There was a determination in his eyes that told Lizzie he wasn’t going to just sit around and let his best friend be miserable. Funnily enough, neither was she. Maybe they had more in common than she would ever have predicted.
‘I have a confession to make.’ Lizzie smiled when she saw the interest in Dan’s face turn up a notch or two. He leaned closer.
‘I actually thought Ry might be here tonight. I convinced Julia to come and sit by the fire and have a glass of wine. I thought if they accidently on purpose bumped into each other, they might talk it out.’
‘I like the way you think. But the last time I saw Ry he was holed up at the house as miserable as a pub with no beer.’ Dan looked deep in thought, a line of tension in the space between his brows, concern in his dark eyes. But then he surprised Lizzie by slamming his fist on the bar and laughing right out loud. He stretched out a long leg and reached into the pocket of his jeans. After a few taps on his phone, he lifted it to his ear. Winked at her. The move sent a shimmer down her body that tingled her toes and a few spots in between.
‘Yeah, Boss, it’s me. I’m at your pub. You’d better get your arse down here pronto.’ Dan glanced over to the fire. ‘Why? Because we’re about to run out of beer and Lizzie tells me every member of the Middle Point footy club’s coming in for their end of year celebrations in half an hour. You know what that means. There’ll be violence.’
He met Lizzie’s eyes, held the look. ‘No, I’m on my way back to Adelaide and Lizzie’s busy with the bowling club ladies. Yeah, yeah, stop whining. Okay, see you in five.’
He pocketed his phone and took a sip of his drink. ‘It’s up to Romeo and Julia-ette now.’
Well, wasn’t Dan McSwaine a surprise. ‘That was a nice thing to do.’
He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. ‘It’s all about me, really. If I have to put up with his misery any longer I’ll have to kick his arse.’ He leaned toward her, the move flopping his wayward fringe back onto his forehead. Lizzie found the move incredibly distracting.
‘So, tell me something. Why are you still in this little town working in a pub? Why didn’t you leave like Julia did?’
‘I did leave. I went to London and lived there for a while.’
‘And you came back here?’
When she raised her eyebrows he added, ‘No offence, but London to Middle Point is kind of a big change.’
She had her reasons. Private reasons. ‘I missed it. Missed home and my family, the beach, the big sky.’
Dan’s eyes roamed over her face, taking in her pale blue eyes, her spiky blonde hair and her full lips. For half a second they lowered to the spot where her white shirt curved over her breasts.
‘So what about you, Dan. You got someone waiting for you up in Adelaide?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m waiting for Barbra to realise what she’s been missing and succumb to my charms. She’ll come around.’
‘You seem very close to them. The Blackburns.’
‘We’re as close to family as you can get without being related by blood.’ There was a pride in his voice about being associated with that family. Knowing what she did of them, it wasn’t misplaced. Dan drained his drink and took a good swallow of the ice, crunching it between his teeth.
‘Lizzie, you pour a mean Coke.’ He slowly stood up to leave. Lizzie’s neck hurt from angling back to see how tall he was. ‘I’m going to miss your pretty face behind the bar. And your uniform.’
‘I won’t.’ She looked down and realised she’d given him an open invitation to stare at her breasts again, which was the whole point. She let a sly grin emerge on her face. ‘It’s a total bitch getting red wine stains out of these. I can’t wait until next week when I take on the Manager’s position and I can wear whatever I want.’
‘Good luck with that. From what I hear from Ry, you’ll be brilliant.’
She stared at him a minute, confused. ‘Thanks Dan.’
He looked at her with a bemused smile and turned to go. Then he paused and stepped back to the bar. ‘Hell, Lizzie, I reckon we got off on the wrong foot.’ He reached across the bar and held out his big, strong hand. ‘Hello, I’m Dan McSwaine. It’s very nice to meet you.’
She stretched her hand out to him and watched him take it in his. The warmth of it travelled in a current up her arm to her chest. His lips parted in a smile and his eyes brightened. He lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand, softly, slowly.
‘Lizzie Blake. It’s very nice to meet you, Dan.’
From across the pub, Julia watched the intricate tango Dan and Lizzie had been dancing and felt a twist in her chest. At one point he’d leaned over the bar and Julia didn’t have to hear the words to know the kind of thing he’d said. Lizzie’s red cheeks and oh-so-casual stance gave her away. There was clearly some flirting going on between them and watching it made Julia feel envious. Oh how delicious it was to be flirted with. The glances, sly looks, the innuendo, the accidental touches and the thrill of the approach. The excitement and the expectation. The fluttering in the belly and the inherent optimism that this person might be the one. She watched with a pang as Dan turned to go, stopped, came back and took Lizzie’s hand in his. He seemed to hold it for quite a while and the expression on Lizzie’s face when he’d kissed her hand was priceless. Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, pink-cheeked.
Only when he heard his name called, did Dan let go of Lizzie’s hand and turn to the door.
‘What the hell is going on, Dan? How can we possibly be running out of beer?’ Ry strode through the bar, ignoring the confused shouts from patrons who’d panicked as soon as they’d heard the phrase ‘running out of beer’.
Dan turned to him with a cocky smile. He put his hand on his heart and dipped his head.
‘Mate, I lied. There is no beer crisis. It would simply be un-Australian to run out of beer.’
‘Dan.’ Ry growled, his face like a stormy Middle Point sky.
‘Hey Ry,’ Lizzie called from behind the bar.
Dan took two steps towards him, crossed his arms over his chest. ‘It seemed like the only way to get you down here, you stubborn prick.’
They faced off. There was so much testosterone in the room Lizzie could almost smell it.
‘What the fuck is going on?’
‘You look chilled to the bone, mate.’ Dan grabbed Ry by the shoulders and spun him around. ‘Why don’t you go and toast some marshmallows?’
From behind the bar Lizzie whispered, ‘Dan McSwaine, you’re a regular cupid.’
He winked at her, walked backwards a few steps then stopped. ‘Why aren’t you called Elizabeth?’
‘Always hated it. When people call me Elizabeth I feel like the Queen.’
He grinned. ‘Bye Elizabeth.’
What the hell was Julia doing here? Ry swore under his breath. She looked soft and warm, her cheeks glowing, the fire creating a light behind her that played in the curls of her dark hair. She stood, her hands clasped together at her waist, her fingers twisting around each other in a nervous fidget. Her intense eyes, a question lingering in them, searched out his face. He realised that she was waiting for him to join her. Ry felt a surge of longing just looking at her and, even if he’d wanted to, he couldn’t have walked away. He went over, pulled out a chair from a nearby table and sat down.
He tried to keep his head in the pub, in the here and now, but all Ry could think about was their meeting on the street and how, stupidly and desperately, he’d kissed her. The move had shocked her, he knew it, could see it in her eyes. Hell, he hadn’t planned it either but when he’d been standing there, looking down at her beautiful face, he’d suddenly been struck by the thought that it might be the last time he would ever see her. And Ry knew he couldn’t live with himself if their last time together was a fight. It had to be something else.
And now, here she was. Did this mean he would have another chance?
He finally spoke. ‘Nice fire. You look like you’ve been enjoying it for a while.’
<
br /> Julia looked at him, confused.
‘Your cheeks. They’re … you look nice and warm.’ And like home, he suddenly realised. Damn it but there wasn’t another face in the world he wanted to come home to. To wake up next to.
Julia’s hands flew to her face, her fingers splayed out on her cheeks, a gesture that floored him. She looked vulnerable, maybe even a little scared. And that cut him up. God, he wanted to pull her into his arms, hold her beautiful face in his hands and stare into those caramel eyes, and tell her how he really felt. But he was shit-scared that such a move wouldn’t be welcome anymore. He summoned every bit of patience he had and waited.
‘I’ve been here a while,’ Julia said. ‘Waiting for you actually.’ Her eyes glistened and she sat still, quiet, and he hoped like hell she wasn’t warming him up for the big kiss-off.
Sorry we fought, have a nice life, no hard feelings.
‘Ry, I was hoping I’d get the chance to talk to you before I … before I go home.’
He tried to read her expression. If he was going to have to sit through the Don’t Come Monday talk, he at least needed a drink.
‘Can I have some of that wine?’
Julia handed him her glass and he gulped down the rest of the merlot. This was not the time to savour the complexity and elegance of the drop he recognised, having hand-picked it for the new wine list. He needed a good strong slurp to steady himself and he needed to do something with his hands to keep them from touching her. From shaking her to her senses.
‘Ry, I’m sorry.’ She held his gaze, her voice soft and low. ‘I said things the other night that were … just appalling. And I said them without knowing anything about Windswept.’
‘Julia, it–’ He gripped the bowl of the wine glass so hard he felt like it might shatter in his hand.
‘Please, let me finish. I leapt to conclusions and I was wrong. So unbelievably wrong. I saw the story in the paper today and Windswept looks … well, it looks incredible.’ She took a deep breath to steady herself. ‘I’ve been wrong about so many things.’
Julia looked into his eyes with such raw honesty that Ry felt his heart open up inside his chest. He set the wine glass on the low coffee table and pulled his chair closer, reaching over into her lap to hold her hand, enveloping it in his, gripping tight.
Ry looked at her, his eyes loving and close. All she could see was him. All she could hear was her own breathing. And all she could feel was her thumping heart. At that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of them, cocooned inside the pub, warm and safe. Together.
Ry’s thumb stroked circles on the back of her hand, and he seemed so close all of a sudden that she could smell soap and his aftershave. So male, so Ry.
‘I couldn’t figure out any other way to tell you why Windswept is so important to me.’ He was so handsome half-lit in the flickering flames that her heart clutched. She squeezed his hand back.
‘I should have listened to you instead of being so … so self-righteous.’
‘I’m not in it for a quick buck or to turn over some hot property. There’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few years, Julia, and I learnt it the hard way. It’s patience. I’ve had to learn to dig in, to fight for what I believe in, to keep on going, no matter how long it takes. You have to know that I’m in this for the long haul.’ Ry moved closer, one of his strong thighs now between her legs.
‘Something happened to me five years ago, when Dad died. Something that changed me. Five years ago we nearly lost the company, everything. It was right in the middle of the global financial crisis. My father was thinking about closing us down, letting all our employees go. The banks were circling. I reckon it was all that stress that killed him.’
Ry’s voice was quiet and sombre, his expression solemn.
‘Up until then, I didn’t take any of it very seriously. I’d walked into that job after university. I’d never been unemployed a day in my life. Nothing much stands in your way when your father’s name is on the company. Yeah, I was an arrogant shit with it. You know I was.’
Julia just listened, holding on to him, her heart breaking at the pain in his eyes.
‘But everything changed for me when he died. That company was supposed to be my life too, you know? I was supposed to take over when Dad retired, so he could go to Italy with Mum, play golf, buy a caravan.’
‘Oh Ry.’ Julia blinked back her tears.
‘When he died, it became more than a job for me. There was no way I was going to let the company die with him, to let that be his legacy. So I dug in and fought like hell. I took on the banks, all our creditors, sat down with our employees and worked out a way to keep going.’
He stopped at a memory. ‘For years, it was ten hours a day, seven days a week. It’s taken us five years to get the company back. Dan’s been right with me every single step of the way and we’ve busted our arses, both of us. It’s been fucking exhausting. My doctor told me to slow down, to take it easy or I’d risk ending up like my dad. That was hard to hear. But I took that advice and I reassessed everything in my life.
‘And now, at long last, things seem to be working out. I own the pub and a house down here. Windswept is so much more than a concept drawing on my architect’s computer.’
And I see you again and the final puzzle piece seems so close to fitting into place, completing the picture of the way I want my life to be.
He met her eyes. ‘And everything feels … right. For me, for my life. Finally.’
‘Ry …’ It was all she could say, and she lifted his hand, enclosed in the warmth of hers, to her breast, to her heart and held it there.
His story made her want to weep for what he’d been through, for the struggles she’d never imagined in a million years he had endured. She’d always believed that her habit of making quick generalisations was a way of cutting through other people’s bullshit. But now she realised it was immature and cynical. It meant she never gave people the space to be more than the black and white, never allowed room for people to change or for them to exceed her expectations.
A sense of shame swept over her, flamed her cheeks and left a big knot of guilt in her stomach. She’d made so many assumptions about what had happened in his life since she’d walked out of it, and now realised they were all wrong. What a man he’d turned out to be. If only she’d given him the chance to tell her before now.
‘We’re building something here, JJ. That’s why Windswept is important to me.’
‘I can see that now. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. You are an amazing man, Ry.’ Julia hoped he could feel how strongly her heart was beating. For him.
‘That means a lot to me, Julia.’ More than he could say, he realised.
‘When will you start?’
‘We’ve got surveyors in next week and a few weeks after that we’ll start advertising locally for workers and local companies to clean up the site and start the earth-moving for the wetlands.’
‘Have you done big housing developments like this before?’
He finally smiled and how her chest ached at the sight of the sparkle in his sapphire eyes.
‘You mean you haven’t typed my name into a search engine to find out? I’m offended. I thought crisis management consultants were supposed to spy on people, dig up all their dirt before someone else gets there first.’
‘Oh, I do that all the time. But I couldn’t do it about you. Never, ever.’
‘Never?’
‘God, no. I was sure I’d find a photo of you in the society pages with your perfect wife.’ Julia laughed and expected one in return but Ry took a deep breath, let go of her hands.
‘You might have.’
Julia startled. ‘Pardon?’
‘I was married,’ he said.
A quiver rose from her toes and reverberated all the way to her mouth. ‘You were married?’ She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, closed her eyes for a second.
Ry nodded, his mouth a tight line, his jaw clenched.
Ry shook his head. ‘We were barely together long enough to organise a lease on an apartment, much less have children. It was a long time ago, Julia. I’ve been divorced twelve years.’
‘You were young.’
‘And foolish.’ He gave her a knowing look. ‘And on the rebound.’
She understood what he was saying. On the rebound from her.
Julia reached for the wine glass they’d been sharing and held it high between them. It was empty but she didn’t care.
‘To Blackburn and Son Developments. Especially the son. To Windswept.’
His eyes told her he knew what she was trying to say. ‘To old friends.’ His voice, deep and raspy, reached right into her chest and rattled her heart.
‘To Middle Point,’ Julia said on a breath.
‘To home.’
They ordered a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and a platter of local cheeses, cured meats and preserves and for the next hour nibbled and sipped as they relaxed into the warmth of the fire. Julia just sat and watched him. She loved the way his sapphire-blue eyes lit up and his hands flew through the air like an orchestra conductor as he described his plans. She smiled when he planted his palm flat on his chest as he described his reaction at buying the land, and her heart clenched when he raked his hand through his hair, mirroring the frustration of the planning process.
He’d spent a year researching exactly where the wetlands should sit in the development, and had consulted with environmental scientists and biologists. He’d met with social welfare agencies and housing and disability organisations to really understand what housing options were missing for some of the most disadvantaged members of the local area, to ensure Windswept would be a truly inclusive community.
The heat she felt flaming in her cheeks had nothing to do with the flames crackling in the stone fireplace. His mellifluous voice had always lit a fire in her, and she felt a slow burn rise up her whole body at the way his eyes danced in delight, his whole face erupting in laughter. The shadows she’d noticed under his eyes looked softer now, replaced with something else, some kind of peace and equanimity.
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