“It’s Travis,” I half yelled as I rummaged through my shelves for something I could wear. “He’s on his way here. And if you speak in the third person again, I’ll slap you,” I added as an afterthought.
“Oh Em Gee, Quinn!” she squealed. “You rang him after all. You sneaky hooha! You told me you never got his number.”
“I didn’t.” God. Where to begin with that? “I don’t have time for explanations. I need you.”
“Fine, but you better tell me everything when I get there. I’ll just grab my bag of tricks and be right over.” She hung up.
Lucy’s bag of tricks was actually a suitcase sized bag of makeup, hair products, and all types of beauty related, mind-boggling, electrical devices. This bag had wheels and a combination lock that Lucy gave to no one, not even me. Not that I ever had much use for it until now.
I rummaged through all my clothes, lamenting that nothing was clean. All my favourite items of clothing, like the dark, skinny jeans that made me look taller, or the soft pink knit that made my skin less pasty, were in the laundry. I held up a pair of denim shorts that I rarely, if ever, wore, but I bought them for the colour. They were hot pink with black piping along the pockets—bought in a mindless splurge simply because they were a bargain. Emerging from the wardrobe, I found Lucy striding in, wheeling her suitcase behind her.
She looked at me and flinched. “You invited him over looking like this?”
“I didn’t invite—”
“Just shut up,” she snapped, her eyes flashing. “I’m so disappointed in you. There’s no time to perform miracles here.”
Crouching, she unzipped her suitcase and pulled out her curling wand. She plugged it in and left it to heat on my bedside table. Next she moved to the wine I’d set out and took a large gulp, leaving me feeling like I had somehow become Jack Bauer, starring in my very own series of 24. Between the hours of six pm and seven pm…..
I picked up mine and took a sip, using my other hand to toss the shorts I was holding at her. “Everything’s in the laundry. Are these too short?” She looked at them and opened her mouth to speak. “Don’t answer that. I know they’re too short.”
She set her wine down and held them up. “Rubbish. For a little person, you have great legs and a cute butt. Put them on,” she ordered. She flung them back at me and took a turn in the wardrobe, coming out with a loose turquoise cotton top that fitted snugly around the waist and fell off one shoulder.
“What about this thing? It looks casual enough to think you were just lounging around at home looking sexy. He’ll take one look at the flawless skin on that shoulder of yours and want to lick it all up like a lollipop. Trust me.”
I had no choice but to trust her because I was running out of time. I got changed and she quickly curled my wispy strands of hair, finishing by running her fingers through them to make them look casually tousled. She then attacked my face with some rosy pink blusher, mascara, and strawberry flavoured lip gloss and pushed me in front of the mirror.
“Ta da.”
I stood in front of the mirror. The lemon yellow strap of my bra was showing from where the shirt hung off my shoulder, and I glared when Lucy suggested taking it off.
“I look like a liquorice allsort,” I announced, looking myself up and down critically.
“Rubbish,” she snapped. “Well, maybe a little, but who doesn’t love lollies? You can thank me later. I’ll let myself out.”
“Lucy, I don’t want to look like a lolly. I don’t want Travis here at all.”
That was a lie. Sort of. I didn’t know what I wanted. The thought of seeing him had my heart racing a mile a minute, reminding me of how I felt when I met Ethan. Only Ethan had been so young, still growing into himself, whereas Travis was older, packed with muscle, and one hundred percent pure man. His body had tattoos and the scars of someone who’d lived hard.
Lucy began shovelling all her tools back in her suitcase and stopped to give me a dubious look. “Are you sure? Why did you invite him then?”
She zipped her suitcase and started making for the door.
“I didn’t invite—”
“Gotta go, fairy princess. He’ll be here in five minutes. Good luck. I’ll be over later to get the lowdown.” With a roll of her wheels and a slam of the door, she was gone. I took a deep breath before returning to the kitchen. I opened a packet of pasta and poured it into the boiling pot of water.
The knock came just as I was pouring another glass of fortifying wine. I’d never drunk so much in twenty-four hours in my life. Apparently that was what being Jack Bauer did to you.
I ran my hands through my tousled curls, inspected my shirt for spots, and exhaling slowly, opened the door.
Travis stood there, one hand in his pocket, the other tapping an envelope impatiently against his leg. My lips pressed together before a breathy, little moan could escape. Tonight’s fitted T-shirt was another band, but this time I could clearly see it as Jamieson. A pair of mirrored aviators hung casually in the neckline and long, light beige cargo shorts rode low on his hips. His hair was scraped back in a tie, but a blond strand had escaped and fell down the side of his face.
Travis froze, the impatient tapping of the envelope halting against his leg. His rich, green eyes widened on my face, recognition lighting their depths. His lids lowered as they tracked slowly down the length of me. My cheeks heated under the blatant perusal as his eyes worked their way back up to meet mine.
He cleared his throat. “Quinn?”
I repressed a shiver at the memories his voice evoked, aiming for a nonchalant expression by trying to relax the nerves that locked my body tight. It wasn’t working. My hand was gripped so tight on the door handle my fingers would need to be pried away.
I nodded, the movement jerky and awkward. “Travis.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “You’re Mac’s new assistant?”
Sighing softly, I replied, “That would be me.”
A beat of time passed, and then another, as though Travis was somehow coming to terms with this freak coincidence. I shifted my legs as I tried to think of something to say that would fill the charged silence.
“I’m Mac’s older brother,” he told me.
“Great,” I stated brightly, plastering a smile on my lips that didn’t reach my eyes. I went to take the envelope from his hands when I heard a sizzle and crackle coming from the kitchen.
“Oh shit, the pasta!”
Abandoning the doorway in a rush for the stove, I found the saucepan boiling over, water running down and hitting the gas cooktop with hissing sparks.
“Crap,” I muttered, flinching when steamy drops splattered my hand. I yanked it off the stove and grabbed a cloth to start mopping up the mess.
“Burning dinner?” came the teasing voice.
Flustered, I turned, finding Travis filling the tiny space in my kitchen.
I waved a hand at the stove as I threw the cloth in the sink. “I forgot I had pasta boiling on the stove.”
He folded his arms, hand still gripping the envelope, and leaned casually against the frame of the archway.
I could forget everything with him standing there eyeing me just like I was the lolly Lucy proclaimed me to be. He was making me want things I knew I couldn’t have. I was too damaged for someone like Travis—broken, missing pieces that would never be found, and put back together in a way that never quite fit properly.
The thought left an empty ache in my chest.
“You can leave the envelope on the counter,” I told him. “Thanks for dropping it by.”
A bang came from the front doorway, announcing the return of Justin and Rufus from their walk. Rufus charged into the tiny townhouse, yanking at the leash Justin held a firm grip on, anxious to get back to his favourite groove in my old, faded yellow couch. Seeing Travis, Rufus changed direction, making a beeline to sniff out the intruder.
Justin yanked him back on the leash. “Sorry, bud,” he said to Travis.
“Hey, Quinn,” Justin said,
leaning in and kissing my cheek. He unclipped the leash and Rufus, seemingly happy with the presence of Travis inside his domain, leaped onto the couch, circled, and settled in.
I introduced Justin to Travis and the two shook hands.
“Beer?” he asked.
Travis shook his head, frowning. “Thanks, but I have to get going.”
Justin shrugged and opened the fridge door, grabbing a beer and popping the top. “What’s for dinner?”
“Parmesan chicken and pasta,” I answered, picking up my own drink so I had something to do with my hands.
“Yum,” he replied and jumped on the couch next to Rufus, grabbing the remote and flicking the television on.
Before I could usher Travis towards the door, Lucy’s husband Rick was filling the kitchen doorway, and my tiny kitchen just got that much more crowded.
“Rick?” The only reason Rick would be here at this very moment was because Lucy sent him over to see what was going on. My eyes narrowed on his face and through clenched teeth, I asked, “Everything okay?” I turned to Travis. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”
I gripped Rick’s bicep in my hand, ushering him out of the kitchen and towards the front door.
“Sorry, Quinn,” he whispered and shrugged his big shoulders helplessly. “Lucy told me I had to come over and borrow a cup of sugar.”
My eyebrows raised in disbelief. “A whole cup? Is she baking?”
“Um, I hope not,” he replied, his response making it obvious that this was the best Lucy could come up with at short notice.
“Tell Lucy that I’ll speak to her later,” I said, hoping the irritation in my voice conveyed the knowledge that speaking to her wouldn’t entail good things.
“Wait,” he interrupted, “I better get that cup of sugar. You know, just in case she really meant it.”
“Fine,” I said, huffing impatiently.
Rick followed behind as I stalked back into the kitchen, past Travis, and into the tiny pantry. I picked up an unopened bag of sugar and walked out with it clutched in my arms.
“This is Travis. Travis, this is my neighbour Rick,” I said in the way of introductions. I could have added that Travis just happened to be the older brother of my boss, but that would only encourage scheming on Lucy’s behalf to see me settled—as though all you needed was a relationship to be happy.
Travis unfolded his arms to shake Rick’s hand politely. Then his gaze flicked to Justin before resting on mine. His eyes were hard and cool, and it wasn’t until the distance in them was clear that I realised how hot his eyes had burned before. “Can we talk for a minute, Quinn?”
His phone rang before I could reply and muttering an apology, he took the call, talking quietly, yet I still heard him say he’d been held up and would be there in a minute.
He hung up and Rick narrowed his eyes, obviously hearing the tail end of the conversation as well. Because Lucy had no idea why Travis was here, Rick must have assumed he was here for personal reasons because he asked, “You’re not staying for dinner?”
Travis paused in the act of sliding his phone in his back pocket.
I felt his eyes on me, and my stomach hardened against the hurt I shouldn’t be feeling. A one night stand was supposed to be about never seeing the other person again. The distance in his eyes should have been expected. Frankly, I should been welcoming it, encouraging it even.
“I have to be somewhere,” he told us.
I smiled, not letting it reach my eyes. “Well, we won’t keep you any longer. Thanks for dropping off the paperwork.”
My dismissal was obvious and Rick frowned at me, not understanding my cool behaviour.
Travis placed the envelope down on the counter. “I guess I’ll see you later,” he murmured and with a nod at both Rick and Justin, who offered a brief salute from the couch, he left.
My eyes watched his retreating back, remembering the eagle wings that splayed the width of his wide, tanned shoulders. My mind had pondered the meaning of that tattoo all afternoon. The eagle was a creature of purity, beauty, and a powerful force. When I looked at Travis, I couldn’t think of anything more fitting. When the door clicked shut behind him, it felt like I’d just lost something that had never been mine.
Justin rubbed his hand through his overly long black hair, leaving it mussed. “Who’s Travis?”
“What? You don’t know?” Rick smirked at Justin, smug because for once he was in the loop and knew the gossip.
Shaking myself out of the unwanted feelings Travis had evoked, I cut Rick off. “Rick! Do you want the damn sugar or not?”
I jammed the bag of sugar at his big chest and he grabbed it before it dropped to the floor.
“No?” Justin said in response to Rick.
“He’s the guy that Quinn hooked up with last night.”
I rubbed my forehead, sore from today’s anxiety. “Thanks, Rick,” I muttered under my breath. Thanks very much for making it known that I took a paddle through the skank pool last night. I checked my watch. Surely we must be hitting the next episode of 24 by now—The hour between seven pm and eight pm—because it felt like a lifetime ago that Lucy had dragged me out to that bloody bar.
***
I whimpered unhappily when my alarm went off at six the next morning, desperate for another ten minutes before madness descended. My arm reached out and smacked the snooze button before returning to wrap around my pillow.
My front door opened and then slammed shut, madness finding her way into my room in her workout gear. A bright, cheery smile adorned her face that my tired body wanted to stomp all over.
I hadn’t slept well but nightmares weren’t designed to be pleasant; they spun fear dizzily through a painful slideshow of memories. Last night was different though. The usual shadowy images had been replaced by skin the colour of liquid gold and the slide of rough, hot hands on my skin. Apparently visions of Travis could also ensure a sleepless night for me. Not only that, I was usually able to savour my own space, but I’d woken to a bed that felt too big for my small frame and entirely too empty.
I grabbed my pillow in one hand, my blankets in the other, and prepared to burrow deeply into the thick, warm covers, but Lucy snatched the pillow from my grasp.
“No,” I moaned unhappily, making a desperate grab for it.
“Come on, Quinn. It’s exercise time!” Her wide eyes, and her words for that matter, were manic.
My slitted eyes raked her over. “I hate you.”
“And I love your face.” She held the pillow aloft. “Get up.”
“I can’t. My feet fell off last night, and I can’t find them.”
“Har har.” She tossed the pillow on the floor.
“And I start my job today, and I’m not organised. You don’t want me to be late do you?”
My snooze button shrieked wildly and Lucy stalked over to my bedside table and clicked it off. “Rubbish. I’m not blind. I can see your dress hanging on the door.”
“Damn.”
I forgot I left it there. It was my best office style dress. After the way I’d barely pulled myself together yesterday, today was my chance to make a better impression.
“That’s your best dress,” Lucy told me as if I didn’t know already. “I thought you said you’d get to wear mostly jeans and Jamieson band shirts at the office?”
I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. “I did but I need new jeans and there’s a wait on the shirts. And after yesterday, I want to look my best.”
“After yesterday?”
Lucy hadn’t yet heard the full recount of yesterday, including the Travis connection. I sighed, knowing that would come out this morning—best to get it over with.
After dressing reluctantly, Lucy and I were jogging the pavement in the damp, chilly air. I huffed my way through the lowdown and reaching the peak of the story—being the arrival of Travis at my front door—Lucy had to stop mid-jog from a stitch. It was tempting to abandon her to the sidewalk as she gasped for air, but Lucy could m
ove like an Olympic sprinter, so I hovered, hands on my hips, while she wheezed and flexed.
“Maybe it’s fate,” she puffed out as she tilted her torso to the side.
“Screw fate,” I hissed with more force than I intended.
Lucy blinked and slowly righted herself in the face of my outburst.
I rubbed at my brow. Four years had dulled my anger of the past, giving me the impression I was moving on, yet here it was, reasserting itself like a long lost friend.
My eyes narrowed on Lucy. “Are you telling me you believe everything in my life was meant to be?”
Lucy paled. “Quinny, I didn’t—”
“Just—” I halted mid-sentence and stilled, looking sideways as an eerie feeling washed over me. Deep breaths filled my lungs as my eyes did a rapid scan of the suburban street. Nothing seemed odd except the churning in my stomach and tingles of fear tripping down my spine. Cars were parked up and down the avenue, joggers passed by the path we were rudely blocking, aiming dirty looks our way, and a dog across the road was busy peeing on someone’s mailbox. I spun around. The sun was rising brightly, forcing my eyes to squint, and the wind swirled around me, yet something in the air didn’t feel right.
“Quinn?” Lucy scanned the street, picking up on my fear like a bloodhound. “What is it?”
I shoved the anger away and forced a smile to my lips. “Nothing, Lucy. Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat.”
She fisted her hands on her hips and faced me. “Yes. You did. But I don’t blame you. Maybe fate realised it fucked you over and is trying to fix things.”
Her eyes were wide with hope. I shrugged her statement off, did another scan of the street, and nodded ahead of us. “Let’s just get this over with.”
Back home and showered, I slipped on my dress—deep navy and sleeveless with a matching thin leather belt—and pinned my tousled hair into a knot at the nape of my neck. Adding some light makeup and hot pink lipstick to finish the look, I sighed at my reflection, hoping it was an improvement on yesterday.
Fighting snarls of rush hour traffic, I delivered the paperwork to Jettison Records before heading over to the office at Coogee.
Give Me Strength Page 6
