‘You think we should pull over?’ He only just managed the words. Her soft, skilful fingers curled around his erection and began to tickle his balls. His breathing intensified. His pulse thudded through his veins. Heat surged beneath her touch. But it was a surreal experience, like he was hovering outside his body, looking in. He barely heard Lauren’s reply.
‘It’s okay, Flynn, we’re almost at my place.’ Within seconds she pulled into a rough gravel driveway. The car came to a stop and a giggling Lauren opened the passenger door.
‘You just gonna sit there all night, staring at the real estate?’ She wiggled her hips in rhythm to her words. He winced at the sound of her voice, a sharp jolt rushing through his head. The view of her skinny legs, held together by a denim skirt too short for the season, blurred in front of him. He blinked to clear his vision.
‘Had a bit too much to drink, Flynn-y boy?’ She reached in and took his hand, trying to pull him out of the car. ‘Never mind. Nurse Lauren has the perfect medicine. Come on.’
Stumbling a little, he trekked up the porch steps, fighting the urge to sit down while Lauren unlocked the door. She switched on lights which almost blinded him and offered him a drink.
‘No thanks,’ he managed, although a voice inside told him a long glass of icy water might be a good idea.
‘Hope you don’t mind if I do.’ Grabbing his shoulders, she ushered him into the lounge room and pushed him down on the couch. ‘You just wait there. I’ll be right back.’
He flopped his head against the back of the leather sofa and took a few moments just to sit. Fancy antique vases and massive, gold-framed paintings of famous Aussie landscapes swam around the room – this was her parents’ house, but they were overseas at the moment, on one of the travel tours they ran. His gut churned. He was contemplating a dash to the bathroom when Lauren skipped into the room.
‘Hey mister, you’re looking a little worse for wear.’ She straddled his hips, her skirt riding up as she manoeuvred on top of him. He realised his fly was still undone. Her warmth seeped onto his groin and he swayed a little, feeling woozy.
‘Have you lost your knickers?’ he asked, his voice hoarse.
‘You noticed.’ She wiggled her hips more and pressed down. There was only the cotton of his jocks between them now. She placed a champagne flute on the side table and palmed her hands against his cheeks. ‘You want me, don’t you, Flynn?’
Chapter Four
Ellie’s sides were aching from laughing so hard. Matilda had always been like a drug she couldn’t get enough of. But as much as she would love to have stayed up later, listening to stories of what Mat had been up to since they were last together in Sydney, she’d be blind not to notice that her godmother was wilting. She’d counted at least ten yawns in the last three minutes, and the bags under Matilda’s eyes were hanging even heavier than before. Ellie now noticed she was thinner too, and knew this couldn’t be intentional – Matilda didn’t believe in fads like dieting. Ellie would never say so, but Mat seemed a lot older than the six months it had been since they’d seen each other. And it worried her.
She feigned a yawn herself. ‘I’m sorry, Mat, but I’m going to have to call it a night.’
‘You’re not jet-lagged?’ Matilda snorted. ‘First sign of old age, they tell me.’
‘Like you’d know,’ teased Ellie, stretching up out of the beanbag she was sitting in at Matilda’s feet. ‘You could do with some rest too. I don’t want Lauren on my back for not looking after you.’
‘You know I hate this,’ sighed Matilda, gripping Ellie’s shoulder as she got out of the old floral armchair. Matilda had always been so independent – bloody-minded, many would have called it. She’d never married – Ellie guessed she didn’t want to be anyone’s unpaid housekeeper – and frequently travelled to exotic places not populated by your average tourist.
‘I know,’ Ellie replied. They started slowly towards the bathroom, Ellie trying not to smother her friend but terrified of her taking another fall. ‘And if you do as you’re told, you’ll be back to your wicked ways in no time. But I’m here until you are.’
Ellie heard Matilda sniff but she covered it quickly. ‘You are a true friend. Thank you.’
‘What? For cooking baked beans on stale crackers and almost killing you with rotten eggs?’
To call dinner a disaster would have been kind. Forgetting that country shops weren’t open on Saturday afternoons, Ellie had made do with what she could find: baked beans and eleven eggs from the chicken coop. Matilda assured her that some would have been fresh that morning. But Ellie had been a city chick too long and had forgotten how to test which were fresh and which weren’t.
Matilda pressed a hand against her chest and laughed. ‘I’ve had a lot worse in my time.’
After promising to make it up with a feeding frenzy tomorrow, Ellie stood by while Matilda washed her face and brushed her teeth. She helped her hobble over to the toilet and left the room to give her some privacy. Then she came back to help her up and usher her into her room.
‘There. Are you sure you’re comfortable?’ she asked, sitting down gently on the edge of Mat’s bed.
‘As comfy as I can be sharing a bed with this.’ Matilda gestured again to the chunky plaster that went from her toes halfway up her calf.
Ellie knew Matilda’s jokes were her way of coping, of lightening the mood. She desperately wanted to snuggle up to Mat like they’d done when Ellie first arrived all those years ago. When she was a lonely, lost, washed up teen, feeling totally abandoned by the one person who was supposed to love her. But tonight she thought Matilda might take her cuddles the wrong way, as sympathy for her injuries. And if there was one thing Mat hated, it was sympathy. So instead, Ellie patted her hand, kissed her on the cheek and stood.
‘Shall I take my old room?’
Matilda cursed and a look of horror flashed across her face. ‘Oh, I’m a silly old fool.’ She tried to hoist herself up.
‘Sit,’ Ellie ordered.
‘I’ve been jabbering on all afternoon and you haven’t even had a chance to unpack or freshen up. About your room …’ Matilda’s voice trailed off.
Ellie rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Matilda. She couldn’t resist another proper hug. ‘You are a silly old fool. I’m here to look after you and don’t you forget it.’
In the end, she lay on the bed until Matilda had fallen asleep, which wasn’t long at all. The house then seemed quiet without Mat’s endless chatter, and Ellie’s thoughts returned quickly to the one thing she’d been trying not to think about. While Lauren had launched right into the subject of Flynn Quartermaine, Matilda hadn’t mentioned him at all. Ellie thought their taboo might have been lifted now she was back in Hope Junction, but it seemed her godmother was leaving that conversation for her to start. And she would. Soon.
Thoughts of just how soon were interrupted as she pushed open the door of her old bedroom. Expecting Mat to have turned the room to other uses, she gasped aloud at the sight in front of her. The room was exactly how she’d left it. Exactly. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh.
Matilda had cleaned and dusted, but aside from that, everything was just as Ellie had left it on that fateful morning. Teenage posters, her collection of troll dolls with rainbow hair, scented candles, lots of photos, a pair of bright purple Doc Martens and …
Forcing breath through her lungs and one foot in front of the other, Ellie stepped into the room and towards the single bed. Her eyes had already been drawn, like magnets, to the simple, white wedding dress that lay draped across the mattress. She stared for a second, mesmerised, before scooping it up and sighing at the feel of soft silk between her fingers. She clutched the A-line gown to her chest as if it were a long-lost teddy bear. Her thoughts immediately travelled back a decade, to a day in Perth when she’d felt like the poster child for happiness.
Marrying Flynn was any girl’s fantasy, and she’d wanted to be his fantasy when he watched her walk down the aisle. Sil
ly, really, but she’d spent hours daydreaming about the expression on his face when he’d see her. She’d loved him so much. So much it made her chest ache if she thought about losing him. Her insides whirled like a rollercoaster whenever she even thought about kissing him. And so, when she’d walked past that boutique and seen the most elegant wedding dress with a fifty-percent-off tag, she’d thought it was fate.
And she’d been euphoric.
The shop had been about to close but she’d dragged in Tegan, her then best friend, and Matilda, and sweet-talked the assistant into letting her try on the dress. When she did, she never wanted to take it off again. It was simply perfect. No need for alterations at all. With Ellie protesting that she’d pay for it, Matilda had handed over her American Express card and someone managed to convince Ellie to take the dress off so the assistant could box it.
A tear dribbled down Ellie’s cheek at the memory. At the thought that she’d once been so sky-high happy.
Thinking she was probably crazy but unable to help herself, Ellie laid her fantasy gown back on the bed and stripped to her mismatched underwear. She wondered if the dress would still fit but, if anything, it was a little on the large side. With great effort she wrangled the tiny pearl buttons at her back and managed to do up every last one of them. She twisted to look in the mirror.
What a sight. Her face was stained red with tears and her hair flat from the cap that had trapped it all day long. She didn’t look like a bride any groom would get choked up over. She looked scary. But despite her appearance, Ellie didn’t look away or remove the dress. She shuddered at the idea of becoming Miss Havisham, but even that miserable vision didn’t spur her to remove it. After a while of standing like this, her eyes caught on something reflected in the mirror. Photo frames littered the old wooden tallboy behind her – most of them sickly sweet heart shapes containing pictures of her and Flynn.
She turned and snatched up a photo. A chill raced up her spine. She sank onto the bed, clutching Flynn’s image tightly in her hands. He was gorgeous. A heartthrob, sex on legs, a devil in denim and dangerously, deliciously beautiful. His all-Australian country-boy grin lit up his whole face, and the gleam in his sea-green eyes spoke volumes about the kind of fun-loving, hardworking bloke he always was.
She’d tried to forget. In the name of self-preservation she’d not taken even one tiny wallet photo when she left. She’d not allowed herself to think about the life they would have started together – the perfect house they were planning to build on Black Stump, the babies they’d dreamed of having … But now she realised how monumentally she’d failed. She may have repressed the memories but she hadn’t erased them. Looking at him now, tracing his eyes, his nose, his lips with her quaking fingers brought it all rushing back. The intensity of first love, first passion. How he had loved her so completely and stood up for her at every turn. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on Flynn and Ellie. Hope Junction had been up in arms when their golden boy – son of third-generation landowners – had started going out with her. Not only did she not come from farming stock, but her mother had dumped her and her father hadn’t even stuck around long enough to see her born. Thankfully the teenage Flynn had already developed both backbone and morals. He didn’t give a damn what the town thought. He saw past her situation to the real Ellie, and before long his dedication won over his parents and the rest of the town too. Pretty soon Ellie was loved and accepted as if she were a fourth-generation local as well, and that was no easy feat. When Flynn had asked her to marry him, everyone was genuinely ecstatic. The only comments about them being too young came from girls Ellie’s age and she wrote off their jibes as simple jealousy.
‘Oh Flynn.’ Sniffing, she looked down at the photo and tried to push away the millions of what if’s that floated into her mind. What if things had been different? What if her mother had never asked to meet her in Perth? What if, for once, she’d put her own needs first and said no? What if Flynn had come with her to Perth as he’d said he would? What if she’d stayed and married him anyway? Would they be happy now? Would they have kids? Some would say her life in Sydney as an actress and celebrity was a charmed one, but her whole body ached with the thought of just how magical it could have been if she’d been living it with Flynn.
Sunday morning, Flynn woke. His head throbbed and a heavy naked weight lay sprawled across his equally naked chest. This realisation roused him like no bucket of cold water ever could.
Glancing round the lamplit room at his surroundings and then taking a closer look at the woman in his arms, he froze. Scenes of the previous night flashed one after the other. Cringeworthy and stupid didn’t even begin to describe what he saw and how he felt. He wanted more than anything to extricate himself from beneath Lauren.
Lauren? Had the drink stolen every ounce of his common sense? Again? He wanted to collect his clothes from wherever they’d landed, flee home, crawl under the bedcovers and stay there all day. He wanted to forget this nightmare had ever happened. But he saw one immediate problem with that tempting scenario. Lauren.
He’d have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to have noticed the mammoth crush she’d harboured for him since primary school. But he’d been fastidious in avoiding her advances – at least until now. Because although she was fun and pretty – if you liked her kind of style – she was also a local. Flings had been few and far between in recent years, but any that Flynn did have, he kept far out side the boundaries of Hope Junction. Local girls were a no-go zone. It was safer and easier that way.
Lauren, on the other hand, was very local. And she was like most single women approaching their thirtieth year. Stars in her eyes when it came to weddings, babies and happily-ever-afters. But after all Flynn had been through with Ellie, he didn’t have a marrying bone left in his body.
He cursed himself and his lack of restraint, not so much for not resisting Lauren, but for getting so absolutely hammered that he thought hooking up with her was a good idea in the first place. He’d been dry for eight years now, and although his addiction was always in the back of his mind, he’d forgotten how much of a tool he became, and the kind of stupid choices he made, when he got drunk. It wasn’t pretty, nor something he was proud of.
Lauren shifted on his chest. She made a tiny noise like a mewling cat and opened her eyes. Their faces so close, he could do nothing but look straight into her eyes. She smiled like a Cheshire; he gulped like a minnow facing a great white.
‘Feeling better this morning, Flynn?’
He couldn’t exactly give her the truth. That her face was the last thing he wanted to see first thing in the morning.
‘Last night was something else,’ she went on, crawling her nails up his chest and bringing the pads of her fingers to rest on his lips. He tried not to flinch. ‘But next time, let’s make sure we finish it off, hey?’
His heart skipped a hopeful beat at her words. Could it be possible they hadn’t actually had sex? He had to know.
‘I’m … really sorry, Lauren, but my memory’s pretty hazy about last night. Did we …?’
‘I should probably be offended that you can’t remember it.’ She giggled and began toying with the flesh at his ear. He summoned all his self-control not to tap her hand away, raise his voice and demand she tell him the truth. Instead, he smiled the smile he’d been told, on many occasions, was a danger to womankind.
‘Well?’
‘You passed out before we got that far,’ she laughed, then added something else. But Flynn didn’t take in these last words. He was too busy thanking the Lord for small mercies, promising he’d never touch another drop as long as he lived. But the reprieve didn’t last long. Lauren dipped her head and touched her hot, wet lips to his parched ones. A quick worker, she slid her tongue inside his mouth barely before he’d registered her kiss. Where, in other circumstances, his first thoughts might be of his morning breath, in this instance his only concern was how to escape her clutches. Hell, he’d be happy if he had bad breath and it scared her off.
‘Sorry Lauren, with the ram sale not far away, I really can’t afford to have a Sunday off. Work to be done, sheep to check on.’
‘Damn sheep.’ Her lower lip practically touched her chest, but she rolled over and scrounged around on the floor for her discarded clothes. If there was one thing a country girl understood, it was that nothing, no one, came before the farm.
Seizing the opportunity, Flynn scrabbled off the couch, located his shirt and boots and yanked them both on in record time. He knew he should stop and apologise to Lauren. He should explain he hadn’t meant to lead her on, that he hadn’t been thinking straight. But whatever way he put it, she’d be offended and upset. And the honest truth was that he just didn’t have the mental energy to deal with this right now. Not on top of everything else.
So without so much as a kiss on the cheek, he thanked Lauren for letting him stay, and fled.
After crying herself to sleep, Ellie slept more soundly than she had in a long time. Maybe it was the emotion of the day before, maybe it was the jet lag, maybe it was the quiet of the country, but in the morning, it was only the sound of the kettle whistling that roused her. It was a noise she hadn’t heard in as long as she could remember. In her other life no one bothered with the time it took to boil a kettle. It was either Starbucks or the staff-room machine, which percolated good, strong coffee twenty-four hours a day. It took a second for her to recognise the sound, and then she realised it meant Mat was already up and trying to fend for herself.
Ellie sprang into action. Her hand was on the door handle when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. That was no fancy nightie she saw, it was a wedding dress. Her wedding dress. A shiver ran over her skin and a despondent feeling returned to her chest. With what felt like a brick weighing her down, it was an effort to walk even the few steps back to the bed. She sat and stretched behind her to the row of miniscule buttons. If she kept on like this, she was in danger of returning to that dark place she’d gone to when she first left Flynn and gave up everything that mattered to her. A place so gloomy it had taken all her willpower to drag herself out. She never wanted to go there again. Besides, she was in Hope for Matilda, not to revisit past demons.
Jilted Page 4
