning cheekily at me. Although Joel and I had already met, there was something about him that was completely captivating. I’m not sure if it was the mischief that danced in his eyes or the adorable dimple on his left cheek. I felt myself blush as I forced down another mouthful, which was pretty much entirely rum and no lime juice.

  Coughing, I tried to speak. “Are you stalking me or something?” I asked incredulously. I thought if I went on the attack I wouldn’t look like a freak, and I would also avoid saying the wrong thing.

  Laughing, Joel said, “No. I just had dinner with some colleagues up the road and wasn’t quite ready to head home yet, so I thought I would wander down for a while and see what trouble I could find. And voila, I found you.” Pushing my jacket up against my leg, Joel lowered himself onto the seat next to me.

  My pulse was racing and my hands began to sweat again. Gone was the work uniform of the black suit, replaced by designer jeans, dark blue top, and white shoes.

  He caught me looking at his shoes, and I figured I had to say something. “What is it with you guys and your damn white shoes?”

  Looking at his own shoes, probably noticing what he had on for the first time, he just chuckled wholeheartedly. “These are my naughty shoes. I wear boring, black shoes every day for work, so when I’m off the clock, I go for something different. Just trying to shake things up.”

  With nothing else to say, I sipped my drink quietly. My plan of remaining anonymous had failed. I had gone to a bar I had never been to before, a bar I didn’t even know existed, hoping just to relax and fade into the background. But as I glanced around the room, I knew my attempts had been futile. The man sitting next to me was the most gorgeous man in the bar, and women who were already obviously on a date, or out with someone, were blatantly gawking at Joel.

  “Doesn�
��t that make you uncomfortable?” I asked, before realizing I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing. Doesn’t matter.”

  “No. You can’t just do that. Say something then just back down. Come on, Gillian, out with it.”

  “When women stare at you like that. They don’t even bother to try to hide it,” I said not even bothering to hide my disgust.

  “Honestly, I hadn’t even noticed,” he replied, his dazzling aqua eyes never once leaving mine. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” he asked genuinely, signalling to the waiter for another round.

  Moments later, another drink in hand, my confidence flying high with the help of rum, I finally managed to make a decision. “It’s not me they’re looking at.”

  “You sure?”

  For a long moment we just sipped our drinks and bounced along to the music. We weren’t touching, but the warmth from his leg was radiating through my flimsy dress, and I was regretting my wardrobe choice. I should just have stuck to my jeans and favourite comfy jumper.

  I drained the last of my drink from my glass and smiled slightly, trying to mask the hiccups. “I better be heading home,” I murmured, not knowing what else to say or how to break the silence.

  “One more?” He winked, again waving his arm in the air. Another round of drinks appeared almost instantly. “Thanks, Jacob.”

  “Can I get you anything else?” he offered politely.

  “Just the bill, thanks.”

  Jacob had barely scurried away when Joel casually reached over and laid his hand on my knee. I could feel the warmth take over my body. The only thought running through my head in that moment was God, I hope I shaved my legs properly. I couldn’t help smiling to myself. I looked Joel in the eye deliberately, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he gave me nothing. It was as if it was the most natural thing in the world for his hand to be resting on my knee.

  Jacob returned with the check and instinctively I reached for my handbag. “Don’t be silly, I got this,” Joel said dismissively, pulling a hundred dollar note from a wad of them held together neatly in a gold money clip in the front pocket of his jeans. When Jacob returned with only thirty dollars change, I almost fainted.

  “How…how much were those drinks?” I asked, embarrassed. I always paid my own way and wasn’t about to change that now.

  “Forget it, you’re not paying. My treat.” He winked slyly before downing the last of his mojito in one gulp before rising to his feet. Doing the same, I stood up and went to reach for my jacket, but I was too slow. Joel was already holding it out for me to step into. Completely unaccustomed to being treated like this, I timidly wiggled into my jacket.

  Flicking my handbag over my shoulder, I said, “Thanks…I mean for the drinks and everything. I’ve had a really good time.” I meant it, too.

  “Why are you talking like the night is over? To me you look like the type of woman who loves a delicious chocolate mud cake, and I know the perfect place to get it at this hour,” he suggested, reaching down and taking hold of my hand.

  Looking down, I couldn’t tell where his fingers ended and mine began, but I felt completely at ease with him. I don’t know if it was the wine, or the delicious rum concoctions, or his smooth, easy-going confidence. “What makes you think I am a mud cake lover?” I teased, trying desperately not to completely melt at his fingertips.

  “That’s easy. You’re a girl.” He laughed. It was a deep throaty laugh that sounded completely natural and easy.

  Walking down the stairs with Joel’s fingers tangled with mine, for the first time in a very long-time life felt good.

  We bought the biggest, most delectable slice of chocolate cake I had ever seen. Rich, moist, covered in gooey ganache and served with the biggest dollop of whipped cream, it was a heart attack on a plate. But it was so good. Joel insisting on paying, and I was starting to learn more and more about the handsome man sitting in front of me, slowly but steadily rubbing his foot against mine.

  “So…” I asked, stuffing another piece of cake in my mouth. Knowing that I would have to spend all day tomorrow running around the lake, I figured I might as well enjoy the naughty things in life.

  “So…did I or did I not tell you that I knew just where to get the best chocolate mud cake in town?”

  Joel grinned, sneaking a fallen chocolate chip from the side of my plate.

  “You say that everywhere you buy chocolate cake, Joel,” said the bouncy blonde with a giggle, clearing the table beside us.

  Joel was obviously a very popular guy. Not that I couldn’t see why. But I was just more curious as to why he was wasting a Friday night treating me to cocktails and cake. “So, tell me something about you,” I asked, completely intrigued.

  “What do you want to know?” “Anything.”

  Taking a deep breath, Joel looked nervously out of the corner of his eye, almost as if I was the only one who was going to hear him. “I’m the youngest of three. Two older sisters. I’m an uncle to five nieces. My dad died when I was seventeen. I hated school so I dropped out in year eleven. I had no idea what it was I wanted to do with my life, but I wanted to drive a fancy car. So I fell into real estate. But now I love it. Every day I get to talk to new people and I love watching them get excited over something they really love. That’s all you get for now. The rest you have to earn.”

  I forced a frown and flashed my sad little puppy eyes at him. “And…”

  “Nope, that’s all you get,” he asserted, rubbing at my cheek. “You have chocolate everywhere.”

  “Don’t change the subject! I want to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “Did you get it?” Joel raised a quizzical eyebrow at me, as I scraped the remaining few chocolate crumbs onto my spoon. “The car. The reason for real estate. Did you get the fancy car?”

  “You tell me,” he whispered seductively into my ear before grabbing my hand and dragging me out of the bakery.

  CHAPTER THREE

  GILLIAN

  Despite the icy cold wind that had kicked up, I didn’t feel a thing. I was completely intoxicated by the man in front of me. As we rounded the corner, he pushed me up against the side of the building and kissed me. His warm, strong hands cupping my face, lifting it up to his. I didn’t even feel the bricks scraping at my skin through the flimsy material of my dress.

  When I eventually pulled back, I sucked in long cold breaths. I watched hypnotized as puffs of condensation lifted up between us. “What was that about?” I asked, not really sure whether I was asking Joel for an answer, or myself. Joel just shrugged with a smirk. “So, where’s this car?” I said, finally remembering why we’d come out in the cold.

  Joel began to walk away, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his head down, trying to keep out of the wind. I just stood there, frozen to the spot. As anger began to bubble up inside of me, I watched as Joel spun around. “You coming or not?” He grinned cheekily.

  I wanted to run to him, but forced my feet to take slow, measured steps. He stood at the corner, hands buried deep inside his jean pockets, his beaming smile lighting up the night. I was completely smitten, and I hoped that his kiss was an indication that he was interested.

  When I reached his side, he took my hand and stepped onto the road and led me towards a car park. “Which one?” I asked nervously. I was surrounded by some of the most beautiful cars I had ever seen. Ferraris, BMWs, Porsches and even a Maserati.

  “Over there,” he said, heading in the direction he indicated. He pulled the keys from his pocket and pressed the button. The lights flashed, and it became obvious which car was his, a sparkling, metallic black, Audi TT convertible. I heard myself gasp. How could someone his age own such an impressive car?

  “Is that it?” I teased, trying my best not to appear impressed. Swatting my arse playfully, he placed wet, open mouth kisses along my neck. I couldn’t tell whose arms were going where as I rubbed myself against him shamelessly.

&nb
sp; “Not here,” I panted.

  “Okay,” he murmured in my ear, nipping my ear lobe.

  I pushed him away with all the force I could muster. We needed to get out of there. No way was I going to finish what we had started in a dirty, very public car park that stunk of urine. As much as I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted anyone before, I wasn’t going to be that trashy. Picking up some guy in a bar was one thing, but fucking him in a car park was quite another.

  He slid across the bonnet like he was some kind of movie star. I was just afraid he would scratch the paint and blame me for it. If it was my car, I wouldn’t be sliding over it, even if I was dressed head to toe in a lamb’s wool jumpsuit. I slid into the passenger seat and when we took off, gravel was sent flying as we fishtailed out of the car park.

  Without thinking, I turned to face him. I didn’t say a word as my hand came to rest on his thigh. I stared at his face as he tried to concentrate. I knew I was making it harder for him, but I didn’t care. Up close he was even more perfect than I remembered. He was handsome in a stylish, sophisticated playboy way.

  He pulled the car to a halt at a set of deserted traffic lights. “Hurry the fuck up,” he swore under his breath, glancing over at me, my eyes still firmly fixed on his jaw line. I leant over as far as I could and kissed his cheek, then whispered in his ear. I was becoming as impatient as he was. The light turned green, and with a screech of the tires we took off, a cloud of black smoke billowing behind us.

  I had no idea where he was taking me, and the fact that my car was parked back near the bar wasn’t even an thought. Although I’d had a couple of drinks, I was by no means drunk—tipsy, yes. Confident, absolutely. Horny, definitely.