“Who says I want to be in your life?”
That’s the part he latched on to? “You sat right next to me.”
“There was a spare seat.”
“You came to my house.”
“I was returning your phone.”
“You bought me a brand-new one.”
“I was replacing what I broke.”
My mouth opens and closes. His quirks in amusement. This man is even more infuriating than Shane is. He has an answer for everything, and he’s gaslighting me, trying to tell me I’m imagining things.
I’m not. I know that look.
In his eyes, there’s mischief, and a hint of danger.
That’s what gets me, the danger. It’s how I know I’m not imagining this. I have a habit of falling for dangerous men. And they have a habit of taking an interest in me.
I’m not imagining anything.
I find my voice. “You’re wanted by the police.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with you. But it also isn’t true.”
“You’re trying to tell me that that cop was just looking for you because you had a playdate?”
He laughs, a deep rumbling sounds that sets off some tingling inside me. I clamp it down and fold my arms tight across my chest, hoping he doesn’t see my nipples pushing through my shirt.
“No. He had a good reason to be looking for me. But he isn’t looking for me anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because what I did isn’t really something I’d go to court over.”
“What did you do?”
“I knocked his hat off his head.”
“You what?”
“I knocked his hat off his head,” he repeats.
I frown and just look at him. I don’t understand why the hell someone would do that.
Once again, he reads my mind and explains. “I do a lot of free running. He was sitting on a park bench that I jumped over, and while I flipped, I tapped his hat and it fell on the ground. He grabbed it and chased me, obviously planning on teaching me a lesson if he caught me. But he didn’t catch me, and there’s no warrant out for my arrest. So, technically, I’m not wanted by the police.”
Taking a moment to let this information sink in, I unfold my arms and place my hands on my hips. “Free running as in parkour?” He nods. “And you knocked a cop’s hat off?” He nods again. “What are you, twelve?”
A grin lights up his face. “Twenty-seven, actually. But who’s counting?”
“So that’s what you were doing when you ran into me—free running?”
Another nod. “I cut along the bank of the river, then came out of the reserve. When I saw he’d caught up to me while I was helping you up, I shimmied up a tree.”
For some reason, I got an image in my mind of him in belly dancing attire. It takes a second for me to clear it and process what he said.
“You climbed a tree to hide from a cop? That’s... that’s....”
“Genius?” he offers, folding his arms across his proudly puffed-out chest.
“No. Insane.”
He shrugs. “I’ve been called worse.”
I look up at him, studying his dark eyes, his strong jaw, his tanned skin and too-long jet-black hair. He’s quite beautiful, charming in a way, and completely confidant in himself. I can tell that he always expects to get his way.
“I’m going home,” I say eventually, thumbing over my shoulder in the direction of the bus stop.
He lifts his head in understanding. “Let me drive you. It’s not far from my place.”
Smiling in a way that is half-amused and disbelieving, I shake my head. “I already told you to forget where I live. I don’t want you in my life.”
His eyes flash with something that could be interest or annoyance and his smile falters. Just for a second. “Did I say your place was near mine? I meant to say that you’d have to give me directions.”
“Goodbye, Flynn,” I say, almost smiling. Then I turn away and walk to the bus stop, glad when he doesn’t continue to follow.
6
“I’M FLUSHED AND my neck won’t stop looking blotchy,” I whine from the bathroom when I’m getting ready for my date with Joel on Tuesday night. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a first date that I’m shaking with nerves. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever officially been on a classic first date. Most of the guys I’ve dated didn’t really do the whole wine-and-dine thing. They basically just claimed me and absorbed me into their lives, or they strung me along like a little puppy chasing after a ball. When I think back, it’s kind of humiliating. Did I not think I was good enough to go on an actual date? Did I think no man would want me if I expected to be treated right?
‘Know your worth. Then add tax.’
My green eyes look wide and serious in the mirror as the words from my inspiration board jump out at me, a truth that hits me a little harder than it ever has before. Why didn’t I want better for myself? Why didn’t I expect more? I’m twenty-four years old. Why didn’t I think I was worth something as simple as a fancy restaurant?
“Let me help you,” Coral suggests, arriving in the doorway of the bathroom and taking the tube of primer from my hand.
“Why didn’t I think I was worth more?” I ask her. Even though she’s only been in my life since I started my quest for betterment, she knows all about my past life and relationships.
“Nervous?” She applies product to my red cheeks, shifting my hair to the side while she blends my hairline.
I release my breath. “Very.”
“You’ll have a wonderful time with Joel. He seems lovely, and you deserve lovely.”
“But why didn’t I think I deserved it before?”
“I think you just wanted affection, Ruby. We all want love, and sometimes we mistake attention for caring.” She places a finger under my chin and lifts, tilting my head back so she can apply some colour corrector to the blotches on my neck. “Just do me a favour and remember that your worth goes far beyond what any man wants from you. They aren’t the be-all and end-all.” There’s a sad edge to her voice.
“Coral, are you and Shane OK?” I haven’t seen Shane once since Sunday, and she hasn’t been out with him either.
“We’re in a fight,” she responds, her voice even as she dabs at my skin.
“Not because of me, I hope.” As much as Shane annoys me, I care about Coral and I know she loves him. Lord only knows why, because I think he’s a selfish arse. But I know she has her reasons and I hate to see her hurting.
“No. Because of him.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Pressing her lips together, she scrunches her nose a little, then shakes her head. “Not really. This was a long time coming and it was about a lot of things. The gist of it is that I can only stand still for so long. If we’re not moving forward after being together for years and surviving the giant expanse of an ocean, then I don’t know what the point of all this is.”
“You want to get married?”
She picks up my foundation and brushes it over my face and neck. “Yes. I want to get married. I also want to have kids before I’m thirty. I’m twenty-eight now. That big three-oh is looming in the not-too-distant future. I need more from him, and if he’s not willing to give it...” She shrugs, twisting her mouth in a way that I know means she doesn’t want to say the words that come next.
“I understand.” Coral would make a wonderful mother. She looks after me even though I tend to behave like a giant baby and she doesn’t even break a sweat. “And I hope Shane comes to his senses and realises what a great woman he has in his life.”
She laughs as she starts applying highlighter to my cheeks. “No you don’t. You hate him.” There’s lightness to her words. She understands that my problems with Shane are more the ‘he acts like an annoying brother’ type than the ‘I wish he was never born’ type.
“I don’t hate him. He just annoys me. But I love you, and what makes you happy is all that matter
s.”
Her lips curve in a small smile. “I love you too, Ruby. I’ll miss you when I go.”
A pang hits me in the chest. When she goes? I’ve become so used to having her around that even though I knew this was a consideration, I kind of didn’t expect that she’d return to London at all. “Don’t talk like that. He’ll come around.”
“We’ll see,” she says quietly, before changing the topic and asking what colour eyeshadow I’d prefer.
***
Joel picks me up on time—which is another new for me—in his Sepang Blue Audi S6 sedan, which in layman’s terms is a shiny blue, regular-shaped car with a fancy badge slapped on the front. When he opens the door for me, I notice that new car smell as I slide into the dark leather seat.
“You look stunning tonight,” he says with a grin when he gets behind the wheel.
I look down at the dress I bought from Boohoo especially for the occasion. It’s a black skater dress with a cream-coloured lace overlay that stops just above my knees. It’s pretty and girly, and it makes me feel special.
“Thank you,” I say, blushing slightly. “You’re looking pretty stunning yourself.”
He grins as he starts the car. He has on a charcoal and white striped button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the top of his muscular forearms. On his bottom half are black chinos and black shoes that look newly polished. Secretly, I’m glad that he doesn’t have the cuffs of his pants rolled up with his shoes on sans socks, because I kind of hate that look. His wavy brown hair is combed and styled, and he’s freshly shaven. All up, he looks very put together, and I’m glad that he seems to have gone to a lot of trouble.
Once again, it’s something I’m not used to. I seriously have had the worst taste in men, and I kick myself over and over again for not having higher expectations.
He takes me to Whitefire, which fronts Lane Cove River not far from where Rae is. By the time we arrive, some of my nerves have subsided and we’re chatting comfortably. He walks a step behind me with his hand gently placed on the small of my back and tells me that I can order whatever I’d like.
My eyes go wide. “You might be sorry you said that,” I respond, looking over the menu and trying to decide on what I want to eat. “I might be small, but I can pack a bit away.”
I don’t think the smile has left his lips for a moment since we sat down. “I’d like to see that.”
Lifting my brow, I accept his challenge with a nod. “Remember you said that,” I tell him. Then I turn to the waiter and order the French onion soup and ravioli as my entrée, the crab-crusted barramundi as my main with an extra side of chips and aioli, and the lemon panna cotta for dessert.
When I finish, he’s just looking at me, his chin leaning on his hand and an amused grin on his face. Then he closes his menu and hands it to the waiter. “I’ll have the same,” he says, his eyes on me, twinkling.
“Something to drink?” the waiter asks. It’s the one thing I forgot about.
“Lady’s choice,” Joel says, gesturing for me to do the honours.
I open my mouth for a second, not sure what to choose because I don’t know what he normally drinks. But the waitress in me kicks in and I take up the challenge, perusing the wine menu for something I’ve tried before and liked. “A bottle of the Cloudy Bay Sauvignon Blanc, please.” It’s a New Zealand wine that is cool, crisp and dry. Perfect for a warm evening.
When the waiter leaves, Joel lets out a chuckle. “You certainly know how to order.”
“When you’ve been in hospitality for as long as I have, you pick up a thing or two.” I rearrange the cutlery in front of me. Not because it’s sitting incorrectly but because I’m nervous. I feel kind of bad now that I ordered so much.
Stopping what I’m doing, I meet his eyes. “I’ll totally pay half of this, by the way. I’m not trying to stiff you with the cheque.”
He chuckles. “It’s perfectly fine. This is my treat. And besides, I’m going to be highly entertained watching you try to fit all of that in. It’ll be money well spent, I assure you.”
I lift my hand to my face and talk to the side of it. “Should have worn my stretchy pants.”
His chuckle turns into a burst of laughter. Pretty soon we’re getting our first course and the conversation is flowing along with the wine.
Turns out Joel is a solicitor during the day, teaching self-defence a couple of times a week as a side thing because he thinks learning to fight is a necessity in these dangerous times.
“What makes you say that we live in dangerous times?” I ask, sipping my wine.
“You just have to read the papers, I suppose. Gang violence is on the rise. The general population seems to be completely unsettled by foreign policies. You can feel the disquiet in the air, don’t you think?”
Inhaling a deep breath, I nod slowly. He’s completely right—the world is changing. And it’s scary.
“Do you only teach women’s self-defence?” I take a bite of the barramundi and stifle a moan as the fish melts like butter over my tongue.
“Good?” He flakes some of the fish off with his fork and brings it to his lips, nodding as the flavour fills his mouth. Unlike me, he does moan out loud. “Mmm.”
“Right?” I add more to my fork, closing my eyes for a moment to savour the taste of it.
When I open my eyes he's watching me, half-amused, half-intrigued. Then he drops his gaze and focuses on his own food, clearing his throat before he steers the conversation back on track. “I also teach kids on Friday nights at the youth club.”
“And this is all out of the kindness of your heart? No monetary compensation?”
He grins. “If that’s your way of asking if I get paid to teach, no, I don’t. But the gym does give me free membership, so you may not find me so noble now that you know that.” He winks.
“So you fight crime in the courts and teach protection in your spare time?”
Wincing a little, he finishes the food in his mouth before he speaks. “When you put it like that, it makes me sound awesome. But I actually practice corporate law, which is probably the least virtuous of them all.”
“What's that? Like the buying and selling of companies?”
He shrugs. “In a way.”
“And do you like dealing with businesses and all their legal needs?”
Another shrug. “It's a job.”
“You don't like talking about it?”
Reaching for his glass, he takes a sip of wine. “I'll talk about it. But it's seriously boring.”
“Try me,” I say, sitting back in my chair. “Talk to me like I'm a work buddy and you’re comparing your days at the water cooler.”
With a chuckle, he places his glass back on the table. “You know that show Suits?” I nod. “Well, it's like that, except those moments where you see Mike and Harvey looking through fat books and sitting at computers is the majority of it. The cool cases that really use your brain don't come along that often.”
“So you don't see yourself staring in Suits, the Australian version?”
“The Office Australia, perhaps. Definitely not Suits. I don't know anyone as cool as Harvey Specter.”
“What about Louis? Do you know people like him?”
He nods, laughing. “Oh yeah, I know plenty of him.”
By the time dessert is finished and we're on to coffee, my cheeks hurt from laughing so much. It's been such an enjoyable evening that I'm sad that it’s coming to a close.
“I've had such a great time with you tonight,” I tell him as we walk to his car. We're side by side but not touching. I kind of want him to hold my hand, but I'm not sure how this first date protocol goes.
“Me too, it was grea—holy fuck!”
“Heads-up.” The sound of feet pounding gravel fills the air as about ten guys and a couple of girls free run through the parking lot, jumping over parked cars and vaulting over the wooden guard rails. One guy jumps from the roof of a car and sails over our heads, landing just a few feet from wher
e we stand.
“Hey, Ruby.”
Flynn.
He doesn't stop moving, giving me no time to respond before he runs off with his parkour-loving buddies.
“That fucker!” bursts from my lips.
“You know that guy?” Joel asks, his expression furrowed with confusion. The last thing either of us expected was a parkour convention at the end of our date.
“Barely,” I respond. “He broke my phone the other day.”
“Is that why your screen is cracked?”
I nod.
“He should replace it.”
I think of the brand-new phone sitting in the fruit bowl on my kitchen table. “I don’t want him to.”
Sensing something in my tone, he places his hands on my shoulders and looks down at me intently. “Did he do something to you?”
I shake my head. “No. He just parkoured into me. It was an accident—more of a pain in the arse than anything. No biggie.”
“Well, if you decide you want your phone fixed, there's a guy at my firm who could help make that happen.”
“I don't think it needs to get to that. But thanks. And thanks again for dinner. It really was the most fun I've had in a long time.”
He places his hand on the small of my back and guides me to his car. I delight in the simple touch. This evening has been everything I imagined a first date should be like.
“I don't know if that says a lot about tonight or if your life is just really boring,” he jokes.
His warm hand feels nice against my skin, even though it's separated by a layer of fabric. Even though it isn't trying to slide down farther and grab my arse....
Is it weird that I wish he would?
“My life isn't boring. Tonight really was fun. Thanks for inviting me out.”
I rest against his car as he opens the door for me.
He leans down a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You're more than welcome.” His voice is soft, almost like a whisper, and I see him look to my lips.
He wants to kiss me.
Pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, I tilt my head upward in expectation.
A Beautiful Danger (Beautiful #7) Page 4
