Chapter 11

Sweat slid between Eloise’s breasts, and she didn’t even try to smother her loud huff. The dance studio’s heater had gone rogue, giving the room a sub-tropical feel, and she was not in the mood for this bullshit today.

“Let’s get started. We’ll go over the steps slowly until the heat issue is resolved.” The instructor fanned himself.

From the corner of her eye, Eloise watched as Bianca tried to engage Nate in conversation, but he was sat back against the wall, a stony slant to his features. He didn’t even blink when Bianca whipped off her long-sleeve workout top leaving her in a leopard print sports bra.

“Feel free to do the same,” Ryan said, winking at Eloise.

She busied herself, replaiting her long hair so it wouldn’t stick to the back of her neck.

“I’ve been thinking,” Ryan said as she placed her hand in his. “We should get together a few times a week and practice.”

Or Charlie and Sera could succumb to the fact that their choreographed dance plan was a dud.

“Maybe.” She blew at the strands of hair that had already escaped her braid. She was going to be a sweaty, grumpy mess in no time.

“I never realised how much we have in common.” Ryan started guiding her around the dance floor.

Eloise was pretty sure the only thing they had in common was Charlie, but she did her best to smile politely.

“I mean, our jobs are pretty similar.”

Oh, man. This would be good. “You think so?”

“I spend a lot of time helping people figure out their problems. Like you.”

Po-tay-to. Po-tah-to. Because unless he’d changed jobs recently, Ryan was a bartender at one of Melbourne’s swanky nightclubs. Nothing against bartenders—Wyatt was one of her favourite guys in Wattle Junction—but it wasn’t the same thing.

“Only difference is sometimes people buy me a shot while they tell me all their troubles.”

A lesser person might’ve pointed out that there were several other differences, like actual tertiary qualifications and years of observations and practice, but Eloise didn’t bother. It’d been years since she’d spent any real time with Ryan, and from what she remembered, he really enjoyed the sound of his own voice. But the last few years had been rough on him. She should show him some grace.

The instructor called “turn”, which brought her face to face with Nate. His dark brown eyes bored into hers, a wave of awareness washing over her already overheated skin. When Nate’s eyes flicked to the back of Ryan’s head and his jaw clenched, Eloise realised what was happening.

And no. Nope. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.

Nate didn’t want her. He mightn’t have said those actual words, but it was clear from his actions the other night that nothing was ever going to happen between them.

She turned back towards Ryan, looked at him properly. He was an attractive guy. Not her usual type with his preppy style and what she suspected were salon-created highlights, but it wasn’t like her usual type was working out for her.

“I must be in the wrong business,” she replied.

“Not really. The long hours can be a total drag, but I like to think I’m helping people. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

A chunk of her hair came free, and Eloise tried to blow it off her face.

“Here.” Ryan reached for it and tucked it behind her ear.

“Ow! Nate. My feet,” Bianca cried.

Eloise didn’t need to turn around to know Nate was watching her. His attention was a heavy weight against the back of her neck, her shoulders.

Don’t react.

The music paused.

“What are you doing after this?” Ryan’s question echoed through the room, bouncing off the mirrors.

The real answer was watching Golden Girls reruns with Joanie, but Eloise said, “Nothing. Why?”

Ryan tossed her what he undoubtedly thought was a winning smile. “Want to grab a drink?”

In the mirror, Nate’s expression shuttered, his brows pulling low and his mouth flattening. And you know what, if Eloise had been so wrong about Nate, maybe she was wrong about Ryan as well.

“Sure.” What was the worst that could happen?

* * *

For the secondtime in a week, the dining room of the Wattle Junction Hotel fell silent when Eloise opened the door.

“There’s a spot over there.” Ryan pointed to a table underneath one of the stained-glass windows near the entrance to the beer garden. Eloise’s steps faltered. It was also right next to where Alice was sitting with Owen and the rest of the James family. “I’ll grab us a drink and meet you over there.”

“I just remembered I promised to help Joanie with something tonight …”

Ryan slung his arm around her shoulders, and Eloise stiffened. If a room could draw in a breath, there would’ve been a draught in here.

“C’mon, one drink. Also, your grandmother’s over there.”

There was no disguising the question on Joanie’s face. It was echoed on Lulu’s. Her parents’.

I really, really didn’t think this through.

“I’ll get my drink.” And then she’d leave.

“Nah, it’s on me. Guessing people’s favourite drinks is kind of my thing. You go snag the table, gorgeous.”

A throat cleared. “Excuse me,” Nate said gruffly. He was still in the sporty tracksuit he’d worn to the dance practice, but he’d added a big navy puffer jacket and his slouchy grey beanie.

The memory of what he’d said after the kids’ sports class ricocheted through Eloise’s mind. “It’s complicated.” God knows a girl couldn’t hear that enough.

“Sorry, big fella. Got a little bit lost in Eloise’s beautiful brown eyes. Didn’t realise we were blocking the path.”

The sound Nate made was best described as a grunt and a sigh of dejection.

Without responding, he moved past them.

Ryan recaptured Eloise’s attention when he placed his hand on her arm, waiting until their gazes met to speak. “You do have pretty eyes. So kind and insightful,” he said.

A flush rushed to Eloise’s cheeks.

“I’ll be right back.” He squeezed her hand and headed for the bar where Wyatt was pouring beers.

Eloise avoided the curious gazes of the people she passed, hurrying towards an empty table near the front door and diving into the first seat she saw. Releasing a shaky breath, she smoothed her hands over her hair and looked up.

Right into Nate’s eyes.

* * *

He should’ve just gone homeafter the disastrous dance lesson. Nate could be curled up on the couch with Echo and pretending everything was fine, but his body had moved automatically, following Eloise and Ryan to the pub like a moth to a flame. He must be some kind of sadist.

“You eating?” Teddy asked.

Nate’s stomach rolled, but it didn’t have anything to do with hunger. “Nope.” He reached for the jug of IPA beer in the middle of the table and helped himself, ignoring the looks his brothers and parents were sharing.

“Want to talk about it?” Owen leant forward.

“Nope.”

“Oh, we’re going to talk about it,” Alice said, folding her arms across her chest.

Nate took a long drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Then why is Eloise here with Ryan instead of you?”

“That sounds like a question for Eloise, not me.” He was such a chickenshit.

Alice’s eyes narrowed, and Owen shook his head at his brother. “Now you’re in for it,” he murmured.

“So, it doesn’t have anything to do with you kissing her the other night and then saying she wasn’t good enough for you?”

“Nathaniel!” Lulu smacked him on the back of his head.

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then what did?” Lulu hissed, shooing Teddy out of his seat so she could be next to Nate.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ll talk about it!” Alice shifted forward.

“Honey …” Owen sent her a pleading look. Finally, some familial loyalty.

“Nope. I love you”—Alice gave Owen a quick kiss—“and I love you,” she told Nate, but grim determination settled over her delicate features. “But I love Eloise too. And you need to get out of your own way before you miss your shot once and for all. She’s not going to wait forever, Nate.”

Why did people keep telling him this?

Did they assume he was an idiot? “I know that.”

“Then why is she here with Ryan and not you?” Lulu asked gently.

“I hate that guy,” Teddy muttered, cementing his position as Nate’s new favourite brother.

“It’s a long story.” That Nate didn’t want to share because he could predict everyone’s responses. Lulu and Alice would be indignant on Eloise’s behalf—and rightly so, Nate hadn’t meant to lead her on. Owen would shake his head, offering a gentle chiding without words. Teddy would repeat what he’d said the other night. And Raff and Wilbur? They were buried deep in their conversation, heads practically touching as they spoke in hushed tones. Raff was probably asking for advice about something to do with his big investigation into one of the local families, one detective to another. It didn’t matter that Wilbur had been retired for many years now.

Eloise flicked her long braid over her shoulder and smiled shyly when Ryan put a glass of cider down in front of her. Nate had overheard him showboating about his stupid special gift at guessing people’s drinks, and it rankled that the Ken doll had got it right.

Actually, everything about the scene in front of him rankled. The way Eloise ducked her head when she laughed. How her eyes closed briefly at the first sip, her face morphing into a sated, pleased expression Nate never wanted anyone but him to see. But mostly how she hadn’t said no to Ryan.

Which wasn’t fair.

Nate knew that.

Felt it on a cellular level.

But it didn’t mean he had to like it—or watch it.

He finished the rest of his drink and stood. “I’m leaving,” he announced futilely.

“Run in the morning?” Owen asked.

“Sure,” Nate replied. “Catch you all later.”

At least Echo would be waiting for him at home.

* * *

The house wascold and lonely, even with Echo snuggled up next to Nate, her head resting on his thigh. She wasn’t supposed to be on the couch, but Nate wasn’t going to make her get down. Not tonight.

He should light the fire. Reply to Garrett’s meeting invite to talk about what was next. Or find something to watch on television, start brainstorming his next story or do a workout. If he pushed himself physically until he was exhausted, maybe he could stop wondering if Ryan was getting a goodnight kiss from Eloise. Just because it had taken him years to work up the nerve didn’t mean Ryan would do the same. And let’s face it, she’d kissed him first, not the other way around.

Nate tossed the remote back onto the coffee table.

Echo lifted her head, and he realised she was lying on his laptop.

A spark of an idea flickered to life in his mind.

Just because he couldn’t have Eloise didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine what it would be like. To be hers. To call her his.

He scooped up his laptop and opened a blank Word document. The cursor blinked at him, the emptiness of the page a reminder of the limitless power of his imagination.

He’d write their story—how he wished it could be—and that would have to be enough for him.