The dress, unlike her standard issue jeans or black pants, meant something. Wearing it meant she was open to something other than friendship with Vince, and that was a big deal for an array of reasons.
First, she was his boss, so that came with a certain set of complexities. What if they broke up? What if she needed to reprimand him at work? But there were other issues too. On paper, Vince was a catch. He had a good job, he was kind to her, and he was good-looking. There was something missing though. That special element. But then, maybe that was the problem. Perhaps Dee was expecting love to feel a certain way, when it could come in the form of mutual respect and admiration as easily as it could from hot looks and heart-racing desire.
Maybe she needed to start acting like a grown-up. Maybe dating a kind man who she found moderately attractive was the grown-up thing to do.
She tossed the dress on the bed and stripped down to her underwear.
Dee knew she looked good. In fact, she looked downright sexy. She’d styled her hair in soft waves, had carefully applied her make-up and she wore the little black dress, so sexiness was inevitable. Once she was ready, she entered the kitchen. Glancing through the back window, she saw Travis and Annie were out in the yard, playing kick-to-kick. Travis also had a side of beef roasting in the oven and the kitchen was full of mouth-watering smells.
She looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and saw she still had another ten minutes until Vince was due to pick her up, so she decided to set the table for Travis and Annie. Once she was done, she would check the roast for Travis.
She laid out the knives and forks, then went to the cupboard to retrieve a couple of drinking glasses. When she pulled open the oven door, she was greeted by the most amazing aroma and resolved to ask Travis how he’d prepared it when he came inside—or tomorrow, if she didn’t get to see him before Vince arrived. She grabbed a dish towel and used it to pull out the roasting tray. As she did, her bare leg pressed against the edge of the oven door and she cried out in pain. Her eyes began to water as she looked down at her leg. There were already the beginnings of what promised to be a large red burn.
In seconds, Travis appeared. ‘You okay? What happened?’
‘I burned myself.’ Dee ground out the words through gritted teeth.
‘Shit, okay. Annie keep playing, it’s all right,’ Travis said over his shoulder.
He closed the back door and reached around her to flick the oven door closed. He smelled like pine, grass and mist. There was a cool chill coming from his body—a residual effect of being outdoors in the winter air.
‘Sit on the counter,’ he ordered, motioning to the benchtop.
Dee hoisted herself up and took another look at the red streak on her leg. It was looking angrier by the second.
Travis wet a dish towel under the sink, then squeezed it out and pressed it against her leg. As he looked down, the pulse of his neck was in her line of sight. He was so close, every breath she took was full of him. When his blue eyes met hers, they seemed to pierce her skin. She felt blood rushing around her body, filling her lips, her chest, her groin. The pain in her leg was forgotten.
‘I’m going to need to hold it here a while,’ he said to her.
‘Okay,’ she choked out.
The hand that pressed the cloth to her flesh held still, but his gaze floated from her face, over her body, then back to her face. Surely she was pink and flushed with desire. Surely he could see it. Blind Freddie would be able to tell how wild this closeness was making her.
‘Hot date with Vince?’ he asked, his eyes drifting back to her legs.
She swallowed as she tried to remember who the hell Vince was. Eventually, she said, ‘We’re going out for dinner.’
He looked at her again and rested his free hand on the countertop beside her.
‘Uh huh.’ His voice was barely louder than a whisper. He leaned in, his mouth only centimetres from her neck.
She held her breath.
‘Where is he taking you?’ He moved closer still, his mouth hovering against her throat. If he wanted to, he could easily drag his tongue over her skin. And Dee would let him.
‘I can’t remember,’ she whispered, and it was the truth. Her mind was a mess of desire. She had no memories, no plans, no thoughts that didn’t involve Travis and the feel of his hand on her leg and his breath on her skin.
He lifted his chin so that his mouth was next to her ear. ‘You’re about to find out,’ he whispered.
She sucked in air, her whole body pensive, anticipating what would come next.
‘You’re about to find out,’ he whispered again. ‘Vince is knocking on the door.’
The feel of his mouth so close to her ear sent a spasm the length of her body. She groaned, wanting him closer, wanting more. But Travis took a step back, and it took a few beats of her heart before she began to process his words.
Travis removed the cloth from her leg, tossed it into the sink, and then smiled at her. A wide, teasing smile.
‘Aren’t you going to let him in?’ he said.
Dee was frozen, glued to the countertop like a stunned rabbit, and said nothing. She only looked at him.
He was still smiling when she finally peeled herself from the counter and staggered towards the front door. When she opened it, Vince was there, smiling and utterly unaware that the ground had just split open beneath her.
‘Ready?’ he asked.
‘Um …’
‘She’s ready.’
Dee looked behind her to see Travis lingering in the hallway, a smug smile on his face. What an arsehole! He knew full well what he’d just done to her. How he’d almost brought her to the brink just by holding a dishrag to her leg, and now he was gloating. Dee refused to allow him any more power.
‘Yes,’ she said, smiling a sweet, saccharine smile at Vince. ‘Let’s go. I’m ready.’ She stood on tiptoes and planted a kiss on Vince’s cheek.
‘Looks like it,’ Vince said.
Beaming, he offered a wink to Travis who winked right back. Dee wanted to knock both their heads from their shoulders.
She couldn’t be mad at Vince, not really. He wasn’t to know what had just passed between her and Travis. It was Travis who had annoyed her. He’d led her on and made her crazy, then had served her up to Vince like uneaten leftovers.
To be fair, she could’ve responded differently. She could have stopped Travis from … what did he actually do? He’d breathed on her and whispered that Vince had arrived. She shook her head. Okay, so it wasn’t what he did. It was how he did it.
The thought of his breath on her brought a smile to her lips, but a flash of anger soon followed, and by the time she’d slid into the front seat of the Jag, her head was an absolute mess.
She was so confused. Here she was, in the only I-want-to-date-you dress she owned—a dress she’d intended to wear for Vince—and now … now she had to force herself to recognise that poor Vince even existed, let alone sat right next to her in his car.
She sighed aloud and Vince asked if she was okay.
She nodded. ‘I’m fine.’
Or rather, she needed to be fine. She owed Vince her undivided attention. Here was a man who had asked her on a date and had picked her up like a gentleman, and all she could do was swoon about the makeshift first aid she’d received at the hands of her surly housemate.
‘Where are we going?’
‘To The Hill Above,’ he said. ‘It’s steak night.’
He wriggled his eyebrows, an act that was clearly meant to either stir her blood or make her laugh. It did neither, but still, she didn’t want to be rude. She felt as though she’d been rude enough, so she smiled.
‘Great,’ she said.
Their conversation at the restaurant was stilted and forced. She couldn’t focus. When Vince was speaking, her thoughts drifted. She kept having to ask him to repeat he’d said, and when the waiter asked if they wanted to see the desert menu, Dee shook her head.
‘Actually, I think I’d like
to go.’
‘Okay, yes. Of course, we can go.’
Vince asked for the bill and they were soon back in the Jag, following the windy road from the hills down into the valley. At the halfway point, he pulled over into a dirt turnout. He shut off the engine, removed his seat belt and turned to face her.
He looked strange—Dee couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad—and then he was moving towards her. He put his mouth on hers and licked her lips. Dee was slow to react, but it was her churning stomach that forced her into action. She pushed him away with both hands.
‘Oh, no you don’t,’ he laughed, reaching for her.
She pushed again, this time much harder. ‘Stop!’
Vince reeled back as though he’d been slapped in the face.
‘Are you serious?’ he yelled.
She looked at him, baffled. Why was he yelling at her?
‘I don’t want to,’ she said.
‘You’re a fucking joke,’ he spat. ‘You come on to me, hooking me in with your blonde hair flips and your skimpy outfits, and then you say you don’t want to. What a fucking cockteaser!’
For the second time that night, a man had her blood boiling. ‘You think because a woman agrees to a date and wears something nice, she owes you something?’
He snorted. ‘When a guy pays for dinner and the girl wears a dress like that? Yes. In my book, there’s an unspoken agreement.’
‘I offered to pay,’ she said. ‘Give me your bank details. I’ll put the money in your account right now.’
He growled and raked his hands through his hair. ‘It’s not about the money. I’m happy to pay for dinner, but I don’t like being given mixed messages. I was sure you were into me, but clearly not.’
She didn’t know what to say. About thirty seconds ago, she’d decided Vince was a fair and square loser, and she still held that opinion, but she also needed to concede that he had a point. She had been giving him mixed messages because she was mixed up. Her head was telling her that a relationship with Vince could be viable, a good deal for her and for him, but her heart and body were focused on someone else.
She wanted a man who set her mind, body and soul on fire. Maybe that was a ridiculous thing for a forty-year-old woman to want. Perhaps that expectation made her a princess, but so be it. That’s what she wanted, and she wasn’t going to find it with Vince. It just wasn’t there. The magic was missing.
‘Listen. I want to pay you back for dinner, but just so you know, dinner is not a trade for sex. If you want to pay for sex, go do that, but if you want a woman to go out with you, leave your expectations at the door.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said. ‘So, you and I?’ He waved his finger back and forth between them.
Was he serious? It took some effort, but she summoned some compassion for the guy.
‘Sorry, Vince. I think we should just keep it professional.’
He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek. ‘Yeah, all right. Fine.’
It was quite clear he wasn’t fine, but there wasn’t anything she could do about that. She wasn’t into him and couldn’t force herself to be.
She was home much earlier than she’d been expecting, and given that it was a Saturday night, she thought Annie and Travis might still be awake.
After she waved a quick goodbye to Vince, she went inside and found the lights on, but there was no sign of her housemates.
She was desperate for a cup of tea, so she pulled her heels from her feet, tossed them on the floor of her bedroom and padded into the kitchen.
She was filling the kettle when Travis entered.
‘Home early,’ he mused.
He went to the fridge, pulled out the milk and placed it lightly on the countertop.
Dee’s cheeks grew warm and her body pulsed. She was struck with the realisation that things with Travis were getting out of control. Now, she couldn’t even make a cup of bloody tea in the same room as him without her body betraying her.
She turned, leaning against the counter, and crossed her arms over her body.
Travis wore jeans and a black hoodie. Not an especially provocative outfit, but it didn’t matter. He could’ve been naked, in a full tuxedo or wearing her pink unicorn PJs—the covering was irrelevant and it was a truth she needed to accept. After today, she knew that whenever he was near, her mind and body would throb with desire. She would be lost in his blue eyes, his stubble, his tall, strong body and the memory of his hands and breath on her. Basically, she was screwed.
Travis was staring at her and she realised she hadn’t spoken. A smile toyed with his lips.
‘How is ol’ Vincy-boy?’ he asked.
‘Fine,’ she said.
She no longer wanted the cup of tea, so she trained her eyes on the linoleum, walked to her room and closed the door.
Like a lovelorn teen, she sighed, flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling.
She had no idea what she was going to do. Her gaze floated around the room as she formulated a plan. She would need to speak to Tim from HR on Monday morning. There was no way she could stay in this house. She’d drive to Melbourne and grab him by the balls if that’s what it took. She could not live with Travis anymore.
Her heart was pounding and her head was light. It was time to accept that she had feelings for Travis—she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted another man.
She lay on her bed considering all the ways she wanted him—and how badly she shouldn’t.
22
Dee decided to spend Sunday at the office. The thought of being around Travis all day was more than she could bare. Besides, the factory would be quiet, still and dark. She could achieve so much more if she had the time and space to think. Plus, there was the added bonus of being able to go through Vince’s filing cabinet while he wasn’t around. He still hadn't produced the distribution paperwork that she’d requested, and she needed that paperwork. If she was going to solve the transportation problem, she needed to get the full picture and an understanding of what was really going on.
When she arrived on-site, Dee found the factory was as quiet as she’d hoped. She switched on her computer, scrolled through her emails and found a new one from Maria at head office. The subject line read, hurry up and open this thing.
Dee had to laugh. Maria was an absolute clown, but Dee really liked her. She opened the email immediately.
As expected, Maria didn't mince words. She explained that the distribution problem was deeper and more involved than they had first thought. Also, it had been going on for a long time. As Maria put it, the strange late-night deliveries went as far back as “when old baldy was in charge”.
Dee frowned at the screen. Here she and Vince were, thinking that all the factory’s problems could be solved by laying-off some workers. But Maria's email indicated there was much more to the picture. There was no doubt about it, Dee needed to figure out what was going on.
She pushed away from her desk and went over to Vince’s filing cabinet, pulled open the door and looked inside. The cabinet was a mess – part of the reason she’d only given it a cursory once over the last time she’d looked in there. Papers were shoved in every which way, with some documents dating back four or five years ago, and there was no particular order to anything.
In desperation, Dee decided to go through each and every paper, one at a time. This took much longer than she thought, and it was well after midday by the time she had all the papers stacked neatly on Vince’s desk. She began dividing them into piles—one for invoices, another for handwritten notes, and the last for contracts.
Dee flicked through the invoices and contracts, but found nothing of interest, at least nothing she hadn't already found out from Maria. Some of the handwritten notes were interesting, though. Notes that had not sparked her attention when she’d looked in the cabinet last time.
There was a note that read, Deliveries. Monday, Wednesday, Friday p.m. Specified stock.
Specified stock wasn’t a term Dee was familiar with
, and she felt her stomach turn over. Not only did this not look right, it didn't feel right either, and she was struck by the bone-chilling thought that maybe this had something to do with the distribution issue. She put the handwritten note to the side and continued working through the stack. To her surprise, she found another handwritten note.
This one read, Monday and Wednesday (pick up must be after 5.50 p.m.). Specified stock.
Again, Dee wondered what the heck specified stock meant? It all seemed so ridiculous. None of it made any sense. As far as she knew, there was no such thing as specified stock at Olsen Paper. Certain stock had certain names, but none of it was classified as specified. She racked her brains trying to figure out what it could mean.
These notes told her that Vince may have knowledge of the night-time deliveries, and that could mean that he was involved in some way. This thought scared her.
Sure, recent events with Vince would make things awkward, but he was still one of her few friends in the valley. If she had to confront him about this, it could be the end of their companionable working relationship—if indeed it still existed after last night. She had to work with the guy five days a week and didn’t want things to be awkward between them, but she was the manager of Olsen Paper. That meant she had an obligation to the Olsen family and to the workers at the plant. If something untoward was happening, she needed to deal with it.
Dee knew she needed help and wondered who she could ask for assistance. Travis was out of the question. She was still trying to hide from him because every time he was around, she wanted to jump him.
For obvious reasons, Vince was out of the question, too. She didn't want to speak to him about the issue just yet; not until she had more information.
She decided to contact the one person she thought might be able to help. Knowing Maria sometimes checked her emails on the weekends, Dee punched out a quick message, asking Maria if she knew what “specified stock” meant. For a few moments, she sat looking at the computer screen. Part of her thought she was overreacting, but another, much larger part, thought she might be getting closer to understanding the distribution problem.
Winter in Mason Valley Page 14
