Her Aussie Holiday

by Stefanie London

  But the look on her face right now was like pure gold.

  “Do you really think his family left him behind?” Her eyes drifted up to his. “I can’t bear the thought of it.”

  “He’s doing okay.” Trent stroked the front of the bird’s chest, enjoying the soft, downy feel of his white feathers.

  “Did Liv name him Joe? Seems like an odd choice for a bird.”

  “Oh, she never told you?” Trent chuckled, pulling his phone from the back pocket of his jeans. “Watch this.”

  He pulled up the YouTube app, searched for the song “You Can Leave Your Hat On,” and pressed play. The sound of Joe Cocker blared out of the phone’s tiny speakers and the bird froze, a little seed rolling out of his beak. As the song started playing, he stretched up to full height and fanned out his crest before leaping onto the railing that enclosed the small deck.

  “Go on, little guy,” Trent encouraged him. “You know you want to.”

  As the song neared its famous chorus, Jos started bouncing his head and waving his foot up and down in time with the beat. Then he went into full head-banger mode, bowing and rising with the time of the music, giving a little shake every so often as if enjoying the music so much that his whole body was alive with it.

  Cora let out a delighted laugh. “Joe Cocker…Joe Cockatoo. Clever.”

  “I was working on the house not long after Liv bought it, before she’d even moved in, and I had some old rock music blaring. This little guy came to the window and got his groove on.” Trent grinned at the memory. “Now I always try to play something for him so he’ll come visit.”

  “I can’t believe anyone would leave you behind.” Cora made a clucking sound and Joe chirped in response.

  “Bugger it!”

  Cora laughed and looked at the bird. “I was about to say you were a total sweetheart, but then you had to go and curse me out.”

  “Seems the previous owner didn’t have much of a verbal filter,” Trent said. “He’s got quite the repertoire.”

  “Maybe I can teach him a thing or two while I’m here.” She rubbed her finger against the bird’s feathered breast. “Give him a few nice things to say. Or at least some American curses.”

  At that moment, Joe decided the hangout was over. He launched himself into the air with a powerful flap of his white wings and, a second later, disappeared into the densely packed trees behind Liv’s property. Cora scattered what was left of the seed onto the grass.

  “On that note, are you ready for a change of scenery?” Trent asked.

  “Sure.”

  His smile broadened. “Good. Throw your bathers on. I’m taking you to the beach.”

  …

  Fifteen minutes later, Cora followed Trent down a set of wooden stairs that led to the Patterson’s Bluff beach. The sun was out in full force, and it beat down on her shoulders and back and arms, as if recharging her. There was something so invigorating about the beach, something so…restorative.

  The planks were warm beneath her bare feet, and the cool breeze brought the briny scent of sea and sunscreen to her nostrils. There were plenty of people out enjoying the glorious weather. Young families frolicked at the water’s edge, and a group of teenagers battered a giant beachball around in the waves. There were even a few dogs enjoying themselves, chasing tennis balls and carrying sticks and doing all kinds of adorable doggy things.

  Trent waved to a group farther up the sandy stretch. A group of men and women were all in beach gear—board shorts and swimsuits and bikinis. It was like an Australian tourism ad, bronzed beautiful people with salt-drenched hair and tanned skin and beaming smiles. Suddenly Cora felt like an outsider—like she was intruding on their perfect world.

  “I didn’t know we were meeting people,” she said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. When Trent offered nothing more than a cavalier wink, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of Cora’s stomach. Uh-oh. “Why do I have a feeling this is sports related?”

  He laughed and bumped her arm, walking close to her. He’d showered before they left, and the scent of citrus soap was still fresh on his skin. “You know me so well already. Like I said yesterday, my cricket team is down one.”

  “You asked them if it was okay for me to join, right?” she said. Back home, in her parents’ social circles, everything was invite-only, exclusivity worth even more than money. And turning up unannounced was not only frowned upon, but a quick way to become a social outcast.

  Back in the Cabots’ world, a person had to earn their place.

  Trent looked at her, his brows wrinkled in confusion. “It’s a public beach; everyone is welcome here.”

  “Right.” She adjusted her sunglasses. “I just… You don’t have to babysit me, is all. If you want to hang out with your friends, you don’t need to let me tag along.”

  Trent stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her, placing his hands on her upper arms. The warmth of his touch infused her with a lightly sparkling quality, like someone had tipped champagne into her bloodstream.

  “You’re officially invited, Cora. Besides, I thought you might want to meet some of Liv’s friends.” His lips pulled up into a devilish smile. “I also want to see if you’re as terrible at sport as you predict.”

  “Well, that’s just mean,” she said, ducking her head and laughing. “Oh God, this is going to be so embarrassing.”

  “What’s life if you’re not embarrassing yourself from time to time, right?” He gave her a gentle shake. “And you’ll learn one thing about us Aussies—we don’t mind having a laugh at ourselves. In fact, I’d almost go as far as to say it’s a national pastime.”

  Trent was so…unpretentious and kind. He was unlike any of the men she’d met back home, who all seemed to want to know her social pedigree, education level, and employment history before agreeing to a second date.

  Yeah, but you’re not dating Trent.

  Could have fooled her body for all the little fireworks going off in her belly.

  “How do you do that?” she asked.

  He cocked his head. “What?”

  “Make people feel instantly comfortable?”

  His eyes searched her face, and she wondered if he felt the little crackle of energy that passed between them. It was fizzy and wonderful and it set her skin ablaze. In only one day, Cora was feeling again. That cold, unrelenting numbness she’d been drowning in back in New York was starting to crack and fall away.

  God, she would owe Liv forever for this trip.

  “It’s one of my many talents,” Trent said with a shrug. “Come on, let me introduce you to the team. I have a feeling you’ll fit right in.”

  They stepped down onto the sandy beach, and Cora scrunched her feet up to feel the warm grains sliding between her toes. It was heavenly here—a natural paradise. Waves whooshed to and fro, crashing into foam at the shoreline and racing up the beach to the sound of delighted squeals and the indignant squawk of seagulls. Trent’s friends stood around a small blue and white box that looked like a cooler. On the ground was a bat the likes of which Cora had never seen before and a few tennis balls.

  “Everyone, this is Cora. She’s a friend of Liv’s and is staying with us for the month. She has also…never played cricket.” Trent stepped back from her with his fingers crossed as if she had a contagious disease, and everyone laughed. “We need to educate her in the way of our nation’s greatest sport.”

  “Nice to meet you all.” Cora held her hand up in a shy wave.

  “This is my big brother Nick.” Trent pointed to a guy Cora could have picked out as Trent’s sibling even without the introduction—they had the same blue eyes and blond hair and broad smiles. “Then we have Kellen and Leigh, who run the gym on Main Street. Maddy is our resident book pusher—”

  “Happy to be called that,” Maddy said, sticking her hand out. She had long black hair, amber eyes, and b
rown skin with intricate tattoos running up her left arm. “I run Just One More Chapter near the town hall.”

  “I love that name so much,” Cora said, beaming and already making mental plans to visit.

  “Then we have Skye.” Trent gestured to a woman in a fire-engine-red bathing suit who had total Baywatch vibes, right down to her wavy blond hair. “And her brother, Dean. They’re both in service of our great state. Skye works as a constable at the police station off Main Street and Dean works in OH&S out in the Frankston precinct.”

  “That’s a fancy way of saying I help officers get back on their feet after an injury,” Dean said. “Since many, like my dear sister here, don’t always give a thought to their own well-being in the course of their job.”

  “Ha.” Skye rolled her eyes. “I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Skye was lean, with broad shoulders and the kind of definition in her arms that Cora could only ever achieve with a contouring stick. Despite looking like a supermodel, Skye clearly could snap a person over her well-toned thigh if she wanted to.

  “Thanks for letting me join your team,” Cora said, taking a moment to shake all their hands.

  “We were desperate for another woman,” Skye said, bringing a water bottle to her lips and tipping her head back. “The team is testosterone heavy enough as it is.”

  Trent nudged Cora in the ribs. “Told you.”

  “Well, I hope you told them that not only have I never played cricket, but that I am probably the worst athlete you’ll ever come across.” She grimaced. “So apologies in advance.”

  “We play for fun, right, team?” Maddy said with a twinkle in her eye. “Right, Nick? Kellan?”

  The two men grumbled something incoherent, earning them a swat each from Maddy.

  “Well, I say we play for fun,” she said. “And today is an excuse to hang out anyway—we’ve got our first game of the season next week, so plenty of time for you to practice.”

  A week was not plenty of time. But Cora decided right then and there that her trip to Australia wasn’t simply about getting some space from her troubles back home and working on her novel. This time would be a chance for her to let loose, go with the flow, and be spontaneous—all things that she wouldn’t dare do normally.

  Because one thing was certain, whatever she’d been doing for the last several years of her life had gotten her absolutely freaking nowhere. What did she have to show for all that time of trying to win others over? A failed engagement, a job that she’d only gotten because of her father and that came with no advancement opportunities, and a fancy apartment that felt like a gilded cage.

  She didn’t have to be that person here. She could be anyone. Even herself.

  Chapter Seven

  “Okay, this is my beach cricket lesson, speed edition.” Trent picked up the bat and handed it to her. The rest of the group were applying sunscreen, drinking water, or chatting among themselves while waiting for the action to get started.

  The bat was strange—flat on one side and pointed on the other. She’d heard people say that baseball and cricket were kind of comparable, but she’d only ever seen baseball before. Yankees box seats, through her father’s work, and she hadn’t paid much attention to the game. Given her minimal interaction with sports as a kid, she found it hard to follow.

  But she knew how they held the bat, at least. So she hiked it over her right shoulder, unsure whether the flat or the pointed side was supposed to be facedown.

  Trent chuckled. “In cricket, we hold the bat to the ground.”

  “Oh.” Cora’s cheeks warmed. “Whoops.”

  “Let me show you.” He guided the bat off her shoulder. “This part is called the toe, but that’s basically a fancy way of saying the bottom of the bat. We stand side-on, flat part forward and swing with that toe coming down toward the ground.”

  Trent executed a movement, pretending he was holding a bat. Cora swallowed. Unlike the others, he still had a T-shirt covering his top half. But the soft white cotton hugged his body in a way that was mouth-wateringly perfect. As he twisted, the movement enhanced the broadness of his shoulders and the trim vee of his waist, and it made the muscles in his arms flex and bulge.

  Good Lord. What do they feed the men down here?

  “Okay,” Cora mumbled, trying to mimic the movement. But clearly, she’d been too busy checking out Trent’s cut physique to actually figure out what she was supposed to do, because her swing was clunky and awkward.

  “It’ll be easier if I help put you into position.” He came closer. “Do you mind getting up close and personal for a second?”

  “No.” The word came out like a dry croak.

  Dear Lord. Getting up close and personal with Trent wasn’t going to help her learn how to play cricket at all. Because her brain was already speeding toward Jell-O territory as it was. But he came around behind her, his hands moving to her wrists. The warmth of him seeped into her body, stoking the fire already burning bright.

  “Let’s get you into a setup position.” He maneuvered her body, making her face to one side. “Start the bat here, with the toe touching the sand. Always have the face—which is the flat bit—facing the front. Then we’re going to flex your wrists and bring the bat back a little and then swing through.”

  He was being a gentleman, keeping some space between them, but it was impossible not to get close with the swinging motion. Trent’s thighs grazed her ass and the touch—subtle and innocent as it was—made her blood pulse hard and hot in her veins. She wanted to arch back into him, to feel his body cradle hers.

  To feel those strong, muscular arms wrap around her like they might whisk her away from her troubles forever.

  “Let’s try that again.” Trent helped her draw the bat back, flexing her wrists so that the bat was raised and sweeping it down toward the sand and following through as if she’d made connection. “Much better.”

  When he stepped back, the loss of him was an echo through her body. “I think I’ve got it…kinda.”

  “You got it all right.” His blue gaze coasted over her, tracking her face and then down her body with a liquid, languid slowness that made her toes curl into the sand. “Want to try a real hit?”

  “Sure.” She let out a shaky breath.

  Trent reached down and plucked a tennis ball from the sand, the granules already clinging to his feet and legs. He had golden hairs dusting his legs and arms, and the sunlight made his head look as if it was covered with an angelic blond cap.

  “We play on the harder sand, so the balls will bounce,” he explained as he backed up. “I’m going to bowl to you now, but the bounce can be unpredictable. So try your best and don’t worry if you miss. No one is judging you.”

  Cora took up position, placing her bat down and then flexing her wrists back as she waited for Trent to bowl. He grinned at her from several feet away, his eyes delightfully crinkled as he squinted in the sun. When he bowled, she was so struck by how gracefully he moved—with power and speed and an economy of movement that made his body slice through the air as though it took him no effort at all. The ball whizzed straight past her and hit the cooler with a dull thud.

  She picked the ball up and tossed it back to him. “Let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”

  Trent chuckled. “I didn’t see a thing, I swear.”

  “Good.” She shuffled her bare feet, setting them hip-width apart and getting her bat into position.

  Trent waited a moment and then bowled to her again. She watched the flash of the yellow tennis ball as it flew toward her, then she cocked her hand back and swung clean through the air. Thump. The ball hit the cooler again.

  Cora made a frustrated growl in the back of her throat. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t even bowling that hard; she should be able to make a connection. But the third and fourth bowls were equally as bad, nothing but the whoosh of the
air as her bat sailed into nothingness.

  She felt the weight of everyone watching her, and though no one seemed to be judging her, having an audience was playing into all her old fears. She flashed back to the time she’d choked at her conservatory’s annual Christmas performance, almost dying of mortification as the conductor shook his head in disappointment.

  “You’ve got to relax,” Trent said. “No point getting frustrated. The ball can smell fear.”

  She wanted to hand over the damn bat and walk away—maybe go and hide back at Liv’s place and refuse to get near a piece of sporting equipment ever again. But that was New York Cora speaking—the side of her whose fear of failure was so stifling and intense, she didn’t often try new things.

  Cora took a deep breath. She let the sun soothe her limbs and the sand support her feet. She let the bat feel comfortable in her hands as she soaked it all in. Aussie Cora was going to have fun, even if she was the worst player on the team by a long shot.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  Trent bowled again, and Cora narrowed her gaze, letting the sound of the waves and children shrieking and gulls crying fade into nothing. She stepped forward and swung, the ball clipping the side of the bat and bouncing a ruler’s-length away. It was probably the shittiest hit of all time, but it was still a hit.

  “Yeah!” Trent fist pumped the air. “See, I knew you’d get it.”

  “Consider yourself initiated,” Nick said with a grin. “Everyone ready?”

  “How about boys against girls?” Maddy suggested with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She adjusted the straps on her sleek black one-piece. “But we’ll need one male sacrifice to even things up.”

  “More than happy to defect.” Leigh jogged over, his longish hair flopping with each stride. “I’m feeling confident, ladies! Let’s smash these blokes.”