Chapter 24

Jamie

It would be a really bad idea to barricade the door shut, right? We were given a private room, which I was glad for. When we walked in, it felt like everyone turned to stare, noting my dress and the creases there, the way I walked like I was still wearing work boots, not slippers, so retreating in here was a relief. But every time I felt like we were getting somewhere, someone walked in.

"Quick, before someone else comes back," I said with a smile. "Now, I don't suppose there'd be any tomato sauce in this place?"

"Are you serious?"

Hunter's snort had me looking up, his mouth twitching, ready to smile.

"About sauce? No, not really, but if they had some…" His expression said that was a no. I spiked the tiny sliver of lamb with my fork and then inspected it before turning back to him. "About information? Yeah, Hunter, I am."

I shoved the lamb into my mouth because I was hungry, because it smelled amazing, and because if we got this whole dinner thing happening, then he could confess whatever the hell had him looking so constipated. I'd never seen Hunter's face look like this before. He blinked, those long, dense lashes brushing his cheek before he poked at his food, right as I let out a groan.

I admit, I was sceptical about this place. It seemed to be all theatre. Beautiful interior design, every inch gleaming, the soft lighting creating this fancy-pants ambience that the artificial lights of McDonalds could not compete with, but this was no quarter pounder. The lamb was so tender I'm sure I could've cut it with the side of my spoon, the rich meat combining with the sharpness of something that tasted a bit of pepper, but with a eucalypt aftertaste. Through that was a saltiness that helped every taste amplify in my mouth. Hunter's eyebrow jerked up at that, then encouraged by my sounds, attacked his own food.

Answers could wait, my body decided. My fork scraped disgracefully across the plate in an attempt to find more, but there was only the potato stack. I cut into that, popping some of it into my mouth, hoping it was just as good.

Damn…

Soft, soft potato and thick, rich cream, it was stopped from being too stodgy by a sharp cheese along with a little nutmeg. It was the best potato bake I'd ever tasted and there was a place up the road that did it with lashings of bacon.

"Oh god…"

Hunter let out a hopeless little sound, obviously having the same experience. We stared into each other's eyes, sharing something, right as the door opened again to usher in a waiter with another plate. They took away our first ones, and I was proud of myself for not clawing it back to lick it clean, instead looking down at the new dish with interest.

"Jamie—" Hunter said as soon as the waiter was gone.

"Maybe tell me after dinner," I said, my fork gripped tighter. "I'm starving and I…" My eyes found his. "I'm not going to like what you have to say, am I?"

"Probably not," he admitted with a shake of his head.

I gripped my wine glass stem and then downed the contents.

"Right." We were ripping off half the Band-Aid, not brave enough to pull it free. "So, then let's enjoy dinner and then afterwards, you can tell me, that way I don't make some kind of terrible scene in a place that looks like the Prime Minister of Australia would feel out of place in."

"Deal."

He reached over and picked up the bottle of wine, refilling my glass.

"Oh, that bad, huh?" I watched him fill it right up. "Just so we're clear, if you get me drunk, you're holding my hair back when I vomit all of this very expensive food."

Hunter shook his head.

"I always do, don't I?"

I smiled then, remembering the scrapes he and Hayden got us out of when Millie and I were still kids. Anything to keep his parents from finding out.

"You do."

I stared at him then, seeing past the suit, the slick hair, everything, seeing the man I'd spent half my life around, and I told myself that's why I was prepared to wait. Away from the restaurant, somewhere quiet, he'd tell me everything. Hunter was always the blunt one, so I felt like I could trust him with this. I looked down at the next dish and then dug in.

"Oh my god, food coma…" I groaned as we got back into the car. I offered to split the bill on the meal, but Hunter just looked at the print out inside the leather folio, went pale, and then shook his head, handing over his credit card.

"Who would've thought so many tiny morsels could fill you up," he said, sighing as he sat back against his seat. "So…" His head rolled my way. "Grab an ice cream from the petrol station on the way home?"

"Duh!"

That's how we came to be sitting on the bonnet of his car, facing the sea, watching the waves crash in as we licked our ice creams.

"So…"

"So." He turned to face me, looking down at his ice cream, then tossing it over the wall and onto the sand. Hunter wiped his hands on a paper serviette and then stared into my eyes. "You want to know what's going on?"

"Everyone's been weird since Millie asked you guys to be my date." The words just came tumbling out, the darkness helping me say what was on my mind. "If you don't want to do this?—"

"That's not it."

"If it's awkward?—"

"Oh, it's plenty awkward." He smiled then, his teeth almost as bright as the moon. "Taking a girl to a restaurant where I can't read the menu? Pretty damn awkward. But…"

I sucked in a breath, ready to propose another possible reason, but he shook his head as his hand slid my way. It was warm, massive, strong, and I could feel the stickiness of where the ice cream had melted on his skin, but only dimly. His eyes were grey in the darkness and yet still they pierced through the gloom, straight into me.

"What possible reason could there be for things changing between all of us, Jamie?" he asked, a strange edge to his voice. "Why would we sign up for something if it made us uncomfortable?"

"Because Millie asked you…"

But as soon as I said that, I knew that wasn't true. She nagged them mercilessly, and they only said yes when it suited them. He shook his head, as if acknowledging just that.

"That's not it."

So try again, Jamie, that went unspoken.

"Because you're good guys? What am I saying? You guys can be total dicks. Because I needed help?" I searched his face and saw him shrug slightly. "Because you knew how much my parents bug me and you didn't want me to have to deal with that?"

"And why would we do that, Jamie?" he asked. "I wanna say men are better than they are, that they help girls out from the goodness of their heart, but…"

It was on the tip of his tongue and mine, and that had me remembering the feel of Hayden's and Brock's when we kissed. They'd left a mark on me, both of them and yet I still felt incomplete. Lost, buffeted around by the wind, it was as if gravity no longer had a hold on me. I could be picked up and blown away, I thought.

Perhaps a better fate than this.

My brows jerked down and I felt ice cream running down over my hand, threatening to drip on this pretty dress, but I couldn't move to stop it.

"Guys don't take their sister's friends to dinner out of pity, Jamie. Brock didn't take you back to his place for a family therapy session. Hayden made sure to take you somewhere that would make him look good, strong, competent, and I…" He reached for me, but I flinched back, because all the good feeling of tonight was being whisked away by the wind. "I pulled out all the stops, trying to make a night special for you, and despite the fact, I failed miserably."

He shook his head.

"I still tried. More than I have with any girl before, because… If you had a good time, if I swept you off your feet, if you were thinking I was hot and suave and sophisticated instead of a dickhead carpenter in a suit that really is not very comfortable." He wrenched at his tie, loosening it and then undid his top buttons. "Maybe you'd see me and not Millie's brother."

"Why would you want me to do that?" I croaked out.

"Because I stopped seeing you as my sister's friend a long time ago. So did Hayden, and so did Brock. You stopped being a little brat and became…" Hopelessness and desire warred in his gaze as he took me in, I could see that now. "You became a beautiful woman. One that's funny, and smart, and capable, and strong, and I just… Hayden just… All of us have been into you for some time. I think we were just waiting for you to notice us in the same way. As men, Jamie. As potential partners."

That word, that's what had me jumping off the car and dumping my ice cream into the nearby bin as he called my name. I scrubbed at my hands with the serviette, but it just balled up into a sticky mess. I made an animal sound of frustration, then tossed it away too, spinning around as Hunter approached.

"Jamie—"

"No!" I stabbed my finger in the air, as if that would stop the confusing rush of feelings that threatened to drown me. Too many wildly differing realities were crashing together right now and my brain ached, trying to reconcile them. "No. No…" I shook my head, as if that would help me dislodge these thoughts. I took a step backwards, as if I could run the hell away from what he'd said.

Run.

I was done thinking, my feet taking the lead, turning me around and getting me moving.

"Jamie!"

My name was carried forward on the wind, but it rushed past me and out to sea as I moved faster and faster across the concrete footpath. Where? That didn't matter. I just need to get away. Into you… See us as men… Hunter's words followed me, filling my head no matter where I went and that had my feet stilling. I fished out my phone from my bag and then scrolled through my contacts.

Brock.

He'd never lied to me before, always telling me what I did well and what needed work. Surely I could trust him to be real with me right now. Then I remembered the way he was this morning. Not horny, but… something else. His gaze intent, every bit of pleasure, of pain, there in his eyes as he…

"Hey…" His voice was a seductive rumble. "You finished with those idiots? Ready to come home?"

"Home?" I swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump in my throat and failing. "You mean to your place."

"Potato, potahto," he replied.

"Literally no one calls it a potahto… You know what, that doesn't matter. I need to ask you something."

"Go right ahead." All the warmth was gone from his voice, replaced now by what I liked to call big daddy energy. "Are you OK? Where are you? What happened?"

"What was this morning?" I ignored his questions, focussing on what really needed to be discussed. "What was that… vibe?"

"In the shower?" he asked, wariness seeping into his tone.

"No, before that. We were in bed and you… then I…" I couldn't even fucking say it, but he could.

"You know." I wanted bluntness, and I got it right now. "You don't want to, but you know. It's why you jumped out of my bed like your arse was on fire. You were sticky, probably feeling gross, but no more than you were moments before. Something else got you out of bed."

"I felt suffocated." I could say that now, here, down the phone line, away from his penetrating gaze. "I felt smothered. Like you were becoming a part of me, taking me over."

"Not that, babe. No one can do that, but a connection? Yeah, it was there. It's always been there. When you started working for me, you were this kid: smart, quick learner, determined and I admired that. It's why I kept you on, but then you grew up, into a bloody good mechanic, but more than that. A woman. Last night? It was everything I've fucking dreamed of for years and more besides. More than sex. More than coming, and you felt it too, otherwise why get scared? If I was just a dick to ride, then I was no threat. No, this morning, it was the start of something, something incredible if you'd just choose me."

His voice broke then and so did my heart.

"Choose me, Jamie. Choose me."

But I didn't, did I? Not him, when I hung up, then ignored his calls. Not Hunter, his shadowy shape standing there, further up the path. Instead, I chose to ring an Uber, jumping in the backseat and avoiding all conversation until I got home. Then as I was walking up the stairs, I saw I had a call coming through.

"What?" I snapped. Couldn't Brock see that I wasn't ready for this? That I might never be? If this was real? If they wanted…? Why didn't they talk to me about it at the start?

"That's no way to speak to your mother!" Mum's strident tones came down the phone line as my eyes fell closed. My head was hurting and all I wanted to do was fall face down on my bed and sleep for days. "Goodness sakes, you'd think you were raised by savages, not your father and I. We arrived safely, thanks for asking."

"That's good," I replied weakly.

"I'm ringing about brunch tomorrow. I think it'd be lovely to have Brock join us."

"I can't…" You did not say that to Majorie ever, but the tears that bled into my tone must've stopped her tirade cold. "I can't, Mum. I told you everything was casual, and when I talked about it with them… We broke up, OK. We broke up."

I ended the call then, ignoring its buzz as I got inside. It was left in the kitchen, turned off and charging, as I stumbled into bed. I wrenched the dress up and over my head, tossing it to the floor with a wince, but I wasn't concerned enough to do anything about it. I slipped under the covers, pulling them over my head until I was completely cocooned.

I used to do that when I was a kid, shutting out the world, making a safe space just for me. In bed, no one or nothing could hurt me. I said that over and over as I drifted off to sleep.