Annoyance flickered through Harly. “Don’t be so bloody stupid. You’re not immortal.”
The sudden silence on the veranda was broken only by the pounding of the rain on the roof. If silence could be heavy, that’s exactly what it was on the veranda.
The expression on Alex’s face was inscrutable, but Harly was damned if she was going to allow him to go back out in the storm, regardless of how indestructible he thought he was, which was plain ridiculous.
Stepping out onto the veranda, she grabbed his cap and hung it up on a hook on the wall, then walked around behind him and grabbed the collar of his rain coat. “Come on, hero, get out of it.”
For several seconds he remained still and she thought he was going to shrug off her hands, but suddenly he swung his arms back and the rain coat slid off.
Hanging it up on another hook, she ordered, “Take off your shoes and leave them out here, they’re safe from the rain.”
Without a word he obeyed, toeing off his sneakers and placing them just out of drip-reach of the rain coat.
“Come on.” Opening the security door, she waited for him to precede her.
Moving level with her, he stopped and looked down at her. Standing so close, she felt the heat radiating out from his body, that clean, male scent titillating her senses.
It was his gaze that captured her, though. His eyes, that brilliant blue that darkened slightly as he leaned a little closer and inhaled deeply, as though sucking in her scent, which was just ridiculous, really, because why would he do such a thing?
With the rain teeming down outside the protection of the veranda and the closeness of Alex towering over her, she felt oddly as though if they were standing outside, he’d be sheltering her from the storm.
It was a strange thought, a weird feeling, but one that nevertheless slid through her with a warmth she couldn’t explain.
Reaching above her, he placed his hand on the security door. “After you, Harly.”
“Seriously, Alex, you were the one driving in this downpour, surely you can go first just this once.”
“Nothing will ever make me put myself before you.” The reply was as steady as his gaze.
Knowing nothing would deter him, she ducked under his arm and entered the house, feeling the heat of him at her back as he followed. As she continued down the hall towards the kitchen, she heard the snick of the security screen lock followed by the soft thud of the wooden door shutting.
Shaking her head at his continued old world manners regardless of the circumstances, she entered the kitchen and rounded the bench to switch on the kettle. Placing two mugs on the bench, she watched as Alex came into the kitchen, stopping in the doorway to glance around before looking at her. Buffy was at his feet and he carried a purring Pepper in his arms.
The sight made Harly relax and she smiled. “Tea or coffee?”
“Coffee.”
“Strong and black.” She nodded at the table. “Sit down and rest.”
Brows raised, Alex did so, settling Pepper on his lap and stroking her back gently. “I don’t actually need to rest.” Buffy laid her chin on his knee and he stroked the old dog’s head as gently as he did the old cat.
“Driving through that storm wouldn’t exactly be relaxing,” she retorted. “Becky shouldn’t have sent you. This isn’t the first time I’ve been out here when the power and telephone has gone out.”
“The power isn’t out yet.”
“Don’t split hairs,” she said a trifle tartly.
A small smile curved his lips, making the little wrinkles at the corner of his eyes peep out.
She glanced at him. “It was foolhardy coming out here.”
His smile widened. “Becky didn’t send me. I chose to come.”
“Idiot.”
His eyes twinkled. “Most ladies would be charmed that I’d come to their rescue.”
“I’m not a lady and I don’t need rescuing. You, however…” She stabbed a finger in his direction. “You might have needed rescuing if you’d ended up in a ditch somewhere.”
“But I didn’t, and here I am.” Pepper arched her head back as he tickled her under the chin. “I’ve driven in worse conditions.”
“In a tank, no doubt.”
His burst of laughter was infectious, and she couldn’t help but smile even while still shaking her head.
“Idiot,” she repeated.
“Marty would have said worse.” He nodded his thanks as she placed a mug of hot coffee in front of him. “So I’ll happily accept your version.”
For the first time since he’d come to town she realised how relaxed he was, sitting at her table with an old cat on his lap and an old dog now settled at his sock-clad feet. It was odd that he would be relaxed in her home.
Sitting across from him, she placed the little plate of biscuits in the middle of the table.
“This is really cosy.” He glanced around.
“I like it.” Taking a biscuit, she dunked it in her tea.
“You enjoy being by yourself?” Taking a biscuit, he also dunked it in his coffee.
“It’s not such a bad thing.” She shrugged. “Solitude can be very restful. It’s a way to recharge my batteries before facing the demands of the world.”
“Yeah.” His gaze became distant as he ate the biscuit.
She wondered if he was thinking of the war or his family. While he was lost in his thoughts, she studied him at her leisure.
There was definitely something different about him. He was relaxed in her kitchen, it showed in his slouch on the dining room chair, the relaxed slope of his shoulders, the easing of the tension around his mouth, the smoothing of the faint frown line on his forehead. But there was something else, a slight distance in his eyes, a sadness that made the little lines around them not quite disappear. Maybe it wasn’t even that. Maybe it was simply that there was something about him, something in his manner, something that reached out invisible tendrils to touch her and let her know that something wasn’t right.
Would he tell her? And why would he, anyway? He’d come here simply to check on her safety, something most men she knew wouldn’t have done without first waiting for the storm to abate.
“Is everything okay at Paul and Becky’s?” she asked.
His gaze sharpened, the distance in them disappearing as he focussed on her. “Fine, why?”
“You could have waited until the storm died down before taking such a risk.”
“I told you-”
“Yeah, I know. You were all worried. But Paul would have waited until the storm wasn’t so dangerous. So why didn’t you?” She sipped at the hot tea while meeting his gaze squarely. “There’s being concerned, and then there’s being foolhardy.”
He was silent for so long that she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but finally he asked, “Am I in the way here?”
It was her turn to look at him in silence as she weighed his words while trying to read past the mask that had slipped down over his face.
He simply gazed at her steadily, awaiting her reply.
“No, you’re not.” She honestly meant it.
No, she liked having him here. His presence didn’t intrude on her sense of peace, not now. She had the weird feeling that she could walk out into the sewing room and do her sewing, leaving him here in the kitchen, and not be worried about his presence at all. And seeing what had happened between them in the past that was downright…weird.
Taking a deep breath, she repeated, “You’re welcome here, Alex.”
The tension line on his forehead eased, smoothing out. “I do believe you mean that.”
“Strangely, yes.”
The warming of his eyes was undeniable. “We didn’t exactly get off to a good start this time around.”
“You reckon?” She looked around as Chuckie came in yowling. “Don’t fret, Chuckster, I know it’s nearly your dinner time.”
“I better go,” Alex said, but he didn’t make a move to stand up.
“Don’
t even think of going in this weather.” Getting out of the chair, she crossed to the ‘fridge. “I’ll feed the fur-babies and then put on some stew.”
“Okay.” There wasn’t even a seconds hesitation before his reply.
Pulling the glass bowl of ‘roo meat from the ‘fridge, she dished out the bowls of food and within no time the three cats and Buffy were eating in the corner of the kitchen.
After placing vegetables on the bench along with a peeler, vegetable knife and the chopping board, Harly took the thawed out steak from the chiller and turned to find Alex standing at the bench peeling the potatoes.
Fine. He was going to eat here, he could help. She had no objections.
Going to the corner of the bench, Harly turned on the CD player and the music played softly while Alex peeled, washed and chopped the vegetables, and she diced steak and got it ready with the herbs, garlic and stock cubes.
They worked silently, the music and the knives chopping the only sound, and she marvelled at how at ease she felt. At ease but aware of him. His large frame in her kitchen was strange, yet it didn’t jar her love of solitude. His easy movements across her kitchen didn’t feel intrusive. She didn’t feel self-conscious working in close proximity with him, this man who had made love to her just once years ago, the man whose baby she’d carried for nine short weeks before losing it. The man who’d faced her furiously, then calmly, and now worked silently in her kitchen.
Working peacefully side-by-side with Alex Lawson was something she’d never dreamed would ever happen.
Life did throw some surprises at times, and this one was a doozy.
“You’re smiling.”
“Hmmm?” She glanced up from where she’d lit the gas stove.
Holding the pot of raw stew, Alex stood next to her. “I like it when you smile.”
“As opposed to crying? Or yelling?” Flushing a little, she made to take the pot from him but he skirted around her reaching hands and placed it on the flame.
“As in, I like it when you smile.”
Now she felt a little self-conscious. “Thanks. I like it when you’re not mad.” Oops.
“Thanks,” he replied, deadpan.
A grin quirked the corners of her lips, his twitched, and they laughed.
Sunny bounded across the room and jumped up onto the counter. Alex picked her up and tickled her cheek, and she batted at him with her paws.
“You’re good with animals,” Harly observed.
“My nephew is furry.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “I bet your pardon?”
“Al is my sister’s kitten. We’re related through her.”
“Ahhh.”
“I've done my share of bum wiping and bottle feeding.”
Now that really had her intrigued. “Are we still talking about a cat?”
“Al was about a day old when Cindy found him.” Alex tickled around Sunny’s ears. “I babysat him a lot when I was home on leave.”
“An expert in baby care. A man of many talents. I’m in awe.”
“Trust me, if you want awe, you have to see Marty with Al. He was willing to use poor Al to snag a pretty little vet nurse. Cindy soon disabused him of that idea.”
She laughed. “I can see Marty hasn’t changed.”
“He’s still a skirt-chaser.” Alex shrugged. “How he manages to snag so many women beats me. His reputation just seems to make him more irresistible.”
“Some women.” Harly poked his arm as she passed. “He’s rich, handsome and funny. Of course some women are going to chase him.”
He looked at her knowingly. “But not women like you.”
“Like me?” She headed out into the hall.
Alex followed her. “You don’t chase after men like that.”
“I don’t chase after men full stop.” Going into the sewing room, she checked that none of the cats were in it, but when she turned to switch off the light, Alex was right behind her looking around.
“You sew a lot,” he observed.
“My second job.”
“But you don’t want to go into business.” Moving inwards, he lifted the sleeve of a sequinned top that was draped over a size twenty two dummy and studied it, turning the sleeve and inspecting the stitching down the arm. “Neatly done.”
“Thank you.” Watching him inspect her work, she wondered what he thought. “And strange of you to notice the quality.”
Picking up a folded pair of pants, he shook them out carefully and held the silky fabric up to the light. “You forget, my family are business orientated and I’ve been in quite a few meetings and seekings.”
“Seekings?” Watching his fingers slide over the silk, she felt a little shiver of pleasure go through her.
“I’ve wandered into dress shops on scouting missions for Mum and Dad. Usually with Cindy in tow, if it’s a female dress shop.” Carefully refolding the pants, he laid it on the table and turned to her. “You do top quality work, Harly. My Dad would be very interested in-”
“No.”
His eyebrows rose inquiringly.
“No offence,” Harly said, “but I work for myself. I make clothes women can afford, and I’m not interested in big overheads and all those responsibilities that come with it.”
“You’d have to be the first woman I know who isn’t interested in making a fortune.” Leaning his hips back against the work table, Alex studied her with interest.
“I’m comfortable.” Lifting her chin, she waited for the inevitable ‘it’s a waste of your talent’ speech.
It caught her by surprise when Alex simply nodded.
“What?” she asked with a touch of sarcasm. “No nagging?”
Lifting his hands palm upwards in a universal sign of peace, he replied, “I’m the last person to tell you not to do what you want.”
“You’re from a business family.”
“So you expect me to push.”
“Yes.”
Stepping away from the table, Alex flashed her a sudden grin. “I’m the Army boy, remember? I could have stayed with the family business and be filthy rich, but I chose to tread my own path.” Drawing level with her, he reached out unexpectedly and chucked her beneath the chin. “Follow your own dreams, Harly, whatever they may be, however exciting or comfortable. Live your own life how you wish, for it’s all you ever really own.” He walked out into the hallway.
For several minutes she stood in the silence of the sewing room, thinking about what he’d said, his acceptance of her and her wishes, against the well-meaning but very different views of her parents.
Looking around the cluttered yet, to her, orderly room, she felt peace with everything, every swath of material, the boxes and tables and drawers, the sewing machines and overlocker, the working tools of a dressmaker.
Yes, this was her place. Her house. Her life and her choices.
Smiling, she switched off the light and closed the door.
Going back into the kitchen, she found Alex on the phone. Obviously it was working again.
“I’m fine, Becky,” he was saying as she entered. “I got here safely, don’t fret.” There was silence on his end but she saw the amusement on his face. “Yes Becky, I do owe you penance for taking off in the storm, and that will be paid for in the form of washing your car inside and out. And polishing it? Are you sure my sins were that bad - oh, okay.”
Grinning, Harly checked the pot of stew, giving it a quick stir before replacing the lid.
“Coming home?” Alex repeated. “I’m having dinner here, actually. Afterwards? Yes, I’m coming back.”
Thunder boomed overhead and the rain sounded harder on the roof. Harly looked at Alex as he laughed into the phone again. Travel back to Paul’s in the storm? In the dark? Not freakin’ likely. Acting on pure instinct, she grabbed the phone off him and put it to her ear. “Hey, Becky? It’s Harly. Listen, it’s thundering here and we need to get off the phone, but don’t expect Alex back until morning if the weather remains this bad, okay?”
“So I’ve told him. Gotta go.”
“Wait!”
“Cripes, I’m gonna get fried if I don’t hang up.”
“I just want to know where he’s sleeping-”
There was a muffled sound and then Paul came on. “You and Alex stay safe, and ignore my wife and her dirty little mind. We’ll see Alex when we see him. ‘Bye.”
Smiling, Harly hung up the phone. No doubt Becky’s mind was working a mile a minute and she’d be berating Paul for not digging for more information.
Turning around, she found Alex standing behind her, leaning against the bench on one hip, his arms and ankles crossed and his gaze steady.
“I’m staying here tonight, am I?” he asked quietly.
“You might be idiot enough to drive around in this weather, but I’m not idiot enough to allow it.” Folding her own arms, she arched an eyebrow at him. “You’ll be sleeping in the guest room. Got a problem with that?”
His gaze turned searching. “Are you sure you’re okay with that, Harly?”
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”
“We’ve only just met again. You trust me that much?”
She looked at him, feeling the peace in the room, the comfort between them. It was strange, she didn’t trust people easily, but with Alex she felt totally safe. With Alex she had nothing to fear. Instinct, gut feeling, her Guardian Angel telling her, she didn’t know, but she knew the plain truth.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I do.”
While his sudden smile was unexpected, the softening of his eyes almost made her knees weak. “Then I guess I’m on dish washing duty tonight.”
Five
The spare room was as old-fashioned as the rest of the house, with a few touches of modern that didn’t detract from the homely, comfortable atmosphere.
Lying in the big bed, snug and warm between fleecy sheets and a thick doona, Alex stroked Chuckie who laid in the curve of his arm beneath the warm bed clothes. Obviously Chuckie trusted him as much as Harly.
Harly.
She was sleeping in the room across the hall. Gazing at the closed door to the room he occupied, Alex could almost imagine her in her bed, dressed in a warm winter nightie, her hair hanging over one shoulder in a thick plait. He knew exactly what she wore because he’d glimpsed her going to the bathroom while he was supposedly getting ready for bed. Not having shut the door properly, he saw her through the crack.
The Lawson Boys: Alex Page 10
