Jeez, he was in trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’d heard that you shouldn’t pee in the Amazon because there are tiny piranhas that swim up your urine stream and into your dick,” Colm said.
Nate coughed into his beer as everyone else burst out laughing. “Fucking hell. I’m glad I didn’t know that before I left.”
Mia smiled, meeting Freya’s warm gaze. Colm, Nate and Ash were getting on like a house not only on fire, but with lighter fluid poured all over it. Mia was half-surprised, half-not. Surprised because she could still remember the awkward dinner they’d all had with Ross where Nate and Ash had tried so hard to include him into the conversation and failed on every account. And not surprised because she was beginning to understand what a wonderful guy Colm was beneath the rather reserved and reticent first impression he tended to give.
It was early evening, and the six of them were finally alone. Freya’s family and lots of their other friends had been there for several hours, but they’d gradually departed, leaving the close friends gathered in Ash and Grace’s large living room, sprawled on the sofa and chairs, with Freya on the floor curled up next to Nate.
“I’m so glad you guys had a good time,” Mia said. “What are your plans for the future? Are you going to travel again, or move abroad?”
Freya and Nate exchanged a private, secret smile. “Actually…” Freya said, “…we’ve got something to tell you. We’re staying put for a while because…we’re getting married.”
Cheers broke out and they all got up to hug one another and pass on their congratulations.
Mia gave Freya an extra-long hug. “Congratulations, sweetie,” Mia said, squeezing her tight.
“Thank you.” Freya kissed her on the cheek and then smiled at her. “Now we just have to sort you out, eh?”
“Yeah.” It took all Mia’s self-control not to turn and look at Colm. But to her horror, her cheeks burned.
Freya stared at her with amusement. “You’re blushing.”
“No, I’m not.” She glanced hurriedly at Colm. Luckily he wasn’t listening and was talking to Ash.
Grace had overheard, though and she surveyed Mia with amusement now. “Ooh. Mia Nicholls blushing. Dear Mr. Guinness.”
“Shut up.” Mia walked off. Her irritation was only a little faked. She didn’t want Colm overhearing the girls’ teasing comments.
She took some of the glasses out to the kitchen and began to wash them up. After a few minutes, Ash appeared carrying some more, put them on the draining board, then picked up a tea towel.
They stood quietly for a moment while she washed the glasses and he dried them. Mia didn’t feel pressured to talk. She liked Ash. A blond, six-foot-four modern-day Viking, Ash was solid and dependable, practical and down-to-earth, in spite of the fact that he spoke to dead people for a living. Mia hadn’t quite got used to that, but then neither had his wife. Grace still didn’t believe a hundred percent in the afterlife, but she was happy to admit that Ash certainly seemed to have an uncanny knack for seeing below the surface of both people and situations.
“Good to have them back, eh?” he said after a while.
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like they had a good time.”
“Yeah. And lovely to hear they’re getting married.”
“I know. Nice surprise.” He put some of the washed and dried glasses away. “And how are you doing? Are you all right?”
Mia gave him a wry smile. “Grace put you up to this, did she?”
“No. I am capable of checking up on my friends without my wife’s help.”
She sighed and leaned on the sink. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He dried a glass slowly. “Colm seems like a good guy.”
She lifted a handful of bubbles and watched a couple float slowly upward. “Yes, he is.” She blew the rest of them off her fingers and then glanced at him. “You like him?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad you approve.”
“What am I, your father? I’m only thirty-five.” He smiled, taking the edge off his comment.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she apologised. “I meant that I trust your intuition. Not that you’d tell me outright what you think—you were kind enough not to mention what an idiot Ross was.”
He sighed. “He wasn’t an idiot…”
“He was.”
“Okay, he was, but that wasn’t the point. We just all thought you deserved better.”
“I do, I agree. But be honest with me. Is Colm…better?”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ve just said I like him.”
“I know. He’s very likeable. I meant…using your spidey senses.”
He laughed. “My what?”
“You know what I mean.”
He turned to face her, leaning his hip against the worktop. “He’s good, Mia. A decent guy. Although…I do get the feeling he’s hiding something.”
She rinsed another glass. “He’s adopted and he’s here to find his father. I don’t think he’s told anyone else. Could that be it?”
He folded up the tea towel. “I think there’s something else.”
“Something bad?”
“No.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Come on, Ash, cough up. What do you know that I don’t?”
He bent forward and kissed her cheek. “You know it doesn’t work that way. You’ll have to ask him.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that?”
“Yes. Grace tells me all the time.” He smiled and walked back into the living room.
Mia sighed and put the last glass on the draining board. He’s hiding something. What could Ash have meant? Was Colm married or something? But when she’d asked “Something bad?” he’d replied, “No.” Surely he’d have told her if it was something like that?
Without warning, she had a flash of the dream in which Colm had appeared to save her from the car, and the way he’d called her Clio. That had been odd, especially when he’d actually said that the following day. Of course it was likely he’d forgotten he’d already called her it before and her subconscious was remembering something her conscious wasn’t.
But Grace was married to a medium, and Freya was now engaged to a healer. They were surrounded by men who had this strange connection to a world that the girls could only imagine. It wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility that the dream was more than a coincidence.
Mia got herself a glass, rolling her shoulders as she filled it with cold water from the tap. Her back had been pretty good since Colm’s ministrations in Auckland, but the day before, she’d spent longer than she should have done sitting at her computer catching up on some lesson planning, and today her spine ached and she had the warning spikes of pain radiating out across her back beneath her shoulder blades. Disappointment threaded through her—when she’d asked him to the party, Colm had asked her, “Can we have sex afterward?”—but now she just felt tired and wanted to go home.
She went back into the living room to see that Ash’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Jodi, had joined them all and was curled up on the sofa between Grace and Ash. She had a hand resting on Grace’s tummy, obviously feeling the baby kick, which made Mia smile. Grace had been so worried how Jodi would react to her pregnancy, but Jodi had been wonderful—excited at the thought of having a baby in the house, and eagerly joining Grace in looking at baby clothes and items for the nursery.
“Hey, Jodi,” Mia said, walking up to the group.
“Hey, Mia.” Jodi went to get up. “Sorry, did I take your seat?”
“It’s all right,” Colm said. He stood up and indicated for Mia to sit in his armchair, and promptly sat on the floor next to it, legs stretched out.
The others all looked amused but didn’t say anything. Mia glared at Jodi’s grin and sat. “You’ve met Colm, then?” Mia asked.
“Yes.” Jodi smiled at him. “He seems very nice, Mia. You have my approval.”
Mia stared at her. “Oh we’re not…um…” Her cheeks grew warm as Colm lifted an eyebrow. “We’re just friends,” she finished lamely.
“Right,” Jodi said. “Sure.”
Everyone started laughing. Colm covered a smile by sipping his Coke. Mia glared at them all, her sense of humour rapidly disappearing. “I’m not denying we’re having sex,” she said, causing Colm to cough into his drink as everyone’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m just saying that’s it, so you can all stop your nudges and winks because it doesn’t mean anything.”
Everyone sobered, duly chastened. Colm met her gaze, though, thoughtful as he wiped his top lip. She looked away, exhausted, wishing she hadn’t come. She was tired and exhausted. Why had she invited Colm? They weren’t dating, and she was only making things more difficult.
Taking off the scarf she had wound around her neck, she laid it across the arm of the chair. Colm picked it up and pulled it through his fingers.
“So,” Freya said. “Come on, Mia. I think it’s about time we discussed your injuries.”
Mia leaned forward and placed her glass on the coffee table. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” Freya pleaded. “Grace has been telling me how bad you’re feeling. Nate could really help—why won’t you say yes?”
Mia glanced at Nate, who was studying her with his dark eyes. She looked back at Freya. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Well, I agree with Freya, I think we should,” Grace said. “We’re all friends here, and we only want the best for you.”
Mia was growing angry. “Guys, this isn’t the time. We have a guest here.” She gestured at Colm, who had a frown between his eyebrows.
Grace waved a hand. “For God’s sake, Colm’s one of us now. And he only wants the best for you, too.”
They’d planned this, Mia realised. They’d waited until they were all together because they thought they could overwhelm her with numbers, and they hoped having Colm there would make her behave and go quietly. Did they not know her at all?
“This is bullshit,” she snapped. “If I don’t want to take my pills or I don’t want to be healed, that’s up to me—it’s nothing to do with any of you.”
“She’s right,” Nate said, casting his fiancée a look. “It’s none of our business.”
“I don’t make a fuss in front of you,” Mia continued, beginning to feel tears burning behind her eyes and hating herself for them. “I don’t complain. Why should it affect any of you?”
“Because we love you,” Grace said heatedly. “We don’t like to see you in pain. How do you think that makes us feel, to know you’re suffering and there’s nothing we can do?”
“Grace.” Ash put a warning hand on her arm. “Nate’s right, it’s Mia’s choice.”
“But she’s being an idiot,” Grace protested.
Mia got to her feet. “I think I’ll get going.”
Colm got up. “I’ll drive you home.”
“It’s okay, I’ll walk.”
He ignored her and went over to Ash and Grace as everyone stood, shook Ash’s hand and kissed Grace’s cheek. “I had a great time, thank you.” He said goodbye to Jodi, then to Freya and Nate, exchanging pleasantries.
Mia ignored everyone and went out to get her coat. Anger and resentment burned in her stomach, and her shoulders throbbed. Screw everyone. It was her choice—why did they all think they could tell her what to do?
And now she had to put up with Colm reprimanding her, she supposed. Well, she’d soon tell him where to get off.
He joined her by the door. “Are you going to say goodbye?” he said softly.
She hesitated, every muscle in her body burning to walk out of the door, and glared at him. He refused to be stared down, though, just surveyed her with eyes calm behind his glasses, and in the end she sighed and went back into the room. She gave them all a quick kiss, apologised and told them she’d call later.
She walked across the gravel drive to Colm’s car and slid in silently, a little sullenly. He got in beside her and started the engine, then glanced over at her. “Good girl.”
“You think you’re my father now? Don’t be so fucking patronising.”
She thought he might snap back or try and defend his comment, but he said nothing, steering the car down the drive and then onto the main road.
They said nothing all the way back to her house. She sank back into her seat, miserable and exhausted and slightly ashamed at her behaviour. She just wanted to get in and go to sleep.
He pulled up outside the row of Edwardian houses and before she could stop him, unclipped his seatbelt and got out of the car. She followed him angrily, slamming the car door and storming up the path.
“You can stop there,” she snapped. “You’re not coming in.”
He turned to face her. “Yes, I am.”
“Colm, unless it has escaped your notice, I’m not in the mood for sex. Thank you for giving me a lift. Now go home.”
He studied her patiently. “Actually, I think some gentle lovemaking and a couple of decent orgasms are exactly what you need. But we’ll start with the pills and maybe another massage and see where we go from there.”
“Stop telling me what to do!”
His brow furrowed. “The pain’s coming off you in waves, Mia. Even your friends can feel it. You’re suffering because you feel guilty, and that’s okay, that’s something you have to work through, but even you can’t live like that all the time.”
“Fuck off!” she yelled.
But he didn’t fuck off. He studied her with pity, walked up to her and put his arms around her.
Chapter Sixteen
Mia tensed against him, wanting to push him away, but his hand stroked between her shoulder blades, and he murmured something soothing, and she couldn’t keep the tears back.
She buried her face in his shirt, and he kissed her ear.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
She clenched his shirt in her fists. She mustn’t keep taking consolation from him—it wasn’t fair. He was going to leave—she couldn’t start relying on him.
But his arms were tight around her, and he smelled lovely, of warm male and subtle aftershave and a slight hint of the chocolate chip cookie he’d had at Ash’s house. It was an enticing mix, and suddenly she couldn’t bear to let him go.
He took her keys off her, reached out and unlocked the door. Then, still with one arm around her, he took her inside and closed the door behind them.
He led her over to the sofa, took off her coat, and she sat, her face in her hands, unable to stop the tears flowing. She heard him moving around, putting on the lamp and lighting the gas fire, and for a moment his feet echoed down the corridor, either to the bathroom or to her bedroom. After a few minutes he went into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. He came back in and rustled around in her handbag, and then he was pushing the glass into her hand, along with a couple of the painkillers.
She took them because she was tired of the pain and didn’t have the energy to fight him any longer, and he stood there and waited until she’d swallowed them before taking the glass back off her and placing it on the table.
Then he sat next to her and pulled her into his arms.
She curled up beside him, trying to concentrate on nothing more than drinking in the comfort and security he somehow seemed to radiate.
He stretched out his long legs and made himself comfortable, and kissed the top of her head. “Just for ten minutes,” he said softly. “Until the pills start working.”
They didn’t speak for a while, but sat quietly, listening to the clock tick in the corner, enjoying the warmth from the fire. Mia gradually relaxed against him, reassured by the gentle stroking of his hand on her back, the occasional touch of his lips on her hair. She didn’t feel the need to make conversation, and somehow the silence calmed her, the fact that he was comfortable just holding her.
The tears continued to trickle out of her eyes occasionally, eve
n though she put no effort into crying. She hated herself for them, but the self-pity just wouldn’t go away.
After the ten minutes had passed, Colm stirred and said, “Come on. Stage two of the ‘let’s make Mia feel better campaign’.”
She wiped her face and pushed herself upright. The pain between her shoulder blades had lessened a little, but she didn’t protest when he took her hand and led her toward the bedroom. The thought of his warm, strong hands on her was too attractive to resist.
He’d put the heater on so it was nice and warm, and he’d lit the aromatherapy burner she kept beside the bed, and the room was cast in an orange glow.
Slowly he undressed her, lifting her top over her head carefully, unbuttoning her skirt so it fell to the floor, then placing his arms around her and squeezing the catch of her bra so it popped open. She looked up and caught his gaze as he did it and he gave her a wry smile, but turned her and pushed her toward the bed and said, “Lie down on your front.”
She pulled the duvet aside and did so, pressing her face into the cool pillow as he moved about the room. He rolled up his shirt sleeves, but he didn’t strip. He took off his glasses and placed them on the bedside table. Then he found a small bottle of baby oil and she watched as he selected a few of the bottles of aromatherapy oils she kept beside the burner and added a couple of drops of each to the oil in his hands.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
“Ginger warms and relaxes, lavender’s an analgesic, and rosemary’s great for muscle problems,” he said. “Aromatherapy oils are one of the best things to use in massages.”
She said nothing, but his knowledge impressed her and proved to her that he really did know what he was talking about.
He warmed the oil in his hands and then smoothed it across her back. She sighed, enjoying the slow, gentle strokes from her shoulders down either side of her spine to her hips, finding comfort from the feel of his skin on hers, his tender, caring touch.
First he spent a while warming up her muscles, then he progressed to smaller circular patterns with firmer strokes before moving finally to a pressure-point technique that almost made her groan as he really got deep into her muscles. He steered clear of the area where her scar was, but her pain began to lessen as the rest of her back relaxed.
Talking Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 3 Page 10
