Painting Rainbows

by Kiera Jayne

  “Nothing, sir. Coming right up.”

  Grady somehow managed to stare at Layla again as he served the man and many of his other subsequent customers. When she got up to leave, his heart sank a little. He kind of wanted her to hang around. Maybe then they might be able to smooth things over. But Layla was gone before Grady could find the time to take a break.

  She had to get out of there. Layla could no longer bare the way Grady had been watching her like a man possessed. She knew he was looking. She'd been looking at him, too. Passing glances that were stolen in the moments between making people’s orders.

  Grady was sexy as sin and he knew it, which meant that Layla should keep away from him.

  What was she doing to herself? Why couldn't she stop thinking about him? The man was cocky and rude and full of himself. She’d had enough of confident men ruining her life—she didn't need for another one to cause havoc. The whole point of coming to this small village was to discover a whole new perspective on her life, which she would be going back to in a few months.

  Yes, Layla found Grady attractive. Yes, she had fantasised about him. The other night when he had stayed over wasn't so bad. He was engaging and respectful.

  But more often than not, Grady was rude. Grady pushed her buttons. Grady made Layla want to pull her hair out. Plus, he had almost run her over.

  Nope, the best thing for Layla to do was to stay away from him and go about her own business.

  No such luck. Layla’s attempts in avoiding Grady didn't go unnoticed.

  “Way to hurt a guy’s feelings.”

  From her sunny position on a timber bench in the garden, Layla looked up from the sketchbook she was drawing in to find Grady hanging over the stone wall with a takeaway coffee cup in his hand.

  He indicated the cup sitting on the garden bench beside her. “Is this your subtle way of rejecting me?”

  Layla wrinkled up her nose as she looked across at him. “Rejecting you for what?”

  That naughty smile played across his lips again. He answered her question with one of his own, “My guess is you won't want another coffee?”

  Layla lifted her eyebrows at him. “It's tea, not coffee.” She made a show of drinking it and held his gaze from over the rim.

  Grady stepped through the timber gate. He made his way across the small, oddly-shaped yard and sat down beside Layla on the bench. He set the cup of coffee down between them and looked at her drawing.

  Layla blushed. She wasn't used to people taking an interest in her art. Did Grady think it was fanciful like her mother and brothers did?

  His expression was unreadable as he looked from the page to the flower in front of them. “It's the foxglove.”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “Are you going to colour it?”

  “Nope,” Layla replied as she added some shading to the drawing.

  “Why not?” Grady asked.

  Layla shrugged. “I'm trying something different.”

  Grady nodded.

  Her expression turned suspicious. “What?”

  “Nothing. I think it's great to experiment and try something different.”

  Layla handed him her half-finished tea and picked up the coffee cup. Together, they sipped their drinks.

  After a moment, Layla asked, “Are you still talking about my drawing?”

  Cue the Grady Smirk.

  Yes. She had named it.

  God help her.

  “I want you to come for a ride with me,” Grady said.

  “A ride with you?”

  Grady nodded.

  “On that thing?” She waved the end of her pencil in the direction of his motorbike.

  Grady chuckled. “Yes, on that thing.”

  “That thing you nearly ran over me with? That thing is dangerous!”

  Grady groaned. “Are we back on this again?”

  “There's no way I'm getting on that thing again. I almost fell off last time!”

  Grady leaned back. “That won’t happen if you hold on.”

  “But there's nothing to hold on to,” Layla protested.

  “Yes, there is,” Grady countered. “You hold onto me.”

  Layla fell quiet. Eventually, she asked, “B-but what about helmets?”

  “I brought a spare. It's Myra’s. It’ll fit you perfectly, as well as hide those blushing cheeks.” Grady stood. “Come on.”

  Layla reluctantly followed him to the vehicle. She folded her arms firmly across her chest while Grady pulled his helmet on. When he noticed her defiance, he simply rolled his eyes at her and yanked Myra's helmet down over her long, dark hair. Although Grady didn't have any leathers for her, he was glad she was at least wearing those thigh-high boots and jeans.

  Grady threw his leg over the bike and patted the seat behind him. “Hop on.”

  Layla reluctantly followed his direction. Once she was sitting on the bike, she placed her hands loosely on his hips. She honestly wasn't feeling too comfortable about this.

  He started up the motor and the bike lurched. Layla yelped and suddenly, her arms locked around Grady’s waist, holding on tight. Layla could've sworn he laughed again, but she couldn't be sure over the roar of the engine.

  A ten minute drive took them out to the countryside where Grady pulled up to a rocky outcrop that a small group of people were gathered around. He and Layla took off their helmets and he sat still as she inspected the high visibility overalls, the harnesses around the peoples’ waists and the ropes hooked into the rocks.

  Layla looked up at the grey, straight wall and glanced across the treeless valley that stretched below them. “What’s all this?”

  Grady got off the motorcycle. He took her by the elbow and led her over to the group, ignoring her suspicious glare.

  Layla watched as a guy cheered from the top of the rock face. “Rock climbing?”

  “Mm-hm,” Grady mumbled.

  “I can't go rock climbing!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because!” Layla replied.

  Grady looked at her incredulously. “That's not a reason.”

  Layla's shoulders slumped.

  “Layla?”

  Layla spun when she heard her name being called. “Rosie? What are you doing here?”

  “Aw, hi, love,” the older woman said, hugging Layla. “I do this once a month. It's great fun. Are you going to join us?”

  “Oh, I'm not sure about that,” Layla replied, shaking her head.

  “Why not?”

  Layla caught the note of disappointment in the woman’s voice. She glanced up at the dark rock face and shuddered. “It's scary.”

  Rosie took Layla's hand in hers and squeezed. “It's not as scary as it looks, I promise.”

  “Here we are, I think I found your size.”

  Layla's mouth dropped as she looked at the harness and white helmet in Grady's hands. He plonked the helmet on her head then squatted in front of her.

  Layla jerked away from him. “Wait, what are you doing?”

  “Step into the harness, Layla,” Grady ordered.

  Layla held back her annoyance as best as she could. “I said I'm not doing this.”

  “Come on. You'll enjoy it, I promise,” he insisted.

  “You don't know that.” Layla's pulse began to race and she could see spots at the edge of her vision. When she looked back up at the cliff, it suddenly wasn't one cliff anymore as her head began to spin.

  Grady rose to his full height again and looked down at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Layla, you’ll love this. The view from the top is incredible, you can see for miles.”

  “The view from here is nice enough.” And it was. The fields, the hills were stunning underneath the patchy clouds that dotted the sky.

  Grady leaned in close to her and whispered, “You’re happy to settle for just ‘nice,’ are you?”

  Layla’s breath tumbled out of her. It seemed to abandon her as she regarded him. She had no response.

  “You should never settle, La
yla. You deserve better than that.”

  Layla’s mind flew to Rick and the Event. How he’d made her feel so used, how he still made her feel like she was on rocky ground unable to balance on her own emotional cliff.

  Grady knelt again and when she felt him start to slide the harness up her leg, she lost it. “Grady, stop. Stop! Get it off me!”

  “What? Why?”

  Layla shook the thing off her leg, nearly kicking Grady in the face in the process, threw her helmet to the ground and dashed off.

  “Layla!” Grady shouted after her.

  When she marched straight past the motorcycle, Grady realised she had no intention of slowing down. He ran after her.

  “Layla! Oi, what's the matter with you?” Grady asked as he fell into step beside her.

  “Nothing, Grady. Absolutely nothing,” Layla lied.

  “Clearly, there's something.”

  When she didn't reply, he dragged her to a halt. She instantly tore into him.

  “You don't think, do you? You don't consider other people’s feelings or their safety. You just do this gung-ho, who-gives-a-shit, live fast thing and expect everyone else to keep up with you! You don't stop to think that some people might not be as brave as you. We’re not all into extreme sports, you know.”

  “It's just rock climbing,” Grady said quietly.

  “Not to me, it's not.” Layla's voice shook.

  “Why not?”

  “That's none of your business.” Layla shoved him out of the way and continued on her way.

  “At least let me give you a lift back!” he called after her.

  “Not a chance!” She would walk the ten kilometres back to town with no problems. She was a Sydney Bridge Run finisher, after all. She only hoped she wouldn’t get lost on these winding country roads. Anything was better than getting on the back of Grady’s Death Machine again.

  When she was dropped off at home by the farmer she’d ended up hitching a lift with, Layla tore into the house and got busy on a new canvas. She needed all the colours. They were the only thing that cheered her up when she became upset like this.

  As her energy waned and she began to calm down, Layla stepped back to inspect her impromptu painting. A scowl creased her smooth forehead. It was nothing. A big, fat hunk of nothing. Another bloody painting full of rainbow colours that she had slapped haphazardly onto the canvas.

  Why did she keep doing this? What was she trying to find by painting rainbow after rainbow?

  With a growl, Layla threw down her paint brush and flopped onto the red and white tartan armchair. She hugged a cushion to her chest and buried her face into it as she released tears of frustration.

  She lifted her watery gaze up when a knock sounded at the front door. It had better not be him. She'd had enough of Grady for one day.

  “Layla?”

  Rosie?

  Layla went and opened the door. “Hi.”

  “Hi, dear.” Sympathy shone in Rosie's eyes. “I wanted to make sure you're alright.”

  “I'm fine,” Layla fibbed.

  Rosie stepped forward and placed a hand on Layla's shoulder. “Are you sure? I know we don't know each other well, but if you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” Layla said with a sigh. After a moment, she stepped back, opening the door wider. “Would you like to come in? I can put the kettle on.”

  “Lovely, thank you,” Rosie replied, stepping into the cottage. “Oh, my goodness. This is like stepping back in time!”

  Layla led her to the kitchen and set about creating a nice morning tea for them. “The place hasn't changed much, then?”

  “Not at all. Everything's the same!” Rosie gushed. She indicated the tin flower pot on the small timber table. “Even this little thing.”

  “Except for the easel, maybe.”

  “True.” Rosie chuckled. “I was worried you might get lost out there in those laneways, but it looks like you found your way back alright.”

  “Not exactly. I got lost and a farmer who was transporting a pig to the market took pity on me.”

  Rosie covered her mouth with her hand as she laughed at the thought. “Oh, Layla,” She wiped the corners of her eyes. “I'm sorry about Grady being pushy.”

  “Why are you sorry? You're not responsible for him,” Layla replied, confusion in her tone.

  “I know.” Rosie was quiet for a moment before she continued. “He's a nice young man . . . and I'd hate for you to get the wrong idea about him.”

  Layla set the teapot and biscuits on the table. “What do you mean?” she asked as she took a seat.

  “He's gung-ho, for sure. But he's a decent lad. If you like him—"

  “Oh, no, no!” Layla interrupted. “It's not like that. He was just showing me around, getting me out of this little house. I've kind of holed myself up in here.”

  “Oh, alright then. That's a shame. I mean, have you seen him? If he offered, I would not say no,” Rosie confessed.

  Layla's mouth dropped open. “Rosie!”

  “What? The man is drop dead delicious.” Rosie lifted an eyebrow as she bit into a Hobnob.

  Layla averted her gaze. “I'm not in the market for a relationship at the moment. All I'm after is some peace and quiet.”

  “Okay. Well, even if you're not into rock climbing, you're welcome to come hiking with me anytime.”

  “Count me in!” Layla said excitedly.

  “Does tomorrow afternoon suit you?”

  Layla nodded. “Definitely.”

  There was one thing wrong with making a hiking date with Rosie—Layla didn't have any suitable footwear. Her only covered shoes were her black boots and pair of boating shoes which she had found at a charity store back home. Neither were any good for a serious walk that would take her over hill and dale.

  There was no shoe store in the village, nor a hiking gear store, and Layla didn't have any transportation to go search the nearby towns for one. She was left with no option.

  Taking a deep breath, Layla stepped into Myra’s Munchies early the next morning. Glancing around the café, she noticed Myra chatting with an older couple sitting in the back at one of the square tables. Edwin sat at one of three tables that faced the café, with a seat that ran the length of the wall.

  She sent the boy a small wave and he flashed her a big, closed-lipped grin, his cheeks full of food, much like a squirrel.

  When she turned to the serving bench, Grady sent her a wary glance.

  “What can I get you?” he asked, all business.

  “A mocha again,” she responded.

  “Same old, huh?”

  “Well, no. This time I'd like a dash of hazelnut syrup, if that's okay.” Layla pointed to the syrup bottle behind him and leaned her arms on the bench.

  Grady nodded and got to work.

  “So . . . here's the thing,” Layla said with a deep breath.

  “What?” Grady asked.

  “I've been invited to go hiking this afternoon,” Layla said.

  “Good for you.”

  Layla ignored the way she prickled at his nonchalant tone. She wasn’t sure why she was here asking Grady this favour after yesterday, when she’d been so mad at him. She knew she had other options, but for some reason, she wanted to be around him. Her emotions were playing push and pull with each other, like the waves of the ocean drawing in the sand from the seashore.

  “The thing is, I don't have any suitable footwear and there are no shoe shops here. So, I was wondering . . . if you could maybe . . . take me to one?”

  Grady set her coffee in front of her and she handed her money over. “I thought you were afraid of my bike?”

  “I am.”

  “And you seem to be afraid of me,” Grady continued.

  Layla frowned. “That's not true.”

  Grady pushed the cash register closed with force. “What is your problem, Layla? You’re back and forth like—”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Like some
one who can’t make up their mind.”

  “I'm not afraid of you, Grady,” Layla muttered. This was a terrible idea, she sighed and headed towards the exit.

  “Alright, I can take you,” Grady decided.

  Layla turned back to him. “You don't have to.”

  “It's alright. We can go into Penrith, but it'll have to be quick. We’ll need to squeeze it in before lunch hour.”

  “Okay. Thank you, Grady, this means a lot.”

  “Take a seat. I'll race Ed over to his school and swing back to collect you afterwards.” Grady took the tea towel from his belt and tossed it onto the bench before he stepped around the counter. “Come on, Ed. Time to go.”

  Edwin abandoned his empty cereal bowl, kissed his mother goodbye, and raced after his uncle.

  Layla barely had the time to finish her cup of coffee at one of the outdoor tables before Grady was pulling up again. She climbed into the front passenger seat of the van and soon, they were coasting out of Upper Telwick.

  Layla glanced across at Grady, at the way he gripped the steering wheel with one hand and rested his elbow on the ledge of the window. The sun moved across his face, picking up the contours of his jaw underneath his dark, stubbly beard.

  “Thanks again for doing this,” she said. She didn’t mean for her voice to sound so quiet, so she was surprised when he replied to her, “You’re welcome.”

  An awkward silence stretched out between them. Layla figured it was because of the way she had freaked out at the rock climbing site. She took a deep breath. “I want to apologise for yesterday . . . for my freak out.”

  Grady sent her a sidelong glance. “Oh?”

  “I panicked because I'm afraid of heights to an extent. I mean, I can fly in a plane and stand at a lookout, but rock climbing, or abseiling, or anything where it's sending myself over the edge of something is completely out of the question.” Layla snapped her hand across the air in a cutting motion.

  “So, it wasn't me?” Grady asked.

  “No, it wasn't you. All me.”

  “But didn't you climb a tree?” Grady queried.

  “Trees are easy. They've got lots of bits to hold onto.”