“Sure.” She steeled herself and headed up the stairs to his house, shielding her face from the rain.
She wanted to help Jace, because even though he was a little distant, he’d been nothing but kind to her since she’d arrived. Then, after they’d figured out where that furry little critter had gotten to, she could go back to worrying about the biggest problem of all: her future.
Chapter Four
Angie stepped into the house and looked around, her body tense as a tightly coiled spring. The prospect of watching Tilly the Big Black Beast filled her with dread. And worse, it made bad memories churn in her head. One of her foster fathers had been a mean son of a bitch who let his kids go hungry and did even worse to his four Rottweilers. It had been no wonder that they were aggressive, the way he treated them.
“Tilly?” she called out.
She took a moment to look around Jace’s house, because she’d never been inside for long before. Her verbal diarrhea usually sent Jace packing whenever they caught each other in the yard. He was 100 percent business. No personal chitchat. No trading of “getting to know you” tidbits.
He wasn’t rude about it, but um, yeah, she’d gotten the point. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from popping over to see him…a lot. There was something that drew Angie to Jace—something inexplicable that always set her tummy aflutter.
Now they had a routine. She’d knock on his door a few times a week, looking for coffee or sugar or a wrench (he’d almost had a heart attack that time, thinking she was doing some DIY plumbing, until she’d explained it was for her bike). Being that close to him would make her prattle on about something silly until he’d smile and say he had to get back to his work. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself from finding an excuse to visit him.
Clearly the man had phenomenal pheromones.
She shook her head and refocused on her surroundings. The place was neat, not a speck of dust anywhere. It put her to shame, because even though she wasn’t dirty, Angie thrived in organized chaos. She knew her house keys would be safely nestled in a little pile of receipts and change on her countertop. She knew her missing shoe was usually under the couch. Or the bed. Or there was that one time when she found a stiletto tangled in one of the potted plants, and that was totally inexplicable. Later, she’d had nightmares about her plants coming alive to steal her personal belongings.
Jace probably never had dreams about plants stealing his personal belongings.
There was a framed photograph on the little table between the couch and armchair, five kids all with matching sandy mops of hair, suntans, and big toothy smiles. Well, four had big toothy smiles. Angie smiled at young Jace’s expression—apparently he was serious as a judge, even back then. His eyes seemed to be looking at something beyond the camera.
“Tilly?” Angie delved farther into Jace’s house as a crack of thunder ripped through the air, making her jump. She inched toward his bedroom. For some reason, going into someone’s bedroom without strict invitation felt like a violation of privacy.
Like lawyers’ offices, a person’s bedroom said a lot about them. And she would know, because she’d lived in a lot of houses. This bedroom was as tidy as everything else in Jace’s life. He had only the minimum number of pillows on his king size bed—because he preferred function over form. The bedside table housed a lamp and a book with a leather bookmark hanging out the side. Since the book didn’t have any dust on it, it was likely he actually read on the regular. While practicality reigned as king in the land of Jace, he still made time for his hobbies, it appeared.
“Tilly?” Angie looked around, oh so tempted to snoop. But she knew better—after wanting nothing more than a home where she felt safe and secure, she’d never breach that security for someone else. “Come on, girl. I don’t like storms, either.”
But Tilly was nowhere to be found.
The sound of something banging in the depths of the house had Angie turning on her heel. “Jace?”
A howling wind whistled through the house, so loud it felt like the very foundations were trembling. Oh man, this was perfect weather for reading spooky books. She’d had a total fascination for the Goosebumps and Fear Street series when she was a kid. This weather was living out an R. L. Stine fantasy.
“More like Cujo,” she muttered to herself as she continued hunting for the dog.
Rain fell in thick sheets, sending huge white hunks of ice pelting down. Hail. Only it was hail like she’d never seen it before. The stones were as big as golf balls and they bounced against the grass, thumping down on the verandah out back and tearing through the netting around the apple trees next door.
Dear God! What if the little dog was crushed by giant ice balls?
She yanked open the door and winced as the cold air slapped her face. The temperature had plummeted. Jace stormed toward the house, his face bowed against the rain. Angie let out a sigh of relief when she saw a very wet, miserable-looking white bundle in his arms. She wasn’t a dog person by any stretch, but there was something about a muscular hunk of a man taking care of a tiny animal like that…
Hello, hormones.
Jace strode into the house, and water pooled on the tiled floor. “He’s terrified, poor thing.”
Understatement of the year. The small dog was shaking so hard, Angie worried he might give himself a concussion. His little doggy brain was probably rattling around like a pinball.
“I couldn’t find Tilly. I think she’s hiding.” Angie bit down on her lip. “I’ll keep looking.”
“Here.” Jace handed over the Chihuahua, who looked up at her with terrified eyes. “Find a towel and get him dry. We’ll need to warm the little fella up.”
Angie went straight into the bathroom and found the fluffiest towel she could. Then she bundled Truffle up burrito-style so that only his little face poked out. Her top was soaked through, and she’d started to shiver, too.
“It’s okay; it’s okay,” she cooed as she carried him to the couch. “You’re fine now. Although I was told Australia had beautiful weather. Funny how they don’t put crazy thunderstorms in the travel brochures.”
Unsurprisingly, Truffle did not comment.
A minute later, Jace walked back into the main room. He had a dog in his arms again—only this dog was easily sixty pounds… What was that in kilos? A lot, anyway. But she didn’t appear to be any less scared than her tiny counterpart.
When he set the dog on the couch, Tilly buried her head into the cushion, wedging her face under Angie’s thigh. For a minute, Jace stood there, the beginnings of a smile on his lips. Angie, on the other hand, was still as a statue while she tried not to think about how many teeth were in her immediate vicinity. Yet, under Jace’s watchful eye, she felt totally safe. Like his mere presence calmed her and made her memories go quiet.
Outside, the storm roared, heavy black clouds rolling past with the continual thunk, thunk, thunk of hailstones. But even masquerading as a drowned rat, Jace was smokin’ hot.
“You should get changed,” Angie said. “Put on something dry or else you’ll catch a cold.”
He shook his head. “You sound like my mother.”
“I’ve met your lovely mother, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.” He peeled his soaked T-shirt over his head, and droplets of water flew in all directions around him. They dribbled down his chest, sliding over the ripples of muscle at his stomach and clinging to him all over. “The rain was coming down so hard, I couldn’t see properly.”
As if to illustrate his point, he dragged the back of his hand across his forehead, but it didn’t do any good. That’s when she noticed a nasty red mark on Jace’s cheek. “Looks like you got one in the face.”
He fetched a towel from a small closet on the other side of the room. “Hurts like hell, too.”
Momentarily, her fears about the dog situation were overtake
n by a dryness in her mouth and a thumping in her chest. Watching Jace rub the towel over his naked torso was doing strange things to her insides, making them feel all flippy and twisty. The air evaporated from her lungs, leaving her feeling tight and…needy.
As he walked toward his bedroom—which unfortunately she could now picture clear as day—she watched how the muscles moved in his back as he continued to dry himself off. Wow. Surfing sure made for a good body.
Please don’t let me go into verbal vomit time now…
“Thanks for helping,” he called from the bedroom. The sound of something slapping forced her imagination into hyper speed. He was already sans T-shirt, then off would come the socks. Then his jeans…
“Did you know three dogs survived the sinking of the Titanic?” She almost slapped her forehead. God, could she ever talk like a normal person? Or keep her trap shut altogether? “Never mind, it was a fun fact that sprang to mind. And you’re welcome…although I didn’t really do much.”
Angie pressed deep into the corner of the couch, trying to put some space between her and Tilly’s snout. No dice. The dog practically crawled into her lap, her heavy body pinning Angie to the couch and her wet tongue swiping wherever it could reach. Burrito Dog, on the other hand, was still a canine vibrator.
“If I hadn’t heard your screaming, I might have been sleeping out there when the hailstorm hit.”
“So I saved your life?” She grinned to herself, feeling a little tingle of the warm and fuzzy variety that he was grasping at straws to make her feel better.
He walked back out into the living room in dry jeans and a fitted black T-shirt. “I see you three have become best buds.”
“Fear is a bonding experience.” She looked down at Truffle. “So what now?”
“You’re not going anywhere until the storm dies down.” He didn’t sound too happy about it, and Angie tried not to take it personally. Although it stung a little, if she was being honest.
He’s probably frustrated that you’re both stuck here when it was supposed to be sunny and warm.
The lights flickered overhead, and Jace groaned, a frustrated plea on his lips. But the gods were cruel, and the power flickered once more before dying completely. The hum of the refrigerator cut out, and the lights went dark.
“That’s the last thing we need,” he said, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Bloody hell.”
“Is this normal?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Storms are normal, but this hail isn’t. And no power means no internet and no fridge.”
“I guess we can’t call for a pizza, huh?” she joked.
Another loud crack of thunder rang out, followed by a huge boom. Not the kind of boom that came from the sky, either. Angie jumped off the couch and, still cradling Burrito Dog, went to the window.
“I’m guessing that tree isn’t supposed to be horizontal?” she asked as she and Jace stood in front of the large windows.
Branches covered the road near the end of the driveway, and some of the smaller debris blew down the street. Leaves billowed up, swirling as if in a mini tornado. Like Sharknado…but for leaves.
Please don’t think about the possibility of a tornado with dangerous creatures. You are in the wrong country to survive that kind of thing!
“We’re stuck on the property until the storm slows down enough for the council to clear the roads.” He shook his head. “But that’ll take a while. At least a few hours.”
“Is there likely to be power at my place?” she asked.
Jace shook his head. “If it’s out here, it’ll be out there as well. And I don’t like the idea of you doing a mad dash across the yard with all those big hailstones coming down.”
“So you’re stuck with me?”
He looked over her shoulder. “More like the other way around.”
Somehow she doubted that very much.
…
Jace lit the gas stove with a match and set a pot of water to boil. Yesterday morning, his life had been in order: clean house, no obligations, plenty of time to work. He was in the middle of plotting out a new script for his comic series, Hermit vs. World, and had started sketching a rough storyboard. In fact, he was ahead of schedule, which was exactly how he liked to work.
But now…
Jace looked out to the living room, where Angie had moved onto a single armchair in an attempt to get away from Tilly. The big dog wasn’t having it, however, and had followed her, promptly settling in a heavy lump at her feet. Truffle appeared to be the only one who was totally comfortable, as he was still wrapped in a blanket and settled against Angie’s chest like a newborn baby.
Cute as it was, Jace’s whole day had been hijacked. He was now approximately four hours and thirty-five minutes behind schedule, due to him fitting in a walk that morning with the dogs and then falling asleep and then going on a rescue mission. Now Angie was here, and he couldn’t very well leave her alone while he worked. Jace glared at the black clouds clogging the sky. Not that he would be able to see a damn thing in his studio anyway.
“I think he’s asleep,” Angie said quietly as she laid down the bundled-up dog and came toward the kitchen. “Do you think we should take him to a vet?”
A loud crack of thunder shook the house, reminding them they weren’t going anywhere.
“I think he got a fright, that’s all.”
“Didn’t we all.” She let out a weak laugh. “So, uh…it’s probably not a bad thing we got stuck together. I had something to talk to you about.”
“What is it this time?” he asked. “Save the koalas? No, we did that one already. Sea turtles? Oh, let me guess. It’s the quokkas, right?”
Angie was a bleeding heart, always trying her hardest to save one group or another. Always jumping in to help the latest charity effort. In the six months she’d lived here, she’d taken part in bake sales, fund-raising walks, tree planting, charity brunches, and raffles. She’d also been volunteering at the local retirement home, doing her best to give the people who lived there some companionship. Her care was poured into everything like she was overflowing with it.
And, being a bubbly person, she was never satisfied to act alone. She roped everyone into her charitable activities. Jace couldn’t even remember the amount of fund-raising Freddo Frogs he’d bought and then given away after listening to another impassioned speech from his tenant. But he couldn’t seem to say no to her. Ever.
“Well, actually, I was going to talk to you about an event I’m planning for the retirement home after my disaster of a meeting at the town hall,” she replied with a funny expression. “But that might have to wait.”
“You mean they pooh-poohed the Grannies on Poles pole-dancing class?” He chuckled. “I’m not surprised. You probably scandalized Mrs. Marconi.”
“Feeling sexually confident isn’t only for young people, Jace.” She huffed. “And yes, you’re right, they pooh-poohed Grannies on Poles. But that’s not what I need to talk to you about right now.”
There was a waver in her voice that stopped Jace in his tracks. He might not have known Angie that long, but he knew one thing about her—she was always upbeat. A little kooky, sure. Passionate and idealistic? Hell yeah. And always positive. That little waver, however, was an anomaly. And this from a guy usually not the most observant when it came to social cues or nonverbal communication.
But the difference in her was so stark, it was like a physical jolt.
He wanted to ask what was troubling her, but he also felt himself sinking into the fuzzy gray. What was the right thing to say? How did he ask without being too blunt? His gaze drifted outside, as though the trees might offer advice. Sadly not. Then he took a deep breath, looked her in the eye, and asked, “What’s going on?”
Angie bit down on her lip and turned, as if checking on the dogs. But it looked like she was trying to compose herself.
“I have to leave.”
“Right now?” He frowned. The storm was raging like an angry toddler, and although the hailstones had lessened, he could already see downed branches and debris all over the yard. No doubt the streets would look just as bad. “It’s not safe. I mean—”
“No. I have to leave Australia.”
For a moment, his mind was blank. It oscillated like the Spinning Beach Ball of Doom that appeared when a program crashed on his MacBook. “Why?”
“My visa extension was denied.” Her voice was flat, brittle. But he knew it must have hit her hard, because she’d been talking about everything she was going to do once the extension came in.
She’d planned to fit in trips to some of the places in Victoria she hadn’t been yet—to the Yarra Valley for wine tasting, to Ballarat and Sovereign Hill for a touch of Australian history. Not to mention all the grand plans she had for making improvements at the retirement home.
The thought of her leaving was…surprisingly sad.
Water hissed as it bubbled over the pot’s edge and onto the hot stovetop and snapped Jace back to reality. He poured it up to the fill line on his French press. Then he gave the coffee and water a stir, his spoon clinking against the glass.
“How long until you have to go?” he asked, already dreading her answer.
Because it’s going to mess up my routine. We’ll have to post the flat online, interview new tenants, do background checks… It’s nothing to do with her not being here.
“Two months.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“And there’s nothing you can do? You can’t appeal the decision?”
She let out a harsh laugh. “If I had another option, I wouldn’t be here telling you I have to leave.”
“Right.” He bobbed his head. “What can I do to help?”
The question popped out before he even had time to think about it, because that was the Walters way. He would do what he could—packing boxes, organizing a moving company, helping with a garage sale. Even if it meant sifting through the stuff in her place, most of which seemed to have no real purpose…like the seashells she had lined up along the windowsill in the front room. Not to mention the bowl she kept on the coffee table, which was full of random things like ticket stubs and loyalty stamp cards that had been finished. Who kept that crap anyway?
The Aussie Next Door Page 4
