He could stay in the family home, but that wasn’t ideal. As much as he loved his folks, they drove him absolutely bananas. And there was no way he’d mooch off Adam and his wife by staying with them. But Cora might enjoy some good old-fashioned Aussie hospitality.
“You sure you don’t want to stay at the bed and breakfast?” Trent suggested. “Seriously, my brother and sister-in-law will take great care of you. It’s a beautiful little place, and I’m not just saying that because I helped them refurbish it.”
“I can’t leave you with the mess from today,” Cora said, taking a long pull on her beer. “There’re two bedrooms, right? Do you think we could share the space without getting in each other’s way?”
“There’s going to be noise and dust while I work on it. Not to mention other contractors possibly coming in and out.”
“I don’t mind.”
“But I’m sure you were expecting something more relaxing. This is your holiday, after all. Don’t worry about the accommodation bill, either. I’ll cover it—”
“I said I don’t mind,” she repeated firmly. Cora’s eyes met his so unwaveringly, with so much conviction, it was obvious her desires were all but chiseled in stone. “I’d like to stay, if I won’t get in the way of things.”
Trent sighed. There wasn’t much more he could say without seeming like a jerk for kicking her out when he was the one who’d decided to camp there, without permission. “You promise to keep it a secret from Liv? I wanted the reno to be a surprise when she came home. She worked her butt off to buy that place, and I plan to make it perfect for her.”
A sweet smile drifted over Cora’s lips, and she made a locking motion with one hand. “Your secret is totally safe with me.”
“So we’re roommates, then?”
“Yes. And I won’t keep you up with squeaking bedsprings and screaming in the middle of the night.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously, and for a hot minute, Trent felt very disappointed that he wouldn’t hear those sounds coming out of her mouth. “No requests for hair pulling or anything like that, I promise.”
“Well, how could I possibly refuse a deal like that?” He held out his hand, and Cora slipped her palm against his, their agreement sealed. “Welcome to Patterson’s Bluff.”
Chapter Four
After chips and beers, Cora suggested they order a proper meal, and Trent was more than happy to oblige. The food at the White Crest was good, hearty fare, and he was perfectly content to sit with Cora and chat. They kept things light and impersonal—skirting topics about her motivations for coming to Australia and why she seemed determined to have the “local” experience. Trent had the feeling Cora was like an onion, one layer of complexity after another with the real her buried far beneath.
Still, Trent found himself enjoying her company, and before they knew it, the pub was filling up around them. So they fixed up their bill and decided to head to the beach to use the showers there.
“So what are your plans after your sister gets back?” Cora asked as they headed along the main drag. The sun was low on the horizon, laying a rich, orange-gold filter over the world. It picked up on the burnished tones in Cora’s highlighted hair.
“I’m going to build my own place,” he replied. “I’ve got the perfect piece of land and everything waiting for me to find the right time to get started.”
But there always seemed to be something delaying him—renovations on Liv’s house, fixing up the back decking around his parents’ place, overtime at the day job, accepting a rush contract for the yoga studio’s expansion when the other building company pulled out last minute. But those things were important to him. As his dad always said, “our family helps others.” It was the Walters’ way.
And who would he be if he didn’t adhere to the family credo?
“That must be nice,” she mused. A salt-drenched breeze ruffled her dress, swirling the hem around her thighs as they walked.
“Building a house?”
“Hunting out a piece of land. There’s something primal about that, don’t you think? Laying claim to the dirt and soil, building a home on top of it.” She had a dreamy expression on her face. “I’ve never had a backyard.”
Trent blinked. “You’ve never had a backyard?”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m a born and raised Manhattan gal, remember? We’re not exactly flush with extra space there. The best I ever got was a terrace.”
“But…even as a kid?” He balked. He couldn’t imagine his childhood without the feeling of springy grass between his toes and sprinklers cooling him down on hot summer days. “How did you play sports with your friends? How did you have sleepovers under the stars? What about water gun fights in the summer?”
“Well, we’d go to the Hamptons in the summer and we had plenty of space there. But that wasn’t home.” A dark look crossed over her face. “And I was never allowed to play sports as a kid.”
“Why the hell not?”
Cora sighed. “My mother preferred me to take up more ‘ladylike’ pursuits like playing the violin and flute. She wanted me to pursue a music performance career.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t.”
“The truth was…I was only ever mediocre, and I get terrible nerves in front of a crowd. My mother threw all the money she could at it. She even donated a huge sum so I’d be accepted into an elite performing arts conservatory, but everyone there knew I’d bought my way in. I wasn’t as good as they were.” She sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. So I quit.”
Cora’s expression told Trent very clearly how that action had gone down. “And then you went to work for a literary agency.”
“That’s right.”
“Did you ever take up any sports?” They rounded a corner to the road that would bring them to the beach—cars lined each side, people with sand-covered legs and feet brushing themselves down as they packed their things away.
“Does going to spin class count?” she joked.
Trent shot her a look.
“Then, no. I have officially never played any kind of competitive sport.” She held up her hand. “Don’t judge me.”
“I’m not judging you. But I am incredibly sad for your childhood.” He raked a hand through his hair. How could someone deprive their kid of such a fundamental childhood experience? “You’ve never known the sweet taste of victory in winning a game that was neck and neck the whole way through. You’ve never known that rush when your team is down, and something happens to put you back in the lead.”
Cora laughed, and the sound was like windchimes and champagne bubbles. When she laughed, all the worry in her body seemed to evaporate. The crease of her brows relaxed, her shoulders dropped, and her eyes seemed to glow. “Maybe I’m not competitive.”
“Everyone is competitive,” he said. “It’s human nature. Survival of the fittest and all that.”
“I guess I’m going to get eaten by a lion out in the wild,” she quipped.
“I won’t let that happen. How would Liv feel knowing I sent you out into the wild, ill-equipped to deal with any lions you might come across?” He grinned. “Besides, my cricket team is one down. We need another girl to play with us.”
“Oh no.” Cora shook her head vigorously. “I’m not going to take on that level of responsibility.”
“It’s a very chill team, trust me. And besides, you did say you wanted the local experience,” he pointed out. They reached the short wooden steps that would take them down to the beach, and Cora kicked off her sandals when they got to the bottom. They dangled from her hand as she wriggled her toes into the grainy white sand. “Think of it as payment for the flooding incident.”
“That’s a cheap shot.” Her eyes skated over him, equal parts curious and distrusting.
“What can I say? I fight dirty. I promise it will be fun.” He nudged he
r with his elbow, and she laughed, shaking her head.
“Does anybody ever say no to you?”
“Not usually.” That was the truth. Trent might not have been the kid with the academic smarts, but he’d learned from a young age that he could make up for a lot of shortcomings with the right words. With the right smile. Charm was his greatest skill, and his weapon against the world. “Come on. I’ll be your personal coach and everything. Give Childhood Cora what she always wanted.”
Cora tipped her face up to the sky and sucked in a long breath, her eyes crinkling. “I know I’m going to regret this…”
“But?”
“But yes, I will pay my dues by being the worst cricket player your team has ever seen.”
“You’re going to have a blast.”
They approached the beach’s outdoor showers, which were designed for people to quickly wash the sand and seawater from their bodies before heading to their cars. A teenage boy with a boogie board stood under one shower and a mother occupied the one closest to the car park, wrangling two chubby-limbed youngsters so deftly, Trent wondered if she had extra arms.
“After you,” he said, motioning for Cora to take the last unoccupied shower.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this.” Cora set her bag and sandals down next to Trent and then stripped her dress over her head.
Underneath, she wore a white bikini with little gold beads dangling from the ties at her shoulders and hips. Trent almost tripped over his own feet at the sight of it. Cora might not have ever played sports, but spin class was definitely working for her.
Her body was lean and strong, with legs that seemed to go on forever. And an ass that filled out her bikini bottoms to perfection.
Clearing his throat, he pretended to look at his phone as she strode toward the last shower. The teenage boy next to her did a double take so comical, it looked almost as if it could have been staged. Cora was oblivious, driven by the desire she’d mentioned to wash the long flight from her skin. The water streamed over her, soaking her hair and gliding over her body. Making her glisten. Streams ran in rivulets along her back, over the curve of her butt, and down the backs of her thighs.
Trent’s mouth was suddenly drier than the sandy ground beneath his feet. Lust gripped him at the base of his spine, an instant need pulsing in time with his accelerated heartbeat. He dragged his eyes away—but not quickly enough. He’d need to be careful of that.
“I never knew a shower could make me feel that good,” Cora said with a blissful sigh.
Trent nodded, keeping his eyes on the crashing waves. Maybe if he counted them as they rolled in, his body would calm down enough that he could look Cora in the eye without thinking anything inappropriate.
“I feel like a brand-new human being,” she added.
Trent glanced back in her direction to see she’d turned around. Now the flat plane of her stomach was exposed, and the sight of her perky breasts barely kept in place by the skimpy white triangles was enough to melt him like ice cream on a summer’s day. He caught sight of a small tattoo on her upper thigh, something black and white that was small and a little difficult to make out. He would never have pegged her to be the kind of girl hiding some ink under her skirt.
The teenage boy was scurrying in the direction of the car park now, averting his eyes from Cora’s body and strategically holding his boogie board in front of him.
I feel your pain, buddy.
“Nice tat,” Trent said, determined to keep his mind on a subject that felt safe, rather than letting his thoughts wander to how easily he could snap those bikini strings with his teeth.
She’s your sister’s friend, dude. Not cool.
“Oh, thanks.” Cora turned the taps off and squeezed the water out of her long hair. “It’s in the perfect hide-from-your-parents place.”
“They’re not a fan of sports or ink?”
“Just two items in a long list of many things I was never supposed to indulge in,” she said drily. When she came closer, he could see it was a small creature—a caterpillar. It was inked in fine black lines, almost minimalist in design. It seemed an unusual choice.
“I’ve seen a lot of butterfly tattoos in my day, but not many caterpillars.”
“I have a theory on that,” she said, pulling her dress over her head. Since her body was damp, it stuck to her in places, but the fabric was thin and the balmy breeze would have her dry in no time at all. “Lots of people choose the butterfly as the representation for metamorphosis, because it’s the end state. The goal. And so many people want to be the butterfly now. They want the beauty and the admiration, without putting in the work required of the caterpillar. Yet without the caterpillar, there is no butterfly.”
“That’s very profound.”
“I guess I’d rather be at a point where there’s still hope and good things in front of me, than wishing to rush to the end.” Cora’s cheeks flushed. “But that was probably way more information than you wanted.”
She gave him a gentle shove toward the showers, her pale-blue gaze not quite meeting his. Trent wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone where his initial impression had been so swiftly turned on its heel.
And, against his better judgment, Cora Cabot had him officially intrigued.
Chapter Five
Cora woke the next morning, her back tight from sleeping at an awkward angle. Trent had advised it would be best to give Liv’s room another day or two to fully dry out, since he was concerned about her breathing in anything harmful before the post-flooding treatment process was complete. He’d offered her the spare bed—aka the one he’d been sleeping in the past few days—but she’d refused.
Frankly, she was having a hard enough time keeping her eyes off Trent without sleeping in a bed with sheets that probably smelled like hot Aussie man. The comfy blue couch seemed like a much safer option. A much smarter option. Especially considering she’d already given so much away about herself—talking about her family’s brow-raising quirks and sharing the story of her tattoo.
Like someone as charming as him gave a crap about metamorphosis.
Cora scrubbed a hand over her face. She’d probably sounded like a total weirdo. For all her mother’s efforts to turn her into the perfect young lady of society, she was still a little too thoughtful and a little too strange and a little too introverted for her own good sometimes. She looked at the tattoo, peeking out from the hem of her sleep shorts. She’d drawn the original design herself, keeping it simple and stark with the crisp black lines and minimal shading.
At the time she’d been desperate for change—stuck in a toxic battle of wills with her mother, failing her classes, struggling to get out of bed in the mornings with dread weighing her limbs down. She’d numbed it all for a while, going out for cocktails with her friends most nights of the week and ordering mimosas at brunch every weekend. It was surprisingly easy to make the excessive drinking socially acceptable. Because she wasn’t keeping a bottle of Johnnie Walker in her purse or necking something covered in a paper bag.
Her drinks were ordered at classy bars. She rotated her friends so nobody knew exactly how often she was out, downing martinis like water. She’d headed home nightly, teetering on her heels with a glassy look in her eyes, and covered it all with concealer the next morning.
Thankfully, that time hadn’t lasted long, and Cora had gotten herself out of that hole before things got too bad. But she remembered the day she’d trekked out to Brooklyn to get her tattoo, palms sweaty while she gnawed on the inside of her lip. Only the scratch of the needle had been a welcome blessing, the pain reminding her that she had the capacity to feel. To take charge of her life.
She traced the design with her fingertip. The image reminded her that she wasn’t done growing yet, that she could always do something to push herself in the right direction. That it wasn’t too late.
And life had gone bet
ter after that…until it hadn’t.
A clatter in the kitchen startled Cora out of her reverie. The noise was followed by a muffled curse, and she shifted on the couch to look out across the room. From her vantage point, she could see Trent reaching into the cupboard above the coffee maker, his strong, lean body on full display. A pair of shorts rode low on his hips, and he was topless. The muscles in his back and shoulders worked as he pulled a bag of ground coffee down from the top shelf.
The man was magnificent. Top shelf, A-plus, and gold stars all around. Not to mention that he seemed to spend more time with his top off than on.
No complaints here.
The fact that she was looking at Trent with hunger stoking a small fire in her belly was progress. Not that she was going to do anything about it, mind you. One, she wasn’t taking advantage of her friend’s generosity only to screw her brother. Literally. Two, the whole point of this trip was to find some direction for her novel…and that did not involve getting distracted by feelings of lust.
“Want a coffee?”
Trent’s voice startled Cora so much that she yelped and almost fell off the couch. Snatching the blanket up over her chest—like that would make a difference—she cringed as her cheeks filled with heat. How did he know she was awake? Had he caught her staring at him like he was a hot fudge sundae with extra whipped cream?
“There’s a mirror on the wall.” Trent pointed to a circular, decorative mirror that was framed in a gold sun-like design. “I could see that you were awake. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s fine.” She pushed up into a sitting position and released the blanket. “And I would love a coffee, thanks.”
Oh God, he had been able to see that she was staring. How embarrassing. Cora’s track record with men wasn’t the greatest. In fact, if she were to write an autobiography centered on her love life, it could be called How to End a Date Early for All the Wrong Reasons.
Her Aussie Holiday Page 4
