Читать книгу The Dare Collection: March 2018 - Nicola Marsh - Страница 26

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Tanner

I HATED SNEAKING out of Abby’s apartment like a fugitive, but I wasn’t an idiot. She didn’t want to face an inquisition from her co-workers and that was exactly what would’ve happened if I’d rocked into Le Miel wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

Nothing got past Makayla. The woman had eyes in the back of her head and I pitied the guy she set her sights on. Bold ball-breakers weren’t my type. I preferred quiet, reserved women who morphed into sex kittens with the barest touch.

Women like Abby.

Leaving me breakfast had been just like her, a thoughtful gesture reeking of unspoken sentiment. Unfortunately, there’d been plenty of that going around last night.

We’d barely spoken once we’d hit the bedroom. Then again, words were superfluous when we both suspected what was going on.

We’d potentially crossed the bonking buddies threshold into some weird, nebulous territory neither of us wanted to label. Not giving it credence suited me just fine. Her too, considering she must’ve bolted out of bed at some ungodly hour.

So I scoffed my buttery soft chocolate croissant, drank my OJ and slunk down the back stairs, the words of her simple note imprinted on my brain.

Thanks for last night. Hope you enjoyed dinner.

Must do it again soon.

Back stairs quiet in the morning.

See you later.

Abby

Interestingly, no X. I thought all women liberally sprinkled kisses on their missives. Then again, I’d already established Abby wasn’t like most women.

The ‘must do it again soon’ made me look forward to tonight in a way I shouldn’t. I wasn’t dating Abby. This wasn’t a relationship. But dinner had been great and I’d like to return the favour. By taking her to my favourite restaurant in Sydney.

I’d never gone out with a foodie before, and considering her wealthy background, she’d probably dined at the finest restaurants this city had to offer. So I’d take her to my favourite hangout, a tiny Thai restaurant in the backstreets of Kings Cross, a place I’d give my left nut as a guarantee she’d never been to.

It wouldn’t be a date. Just a friend returning the favour to another friend who’d cooked for me. Simple.

‘You’re full of shit,’ I muttered at my reflection as I shaved, something I hadn’t done for the last few days.

I didn’t care about stubble as a rule, but Remy had always pulled me up on it ever since I’d been old enough to grow facial hair. Considering Remy would have enough to bust my balls about today, I didn’t want to add another thing to the list.

The drive to the hospital took fifty minutes in peak-hour traffic, giving me ample time to come up with a plausible excuse as to why I’d shagged his protégé. By the time I’d parked and made it to the ward, I still hadn’t come up with anything other than the truth.

Abby was hot and I had to have her.

Bet that would go down a treat with my brother.

I peeked into his room and saw Remy jabbing at the remote control, idly flicking channels, looking bored out of his brain. ‘Hey, klutz, how are you feeling?’

‘Better for seeing your ugly mug.’ He turned off the TV and sat straighter in bed, wincing.

‘Still in pain?’

‘Only way these fools will give me the good stuff.’ He made looping circles at his temple. ‘That morphine makes me a little crazy, in a good way.’

I laughed and leaned down to give him a gentle man hug. ‘You’re perkier than last time, so that’s a good sign.’

‘Doc said I’m a model patient.’ He screwed up his nose. ‘Personally, I find it difficult to take the word of a punk wearing a white coat and stethoscope around his neck when he looks like he graduated from kinder last week.’

‘Everyone looks young to you, you old fart.’

He pointed at his ankle and grimaced. ‘Considering I’ll have to use a walking stick once I’m on my feet, I may be living up to that insult.’

‘You’re only as old as the woman you feel,’ I said, wondering what was Abby’s age exactly.

‘Sadly, I haven’t been doing any “feeling” in a long time.’

When Remy pinned me with a speculative stare, I knew what was coming before he opened his mouth. ‘What about you? Are you behaving?’

‘I’ve got my hands full with the patisserie, if that’s what you’re asking.’

It wasn’t and we both knew it, so I rushed on. ‘Everything’s going well. Customers still streaming in. Pastries sold out by the end of the day. Accounts balancing. Stocks replenished. Staff happy.’

Some happier than others, though Remy didn’t need to know how I put a smile on Abby’s face.

‘You’re shagging Abby,’ Remy said, disappointment lacing every word as he shook his head. ‘Man, I told you to keep your hands off her.’

‘Since when have I ever listened to you?’

‘You used to, once upon a time.’ Remy eyeballed me, making me feel guiltier than I already did. ‘You should try it again.’

I remembered the many times I’d listened to Remy, when he’d talked me down after yet another run-in with Dad, even if he hadn’t known the reason behind my funk. When he’d persuaded me to stay rather than run away the time he’d found me hiding out in the back shed the week after Mum died. When he’d calmed me with words of wisdom on the day of Dad’s funeral, painting a rosy future for us since he was over eighteen and could access the trust fund thoughtfully set up by Mum.

If it hadn’t been for that money, and for Remy’s calming influence, who knew where I might’ve ended up?

I owed him the truth. At least about Abby.

‘I know I shouldn’t have messed around with Abby. I’m not a complete doofus—’

‘Could’ve fooled me.’

‘But we both know where we stand so she won’t get hurt.’

‘You’re a dickhead.’ Remy snorted, his eyes narrowed in disapproval. ‘You didn’t see her the day she stumbled into Le Miel, disoriented and lost and sad. She hasn’t told me much but her ex-husband must be a first-class bastard to do a number on a sweet girl like that and she’s steered clear of men ever since.’

Remy jabbed a finger at me, a deep frown slashing his brows. ‘So if she’s let you anywhere near her, it means a hell of a lot more to her than it does to you. And you’re going to fuck it up, just like you always do.’

A chill swept over me. Remy was my go-to guy. He always had my back. So what did he mean?

‘Care to elaborate, bro?’ My frigid tone did little to ease the sudden tension between us.

‘You’ve never had a meaningful relationship with a woman. Whenever one of them gets close, you end it. That’s what I meant.’ Remy pressed his forehead, like he had a blinder of a headache building. ‘Abby is different and if you hurt her because you couldn’t keep it in your pants, I’m going to personally deck you.’

‘Like to see you try,’ I said, sounding meeker and suitably chastised.

Remy had never hit anyone in his life. I, on the other hand, had dealt out justice with my fists at high school on a regular basis. Bottled-up rage and a lousy self-esteem didn’t mix, not when kids discovered which buttons to push to get me to explode.

‘Not that I want to encourage this but, for what it’s worth, when you walked in here you looked about a decade younger.’ Remy stared at me, studying me with a slight tilt of his head. ‘There’s something different about you. You look less...stressed, or something.’

‘Maybe working in a pastry shop rather than a club is good for me?’

He chuckled at my glib response. ‘We both know that’s not true.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ I reluctantly admitted, wanting to get the lowdown on Abby from Remy but knowing he’d be onto me if I pried too deeply. ‘Abby’s special.’

Remy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Special to you?’

‘I meant in general.’ My clarification sounded lame and I continued. ‘Hanging out with her makes me happy in a way I haven’t been for a while.’

Remy’s gaze turned speculative. ‘You’re sticking around for a few months, yeah?’

I nodded, trying not to acknowledge the leap of hope that the thought elicited. I’d already pondered the possibility of exploring more with Abby beyond our specified short-term fling, but she hadn’t given any indication to wanting more and I sure as hell wouldn’t stick my neck out.

I’d suffered enough rejection to last a lifetime.

‘So you and Abby might be more than a passing fad?’

‘Abby and I will sort out our own business, thanks very much.’ I grinned at Remy’s faux hurt. ‘As for you, you old busybody, get better fast.’

Remy smiled but sadness lurked in his eyes, like he couldn’t quite believe my flippant act.

‘Both you and Abby mean a lot to me. Don’t screw this up, okay?’

‘I’ll do my best not to.’ I saluted. ‘Anything else, captain?’

Remy hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, before he shook his head. ‘Abby’s important to me, professionally and personally, so take care of her.’

Sombreness was catchy as I nodded. ‘I will.’

A promise I had every intention of keeping, if she let me.