by S. K Munt
‘Call off the search and rescue squad and tell Loveridge he can board his damn plane,’ Lincoln said to the dash of his car, eyeing Ivyanne’s legs as they stretched out under the table. She was using one foot to rub the underside of the other. At the small table next to her, another man was not so subtly staring at her bare feet over his wife’s elbow. There was something so sensual about every move Ivyanne made that going unnoticed was an impossible dream.
‘I’ve found her. I’ll have her back within the hour.’
‘You did?!’ Garridan’s response was expelled more than asked. ‘Oh sweet Triton when I get my hands on that girl-’
‘Woman.’ Lincoln reminded him, cutting him off, less intimidated by Tristan’s uncle now that they were separated by a postal code. ‘Maybe if we started treating her like one, she’d stop rebelling like a child.’ With that, Lincoln hung up, wondering if he’d just shot himself in the foot with Garridan Loveridge but realizing that he didn’t care. Ivyanne was his priority-and she was safe. It was ridiculous for any of them to assume she’d do something completely foolish. Out of all of them-she was the only one who was supposed to be calling the shots.
Lincoln twisted his key out of the ignition and the car purred to a gentle sleep. He unfolded himself from the car, shut the door behind him and locked it over his shoulder with the tag on his keys.
Ivyanne looked up at the beep sound-and he saw every muscle in her body tighten and then release like noodles when she recognised him. She looked both guilty and haughty and absolutely incredible-the pastel tones of her tourist get-up making her tan glow in contrast even though her face had paled.
The coffeehouse was a large barn-like structure set just back from the highway and nestled against a plantation, cane on one side, coffee plants on the other. Palms and other native blooms hugged the blue aluminum siding and dangled from the large overhang of the roof, all swaying slightly in the breeze kicked up by the passing semi-trailers. Several tables had been set up on the exterior of the grounds-some under trees, others along the front of the building-but Ivyanne of course, had opted for the one under a jacaranda in the state of shedding it’s lavender blooms, as removed from the other diners as possible. The table in front of her was empty.
‘New look?’ Lincoln asked in a monotone, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he came to a stop a few feet back from her.
‘I had to pick something up in town.’ Ivyanne responded shortly. ‘Airlie Beach, North Queensland’ was embroidered onto her hat and ‘G’Day from Down Under’ stitched in bold black letters across the pale blue, shapeless shirt. She looked as ridiculous as she did adorable. ‘And I didn’t want to go into the dressier shops in half a bikini and a towel.’ She glanced towards the building’s entrance, sighed and then turned back to him. ‘Look I’ve already ordered okay? Can I at least drink my damn latte before you drag me back?’
‘Sure.’ Lincoln gestured to the chair across from her. ‘Can I sit? Or were you meditating?’
‘If you let me have a coffee, you can skip rope and yodel.’
‘Yodeling isn’t my strength.’
‘Then this probably isn’t going to work between us. Nothing makes me hotter than a good yodel.’
‘Damn. And here I was working out like some chump.’ Lincoln smiled as he sat in the chair across from her, relieved to see her own lips twitch tellingly. ‘Though you might thank me when I physically restrain Garridan from putting you over his knee later.’ He paused, then snorted. ‘Is it weird that I just heard a dirty response from Tristan in my head to that?’
Ivyanne’s lip twitched in a restrained smile. ‘Occupational hazard of being in close quarters with Loveridge-dirty sarcasm.’ She leaned back in her chair. ‘So Garridan’s freaking out enough to call you back from wherever you were to come look for me, huh?’
Lincoln shrugged. ‘I was only halfway between here and Airlie when he called.’
One eyebrow peeked over the top of her sunglasses-so new that she’d yet to peel the UV rating sticker off the corner of one lens. ‘And you found me because Garridan installed a tracking device while I was sleeping….?’
Lincoln laughed. ‘No. I had a feeling you would be looking for coffee, and you wouldn’t have snuck out for an instant either.’ He smiled at her, feeling quite pleased with himself. ‘That’s when I remembered the logo,’ he gestured to the giant golden mermaid sign suspended above the door. ‘And I figured: Where else would a renegade caffeine addicted mermaid flee to?’
‘A beach in Brazil sounds mighty tempting right now…’ Ivyanne chuckled. ‘But here I am so well done. I see I’ll have to be watching my back more often.’
‘If you do, you’re going to catch me checking out your ass a lot more.’
Ivyanne shrugged. ‘Can’t blame you. I have quite a nice tush, don’t I?’
Lincoln reeled back, exaggerating his shock, even though it was considerable. ‘Did Ivyanne Court, world’s most modest woman...actually just high-five her own ass?’
The guy from the next table over, a balding man in his mid forties, choked on a mouthful of coffee. His wife started thumping his back, unaware that he wasn’t giving the topic at hand-that of stripping their bathroom tiles-much reflection.
‘Someone ought to. And it’s not like I can let either of you two do it so…’ Ivyanne wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Have I scandalized you? Ruined my perfect little reputation?’
‘No.’ Lincoln said softly, leaning in and resting his hand on her wrist. ‘I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to realize how intoxicatingly hot you are.’
Ivyanne laughed softly then leaned back, folding her arms across her chest once more. ‘Okay so I’m cute but that’s old news…..You left forty five minutes ago. How are you not almost to Bloomsbury by now?’
‘I made a pit-stop. Got some fuel and the paper. Plus, there’s this nursery back near the turn-off I wanted to check out.’ He paused. ‘Mum loved Hibiscus trees and a few at the resort are dying from the lack of rain so...’ He let his voice trail off.
‘My mum loved jasmine and white roses. Anything fragrant and white.’ Ivyanne said softly. ‘At our old place-the one we just sold-jasmine grew in pots on all the verandahs and curled around the balcony’s. When the wind blew, the scent would fill the house. I loved it.’
‘That’s how I feel when I’m standing near you and the wind blows through your hair,’ Lincoln admitted.
Ivyanne pressed her forehead into her palm and stared down at the table top. ‘Lincoln, can we not? Not until I’ve had some caffeine anyway. I’m tempted to strangle the next man who says one more sweet, wonderful thing to me…’
Lincoln studied her, feeling discomfort creep back into his gut. ‘Then...well I was going to ask why you became a fugitive...but now I’m assuming it has something to do with Tristan, huh?’
At that moment, a waitress appeared at their side.
‘One soy latte?’ She asked, posing the question to Lincoln. He motioned to Ivyanne, and the waitress placed it on the table. Ivyanne’s fingers were already reaching for the sugar sachets-also locally produced. The scent of molasses from the mill hung over Proserpine almost constantly in a thick, cloying cloud.
It was a strange little town, flanking the highway near the turn-off to Airlie Beach, but as it was bordered by mountains on both sides, one would never guess that ocean was nearby from where they sat on the side of the rain-starved Bruce Highway.
But Proserpine was growing every year, and it’s architecture and collection of quirky stores and eateries were beginning to appear on Tourism guides. No longer was it a place to stop for fuel on the way to Townsville or The Whitsunday’s-but a place to stop and smell the roses. Or as the case was that day-the molasses and coffee grinds.
‘What about for you?’ The waitress turned back to him and smiled invitingly. A friendly barista smiled turned up four notches to ‘flirt’ mode. ‘Can I get you a cuppa?’
‘A water would be great, thanks.’ Lincoln said, pushing
down his craving. She looked vaguely let down by that, no doubt eliminating him as a possible future husband because he didn’t share in her addiction. Lincoln waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to Ivyanne. She was furiously stirring sugar into her coffee and looking irritated.
‘Soy?’ He asked, raising an eyebrow.
Ivyanne shrugged. ‘Someone suggested I try it...apparently if I’m going to drink coffee, there are clean ways to do it…’
‘Someone?’ He repeated.
‘Yes,’ she admitted softly, slowing her stirring pace. ‘Tristan suggested it, okay? But can you blame me for taking his advice? The man knows health, after all.’
Lincoln exhaled slowly, mentally preparing himself for the information he was determined to glean from her. ‘What did he do to piss you off? Today, I mean?’
‘Nothing….it’s more what he said…’
‘Which was?’
‘I can’t discuss this with you!’ Ivyanne snapped, crumpling up the used sugar sachets and putting them on her saucer. ‘And you don’t want me to.’
Lincoln felt that heart-sinking sensation again. If she didn’t want to broach the subject, how badly did he not want to hear it? ‘It can’t be worse than where my imagination is already going.’ He pointed out. He reached out and pulled her shades off her eyes, so she couldn’t conceal secrets behind them. ‘Ivyanne for us to make it as a couple, we have to be friends too. I already know you and Tristan have that chummy bond-and I know you discuss all of your feelings for me-with him.’ He tilted his head to the side. ‘Please...do me the reverse honor, okay? Don’t shut me out where you let him in. I want to be there for you too. And until Ardhi changed me, you let me be that person-even if you couldn’t be completely upfront-I felt like a confidante of sorts.’ He sighed. ‘You can’t take the ring off your finger, and your hand out of mine and your head off my shoulder. I’ll cease to exist without at least one of those links, keeping you close.’
Ivyanne’s gaze softened, the antagonized dark green fading to pale. She took a sip of her coffee, both hands lovingly cupping the glass, silently appraising him over the rim before saying: ‘He inferred that I’m trying to play down my feelings for him.’
Lincoln felt confused. ‘But...you’re doing that for both of us on purpose right now. Holding back, yada yada...’
‘Yeah well, Tristan doesn’t see it as a balanced retreat. He accused me of holding back my true feelings for him.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Like he’s sunshine itself and I’m carrying around eighty plus sunscreen or something when I should be tanning.’
Lincoln didn’t know whether to laugh at Tristan’s arrogance or shiver in fear that he was right. He shifted uncomfortably. ‘Okay I’m not stupid. I know Tristan basically looks like he fell from some painted chapel ceiling somewhere and landed on a movie screen. And I get the part where he has a…’ He shifted again. God, Ivyanne was right! He hated talking about this with her! But he’d thrown down the friendship gauntlet-he couldn’t run in the opposite direction now-not when there was so much to learn.
‘A large coffee instead of a regular?’ Ivyanne supplied, lips pursed over a threatening smile.
‘Whatever..’ Lincoln blushed, knowing he was a little more than ‘regular’ but realizing it didn’t matter-Ivyanne had only Tristan to compare it to so either way, he was going to fall short. ‘But-how attracted to him are you? Is it so much that...that maybe you aren’t seeing him clearly? For his flaws or his...other crap? Radiance or whatever else he called it?’
Ivyanne smirked. ‘To be clear-he didn’t say ‘radiance’. That was my ad-lib. He’s not that hung up on himself.’
‘And yet the question remains...and you my dear, do not have permission to dodge it.’
Ivyanne’s shoulders sagged. She appeared to be mulling it over. When she replied, she didn’t look up: ‘A lot. I know he’s a siren and so am I but sometimes it just feels like he’s singing to me even when he’s not spoken a word.’
Lincoln had always wondered if disemboweling would be the worst way to go. Now he knew it to be true. His hands curled around the sides of the table and he rested his head against the dusty timber, trying to get a handle on himself.
‘Well…’ he swallowed hard. ‘Fuck.’
Ivyanne lifted her forehead, her gaze tentative. ‘Yeah.’ She said nothing else, offered no apology, didn’t sugar coat her admission by throwing him a bone. The silence was so thick and awkward that Lincoln couldn’t stand it. He pushed away from the table and went to where the tree met the fence line, trying to sort his thoughts and hating the neat order he managed to get them arranged in. Either way he looked at it-Ivyanne wanted Tristan more. Or, in the very least, believed she did. He gripped the rough wood of the fence, realizing that this moment was almost identical to the night in the tree fort. That time, she’d walked. Was this a moment of similar significance? Was her admission her selection? So soon?
The urge to surrender overwhelmed him-to throw in the towel before she could rip it from his grip. He could walk away and follow the high road, or he could cling on and be dumped. He glanced at her over the shoulder, and saw that the speckled light filtering through the Jacaranda tree was casting disillusioning shadows over her face. She didn’t look like Ivyanne in that moment, but Ivanna. Withdrawing from the battle wasn’t an option. And his sorrow was the result of not having fought hard enough in the past.
‘So when I made love to you….’ He turned his body to hers, wetting his lips. ‘It didn’t compare? Is that what you’re saying?’
Ivyanne’s head snapped up, and she looked astonished. ‘How could you even ask that?’
He stared at her. ‘Well your attraction to him-’
‘Attraction Link. Pull. Draw. A marked Son blessed with wicked mojo. When I went to bed with Tristan, I did so with a very persuasive stranger who held nothing back.’ She looked away again. ‘But when I went to...beach.. with you-it was with the love of my life. There’s no comparison there and no winner. How could you even think there would be?’
He frowned. ‘Well Adele said that Tristan-’
‘Adele? The girl you just dumped?’ Ivyanne rolled her eyes. ‘I’m coming around to her Lincoln but she won’t be speaking for me. I’ve been turning two very distinct occasions over in my mind for a month now and believe me when I say that you held your own! Tristan was wild, yes, but I don’t doubt for a second that you could be just as-’ she blushed. ‘You’re incredible in bed Lincoln. If you’re worried that I’m doubting your ability...snap out of it.’
Relief overcame the tension in Lincoln’s body, relaxing his limbs. ‘Oh. And...and yes I could, and will here and now if I need to prove it.’
Ivyanne snickered. ‘Not necessary, but thanks.’ She sighed and leaned back, staring up at the canopy above. ‘The question is not whether you can turn me inside out in bed, Lincoln, but if Tristan can make love to me like you do. That’s what I doubt. That’s what I need to know. But it’s impossible to find out now. You can’t make love to someone who has half of your heart knowing it would devastate the man who has the other. I can’t, in good conscience, look at either of you without feeling the other’s pain. That’s why I don’t want you around-you make my heart pound and he steals my breath. I was counting on being overwhelmed by one of you-or the memory of one of you-when I left, but neither dominated my thoughts. It makes me wonder….’
‘What?’
She locked her eyes on his. ‘If I love either of you enough.’
That hurt, and he couldn’t disguise his grimace. Her declaration actually dredged up every feeling of hate he had towards his rival-for making her doubt what she’d always known with his ridiculous sexual thrall.
‘How can you even say that after all we’ve been through?’ He asked.
She shrugged. ‘I’ve been stomping my feet for four months now trying to prove that I’m not as perfect as you guys have convinced yourselves of, and there it is.’ She stood up, walking towards him and lowering her vo
ice. ‘I used to look at you guys with longing Lincoln...now all I feel is guilt.’ She came to a rest beside him and stared out at the fields in the distance. ‘Lately, I’ve wondered if maybe I should just give up on you both. Find someone who can tolerate having half a heart, because you both deserve better than one.’
‘There is none better than you.’
Ivyanne looked up at him, smiling sadly. ‘No stronger siren, no. My pheromones are unequalled, as is my beauty. I see that now. I can draw you in with one crooked finger and you can’t for the life of you, resist it.’ She reached up and pushed his hair out of his face with petal-soft fingers. ‘But there are worthier mermaids. Like Pintang, and Grace...They could offer you two complete devotion right now. Whereas I can’t even promise to kiss you without wondering if I’m kissing the wrong man.’
Lincoln glowered at her. ‘I don’t want Grace.’
‘Because I won’t allow you to want her.’ Ivyanne counteracted.
‘Oh come on.’ It was his turn to roll his eyes. ‘I’m in love with you but I have my own mind.’
‘Not as much as you think.’ Ivyanne said, still smiling. ‘Don’t you ever wonder why I’m so coveted? What makes my bloodline so elite, considering how much more powerful Ardhi is? Roan was? They were Marked-not Court. Ardhi could kill me in an instant and create his own line of turned mer, so why doesn’t he have the crown? What makes me so special if all I can do is grow good hair and piss you and Tristan off?’
As she asked the question, Lincoln realized he had been thinking along those lines since he’d first had the whelk pressed to his ear but had never really articulated the thought. Sure Anna L’Autienne had been bursting with power-but as far as he knew, none of her descendants had shared a single one of those gifts. They were simply prettier, faster and stronger than the others.
‘Why?’ He asked.
