“It wasn’t just that.” She shook her head. “I thought at the time it was all my mother’s fault, but in reality…he and I weren’t a good match. I don’t think he ever saw what I was capable of. In some ways, I wonder if he liked that I was a bit damaged. He wanted a project, only he got frustrated when I didn’t turn out the way he wanted me to after all that polishing.”
“You’re not a fixer-upper, Cora.” He walked toward her, unable to stop himself even though he knew he was standing on a cliff’s edge. “You’re a beautiful, perfect caterpillar.”
She ducked her head, cheeks pink and smile burgeoning. “And you’re going to give me a big head.”
“Good. Someone should.” He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and holding her tight. “He was looking for you.”
“Alex?” She tipped her face up.
Trent nodded. “Apparently he regrets ending things.”
There was a tightness to his voice, though he tried to hide it. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion that he actively engaged—in his mind, being jealous was useless. There would always be someone faster/better/smarter/more. Trent didn’t need to be number one the way Nick did. In fact, he was pretty sure being number two was even better—most of the glory, way less work.
But right now, being number two behind Cora’s ex felt like last fucking place. Would she go back to him? Pick up the phone in the hopes of reconciliation? Was Alex like the fancy, big-city guy his ex had craved? The one she’d cheated with?
“He ended things,” she clarified. “But I owe him for that.”
“You think?”
Cora stared up at him, eyes wide as the open ocean. He could stare into that icy gaze all day long—because he knew now there was nothing cold about Cora. She was warmth all the way through. Warmth and goodness and burning, passionate heat.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’m not going back to him. Ever.”
For a moment, Trent wondered if this were what it felt like to be a king—to be proud and sure and to feel like you could take on the world. That’s how Cora made him feel. She boosted him, made him fearless. Because seeing her grow and change inspired him. Seeing her stand her ground and make good choices for herself made him want to do the same.
What’s the good choice here, pining after a woman who’s got her exit strategy booked and paid for? Falling for a woman who’s going to grow her wings and fly away from you?
It’s what Rochelle had done. It’s what his siblings had done. They were all soaring toward their goals and their dreams, and he was still standing on the ground with his head craned toward the sky.
Maybe Liv was right. He was doing so much stuff for other people that he neglected his own life.
“Come on,” she said, her hand curling into his. “You promised me another reading session.”
And with the saucy twinkle in her eye, all his thoughts and worries vanished. Overthinking never did anyone any good.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day Cora sat at the kitchen table and tried her hardest to concentrate on fixing her manuscript. Ever since she’d found that photo of Trent in his real mother’s arms, she’d been fighting the urge to confess. It felt like a betrayal to keep it a secret.
How did you feel when you overheard him talking with Liv about your life?
Not great.
It wasn’t fun to be the object of someone’s gossip, and she most certainly didn’t want him to feel like she’d been spying. Or prying. Cora sighed. If only she had a crystal ball that would tell her the best course of action. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt him…
No matter how much she tried to come to a conclusion on that problem, her mind spun around and around like a hamster wheel. Moving fast but going nowhere.
Maybe part of it was selfish. She didn’t want to lose the time she had left with Trent. When she was with him…
Everything felt right.
Even her novel was flowing. Maybe it was all the sexy reading sessions with Trent. Maybe it was fresh air and sunshine suddenly reviving her creative juices. Maybe it was being away from all the toxic bullshit in New York.
“How about option D, all of the above?” she muttered to herself.
Whatever the reason, she was happy for the boost of creativity. And to make things even better, she’d finally figured out what was missing from her story…romance! Reading to Trent had sparked the idea that there was a reason her main characters were always at odds. They were hot for each other, and totally mismatched in the best way possible.
Romance had been lacking in her own life for so long—even while she was with her ex—that she hadn’t even seen it as a solution until now. But Trent had changed that. Her lips quirked into a smile as she watched him working. He was in jeans and a tight white T-shirt that showed his muscles off to perfection as he used a screwdriver to change the knobs on a big cabinet sitting alongside the far wall of the living room.
“Stop perving on me,” he said over his shoulder. “I caught you looking in the mirror. You’re supposed to be working.”
She laughed. “Then stop bending over. That peachy ass is a distraction.”
“I’m being objectified right now, you know that, right?”
“Yeah, and you’re loving it, too.” She dragged her gaze back to her laptop. Her manuscript was now a sea of Track Changes as she tried to fit her new romance plotline into the story.
Instead of reading to Trent from her latest romance book, she had read to him from the book she was writing. It had been terrifying to share her words with him, to expose something that was part of her. She’d had good feedback before from her professor, but her father’s rejection had dinted her confidence. Yet Trent had looked at her with wide, smoky eyes and told her that she was talented and gifted and that her future was bright. She wanted to believe him with all her heart.
But what if her father still thought her book was unpublishable?
The cursor on her computer screen blinked at her. Every time she thought about her dad reading her manuscript again, she seized up. She wanted so badly for him to love it. If he let her join the agency as a client rather than an employee… God, that would be like a sign that he thought she had what it took. That he was proud of her. That he wanted to see her succeed.
But if he rejected her work again…
Then you’ll try again. You’ll keep trying until you get it right. Because only quitters lose.
Cora might not be the best at a lot of things, but she didn’t give up easily.
“How’s it going?” Trent asked as he slid one of the drawers back into place.
“Good. I think the romance subplot is exactly what it needed.”
“Lucky you’ve got some inspiration for that.” He winked at her, and a lock of his sandy hair flopped over his forehead in a way that was so rakishly handsome, it could have been staged.
“Yeah, that book series I’m reading is great,” she teased.
“Hey! I was talking about me.”
“I guess you’re okay, too.” She grinned.
He slapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me. I thought that thing I did with my tongue last night was very worthy of some character inspiration.”
Cora flushed and ducked her eyes, pressing a cold glass of water to her heated cheeks. In the throes of passion with Trent, she didn’t feel inhibited at all. In fact, he brought out a wildness in her that she didn’t even know existed. But talking about it in broad daylight was a whole other thing.
“It was great,” she admitted. “More than great.”
“You’d better dedicate that book to me.” He stood and shoved the screwdriver into his back pocket. “I want to see the words to Trent, thank you for the orgasms right there in the front of the book.”
“Want to be commemorated in print, huh?”
He swaggered over to
her, with that panty-melting roll of his hips that mimicked the way he made love—slow and liquid and so damn hot, it singed her brain cells. “I want you to remember me every time you open the cover of that book.”
“What if I don’t get published?” She bit down on her lip.
“Then I’ll come to New York and tell each of the publishing houses that they’ve clearly never seen talent before.”
A smile split across her face. “How do you know I’m any good?”
“Because passion shines out of you, Cora. It would be mighty unfair for someone to have that much passion without any talent to back it up.” He planted a hand down on the table. “Finish the book. Send it back to your dad, and I will eat my own hat if he doesn’t love it.”
“I hope he does.”
“He will.” Trent held out a hand. “But first, I’m taking you out for lunch. I’m starving.”
As if on cue, Cora’s stomach grumbled. “Looks like I am, too. What do you have in mind?”
There was a sparkle to Trent’s eye that told Cora he had something planned. Maybe a nice restaurant, or maybe a picnic on the beach. Being with Trent meant expecting anything at all times—he was prone to doing things on a whim, without planning. It was the total opposite of dating Alex, who scheduled every moment of his day from sunup to sundown.
You’re not dating Trent, remember? When is that going to stick?
Only it felt like they were dating. They made love, kissed and touched without fear or inhibition. They talked about real things—like her literary dreams and all the things he wanted to have in his perfect house (deep tub and heated bathroom floors, yes please!). They cared about each other.
Too much. You’re not supposed to care about him.
But how could she not? He treated her with kindness and consideration and a permanent mischievous twinkle in his eye. Around him she was lighter, unburdened. A fling didn’t give a person those things.
A fling didn’t change you.
Absently, she reached down to where the caterpillar was etched into her skin. Was she really changing now? Or would this lightness evaporate when she went back home, leaving nothing but a hazy memory of the person she was here?
Can you trust him?
She didn’t know. Could she even trust herself? Also an unknown. She’d made so many mistakes in the past, but she was still here. Still working. Still trying.
They ducked into his bedroom and changed, and she had to wriggle out of his grip, convinced if his eager lips touched hers, then they wouldn’t make it to lunch at all. To teach Trent a lesson, she put on her most enticing outfit—a short dress made of soft black silk with a ruffle across the bust and a tie at the waist that always made her feel like a million dollars.
Trent let out a long, low whistle as she slipped a pair of flat sandals onto her feet. “Maybe I shouldn’t take you out for lunch after all.”
“Too much?”
“I’m worried you’ll give everyone in town whiplash and then we’ll have a class action on our hands.”
They walked out to the car, teasing each other and holding hands. Trent agreed not to blindfold her but still wouldn’t give up what he planned for lunch. It wasn’t until they turned down a familiar street that a knot formed in Cora’s stomach.
“We’re having lunch at your parents’ house?” She blinked. This was not what she’d expected.
She’d had a very brief introduction to Mr. and Mrs. Walters the day they’d almost been caught getting photos for the album, but Trent had whisked her away before they had time to talk much. Now he was bringing her back. Was this an “official” introduction to the parents? They hadn’t talked about where this thing between them was heading, but it seemed…serious.
After all, you didn’t introduce a fling to your parents.
“Trust me,” he said. It was a weird echo of the thoughts that had been swirling in her head back at the house. Did you trust a fling?
This isn’t a fling and you know it.
But if it wasn’t that, and yet it wasn’t a real relationship…then what was it? Cora felt a panicky feeling take hold of her chest, squeezing like a fist determined to crush the air in her lungs. She wasn’t ready for this.
Hell, she’d chosen the wrong damn dress. It was too short and too sexy and too silky. Oh my God, they’d probably think she was some big-city floozy, flashing her legs all over their quaint small town.
Calm down. One, this isn’t Victorian England. There’s nothing wrong with showing off your legs. Two, it’s lunch. You can handle lunch.
“Cora.” Trent laid a hand on her arm. “Stop freaking out. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
Why was he doing this? She wasn’t ready for other people to know her business again.
“I don’t know about this.” She shook her head. “I…”
“I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.” When he said things like that, with such clarity and such resonance, it made her heart flutter. Trent made her feel so seen. So important. “Please trust me.”
She nodded. “I do trust you.”
When she said the words aloud, she knew it was true. Trent hadn’t done anything but good things for her, so why would he turn into an asshole now?
“Good.” His smile was like pure sunshine. “Come on, then.”
They got out of the car, and Cora forced herself not to tug at her dress. The breeze swirled the hem around her thighs, and her loose hair ruffled around her shoulders. Trent’s parents would have to take her as she came.
He jabbed at the doorbell, but when no one came to greet them immediately, he stuck his key into the lock. The door popped open, and he motioned for her to go ahead of him. The entry was quiet, without a sound of life inside. She’d expected something—music or footsteps or the clatter of dishes in the kitchen. But the place was silent as a tomb.
“Go ahead,” Trent said, closing the door behind them. “Dad’s probably asleep in the lounge.”
Her sandals slapped against the tiled floor, echoing eerily in the house. What on earth was going on?
She rounded the corner, with Trent close behind, and all of a sudden there was a booming surprise! Cora shrieked, startled at the sudden noise. A dozen smiling faces shouted her name and cheered, blowing party horns and clapping. A shiny silver banner displaying the words Happy Birthday hung across the wall. Cora spotted the cricket team, Trent’s parents, and a few new faces as well as a collection of adorable black puppies.
“Oh my gosh.” Her head swung to Trent. “How did you know?”
She hadn’t said a word to him. Hadn’t wanted to make a big deal.
“I overheard you talking to Liv. This is a party to make up for all the ones you never had as a kid.” He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s a proper kid’s birthday party. We have Aussie party food, a jumping castle, and all the red food coloring your child heart desires.”
Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. Mortified, she blinked them back. “Oh my God.”
He kissed her cheek. “Happy birthdays. Plural.”
The crowd came forward, and Maddy shoved Trent out of the way and threw her arms around Cora’s shoulders. There was a chorus of people shouting well wishes and even a table with brightly wrapped presents. The whole scene was totally and utterly overwhelming.
In fact, it was almost TV sitcom perfect.
An older woman came forward. It was Trent’s mother, Melanie, and she had a warm smile on her face. “I know we didn’t get to talk much the other day, but we’re so happy to meet one of Liv’s friends. She told us all about how you were letting her stay in your apartment for her internship and what a good friend you’ve been, Skyping all the time and checking up on her.”
Cora wasn’t sure she could speak for all the emotion in the back of her throat.
“It’s so good to have you in our home.” Then M
elanie leaned forward and embraced Cora in a perfumed hug. “Come on out back, we’ve got all the food set up, and the birthday girl always gets first dibs.”
The group trailed out into the backyard, and what Cora found took her breath away. Trent hadn’t been joking about the bouncing castle—it was big and yellow and had Big Kid Bounce written on the side. Clearly there was a market for adult bouncing castles. A long table was set up with all kinds of food and drinks. There was a cocktail station, some kind of a game with bats and a ball on string.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said.
“It was all his idea, you know,” Melanie said. “He said no one should be deprived of a birthday party. That’s my son in a nutshell; he always wants everyone to be included.”
Son. The word stuck in Cora’s mind. How could such a kind, warmhearted woman keep such a secret? Head swirling, Cora didn’t have time to process her thoughts because Maddy sidled up close to her along with Dean and Nick.
“Right,” Nick said, rubbing his hands together. “It’s time for Aussie party foods 101.”
Cora brushed her worries away, determined not to let Trent’s kind gesture go to waste. “I’m ready to learn.”
“Party pies and sausage rolls.” He pointed to the first plate. “An Aussie classic. They must be eaten with tomato sauce.”
“Or dead horse,” Cora said, winking at Dean, who pumped his fist into the air.
“Number two is fairy bread, aka white sliced bread with hundreds and thousands.”
Cora looked on at the little white bread triangles that were covered in round sprinkles. “You feed this to small children?”
“Why not? It’s got all your essential nutrients,” Dean said. “Sugar, simple carbohydrates, whatever the hell margarine is made out of.”
“Chemicals,” Maddy supplied with a shake of her head. “And it’s definitely not an everyday kind of food. Special occasions only.”
“Next is…” Dean made a drumroll noise. “Vegemite.”
“I’ve heard about this.” Cora wrinkled her nose as the traffic-sign-yellow label on the jar of mysterious dark brown stuff. “Tell me, do Aussies really eat this or is it a mean prank you play on tourists?”
Her Aussie Holiday Page 19
