Taking Charge (Meet the McIntyres Book 1)

by Rebecca Barber

  Me: Hi.

  Pathetic. Completely and utterly pathetic. Two letters in a simple text was all it took to have me shaking like a leaf. “Where’s Beau when you need him?” I asked the empty room. When I heard myself ask, I shuddered at the thought. I couldn’t rely on Beau. I wouldn’t.

  Five minutes later, with still no reply, I got up and went to bed. I’d run out of chocolate and wine, so that meant my pity party was over. The issue was the moment I turned on the lamp beside my bed, I spotted my abandoned wedding gown lying in a heap in the corner. The whole fiasco came crashing back to me. I’d put the dress on. I’d pretended I was a princess. Beau had seen me. He’d seen me being stupid. He’d had to help me take it off. With one swift, surprisingly feel good kick, I booted the ball of white material into the wall and watched it crumple. You’d think for the amount I paid for it, I’d be a little more careful. I didn’t care. I couldn’t. Tomorrow I was getting rid of it. It’s not like I could ever wear it again anyway. Even if someday I did entertain the possibility of ever getting married, I wouldn’t be wearing this dress. This dress was for Hayden. And it, just like our whole relationship, had been a waste of time and money.

  Quickly, I flicked the light off and dived under the covers. Sleep was my friend.

  Or at least it was supposed to be. It felt like forever when I finally gave up and grabbed my phone. It’d only been forty-five minutes. I’d tried counting sheep, creating new recipes, and making a to-do list for tomorrow, which included the incredibly boring, menial tasks, such as washing and ironing. Yet sleep eluded me. Checking for any messages, there was still nothing. Thanks to the genius at Apple, I could tell it had been read, though. Suddenly my eyes felt as heavy as my heart. Stupidly I should have known this was a possibility. A probability. I hadn’t given it a second thought. I imagined she’d receive my message, be shocked for all of three minutes, and reply. Nup. This wouldn’t be my life if that happened. Instead, she’d read it exactly thirty-eight minutes ago and hadn’t replied.

  Rejected and dejected, I put my phone on silent, dropped it in my top drawer, yanked the covers up to my chin, and rolled over. Sleep didn’t fight me for long. Fatigue and disappointment were great for knocking you out.

  Unfortunately for me, it didn’t last.

  It wasn’t quite two in the morning when I stumbled downstairs and clicked on the lights in the kitchen. My head was going a million miles an hour and my heart was matching it. I’d tossed and turned for hours, but real sleep, that heavy, drool-inducing sleep, never found me. After lying awake staring at the nothingness, I jumped up, pulled on some yoga pants and a jumper, and found myself in the kitchen.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, staring at the stainless bench, remembering all the things I shouldn’t be remembering. Eventually I grabbed the bleach, donned a pair of yellow rubber gloves, and started scrubbing. I knew I was trying to wash away my mistakes, but somehow it ended up being so much more than that. Soon enough everything in the kitchen sparkled and the scent of lemon hung heavily in the air.

  My arms ached. My back protested every swivel of my hips, and my knees…well, they were soaked through the thin material and itched like crazy. Bleach and I had never been friends, and whenever it touched my skin, I usually ended up regretting it with a big, ugly, angry rash.

  Feeling somewhat better, or merely too exhausted to be able to tell the difference, I grabbed my bowls and started creating. Last night I’d attempted to read a book by Allie Able, I can’t for the life of me remember the name, but the one thing I do remember was that the girl owned a bakery, something that obviously piqued my interest, and she made cupcakes. Apparently the most delicious cupcakes in town. Now I wanted to try. I’d never been good at cupcakes, something to do with patience, I imagine, but right now, at barely four in the morning, I was about to attempt my first ever batch of Key Lime cupcakes.

  It didn’t take long for my pristine kitchen to be covered in flour and chaos again. I loved it. This was where I belonged. This was where I needed to be. Men and drama weren’t for me. I was at home when there was flour in my hair and my favourite boy band music blaring from my iPod while I shook my ass in my deserted kitchen. Shaking and shimmying, I made my way out the front and switched on the coffee machine. I’d have to open soon, but more importantly, I was due for my own caffeine hit.

  After icing the cupcakes, which looked spectacular, even if I did have to toot my own horn, I poured myself a cup and settled into the corner booth with my cake and coffee. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest breakfast by any means, but for someone running on a few hours’ sleep, the sugar hit was needed.

  The cupcake wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. Feeling grumpy, I stomped back upstairs and got changed into some relatively clean clothes before returning and unlocking the door.

  It was a crazy day. It seemed like every man and his dog had chosen this particular Saturday to come into town. It was barely eleven when I sold out of rolls, and by two, the cabinets were bare save for a few lamingtons. Even though Sunday was my scheduled day off each week, looking at the empty glass case, I knew tomorrow I’d have to spend the bulk of the day baking to restock. It wasn’t a bad thing, not really. It wasn’t like I had anything better to do.

  Three o’clock was closing time, and as the minutes ticked ever closer, I managed to be a little more excited. I’d ridden the wave of sleep deprivation all day, and so far everyone I’d come in contact with was still alive. A miracle in itself, really. But now, I was crashing. Hard and fast. The sooner I could flick the sign over to closed and head upstairs for a much deserved nap, the better.

  The kitchen once again sparkled and no one would ever be able to tell that I’d dropped a carton of eggs earlier or accidentally pierced a hole in the bag of sugar, leaving a trail from one end of the kitchen to the other. The coffee machine was off and sanitised, ready for Monday morning and I’d just finished mopping the floors, when the jingle of the bells on the door made me growl in frustration.

  “I heard that!”

  I recognised Josie’s voice instantly. As much as I loved the girl, and I did, right now I wished she was anywhere but standing in my bakery. I wanted sleep. I didn’t have the energy to talk.

  Before I had a chance to wobble my way out the front, the tornado toddler that was Matilda wrapped herself around my leg, looking up at me with those huge, brown doe eyes. Everything else evaporated. Nothing mattered except the crooked smile on Matilda’s sweet face.

  “Hey there, gorgeous girl.”

  “Up! Up! Up!” Matilda chorused.

  Scooping her up as directed, her tiny sticky fingers wrapped around the necklace at my throat as she started babbling. Although she was starting to talk, only every fifth word was actually recognisable.

  “You caved.” Josie grinned at me as I rounded the corner, her wriggling daughter in my arms.

  “Every time. How could I not? Have you seen those eyes?”

  “Uh huh. Nate still falls for it.”

  “And you don’t?”

  “Nup.”

  “Liar!”

  While Matilda tugged on my chain and continued to babble, Josie and I slipped into an easy conversation. I hadn’t realised that I’d fallen completely off the grid in the past couple of weeks and it had been noticed. Someone actually noticed I wasn’t around. That was new for me. Even Hayden hadn’t when we’d been together. I may have been his fiancée, but we could go a week or more without even exchanging a simple text message. It should have been a sign. It was. I’d just had my head shoved so far up my ass I’d missed it. In the end though, I’d paid the price for my obliviousness.

  “So…dinner tonight. Me, you, and Mia.”

  “No, not tonight.” I couldn’t do it. I doubted I’d even eat tonight. All I wanted was to go upstairs, have a nice long hot shower to wash the flour from my hair, and go to sleep. I was so tired, it wouldn’t surprise me if I slept right through to morning. Actually, that sounded fucking fantastic really. “I need sl
eep, Josie. I haven’t been getting much lately.”

  “Or maybe that’s the problem. You’re getting too much.” Josie giggled mischievously and waggled her eyebrows. I knew exactly what she was insinuating, but that didn’t mean I was going to rise to the bait.

  “Well, you know, B.O.B. can go all night.”

  “Wait! What? Who’s Bob? I thought his name was Beau?”

  I couldn’t help it. I burst into a fit of laughter. One I couldn’t control. My sides hurt and salty tears streamed down my face. I don’t even know why I laughed that hard. It wasn’t that funny. Yet for some reason I couldn’t stop.

  “Sorry,” I panted, trying to get myself under control.

  “Okay.” Josie eyed me strangely.

  Matilda squirmed in my arms and I set her down. Watching her was both amazing and heartbreaking at the same time. I wanted that. I know Josie hadn’t had it easy, being a single mum disowned by her parents and all, but now, now she’d won the jackpot. Nate was the best thing that could have happened to her. And he loved that little girl as if she was his own.

  “Bad joke. Forget it.”

  “Sure. Just for that then, dinner is at seven. Don’t be late.”

  “Josie, no. I need sleep.”

  “Well, get that sexy ass upstairs and have a nana nap. You’ve got a couple of hours before dinner, so skedaddle.”

  With a dismissive wave of her hand, Josie led Matilda out the front door and down the street. I watched them until they rounded the corner and vanished from sight. Locking the door, I marched myself upstairs and crashed on the lounge.

  A loud banging followed by a long line of swearing woke me from the best dream I’d ever had. Whoever was on the other side of that door better have a damn good reason for waking me. A reason and food. As soon as I found my feet, my stomach grumbled loudly. Even though it was probably a good thing I was awake, it didn’t mean I wanted to be.

  The banging came again. “Payton! Open this door, you skanky bitch.”

  Most people, normal people, would be offended at being called a skank. Hell, I used to be. I guess it was just one of those things. Hanging around Mia and Josie long enough, you adapt to their odd terms of endearment. You didn’t really have a choice.

  “Hold your horses! I’m coming.”

  As I yanked the door open, only to see Mia and Josie both smiling widely, I caught Mia muttering, “that’s what she said.”

  My god that joke was old. Unfortunately though, it was still funny.

  “You’re not ready!” Josie admonished, pushing her way inside.

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  I was a grumpy bitch when I woke up. I ran my fingers through my hair…well, I attempted to. This is what I got for going to sleep with wet hair. It was knotted and matted. The only saving grace right now was I hadn’t looked in a mirror. The startled and slightly concerned expression on Mia’s and Josie’s faces was enough to confirm it wasn’t pretty.

  “Go get ready so we can go. I’m starving,” Josie complained.

  Sighing heavily, I had no desire to get dressed and see people. Right now, I didn’t even want to put on pants! “You guys go. I’m just gonna chill here tonight.”

  “Nope! Not happening.”

  “Payton, please, just give in. Otherwise she’ll be a pain in the ass all night,” Mia begged.

  How could I say no to that? I wanted to. Fuck, did I ever. Instead, I caved. Again. “Fine!”

  Shuffling into my bedroom, I grabbed a cleanish pair of jeans from the pile in the corner and pulled them on. Finding a sky blue jumper balled up in the back of my drawer, I slipped it on before tugging on my boots.

  A moment later I stepped back into my lounge room, as ready as I’d ever be. “Let’s go.”

  “Uh, Payton?”

  “What now?” I grumbled.

  I heard the words come out of my mouth and I realised what a truly miserable bitch I was. Mia and Josie didn’t deserve that. If anything, I should be thanking them. Be grateful. Without them, I don’t know if I’d have survived the last couple of months. I may have survived, but I definitely wouldn’t have been living. Without their persistent intrusion into my life, I was only a couple of cats away from becoming my worst nightmare.

  “You may want to look in the mirror,” Mia suggested with a shrug.

  Stepping into the bathroom, I saw why. I’d forgotten to do something with the crazy mass of curls on my hair that had frizzed out in every direction. From experience, I knew brushing it would only make it worse. Instead, I found my hair tie and tucked it up in some kind of messy bun. It was as good as it was going to get. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if we were going somewhere fancy. Just the pub.

  “Payton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s this?”

  I stumbled out of the bathroom, flicking off the light only to see Josie holding up my wedding dress. My humiliation was complete. First Beau, now Mia and Josie. I should have just burnt the damn thing when I had the chance.

  I felt my cheeks heat under their intense stare. It was scary as hell. “A very long, very fucked up story.”

  “Which you’re going to tell us over dinner,” Mia added, rising from her seat on the corner of my bed.

  “Only after some serious drinks.”

  I had no choice. Now they’d seen my shame, I had to explain it. They wouldn’t let it go.

  “Well duh!”

  “Let’s go then. I need a shot,” I declared, grabbing my wallet and keys and leading them out of my apartment. “Or fourteen,” I added under my breath.

  My past wouldn’t fuck off and leave me alone. Instead it haunted me like a fucking ghost. I needed an exorcism. Or vodka. Massive quantities of vodka.

  I was smashed. We’d been drinking for hours. It was the only thing that would silence the thoughts. And the arguments. Sitting around the table, it was covered in empty glasses while we waited for our meals to arrive. As shitty as the last twenty-four hours had been, right now I felt fucking good. Or I didn’t feel at all, and that was fucking great too. For the first time since I’d been home, we were all together. Well, Holly wasn’t there, but Gage and Ryan were. They weren’t the same boys I remembered. They’d grown up. And filled out.

  Gage was nerdy. The thick black glasses he wore made him look smarter, but he still had the McIntyre build. That couldn’t be hidden. His wide shoulders made him look strong and capable, which in his line of work was a very good thing. Who’d trust a skinny, nerdy runt, the guy Gage had been, to help birth a calf or hold down a horse?

  And Ryan, well, I could have walked past him in the street and not even recognised him. He was seventeen now and tonight’s designated driver, the poor bastard. He was smart. Smarter than anyone I knew. His head was full of bullshit trivia that no one in their right mind should know. He could name capital cities of countries all over the world and I had no idea where he’d picked that shit up from. Although his genius was levelled somewhat by his complete lack of common sense. That damn boy could barely tell his ass from his elbow and I had no idea what his future held. I certainly couldn’t see him joining Connor working on the farm.

  “Still can’t believe she came back,” Gage said. Again.

  Every half hour or so for the last five, he’d dropped that little reminder. Mum was back in town. It had knocked everyone on their asses.

  By the time I’d made it home, the scent of Payton still clinging to my skin, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with drama. If anything, it was taking everything I had not to spin around and go back to finish what we’d barely started. But I hadn’t moved home to find a piece of ass. I’d come home to sort some shit out. The biggest problem was, every time I tried to make progress, another load would be dumped on me. A load I hadn’t seen coming. A load I couldn’t see coming. Not in a million years.

  Bouncing down the driveway, I made a mental note we’d need to do something about the potholes before the next rains came. They were starting to border on dangerously deep a
nd wide. Someone might disappear down one. Gee, wouldn’t that be a pity. If only I got to pick the unsuspecting victim.

  I pulled in next to the latest model silver Mercedes GLE350 and groaned. It looked brand new. With the exception of the mud splattered against the bumpers, it fucking gleamed. Someone was flashing around their cash.

  I spotted the owner and my stomach was in my mouth. I didn’t know what to feel. The woman standing at the bottom of the steps to the house, she was my mum. But she was also the bitch who left without a word who’d now come back to get her greedy hands on anything and everything she could. I wanted to hate her, I really did, but how do you hate the woman who taught you to tie your shoes? The one who took care of you when you were sick and kissed your knees when you took all the skin off trying to jump the puddles on your pushbike?

  Putting my ute in park, I sat there for a moment and just watched her watching me. She looked older. I mean, I know she’d done everything she could to avoid it—Botox, lipo—I doubted there was still a single part of her that was organic, but it was her eyes that gave her away. They were my eyes. It was the one thing that I shared with her that the others didn’t.

  Still unsure what to do or say, I climbed from the ute and headed towards her, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

  “Hi,” I offered. It felt wrong not adding ‘Mum’ to my greeting, but the word choked me. I knew no matter what else happened, now or in the future, she was still my mother. Nothing could change that. Knowing that didn’t help, though. I couldn’t stretch my arms out and wrap her in them, no matter how much I wanted to.

  “Beau, sweetheart. Look at you. You look so…different.”

  “Well, it’s been a while.”

  Her shoulders drooped and I saw how small she was. Mum had never been a big woman, but standing there in her designer jeans and fitted pink blouse with her thick makeup and fancy handbag dangling from her fingers, she looked tiny. And out of place. And kinda sad.