by Loretta Hill
‘Where do you live?’
‘What’s your job?’
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
‘Do you think my dad is hot?’
Sarah tried to answer all her questions as best she could but when Chloe came to this last one she floundered. Somehow saying, ‘Your dad burns my clothes off whenever he looks at me,’ didn’t seem suitable for an impressionable teen. Even if it was the truth.
Luckily by this time Chloe had entered the change room and there was a curtain between them, so the teenager couldn’t see her expression.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to answer that,’ Chloe said cheerfully as Sarah searched for a diplomatic response that didn’t incriminate her. ‘I know my dad’s not exactly the coolest guy on the planet, but he’s pretty nice. I mean, for an older guy. He’s not a total dork most of the time and he has good morals and stuff like that. He’s really strict with me so I know he’d be the protective sort, which is good, right?’
‘Er, yeah.’
‘I mean, I know he doesn’t talk much. But that’s just because he’s shy.’
Sarah spluttered. ‘He’s what?’
‘Shy,’ came Chloe’s muffled response. It sounded like she was putting her t-shirt back on. ‘Especially with women. Like, he’s never had a girlfriend before, at least not since my mum.’
Sarah’s mouth twisted. ‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Definitely.’ There was a sigh behind the curtain like a lot was being left unsaid. ‘I feel sorry for him,’ Chloe said at last. ‘I think he’s lonely.’
‘He has you.’ Sarah wasn’t sure what else to say without messing with the persona Owen had created for his daughter.
The curtain pushed back. ‘I think I’ll get these two.’ She held up a couple of simple t-shirt bras.
‘Excellent choice.’
They gave the bras they weren’t buying to the lady in the change rooms and proceeded to the checkout.
‘So if you know anyone who is looking to meet someone,’ Chloe suggested on the way, ‘please introduce him. I know he’d love that.’
‘I’m sure he would,’ she responded, hoping the girl couldn’t hear the ironic tone in her voice.
Owen watched them both from his vantage point on a bench between two leafy pot plants. They were chatting to each other and the girl at the checkout.
Sarah, he noticed, smiled easily. It was an enthralling, all-encompassing expression that lit up her whole face. He had never seen anyone draw out his daughter so effortlessly. Sarah had a warmth that was incredibly contagious. As they exited the department store, his eyes were drawn involuntarily to her slender figure.
There was really only one word to describe Sarah and that was ‘beautiful’.
The word ‘sexy’ seemed too crass.
The word ‘elegant’ too formal.
Yet she was both these things as well.
Did he want her?
Yes.
But seeing her with his daughter put a whole different slant on that. He wanted her for both of them. The realisation made him clench his teeth. This was exactly why he didn’t make friends with women.
There was no more time to ponder this, because suddenly they had both reached his side.
‘What are you doing here, Dad?’ Chloe asked. ‘I thought we were going to call you.’
‘I got bored.’ He stood up in an attempt to shake off his mood. ‘Like I said, I hate shopping. So how’d it go?’
‘Really well,’ Sarah assured him with a smile. ‘We got exactly what we needed. Do you want to see?’
‘No,’ he said without hesitation.
Sarah chuckled. A gorgeous little tinkle that stitched up the edges of his frayed heart. As they made their way to the food court, he had the alarming desire to grab her hand, which he managed to quell only just in the nick of time. His little finger brushed hers for a millisecond before he quickly shoved his fist in his pocket.
What the hell am I thinking?
After ordering some cheap takeaway Chinese, they sat down at a table and he had the odd sensation they were a unit, that the three of them belonged together. He hadn’t felt anything like this since his wife Amanda had been in the picture. This feeling of ease.
Only this time he knew it was false. Because nothing was ever that concrete or that secure. Families broke all the time. And women came and went like migrating birds. Ever since he’d started tailoring his liaisons to his expectations, he’d never got hurt. So what was the incentive to start now?
He saw none.
‘What’s the matter, Dad?’ Chloe nudged him.
‘My honey chicken tastes two days old.’
‘No it doesn’t,’ Sarah protested. She had ordered the same thing.
‘Dad’s very fussy when it comes to food,’ Chloe informed her knowledgeably. ‘Something to do with owning a restaurant, I suppose.’
Sarah raised her eyebrows. ‘Fussy? Really? What else?’
He frowned but Chloe seemed to have got the gist of the game. ‘He’s not a morning person,’ she added.
‘You don’t say.’
‘And he farts a lot after eight pm.’
‘Thanks, Chloe. I think it’s time we found out a little more about Sarah.’ He turned to her. ‘What are you like in the morning?’
It was clearly the wrong question to ask, because she blushed bright red and he immediately got the mental image of her swathed in nothing but white sheets. He really didn’t need that right now.
‘Dreadful, I’m afraid,’ Sarah moaned, not helping matters either. ‘I’m nearly always late for work, which is something I’ve got to change. I seriously have to impress my boss.’
Ah yes, hadn’t she mentioned something before about needing to save her career?
‘What do you do again?’ he asked.
‘Oh, come on, Dad,’ his daughter reprimanded him. ‘You haven’t forgotten already!’
Sarah gave him a knowing smile that made his guts twist. The truth was he’d never asked, so how could he forget? Asking the women in his life questions about themselves was not his style. Too personal. Too commitment-based.
‘I’m in PR.’ Her tone was mocking. ‘You remember now, don’t you?’
‘Yes, that’s right. You might as well tell me why you need to impress your boss again, too.’
‘My company is downsizing and my position is gone unless I pull off the best Valentine’s Day ball ever.’
Chloe screwed up her face. ‘I hate Valentine’s Day.’
He glanced at his daughter approvingly. ‘And so you should.’ But she wasn’t speaking to him.
‘Everyone just plays pranks on each other. Last year I got this card from a a boy I liked –’
‘You liked a boy?’ he started.
‘But it was just a trick and so when I showed it to him he laughed. It was so embarrassing.’
‘You liked a boy?’
They continued to ignore him.
‘That, my friend, is nothing.’ Sarah shook her head. ‘Pranks are the least of my problems on V-Day. I’ve had my fair share of those, but I’ve also had food poisoning, broken dates, airport malfunctions, illness and even death to contend with. This year, I face potential job termination.’
‘Really?’ Chloe seemed unnaturally happy with the news that someone else’s life was worse than hers.
‘Yup, I’m cursed.’
‘What boy?’ he demanded of his daughter, still trying to break his way into the conversation.
‘Boy?’ Chloe finally turned to him with a screwed up nose. ‘What boy? We’re talking about V-Day, Dad.’ She patted his left arm patronisingly. ‘Haven’t you been listening?’
‘Yes, Owen,’ Sarah patted his right one with a laugh in her voice. ‘Keep up.’ The hairs on the limb she had touched rose at the brief contact and he had to spend a second getting his bearings back.
He’d known all along being friends with her was a bad idea.
Why hadn’t he listened to his instin
cts?
Dumb arse.
Chapter 7
Week 2, Day 3: Date 2
Okay, this time she had to be on the money. This guy sounded so interesting and his profile picture was very yummy.
Think positive thoughts.
Think positive thoughts.
Squaring her shoulders, she pushed open one of the double doors to The Blue Saloon and walked in.
For a Saturday night the place had a rather subdued atmosphere, which she liked. It reminded her a little of Owen. Broody and mysterious.
Why are you thinking about Owen? You’re here for Damien.
Right.
Damien.
She scanned the room, avoiding the temptation to check the bar to see if Owen was standing beside it, and her eyes alighted on a man who was seated at one of the many round tables in the centre. He raised a hand and waved at her. She smiled, waved back and started walking towards him.
She was glad he’d chosen a table. After her experience at the bar last week, she’d rather be away from prying eyes – if there were any. Again, she refused to look at the bar to check the situation.
Instead, she allowed herself to drink in Damien’s broad shoulders, friendly smile and warm brown eyes. He was just as handsome in person, if not more so. Her heart rate stepped up a notch. This could be the beginning of something really special. She noticed he didn’t stand up when she reached the table but maybe she was just being old-fashioned. There was no rule that said a guy had to get up to shake your hand or kiss you on the cheek when you first met.
She slid into her seat. ‘I’m Sarah.’
‘Damien.’ He grinned back.
‘Did you find the place okay?’
‘Sure,’ he nodded. ‘It’s a great little bar. I could see myself hanging out here more often.’
Now if that wasn’t a sign, she didn’t know what was.
‘Glad you like it. It’s one of my favourites too.’
‘Before we get settled in,’ he smiled, ‘can I buy you a drink?’
Ah, so he is a gentleman after all.
‘Sure, thanks. That would be lovely.’ She kept her voice low, melodic and, she hoped, a tinsy bit flirty.
‘Great, what would you like?’
‘A cranberry and lime sparkler.’
‘I’ll be right back.’ And then he jumped down from his chair.
Down being the principal word. Beneath those broad shoulders and muscular arms was a pair of short, stumpy, childlike legs.
She squinted in shock at his pint-sized butt as he waddled off.
Damien is a dwarf!
Her hand flew up so that onlookers couldn’t see her gaping mouth as she watched him join the line at the bar. There was only one staff member there and three other people were also waiting to be served. She had never dated a dwarf before. Actually, she’d never met one.
That’s all right.
This isn’t a big deal.
He’s just a bit short.
A lot of women were taller than their partners. It wasn’t like it was unheard of. She just had to get used to the idea.
After all, the size of a person had no bearing whatsoever on whether they were a good person.
She jumped as a wash cloth appeared on the table in front of her and a long-fingered, tanned hand began to wipe down the bench.
‘So, do you need me to rescue you again? I can if you want. Just say the word.’ Owen’s husky voice dripped over her shoulder like honey from a ladle, before he manoeuvred his body into view.
She quickly dropped her hand from her mouth and sat up straighter. ‘Rescue me? Why would I need you to rescue me?’
He lifted the salt and pepper shakers to wipe beneath them, looking up to eyeball her briefly. His eyes literally danced with mirth.
‘I don’t know. You just looked a little rattled, that’s all.’
‘Rattled?’ she repeated self-consciously and then firmly squared her shoulders as she felt her initial shock receding. ‘He’s just threw me a curve ball that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.’
He grinned at her again. ‘Really? What sort of curve ball?’
She glared at him.
‘Okay, okay,’ He straightened. ‘Leaving now. You know where to find me if you need any help.’ With a sublime smile he sauntered off.
She quickly averted her eyes from his perfectly proportioned arse and focused on Damien, who was setting her glass in front her, something she actually found a little disconcerting given his eyes were directly at boob level. Luckily, after putting his own drink down, he hopped back into his seat and she was able to relax a little because his size wasn’t such a distraction.
‘So,’ she sipped her cocktail, ‘I read on your profile that you have a big –’ she choked, ‘I mean, many members in your family?’
‘That’s right.’ He nodded. ‘I have three brothers.’
‘Do you all get along?’
He smiled. ‘Very well. It was actually really fun growing up, having heaps of other kids to play with. What about your family?’
‘I have just one brother, actually, and I don’t see him much because he lives in Melbourne.’
‘I was born in Melbourne. Lived there till I was twelve. But I love Perth. It’s just such a pretty city. I don’t know if I’d ever leave.’
She felt her nerves loosen. ‘Me neither.’
They talked effortlessly for another half an hour about inconsequential subjects and she began to really enjoy herself. There were no awkward silences. The conversation seemed to ebb and flow with a relaxing rhythm. The truth was, he seemed like a lovely guy. Certainly really easy to talk to. She was happy that she hadn’t let Owen’s teasing get to her.
Maybe it was time to step this date up a notch. She lifted her hand, fingering the diamond stud hanging off one ear as she waited for a lull in his description of his next landscaping project.
‘Er, Damien,’ she smiled as invitingly as she could. ‘I’m really enjoying your company and I was wondering if you’d like to order dinner here with me tonight?’
His eyes flicked first to her and then lowered to the stem of his wine glass. He sucked in a breath between his teeth like he was trying to find a diplomatic way to express whatever he had to say.
Uh oh. Did I say something wrong?
He looked up. ‘Sarah, I’m really sorry. I just don’t think I can do this.’
She blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘I just feel that you and I aren’t compatible.’
She blinked again. ‘But we’re having such a nice conversation. I love it that you have a big family and that you own your own gardening business and that you play the guitar.’
‘Yes, and I’m sure you’re a lovely girl. But what is that?’
‘What’s what?’
‘That.’ He lifted a finger and pointed to her hand, which was still holding her earring.
‘Er, a diamond drop.’
‘No, I mean your earlobes. They don’t seem right. Actually, you don’t seem to have much of an earlobe at all.’
‘Oh.’ She laughed, glancing at his perfectly formed free earlobe, with its meaty bit of flesh ripe for pulling. Hadn’t he ever seen an attached earlobe before?
‘My earlobe is just connected to my neck, that’s all,’ she explained. ‘So my lobe is slighter shorter than yours. It’s a recessive gene. I think my mother has the same sort of earlobes as well.’
‘A recessive gene?’ The idea clearly troubled him. ‘That’s what I was afraid of.’
She released her earring and clasped both hands on the table. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘If your deformity is genetic then if we ever had children together they could possibly have ears like yours.’
She gasped. ‘My ears aren’t deformed.’
‘But you don’t have any earlobes.’
‘Yes I do, they’re just attached to my neck.’
He held up his hands. ‘I’m sorry, I just think it would be better for our children’s sake if we
didn’t tempt fate.’
‘What?’
With a sigh, he hastily jumped off his chair. ‘Look, I think I’d better go. We’re not really helping matters talking about it. After all, it is what it is.’ As he walked past her chair, he patted her arm. ‘It was lovely meeting you, though.’
‘But –’
She turned around to watch him waddle swiftly towards the door. I don’t believe this.
‘Okay, so what happened?’
At the sound of Owen’s low timbre she turned to find him already seated at her table.
‘You know, you’ve really got to stop doing that. It’s creepy.’
‘Doing what?’ He grinned.
‘Sitting down at my table without me even noticing. What are you, a ninja?’
‘Well, I do like the sound of that,’ he mused, opening the menu in front of him. ‘Are you hungry? I noticed you haven’t ordered yet.’
‘No, well,’ she threw up her hands, ‘I was going to get some pizza until my date dumped me.’
Owen laughed. ‘He dumped you! What for?’
‘Apparently my ears are deformed.’
‘Really?’ He stretched out a hand to run a long finger around the edge of one. ‘They look all right to me.’ Liquid fire burned a path from his fingertip to her heart and she hastily pushed his hand away and lowered her eyes.
‘Stop that. It’s just my lobes, they’re attached.’
‘Attached to what?’
‘My neck, of course.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘And what a lovely neck it is.’
While she was still trying to recover from his unexpected compliment, he stopped the waitress who was walking by. ‘Joanna, could you get us a couple of pepperoni, mushroom and olive pizzas? She’ll have another cranberry and lime sparkler and I’ll have a beer.’
‘Any one in particular, Owen?’ Joanna asked.
‘Surprise me.’
‘Sure.’ She nodded and with a smile at Sarah departed to procure their meal.
‘Chloe said she really enjoyed shopping with you.
Relieved at the change in subject she looked up. ‘Did she? Well I had a lovely time with her too. I don’t know how you did it, Owen, but you’ve raised a sensitive, well-adjusted and confident young woman.’
‘That sounds like a back-handed compliment.’
‘It’s just with your lifestyle I thought she might be a little more …’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Cynical.’
