‘Dan, what do you reckon Dad would say if he was here?’
Dan slapped him on the back. ‘Mate, he’d be buying drinks for the whole damn bar.’
Ry smiled wistfully at the memory of his father’s warm heart and generosity. He wished with everything he had that Charles Blackburn could be right alongside him to celebrate Windswept. But that wish was five years too late to come true.
Five years before, Ry’s father had just returned from emergency talks with the bank over the company’s debts. The global financial crisis had hit the property market — and Blackburn and Son Developments — hard, and Charles, his father, was trying desperately to stop the company from going under.
Ry sipped his beer and re-lived that night for the thousandth time. It was imprinted on him like a scar. It was always easier to put the pieces together afterwards, Ry knew, but he should have noticed his father’s distraction in the months beforehand. How hard he’d been working, how pale he’d become. That particular night Ry had noticed for the first time just how old his father looked, his cheeks sagged into slackened pockets of skin on his jaw, as if it didn’t have the energy to keep itself elastic anymore. The larger-than-life man he’d known was wearing a suit that looked two sizes too big. Ry realised later — much later — that Charles had been fighting so hard to keep the company alive, that it had sucked the life out of him.
His father’s face. Sweat on his forehead, glistening beads. Tugging his tie. A crash. His wine glass, his outstretched fingers. His gasping mouth.
Ry closed his eyes tight. He’d never been able to get rid of that picture of his father, collapsed on the carpeted floor of his executive suite, his silver glasses crooked on his nose, his face turning blue. He could still hear Dan’s frantic voice on the phone to the emergency services, and his own heartbeat thundering in his chest like the Town Hall clock as he searched desperately for a pulse at his father’s neck.
Dan bumped his shoulder. Ry hadn’t even noticed that Dan was still talking.
‘Mate, you are the reason we didn’t go under. You worked fucking hard to make sure it didn’t. You could have walked away, sold off what was left, fucked off and left us all, but you didn’t, Ry. You stuck and you saved as many jobs as you could at BSD. Including mine. That’s what you do. You don’t piss off when the shit hits the fan, you dig in, my friend.’
Ry shook off Dan’s description of his tenacity, his duty to the family firm and his bloody-minded pursuit of saving the company. It was what you did, nothing more, nothing less. It was what you had to do when your name was on the company right there alongside your father’s.
‘I had a little help from you, Dan.’
‘You sure as hell did. I’m the wind beneath your wings, brother.’
It had taken five years of hard slog to get BSD back to a position where it could invest again, and grow, and create jobs. That didn’t mean there weren’t times when he’d wanted to walk away, to hang up the shingle and just escape to the beach. He’d been close a couple of times but then he’d looked around the office at the people who relied on him, who turned up everyday to do an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay, who had families and lives outside of the four walls they worked in, and he just couldn’t toss it all in. And now, finally, it felt as if they were on the verge of something really good. Something real.
‘So Ry, who the hell is this woman who’s got you thinking with your dick?’
Hell, he wondered, maybe Dan was right. Maybe that’s all it was between him and Julia, a purely male reaction to a sassy woman with a hot body. Like hell.
‘And furthermore, Your Honour, I have a supplementary question. Does she have a sister?’ Ry raised his eyebrows at his friend, knowing that as soon as he said Julia’s name the shit would hit the fan.
‘Mate … it’s Julia Jones.’
Dan stopped mid-sip and narrowed his eyes at Ry.
‘You are kidding me. The ball-buster?’
Ry stiffened at Dan’s expression. He may or may not have described Julia to Dan that way in the past, especially while wallowing after a few too many beers, but now it seemed so wrong, mean and totally untrue.
‘Her mum died last year and she’s down in Middle Point cleaning up the house to sell it.’
Dan said nothing, stared hard at his friend and shook his head in disgust.
‘What?’ Ry asked.
‘So now I get the sudden interest in the beach in the middle of fucking winter. Mate, don’t you remember what happened last time she dumped you? You drank too much and married Ellen. Who, by the way, is a really nice woman.’
He remembered that Ellen’s parents had been more interested in their marriage than the bride and groom had ever been. They considered Charles Blackburn’s son a decent catch. He and Ellen hadn’t quite agreed and were married and divorced inside of a year.
‘She is still a nice woman but we were a mistake.’
‘Bloody oath,’ Dan agreed. ‘It was a disaster from the first siren. You were still cut up about Julia Jones. We all knew it. Why the hell Ellen agreed to marry you I’ll never know.’ Dan finished his beer, and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his suit. ‘But I know why you married her.’
‘Oh really? You been watching Dr Phil again?’
Dan laughed. ‘I tried to tell you then but what the hell did I know? Marrying one woman to forget another never works. Golden rule, my friend.’
‘Dan—’ he started and then held it. How the hell could he explain it to his best friend when he couldn’t make sense of it himself?
Dan sipped his beer. ‘Whatever gets you through the night, you know what I mean? But I was there the last time and it was fugly.’
‘Give me a break, I was a kid. But a lot of shit’s gone down in the past five years, you know it. Now, the Middle Point Pub and Windswept … that’s who I am these days. Hell, I’m thirty-five, Dan. This is about doing something solid, something real. And I reckon buying that pub has been the best thing I’ve ever done.’
A vision flashed behind his eyes. Julia in her hastily cobbled-together waitress uniform, her hair wild, her eyes laughing. A strange sensation warmed his gut and he felt a rush of blood.
‘She was helping Lizzie at the pub, covering a shift. That’s where I saw her again. You remember Lizzie?’
Dan rubbed his chin and cocked his head. ‘Can’t say I do. Is she single?’
‘I think so and she’s probably your type.’
‘A redhead?’ Dan perked up.
‘No, breathing. So, when I see Julia in the pub serving drinks, we recognise each other, even after all this time. And I don’t know why I did, but I kicked her out.’
‘What, like a bouncer?’
‘No, I got Lizzie to do it. I didn’t want to make a scene.’
‘Chicken shit.’
‘So then I find out the real reason she’s back in town is because her mother died, and I feel like a total arse-wipe. I’d met her mother. So I went over to her place to apologise and ended up helping her paint the house.’
‘Tell me you didn’t just say you helped her paint the house?’ Dan created quote marks in the air with his fingers. ‘Is that a new code for fucking that I haven’t heard? Man, I’ve been working too hard.’
‘No, there was no sex before the painting.’ Ry grinned.
‘You saying there was some action after? Jesus, no wonder you’re thinking with your dick. Bartender, get this man a shot of whisky!’
And then Ry realised something. Dan was wrong. He wasn’t thinking with his small brain on this one, wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than winning her over. And he knew exactly how to do it. He would dig in, he would fight for Julia, something he hadn’t really done when she’d walked away all those years before, when arrogant pride and youth ruled his heart. Something else kicked in this time.
‘I want to see where this goes.’ The determination in his tone surprised him and Dan too, judging by the look on his friend’s face. ‘It’s different this ti
me. I know it. I’m not the arrogant shit I was fifteen years ago.’
‘What about her? She still a ball-buster?’
‘Stop it, mate. You’re talking about the woman I …’ Ry stopped the words, right on the tip of his tongue and instead grinned at his friend. He dug inside his suit jacket for his phone, tapped it a few times and pushed it to his ear.
‘Pack your wetsuit, Danny Boy. You are coming down to Middle Point with me tomorrow night. Boss’s orders. We’re going to celebrate Windswept. At my pub. Did you hear that? I own a pub.’
Dan sat his empty glass on the bar and shook his head. ‘Ry, it’s too freaking cold down there. And I’ve got plans for tomorrow night.’
Ry held up his finger to hush Dan.
‘Hey Lizzie? Yeah, it’s me. Can you hold a table for Friday night? For three? No four. Actually, make that five. We’re celebrating. I’ll tell you Friday. Roster yourself off ’cos I need you to be there too.’
He ended the call and dialled another number.
‘That one was about business. This one is about solving my woman problem.’
It was late, past ten o’clock, and Julia couldn’t believe she was already tucked up in bed, like a nanna, reading her mother’s favourite book, Pride and Prejudice. She’d found the tattered hardback in her mother’s bedside drawer and had brought it to bed with her. She felt tucked up and safe in her old room, protected from the wind and the rumblings of the ocean, warmed by memories of childhood and her mother. The afternoon had been gut wrenching, bagging up her mother’s things, cleaning out what needed to go in the rubbish. The task was made much easier because her mother wasn’t a huge collector of things. In a way, the place had stopped changing when her father died, which her mother had no doubt done on purpose, finding comfort in its familiarity. That’s why Julia had been so surprised to find her wedding dress stashed away in the wardrobe. She supposed her mother had dreams of seeing Julia wear it one day. Even though she’d encouraged her daughter to get out and see the world and make a life for herself away from Middle Point, didn’t every mother harbour a secret desire to see their children happy and settled with someone they loved who loved them back just as much?
At the sound of her ringtone, Julia reached over to the bedside table to grab her phone. Ry’s name was on the display. Their phone call earlier that day had been awkward and he’d ended the call sounding angry. Julia hesitated. If only she didn’t want to hear his voice so damn much. She brought a hand to rest on her belly and wondered when she might stop feeling that quivering sensation every time she heard his voice.
‘Hey Ry.’ The noise down the phone was loud in her ear. She placed her book on the blanket beside her and sunk down into the pillow. She didn’t want to remember what it had felt like having him beside her in this bed or remember anything about having sex with him. Especially not how hot he looked naked or how his magical fingers had done things to her with an intensity she’d never been able to find on her own.
‘Hey gorgeous. It’s me.’ He sounded keyed up and there was a tone in his voice she recognised. He seemed happy. Or maybe he was just drunk.
‘I know it’s you.’
‘Hey, I miss you. I’m coming down tomorrow night. I’ve got some big news and we need to celebrate. Dinner at the pub, eight o’clock.’
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll tell you everything when I see you. And JJ?’
‘Yeah?’ She pressed the phone close to her ear, wanting his voice right inside her head. And then hating that she did.
‘I want to see you. I need to tell you something. Something big. About you and me.’
‘Okay Ry. See you tomorrow night.’ Julia knew her instincts were dead on. He was definitely drunk and she shouldn’t have taken anything he’d just said seriously. But that didn’t stop her from dozing off to sleep with the question buzzing around inside her head: what was the big thing he had to tell her?
On Friday morning, Lizzie stood open-mouthed in her friend’s kitchen and spun around to take in every angle.
‘Stella is amazing. Ooh, I love the silver canisters there on the shelf above the stove. And those vintage teacups look brilliant.’ Lizzie clapped her hands together and then threw her arms around Julia for a hug.
Julia beamed. She’d worked hard to get the place gleaming, and now the sink was sparkling as if it had been prepped for major surgery, the old stove glistened and the countertops were clutter-free, except for a strategically placed deep-blue glass bowl.
‘It’s looking great, Jools.’
‘Isn’t it. And guess what?’ She turned one of the kitchen taps until steam began to rise from the bowl. ‘I am now the proud owner of a brand-new hot water system!’
‘Ooh, quick. Let me update everyone on Facebook. Who would have thought that you would ever be excited about that.’
‘I know, right?’ She gave her friend a hip and shoulder. ‘Can I take you up on your promise to help me move some furniture back into the room?’
‘Of course. You’re not keeping the orange sofa are you?’
‘Absolutely. Stella said it makes the place look retro vintage.’
‘Really?’
‘It will work, believe me.’
‘You know your own mind, that’s for sure. You always did.’ Julia looked at Lizzie’s face and saw an accusation hiding there behind her grin.
‘Are you saying I’m stubborn?’ Julia stood, hands on her hips.
‘Stubborn? Perhaps headstrong. Or obstinate. Or just plain bolshie. Yeah, I kind of like bolshie.’ Julia laughed and walked to the spare bedroom where the living room furniture had been stored during the painting. Lizzie followed her and they positioned themselves at either end of the sofa. Bending their knees, they lifted it and began crab-walking it to the living space.
‘I just know what I want, that’s all. That’s no crime, is it?’
‘Do you really know what you want?’
‘Why do I get the feeling there’s a subtext here.’
‘And here I was trying to be so subtle.’ Lizzie fluttered her eyelashes and Julia laughed. They gently placed the sofa down on the floor, moved it slightly into the right position.
‘People change, Julia, and what you want can change too.’
‘Wanting something — or someone — doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s a good idea.’
‘Someone? Is that the someone we’re having dinner with in …’ she checked her watch, ‘ … four hours?’
‘Can’t talk now, have to keep moving.’
They moved various pieces back into the main living area and playfully battled each other when it came to the new placement of the furniture. When Julia plugged the television back into the wall socket, they were done. Lizzie grabbed her coat and wrapped a scarf around her neck.
‘Drinks are on me tonight, Lizzie. I couldn’t have done all this without you.’ Julia looked around and damn it, tears welled up at the sight of the house. A week’s work and it was worthy now to be put on show.
‘Don’t worry. I think drinks are on Ry. He asked me to hold a table for five. Who else is he bringing down with him?’
Julia shrugged her shoulders. ‘He didn’t say.’ She realised they’d barely had a conversation the couple of times they’d spoken on the phone.
‘I guess we’ll find out.’ Lizzie kissed Julia on the cheek. ‘See you at the pub.’
CHAPTER
18
Julia couldn’t decide if it was the exercise or the anticipation that had her heart beating so fast as she pushed open the heavy wooden doors to the front bar of the Middle Point Pub. The warmth enveloped her. She looked around at the happy diners, took in the smoky smell of the roaring fire and grinned wryly. She hadn’t been back since that first night she’d seen Ry and been marched off the premises. She was glad to be back as an invited guest.
Julia found Ry, Lizzie and Barbra sitting with another man at the table nearest the fire. She was glad Lizzie had thought to pull rank and get them the best — an
d warmest — spot in the place. She walked over and stood behind the last empty chair.
‘Hello everyone.’
Ry turned at the sound of her voice. A slow and easy smile crept over his face as he stood and took the two steps he needed to reach her. Julia noticed the hint of stubble on his jaw and the way he looked so damned handsome and warm in a black jumper and dark denims. There was a flush to his cheeks from the fire and his eyes shone at her.
‘Hi,’ he whispered with a grin. He reached his right arm under her open coat and behind her back, gently pulling her close until their bodies touched, pressing his lips to hers and leaving them lingering there. She picked up the scent of his aftershave, pine and citrus.
‘Hey,’ she replied, feeling nervous. He seemed too happy and that unsettled her. She needed to talk to him, tell him it had all been a stupid mistake and they should put it behind them. Yes, that’s what she needed to do, definitely. But when he loosened his hold on her, while keeping his arm firmly around her waist, he was marking her in front of everyone and it thrilled her to the core.
‘You’ve met my mother.’
Barbra reached up to touch Julia’s arm. ‘Darling girl, how wonderful to see you again.’ Large silver hoop earrings dangled on either side of Barbra’s face, bookending a joyful smile.
‘You too, Barbra.’
Hidden by her coat, Ry’s hand moved secretly and slowly from the arch of her back to the curve of her backside, and when he tightened his hold, the pit of her stomach began to dance.
‘And this is Dan McSwaine, my Director of Special Projects. Dan, Julia.’ Dan stood and Julia couldn’t stop herself from taking him in from head to toe. She was a woman, after all, and he was, by every objective measure, delectable. What a pair he and Ry made. Where Ry was all blonde spiky hair and sapphire eyes, Dan’s wavy hair was jet black, short at the sides and longer on top, his olive skin setting off his Irish-green eyes. Eyes that, Julia realised, were looking at her cautiously.
Ry gave her butt a firm squeeze and she realised he’d noticed her appreciation for his friend. Julia held out her hand and Dan took it in his, for a firm, no-nonsense handshake.
Nobody But Him Page 17
