Someone Like You

by Victoria Purman

  There was another flicker in his direction, this one slightly longer, her blue eyes washed out and pale.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said quietly.

  With a nod in Joe’s direction, which he figured was more than the bloke deserved, Dan turned and stalked down the corridor, uttering a satisfying curse with every step until he was out through the back door and standing in the bright sunshine.

  Lizzie dumped the menus on the bar.

  ‘Elizabeth?’ Joe exaggerated her name with a smirk. ‘No one’s called you that since Nanna.’

  ‘Yes, well. That’s Dan for you. Always looking for new and interesting ways to piss me off. And he’s very successful at it, if you must know.’

  ‘How long have you had a thing going with him?’ Joe asked casually, sipping his beer.

  Lizzie felt the heat rise in her cheeks. ‘A thing? No thing. Never was a thing. Never will be a thing.’ Lizzie grabbed a cloth and began wiping the top of the bar furiously.

  Joe chuckled. ‘Give it a rest, Lizzie. He nearly cut off the circulation in my fingers when we shook hands. And he seemed to enjoy calling me “the Sydney snake” a little too much. Interesting guy, your Dan.’

  She ground her teeth together with a satisfying clench. ‘First of all, he is not “my” Dan. He is someone else’s Dan, if you must know. And second of all, don’t you dare turn all nosey, inquisitive, put-words-in-my-mouth journalist on me. That stuff may work for you in Sydney, but I’m not playing.’

  Joe lifted his beer, swirled the froth around inside the glass. Thinking time. ‘What I find interesting is that first he looked pissed off because he didn’t know I was your brother. And then when he found out I was your brother, he looked even madder.’

  Lizzie let out an exasperated sigh. She’d never been able to keep any secrets from Stinkface. Neither had half of Sydney, apparently.

  ‘It’s a long story, Joe.’

  He waved a hand dismissively. ‘No one’s got time for long stories these days. Can you tell me in 140 characters? Hit me with the Twitter version, Mosquito.’

  Lizzie threw the damp cloth on the bar in frustration, planted her hands on her hips, looked Joe dead in the eyes. Her bottom lip began to quiver. ‘I think I’m in love with him. Hashtag worst idea ever.’

  ‘Ah hah,’ Joe replied, his eyes narrowed in bemusement. ‘That’s good news, isn’t it? It’s been a long time between drinks for you, am I right?’

  She took a few deep breaths and wished away the tears. ‘No, it’s a disaster.’

  Once she’d convinced Joe to go home, on the ruse that he should go have a cup of tea and discuss politics with Harri, Lizzie returned to her desk and continued planning for the Christmas market. She had some stallholders booked and was waiting on responses from four others. She sifted through her emails, responded halfheartedly to a dozen of them, filed some hard copy invoices and sorted out the glitches in the January roster.

  Anything to distract herself from the knowledge that there was only a two-foot thick stone wall separating her from Dan McSwaine. She didn’t have a miraculous sixth sense when it came to the man. After an hour of solid procrastinating, she’d crossed the corridor and snuck into the kitchen, pushed the chef aside, stood on tiptoe to peek out the back windows to see what he was doing.

  It was hot out there.

  He had his back to her, his hands at his hips, talking to an older man, who Lizzie had figured was probably the electrician. Dan’s navy T-shirt was damp between his broad shoulder blades and she could see sweat glistening on his forearms. The short sleeves were tight on his biceps and his chest, and his work jeans hugged his thighs in every place that counted. He’d had a baseball cap pulled over his thick, black hair, and as he’d turned slightly in her direction, she noticed a pair of aviator-style sunglasses covered his eyes.

  Six kinds of handsome had turned into a definite seven. With a bullet.

  When she noticed the tan-coloured leather tool belt, heavy with equipment, slung low on one hip, her pulse went soaring up into the stratosphere. There was something so unbelievably sexy about a man who could do the kinds of stuff that required the wearing of a tool belt.

  Back at her desk, the phone rang. She reached out to grab it and knocked over her glass of water, soaking a pile of papers.

  ‘Lizzie Blake,’ she announced with false cheer as she pressed the receiver to her ear.

  ‘Hello, Lizzie dear. It’s Shirley from the Naughty Knitters.’

  Lizzie ripped a dozen tissues from the box on her table and pressed them on the soggy invoices. ‘Delighted to hear from you, Shirley.’

  ‘Now, Lizzie. We’ve heard all about your Christmas market and the girls and I are very keen on setting up a table. We’re trying to raise some money for the nursing home. They could do with a new TV.’

  ‘Shirley.’ Lizzie let out a tired sigh. ‘That’s just wonderful. We’d love to have you. Can I take your address so I can send you some details?’

  The call had been a good distraction. After that, Lizzie had applied the bum glue and got her head back into work. Within ten minutes, thoughts of Dan crashed right back in. She threw her head into her hands and sighed. Mixing work and play had been such a bad idea. She laid the blame squarely at Julia and Ry’s feet. They’d put ideas into her head about Dan and she’d simply got carried away. Was it any surprise, given how gorgeous he was and how long it had been between man drinks? Any woman in the vicinity of that seven kinds – scratch that – eight kinds of handsome for too long, would melt like an ice cream on a summer’s day. She’d been no different. Julia and Ry had wanted her to help him, set her a simple task to reach out to him, see that he was all right.

  And what had she done? Had sex with him, which hadn’t seemed to be very helpful at all. He was now more distant than ever. And all it had done to her was confuse her and make her long for something she couldn’t have. Anna already had him. Her own night with Dan had clearly meant more to her than it had meant to him. He’d hadn’t pretended it was going to be anything else. She was the one who had gotten carried away and let herself think she was in love with him.

  The best thing she could do was to create some distance between them and get back to work. The renovation was almost complete and Dan’s work at the pub would soon be done. Lizzie could be content in the knowledge that she had lived up to her deal with Ry and, importantly, the outdoor dining area and market would be up and running. She had Julia back in her life now and Joe was home, at least for the summer. Life was good. Lizzie had never had too many expectations about having much else beyond the ordinary.

  So she’d spent some time with Dan and he’d scratched an itch. Well, she had too. Maybe her feelings for him were a trick of memory as well. She was mixing guilt over his accident with sympathy for him and conflating them into something else entirely. Something real and special between the two of them. Something he clearly felt for someone else. Someone like Anna. She’d just have to get over it. And she had plenty of distractions to keep her busy.

  Starting now. Another call.

  ‘Hey, Jools.’

  ‘Lizzie, it’s me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ve got great news.’ Julia’s voice was fizzing with excitement. ‘We’ve set a date for the wedding.’

  Lizzie sighed. How typical of her life. She was heading in one direction and Julia was diving headlong the other way. And while her funk had seen her scouring the depths for all that had gone wrong with Dan, she was over the moon happy that Julia had finally got it right with Ry.

  ‘When did this all suddenly happen? Weren’t you waiting for…’

  Dan. They’d been waiting for Dan.

  ‘Ry asked Dan and he said yes, so…it’s party time. We’re getting married!’

  Lizzie’s heart sank. Dan was best man and she was the bridesmaid. She knew they’d been waiting to ask him, delaying it until they thought he seemed to be getting back to his old self. They’d obviously made the judgment that he was. And Lizzie had
to agree that all the signs were positive. Dan had gone back to work. He was turning up at the pub, getting out and about in Middle Point. Good for him. He’d clearly found what he’d needed to get him back to his old life: someone from his old life. More things had been broken in the car accident than just his leg and his nose and a few other bones. If Anna was what he needed, he deserved her.

  Things were falling into place for everyone. Julia was marrying the man she loved and who adored her. They deserved every piece of that happiness, having waited fifteen years for each other.

  As for Lizzie, what was she worthy of? Good friends, family, a community she loved. The best beach in the world. French champagne once a year. Maybe that was enough. Maybe that would never be spectacular but sometimes ordinary was okay.

  ‘I’ve got a deal for you, Jools. If you help me with the market, I’ll help you with the wedding.’

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Julia laughed.

  Dan looked around the car park, which didn’t resemble a car park anymore. The grey cobblestone pavers were laid, giving the space a rustic feel that suited the old stone pub. Around the edges, garden beds had been dug over but were still empty. That was the next job. The trees were expected any day now and the supplier had recommended a variety of smaller, salt-tolerant shrubs to fill out the beds. The whole place was on its way to being transformed and Dan felt proud of his part in it.

  He lifted his sunglasses off his nose and swiped his forearm against his forehead. He was clearing up the site and it was satisfying work filling the skip, hearing the clatter and crash of building materials as he threw pieces of paver and stone into it. He felt a wrench at the thought that it would soon be over. He told himself that feeling of regret was about the project, and not about the fact that his work with Lizzie would be at an end. He glanced towards the pub’s back door, wondered what she was doing right now. Staying out of his way, no doubt.

  And could he blame her? He felt guilty for not keeping his word about taking her up to McLaren Vale for lunch as he’d promised. Hell, more than guilty. Hadn’t he stood right here, on almost this very spot, and told her he didn’t want to hide that they’d spent the night together? When he’d pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and she’d kissed him right back, she’d almost blown his head off.

  Dan felt like kicking his own arse. He’d got carried away. He’d gone too far. He wasn’t ready to dive into anything, not when he had a Damoclean sword hanging over his head, ready to strike without warning. He’d figured the panic attacks had stopped for good but Anna had warned him they might return. That was the cruel trick of what was happening to him.

  He pulled his cap lower down on his face. Since he’d seen Anna, he felt himself slipping back to a place he’d thought he’d left behind. This seesaw of feeling good and then feeling like shit was beginning to wear him down. She’d convinced him that talking through what had happened would help. She’d got him to remember things about being in hospital, tried to dredge up memories that he’d locked away for his own sanity. It was painful and exhausting and he was scared as hell of slipping back into the darkness. How could he start anything with Lizzie while he felt that way?

  The back door of the pub creaked open and he turned at the sound of it. Lizzie was propping it open with her backside so she could make her way through hands-free. She was carrying a tray, on it a silver jug and two long glasses, clinking with ice. The bright sun hit her like a spotlight and the breeze coming off the beach ruffled her hair and fluttered the collar of her white sleeveless shirt.

  ‘I thought you guys might need a drink,’ she called.

  ‘The sparky left. He’s finished up.’

  ‘Oh.’

  When he saw Lizzie hesitate, he stepped forward. ‘But I’ll take one of those if you’re still offering.’

  ‘Of course.’ Lizzie held the tray out towards him and instead of taking a glass, he took it from her hands. She lifted the jug, poured chilled water into one of the glasses.

  ‘There you go,’ she said.

  ‘What about you?’

  She looked up to meet his eyes, hesitant.

  ‘C’mon,’ he said softly. She poured a second glass. Dan nodded for Lizzie to follow him. There weren’t any chairs out there, but there was a stacked pile of pavers in the far corner left over from the job, and they walked over and sat down.

  Dan swallowed the water in one huge gulp. Lizzie sipped hers slowly and seemed intent on watching the ice melt. He wondered if she was going to look at him. Maybe if she did, he’d find the right words to say to her.

  ‘Thanks for the drink,’ he said, leaning forward to drop his elbows on his knees.

  ‘It’s no trouble, really. It’s hot work out here today.’

  ‘Trees and shrubs should arrive tomorrow.’

  ‘Great.’ She paused. ‘It’ll be over then.’

  Dan looked back at her, slowly took off his sunglasses, pushed one of the silver arms down inside the neck of his T-shirt. He got the feeling she was talking about more than the renovation job. Other things would be over, too.

  ‘Yeah. It’ll be done.’

  She gripped her glass tighter. ‘Thanks for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  He took a deep breath, tried to find the words. She’d never pushed him, never judged him, never pitied him. And what had he done? He’d slammed the door in her face. Growled at her. Stood her up. Kept secrets from her. He’d let her down. And there she was, beautiful as ever, thanking him.

  He heaved a huge sigh. ‘You don’t need to thank me for anything, Elizabeth.’

  ‘Of course I do. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.’

  ‘It was a team effort, as far as I’m concerned.’ He reached over, covered one of her hands with his. When she didn’t pull back right away, he entwined his fingers with hers. ‘This project, your idea for this community is fantastic. People will come from all over to check out the market. This is really something.’

  She found a smile. ‘I can’t wait to see it all come to life. It doesn’t seem real until then. I was wondering…’ Her eyes dipped down towards her lap, into their entangled hands. ‘Will you be here for the first market? I figure I owe you a cup of coffee. Or at least, breakfast.’

  ‘Elizabeth.’ Dan gave her fingers one last squeeze and then let go. ‘I can’t. I’m going up to Adelaide for a few days. Maybe a week.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Hearing the disappointment in that one word almost undid him.

  ‘That’ll be nice. You’ll be able to catch up with people, go out and eat somewhere that’s not the pub. I hope you have a good time.’

  Lizzie kneeled down to pick up the tray, loaded the glasses on to it. Turned to him. ‘I’ve got to get back. I’ll let you know when the trees arrive.’

  Dan stood, wiping his hands on the front of his T-shirt. He adjusted the tool belt so the hammer hanging from it didn’t dig into his thigh. ‘Okay. I’ll still be around for the next few days if you need me.’

  She held his gaze for just a moment and gave him a minimalist smile before heading back inside.

  Dan sat back down, took off his cap, tried to tame his hair and tugged it back on. He was as disappointed as she was that he wouldn’t be there for the opening. He really wanted to celebrate all their hard work. And her brilliant idea. He wanted to see it come to life, ask her if it was just as she’d imagined it to be.

  But he’d made a promise to Anna. She’d arranged for him to meet with one of her doctor mates, had convinced him that it was what he needed to do. He knew what Lizzie was thinking, that he was heading back to Adelaide to dive back into his old life, filled with bars, nightclubs, women and too much to drink.

  It was easier to let her think that because the truth was too hard to share.

  He was heading back to Adelaide to try to get his life back.

  CHAPTER

  17

  Dan weaved his way through a crowded, cobblestoned laneway off Adelaide’s Hindley Stree
t. It was early Friday night and half a dozen small bars with funky names were already doing a roaring trade. Crowds of people spilled out from the doorways of neatly restored heritage buildings, chatting and laughing around small tables on the wide footpaths. Advertising types, PR women, business-suited couples who’d arrived directly from their offices. The hipsters and the suits, mixing it up with uni students carrying takeaway coffees and young girls wearing very high heels and very short skirts, obviously walking through on their way to the nearby nightclub strip.

  Dan stopped, looked to his left and right, searching the buildings for the bar Luke had mentioned that afternoon on the phone. It was called…what the hell was it called and where was it? There’d been a time, and not that long ago, when he knew about the opening of a new bar before almost anyone else in Adelaide. Not now, clearly.

  A hat. The hat. It was something about a hat.

  He saw a new place across the street and ducked over. The Mad Hatter. Dan walked through the open doorway and saw Luke immediately, leaning back on the bar like he owned the place. He had a designer beer in one hand, his phone in the other and a smug grin on his face.

  Luke Harrison had been an asset to Blackburn and Son Developments over the past five years, when Ry and Dan had worked their arses off to save the company from going under. He was a few years younger, maybe just thirty, was smart and worked hard, and had stepped up big-time during Dan’s absence over the past few months. Dan felt a smile crease his face. It was good to see him.

  ‘Mate,’ Luke exclaimed. He put his beer on the bar and thrust out a hand to shake Dan’s. They did the bloke thing and leaned in and patted each other on the back in a half hug. Then Dan leaned back on the bar and surveyed the crowd as Luke talked.

  ‘C’mon Sarah,’ he implored down the line, giving Dan a wink. ‘Just one drink. I’m here at The Mad Hatter with Dan McSwaine.’