by Nicola Marsh
The Cross was intriguingly cosmopolitan and now that I was working here I loved its vibe, perfect for a guy like me to discover there was more to life than Mum’s weekly Sunday roast and potato stew.
What I didn’t love was Ellie’s tough outer shell. I hadn’t been able to wear her down into accepting a date. In fact, over the last seven days, she’d done her best to avoid me. When I worked, she didn’t. When I was upstairs, she was out or hiding away in her apartment, which I gleaned was an unexpected bonus of staying here; she lived upstairs too. When I spoke to her, she kept her responses terse.
Gone was the woman who’d kissed me like she couldn’t get enough, the softer woman who’d given an idiot a break.
Which meant one thing. I needed to enlist the help of her golden boy.
“You’re in a bad mood,” I said, as Kye finished locking up and took a seat at the bar. “That time of the month?”
“Fuck off.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “God, I hate those yuppie pricks.”
Sensing there was more behind Kye’s intense dislike of guys in suits, I casually asked, “Why?”
“Because they’re all the same.” He scowled. “They’re like the privileged pricks I went to boarding school with. The type of rich arseholes who said horrible things about my Mum because of what she did, about the girls who worked at her club.”
Kye’s fingers clenched into fists. “Those idiots didn’t have a clue that most of the women who stripped were funding their way through uni or single mums trying to make ends meet.”
He jabbed a finger toward the door. “The dickheads who come in here, getting liquored up before they head down the street to a live sex show are those narrow-minded, judgmental students grown up.” He shook his head. “Makes me so fucking mad.”
“Easy there, big fella.” I pulled a beer and slid it across to him. “Sounds like you need this.”
Kye nodded his thanks, but he hadn’t lost the tightness around his mouth or the clenched jaw. “I get this way sometimes.”
“Mad at the injustices of the world?”
“Just mad. Crazy angry…” he trailed off, his fingers wrapped around the glass so tight I wondered if it’d break. “It’s why I picked up a tennis racket in the first place, to work off my frustration.”
“How old were you?”
“Thirteen.
I whistled low. “You’ve been an angry son-of-a-bitch for seven years?”
“Helps on the court,” he said, with a casual shrug. “Plus no dweeb wants to approach me at the academy.”
I stared at Kye with a newfound respect. He may be four years younger than me but attitude-wise he was years ahead. “Tell me this. If you’re so angry all the time, why didn’t you slug me that first day?”
“Because you’re a pussy.” For the first time all night, Kye grinned. “Who knows, maybe you’re so soft you brought out the sensitive new age guy in me?”
I laughed. “Care to put your inner SNAG to good use?”
“Don’t push your luck,” he said, draining half his beer in two gulps.
“I need help with Ellie.”
Kye put his beer down, suddenly serious. “Is she okay?”
I nodded. “She won’t say yes to a date with me.”
Kye’s mouth stretched into an ear-splitting grin. “That’s why she’s been hiding away this week?”
“You noticed?”
“Hell yeah. Barely seen her. She’s constantly busy with replenishing stock or meeting with new distributors or some crap.”
“You’re not mad?” I started stacking beer glasses upside down on a tray. “You two are close and I thought you might have a problem with me dating her.”
Kye shook his head. “Mate, she’s been a second mum to me and I’d deliver her hogtied at your feet if I could.”
Relieved that Kye had just confirmed there was nothing more than friendship between him and Ellie, I chuckled. “Is that your way of saying she needs a date real bad?”
Kye paused, staring into his beer, as if contemplating the wisdom of saying more. I waited, trusting the guy who knew Ellie well to give me some sound advice.
When Kye eyeballed me, I knew whatever he had to say would give me some much needed insight into the woman who invaded my dreams and kept me up most nights.
“Ellie’s like me. A tough cynic who expects the worst from people and can’t handle the good.” Kye swiped at the condensation on his glass. “People like you, with stars in your eyes, make us uncomfortable. You’re so upbeat all the time, so damn trusting, but the world doesn’t work that way, and Ellie and me know it.”
A light bulb went off and I knew what he’d say next.
“That’s why I saved your arse that first day. And why I got you the job here.”
“Because you think I’m a naive fool?”
“Because you’re one of the good guys who needs a bit of life experience to get you through your stay in Sydney without getting your head kicked in.” Kye drained the rest of his beer and handed me the glass. “Ellie needs a good guy in her life, even for a short time, and that’s why I’m going to help you. I’ve been angry for less than a decade. For Ellie, it’s been longer than that…”
“Go on,” I urged, eager to hear more if I was to have any chance of getting through to her.
“She arrived here when I was five. Soon became my mum’s best friend so she was around a lot.” He gestured around the room. “Started as a barmaid, ended up buying the place after the old owner fell off the perch.” He tapped his temple. “Ellie’s smart. Resourceful. And way too astute for us. But she wasn’t always so closed off…”
I rested my forearms on the bar, waiting, wishing he’d tell me all of it.
“From stuff I overheard when I was older, some guy did a number on her back in Dubbo. Real bad. Bad enough she left her life behind to start fresh here.” Kye frowned. “Whoever this dickhead was, he must’ve hurt her, because she changed and I’ve watched it happen. Cut her hair short and dyed it. Started wearing leather and chunky jewelry and a ton of make-up. And she never smiled…”
Something in my chest twisted at the thought of anyone hurting Ellie so badly she felt compelled to change who she was.
Kye grimaced. “We don’t talk about our pasts much. She probably thinks discussing Mum will make me grumpier than usual and I accept her for who she is now.”
He tilted his head, studying me. “That’s another thing I respect you for, because I think you do too.”
“‘Course I do. She’s incredible.”
“You know she’s heaps older than you, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
Kye grinned. “Good answer. So, what can I do to help?”
I’d done a bit of research and hatched a plan. But it all came down to Kye convincing Ellie, because she sure as hell wouldn’t listen to me.
“I need you to tell a little white lie…”
CHAPTER SIX
ELLIE
After a long week, I had plans. Plans that included popcorn, chocolate ice cream and a stack of action flicks.
I’d just settled down with a buttery bowl of goodness in my lap and the remote in my hand when a knock sounded at my door.
I could’ve sworn my heart stopped.
No way. Couldn’t be Finn. I’d warned him that no one ever entered my domain up here and so far he’d kept his distance.
Hadn’t stopped him asking me out on the rare occasions we’d seen each other the last seven days. I’d done a stellar job of avoiding him but the guy seemed to have a built in radar for knowing where I’d be next.
So we’d done our usual dance. Him charm and flirt. Me freeze and run.
If he’d had the audacity to knock on my apartment door, I’d castrate him.
Because if I liked Finn downstairs in the bar and had a hard time hiding exactly how much, no way in hell I could resist him in my inner sanctuary.
For that’s what my apartment was. A sanctuary. A glimpse into the real me. A place fill
ed with frills and feathers, velvets and satins, cushions and candles and frippery, so at odds with my outer persona that I didn’t want anyone getting a look at who I really was deep down.
A woman who’d yearned for this life once: the house, the kids, the husband. A woman who believed in dreams of happily-ever-after. A woman who preferred fine teas to alcohol, who enjoyed baking, who’d do anything for her man.
“Open up, El, I know you’re in there.”
Kye.
I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to ignore the irrational stab of disappointment it wasn’t Finn.
“I’m busy, go away,” I yelled, knowing it was futile because I’d never been able to say no to him, not since the day he’d presented me with his first mud pie at age six.
“Maybe you’d prefer if I got Finn to help me break down the door?”
At the mention of the F word, I placed the bowl on the coffee table and bolted out of my seat. I opened the door and peeped around it. “You have two seconds before I head back to my date with Vin Diesel.”
“Make it five then I’ll get out of your way.” Kye did that weird upper lip curl thing that passed for a semi-smile and I stood back, beckoning him in.
His far too astute gaze swept the room, lingering on the DVDs stacked beside the TV. “Not sleeping much, huh?”
“I sleep plenty.”
At least, I used to, before a green-eyed Irishman with a hot bod and a voice that could tempt a nun to sin kept invading my dreams. So I’d settled for the easier option: dozing on the couch watching old movies.
“You’re full of it.” Kye didn’t sit, which meant he wasn’t staying long. “It’s none of my business why you’ve turned into an insomniac so I’ll cut to the chase. You still interested in adding more boutique beers to your range?”
“Yeah.”
“There’s a new joint in town. Upmarket, in Double Bay. Getting rave reviews everywhere for its menu of the liquid variety.”
Okay, so he’d piqued my interest. I was constantly striving to make the bar better and more patrons than ever were asking for beers I hadn’t heard of.
“Thought you might want to check it out with me?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Tomorrow night, at seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
Gave me another excuse not to see Finn who was rostered on every evening for the next week.
“Great, see you then.” Kye paused at the door. “You really okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
He pointed at the mega popcorn bowl and tub of chocolate ice cream. “Because I remember when you and Mum used to do this, it meant trouble.”
My chest ached at the mention of Sheree. I’d loved her like a sister and missed her every day, even now, five years later.
“Men bond over beers and balls, women love junk food and flicks to unwind.”
He did the lip quirk thing again. “Balls?”
“Football. Golf. Snooker.”
“Right.” He grinned, but I still saw concern in his steady gaze. “That’s all this is, unwinding?”
“Yeah.” I propped against the back of the sofa, wishing he’d leave so I could get past the sudden urge to bawl.
Because the one person in this world I trusted these days was a twenty-year-old, messed up kid with anger management issues and what did that say about me?
That I never let anyone in. That I needed to lighten up. That I needed a life beyond the bar and my bitterness.
“You know, all those times I’d be pretending to play cars on the floor or do puzzles, I actually just enjoyed being around you and Mum,” he said, his gaze clouding with memories. “Those were the best times.”
“Yeah, they were.” I swallowed and blinked back the sting of tears. “Sheree was an incredible person and you’re just like her.”
Kye’s startled gaze shot to mine. “She was so much better than me—”
“Sheree was street smart and astute, with a marshmallow core.”
He sneered. “You think I’m soft?”
“I think you care, despite the tough guy facade you present to the world.”
Sadness filled me. It had taken me a long time to come to terms with who I was and Kye still had that ahead of him. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have taken Finn under your wing.”
After an eternity, he reluctantly nodded. “Don’t forget I’m not the only one who presents a tough front.” His glance away turned crafty. “Maybe you should take Finn under you…”
I laughed at his less-than-subtle innuendo. “Get out.”
“Okay.” He saluted. “I’ll text you the details for tomorrow night.”
I nodded, waiting until Kye had left before returning to my place on the couch and wishing he hadn’t put that damn image of Finn being under me into my already overactive imagination.
CHAPTER SEVEN
ELLIE
Kye was a no-show.
Not that the twenty minutes I’d waited here had been a hardship. While Double Bay reeked of exclusivity, Maik’s had a more welcoming vibe. Sure, it had the requisite black marble and chrome that trendy bars had these days—and so far removed from my mahogany decor it wasn’t funny—but there was a warmth here in the strategically placed Japanese screens and secluded tables that I admired despite the minimalist art and white stone fake fireplaces.
And Kye was right about the beers. I’d sampled four and while I may be well on my way to Tipsyville I now knew what to add to my stock.
When the clock behind the stainless steel bar hit seven-thirty and I’d checked my phone for the umpteenth time to see if he’d answered my texts or call, I gave up on Kye.
I had my head down, rummaging in my bag for cab fare, when someone touched my shoulder.
“Don’t go.”
I froze and glanced up into Finn’s handsome face.
“Have dinner with me.” He gripped my elbow. “I’ve heard the chef’s special degustation menu is worth the hefty price.”
“You’re insane.” I yanked my arm free, annoyed I wobbled a little. Shouldn’t have had all those beers because for one, crazy second I thought there was nothing I’d like more than to have dinner with Finn in this lovely place. “Besides, I’m meeting Kye and he’s due any second.”
To my chagrin, Finn grinned and tapped my nose. “Haven’t you heard this will grow if you tell fibs?”
“How do you know—”
“Because I asked Kye to set this up.” He had the grace to look sheepish. “You’re either too busy avoiding me or fobbing me off, so I called in the cavalry.”
“I’ll kill him,” I muttered, secretly impressed Kye had gone to such lengths to get me and the Irishman together. Not that it would stop the verbal flaying he had coming his way.
“Please, Ellie, it’s just dinner—”
“No.” I slipped into my leather jacket and slung my bag over my shoulder, already eyeing the door.
He shrugged. “Too bad. I’ve already pre-paid for the degustation and you know how strapped for cash I am. Shame you’d let me lose money because you’re in mortal fear of being alone with something this good.” He patted himself on the chest and I couldn’t stop a reluctant smile.
“Have you really paid or is that another lie you and Kye seem so good at?”
“I’ve paid. But drinks are on you if it appeases your feminist side.”
Guilted into it, I nodded. “Fine. But you’re lucky I don’t fire your arse for coercing me into this by nefarious methods.”
He held up his hands in surrender, the picture of faux innocence, and this time laughter burst from my lips.
Finn grinned at me like I’d just handed him a thousand dollar tip. “Our table’s this way.”
He placed a guiding hand in the small of my back, something that usually annoyed me with guys. Presumptuous. But with Finn, it merely made me feel safe.
It was probably the beer buzz, but when we sat at a cozy table for two at the back of the bar, a screen increasi
ng the intimacy between us, I didn’t mind. In fact, it felt nice.
“This isn’t so bad, huh?” He rested his forearms on the table. Strong, lean forearms with a light dusting of auburn hair.
How many times had I surreptitiously stared at him, wondering how it would feel to be held in those arms, to be caressed by those hands? Too many and now, with Finn within touching distance, and my resistance lowered by alcohol, I was in immediate danger of doing something I’d regret.
“Depends on your definition of bad,” I said, aiming for flippant, but ending up having to clear my throat when I made the mistake of looking into his eyes.
Damn, he felt it too. This thing between us. Invisible. Intangible. But intense all the same.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he said, reaching for a glass of water.
“Like what?” I watched him swallow, even admiring the column of his neck.
“Like you think I’m going to gobble you up.”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, you are.” He leaned across the table. “And I promise to gobble you up only if you ask nicely.”
Heat surged to my cheeks, and several choice places in between. “Must be true what they say about kissing the Blarney Stone.”
“I’m not rambling, sweetheart. I’m just stating facts.” He relaxed into his chair and pinned me with an intense stare that left me breathless. “I want you. Naked and hot and panting for me.”
I gaped at him, stunned by how fiercely I wanted that too.
CHAPTER EIGHT
FINN
I whistled as we strolled from Maik’s to the nearest taxi rank several blocks away.
Tonight had turned out better than I expected. Not only had Ellie preserved my crown jewels by not kneeing me for getting her to the bar under false pretenses, she’d stayed and we’d had a great dinner.
Though it wasn’t the soft shell crab, coriander prawns, slow-cooked veal, hickory-smoked trout, pork belly in black vinegar, and thyme-infused peach sorbet that made the evening great so much as the way she’d unwound. For the first time in a week, I’d glimpsed the woman behind the crimson lipstick and gelled hair and overly made-up eyes.
