Winter Beginnings Page 6

  He parked a little up the street.

  Engine off, Dean took a deep breath and readied himself for the onslaught of rain.

  He was soaked through moments after stepping out of the Yaris.

  Alice’s hand flew to her mouth when he barrelled into the pub. She’d hung their jackets on hooks by the door and only her knees and shoes appeared to be wet.

  ‘You said you had an umbrella!’ she accused.

  ‘I lied,’ he said easily. ‘She’ll be right, it’s just water.’

  She slowly lowered her hand to her stomach. ‘It’s a lot of water.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Thank you.’ They stared at each other for a beat, then her mouth curved. ‘That was sweet of you.’

  Before he could answer, Cal stepped out of the kitchen and made a sound of surprise.

  ‘Would you look at you!’

  He was jostled to the side as Liv hurried around him.

  ‘Dean!’ she said, hands out in question. ‘Did you lay down in the gutter or something?’ She turned back to her fiancé. ‘Do you have a spare shirt lying around?’

  He nodded and went to find one.

  Liv looked at Alice. ‘Hi. You seemed to fair all right. Umbrella?’

  Alice lifted a brow and smiled at Dean. ‘Of sorts.’

  ‘I’m Olivia,’ Liv said, offering her hand. The women shook.

  ‘Alice. We went to primary school together.’

  ‘Oh, were you in Dean’s year?’ Alice nodded and Liv smiled. ‘Welcome back to town. How do you like working in the garage?’

  ‘It’s great.’ If she was going to say any more about it, she was interrupted by a ringing sound from her handbag. Alice excused herself and took a few steps away from the group to answer the call.

  The moment Alice looked in the opposite direction, Liv’s small hands clamped around Dean’s arms. She turned him on the spot until his body was between her and Alice, then touched a pointed finger to her lips to silence him. Surprise made his eyes bulge when she pressed her palms against his sopping shirt. The material stuck to his skin like wet paper, and with Olivia’s encouragement, it accentuated his toned stomach and biceps.

  She leaned back, eyed him critically then flashed a quick thumbs-up. ‘God help her. Do everything slowly.’

  He laughed and shook his head, but Alice was back before he could reply.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, returning her phone to her handbag. ‘Telemarketer.’ Her eyes dropped to his chest, then to his stomach. When she looked up, her pupils had dilated.

  ‘Come through,’ Liv said, her eyes shining. ‘I’ll set you guys up on our best table.’

  Dean knew this pub better than most, but still couldn’t think what table this was. It turned out to be the smallest one in the most private corner of the dining area. Dean opened his mouth to suggest a different one, guessing Alice wouldn’t like the intimacy of it, but she pulled out one of the chairs and sat down without comment.

  ‘I’ll get you some drinks,’ Liv said. ‘What’ll you guys have?’ She wriggled her eyebrows at Dean then attempted to look serious.

  ‘A Pure Blonde,’ Dean said. He was so close to laughing that his voice wobbled.

  Alice smiled up at Liv. ‘I’ll have the same, please.’

  Liv smiled so widely, Dean could almost see all her teeth. ‘You guys like the same beer.’ She said this with the kind of pitched tone typically reserved for babies and puppies. Then she scurried away.

  Cal walked up to the table as Dean was readying himself to sit. There was a creased shirt in one of Cal’s hands, and an old towel in the other. He tossed Dean the towel then nodded at Alice. ‘Nice to see you again.’

  She smiled that unusual smile Dean liked so much, then said, ‘Nice to see you too.’

  Dean squeezed the towel and looked between the pair. Wordlessly, he held his hand out for the shirt, but Cal just shook his head.

  ‘You’ll need both hands to dry off.’

  Cal’s small smile was almost concealed when he rubbed his hand over his mouth.

  Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Dean glanced at Alice. ‘Excuse me for a second.’ She nodded and he stepped away from the table. Thankfully, there was no-one else in the pub to see his bare chest when he peeled his saturated shirt over his head. He dropped it by his feet and quickly towelled off.

  When he turned back for the shirt, Alice was watching him, colour in her cheeks again.

  Cal met Dean’s eye and grinned.

  Appropriately dressed again, Dean claimed the seat opposite Alice and handed her one of the laminated menus. Cal told them the specials as Liv returned with the drinks, they both ordered the chicken pot pie, and then were finally alone.

  Alice swallowed a mouthful of beer, amusement making her eyes bright. ‘Your friends are … friendly.’

  ‘They’re very enthusiastic people.’

  They laughed and she nodded.

  ‘Tell me about yourself,’ he prompted, hooking an ankle over his knee and leaning forward to grab his beer. ‘Do you still have family in these parts?’

  ‘My father. Although we’re not close. My mother passed away.’

  ‘I’m sorry. My parents died when I was eighteen. That’s how I came to be running the garage.’

  ‘Were you close?’

  ‘I thought I was. Turns out I didn’t know my father as much as I once thought I did, but my mum was pretty special. I see her in you sometimes. The way you look at Ben and what have you.’

  She fidgeted with her cutlery, suddenly introspective.

  ‘So where’s Ben’s dad?’ He drank, waited. When she pursed her lips, he changed his approach. ‘I can go first if you like? I married Bree. She was in our class—not sure if you remember her? Anyway, we had two kids, we were deliriously happy, then she died a few years back.’

  He was lost for a moment when Alice looked up at him. The spell only broke when she spoke. ‘I’m sorry about that. For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing really well, considering.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  They lapsed into such a long silence that Dean began to wonder if he’d overstepped a line.

  Then suddenly, ‘Ben’s dad is with his second wife, raising his second child.’ Alice looked up, her expression carefully tethered. ‘He was an unkind man with very little interest in Ben. I put my maiden name on Ben’s birth certificate, and left my husband shortly after. It took him almost a week to notice we’d gone.’

  Dean shook his head. ‘How is that possible?’ Alice had only been back in his life for a short time, but already she was becoming a big part of it. It was hard to fathom that someone could treat her with such indifference. ‘Well, I really like having you and Ben around. And being noticed is a certainty in this town.’

  What he didn’t say was that sometimes it was a struggle to look away from her. There was something about her face that captured him, something about her way that endeared her to him.

  He wasn’t altogether sure what he was going to do about these feelings, wasn’t even sure there was room for them in his overcrowded mind, but it got him thinking about recycled hearts, second chances, and what a pretty picture they made, the two of them sitting close at the smallest table in the pub.

  He knew this wasn’t a date, but when she thanked him for the compliment and brushed her fingertips over the back of his hand, he surprised himself by wishing that it was.

  Chapter 7

  ‘I want to go camping,’ Dean announced. It was just after five o’clock, and he’d stopped in at the pub en route home. The kids were keeping themselves amused playing with the pool table in the far corner—sharp clicks and clatters resonated through the old building, and Cal was pretending he couldn’t hear Dean over them.

  Cal put his hand to his ear but made no attempt to come closer. Nor did he ask Dean to repeat himself. He stayed down the other end of the bar, filling salt and pepper shakers for the tables.

  Dean, perched on the nearest stool to the publican but s
till a decent distance away, narrowed his eyes. ‘I know you can hear me,’ he grumbled.

  Cal put his hand to his ear again and said nothing.

  Dean thumbed at the condensation on his glass. He’d finished his pint glass of Coke while he’d contemplated how to best sell this idea. Now that there were only ice cubes left, it was time to either pitch or depart.

  ‘This weekend,’ he said, raising his voice just enough to make Cal feel indulged. ‘Weather will be decent: sixteen, seventeen degrees. We could go out past Lithgow.’

  Cal squeezed his eyes shut then hung his head. He sighed hugely, the way his fiancée did sometimes, then dropped the act. ‘I hope you’re just telling me about this huge mistake.’

  ‘I’m inviting you.’

  Cal set the last salt shaker down then came to stand opposite Dean, the polished bar counter between them. ‘No thank you.’

  Dean leaned forward. ‘The kids want you to come.’

  The kids had no idea Dean was planning a weekend away, but they were an excellent bargaining chip to use against Cal’s soft heart because Cal was always trying to please them.

  Cal glanced at them, but his expression remained dispassionate.

  ‘It’ll be good practice for when you have your own.’

  Cal looked back at Dean. ‘Camping is stupid.’

  ‘You’ve been once.’

  ‘And it was stupid.’

  Dean cast his mind back. He remembered the weekend Cal and Ethan had struck out on their own, packs on their backs, and how much the pair had differed in their experiences. ‘You’d be in better company this time.’

  ‘Is Ethan coming?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dean said. Ethan had stuttered in his haste to accept the invitation.

  ‘Then I’d be in the same company, plus you lot. That’s a hard pass from me, but thanks for the fright.’

  Cal clearly expected this to be the end of it. He even stepped back and wiped his hands, as if cleaning the moment off his skin. But Dean was not so easily rebuffed.

  ‘I need this.’

  Cal stilled. ‘Why?’

  ‘I just do. My head’s full.’

  He wanted to put his phone away, poke a fire, and get back to basics. He was no longer feeling like the garage was pressing on his windpipe, and his kids were screaming for attention—whether they knew it or not. There was something going on with his daughter and he had this obtuse sense that his son needed to be rewarded for his loyalty. Not for hitting a kid, never for hitting a kid—but for standing up for his kid sister.

  His little trio was in another rough patch and some quality time together would fix it. This quality time should include their uncle, plus the man who was as good as.

  As if reading Dean’s mind, Cal asked, ‘You invited Sam and Liv?’

  ‘Sam laughed in my face.’

  ‘Liv will too.’ Cal hesitated. ‘If I laugh in your face—’

  ‘No. I’m not scared of you.’

  Cal smiled at the implication that Dean was scared of his sister. ‘I don’t have any gear,’ he said at last. This seemed to cheer him.

  ‘I don’t either. We’ll stop in Lithgow.’

  Cal pursed his lips. He appeared to be casting about for another excuse, but eventually he just said, ‘I’m not on board.’

  ‘You’re coming anyway.’ Dean set his glass down and stood. ‘We’ll leave Saturday after your lunch rush.’

  Despite his inexperience, he was excited. He longed to do fun, memorable things with his kids; to mark their childhoods with more than loss. If they liked camping, they could do it often. If they didn’t, he’d try something else to bring them joy. Maybe they were born kayakers or archers, or dirt-bike champions in the making. Maybe they had a penchant for languages or stories. Thanks to Alice, Dean now felt like he had the time to find out.

  Again, Cal seemed to read Dean’s thoughts.

  ‘I wonder if Alice would laugh in your face?’

  Dean grinned. ‘You think I should invite my new employee to come sleep on the ground with a bunch of men and a couple of kids—all of whom she’s just met?’

  ‘We were all mates in primary.’

  Dean’s response was sarcastic. ‘Of course. That changes everything.’

  ‘Yeah well, neither of you were thinking primary school thoughts over lunch today.’

  The two men smiled at each other, then Dean turned on his heel and herded his children outside.

  Chapter 8

  The day after her lunch with Dean, Alice was struggling with her imagination. It had been more active of late, and laughably creative. As she printed an inspection report and set it in a tray for collection, she chastised herself for making something out of nothing.

  Her boss had taken her to lunch. They’d got to know each other over chicken, and partial nudity aside, it had been completely innocent.

  His friends had hovered, which she thought sweet. Their barely contained excitement suggested Dean rarely took women to lunch, but Alice had to keep reminding herself that his invitation had been platonic. She wasn’t the easiest person to get to know, she knew this, but alone with him at what had to be the smallest table in the dining room, she’d found herself opening up. Despite all of the warning bells in her head, she hadn’t been able to help herself. There was something innately trustworthy about Dean Foster. That, and the fact that he’d shared so much with her.

  They’d done the quick history recap; they’d talked about the people who had once loved them, about their kids, and the ways life had surprised them. She’d redirected the conversation a few times whenever it had strayed too close to exposing her second job, and Dean had been easy-going enough to roll with each segue.

  She’d enjoyed herself.

  It had been so long since she’d had a meal with an adult. She gave all her spare time to Ben, which meant many of her friends had drifted because she was always so busy or tired. Alice was a mother first, an employee second and a friend third. And on her generous, more patient days her ill-fitting role as a daughter came a distant fourth.

  Standing up behind the reception desk, Alice moved over to the door leading to the garage, looked through its glass panel and crossed her arms over her chest. Dean stood at the bonnet of a car, examining things she couldn’t name nor guess the purpose of, his muscular arms over his head, his hands gripping opposite elbows. He was well worth looking at. And wasn’t it curious that the distressed jeans, the dirty polo top and the grease stains on his skin did little to dissuade her imagination. If anything, they gave her thoughts flavour.

  He dropped his arms to his sides and turned so suddenly that Alice was caught staring. She gave a halting wave and stepped away from the door.

  Moments later, Dean stepped in.

  ‘I’m just stretching my legs,’ she said, turning, her arms still crossed over her chest.

  ‘Okay,’ he said easily. ‘I didn’t come in here to tell you to get back to work.’ He closed the door and the grumble of a sick motor quietened. ‘Wow, it’s warm in here.’

  She glanced at the wall-mounted air-conditioning unit. It was warm in here, but every time one of his mechanics opened the side door or a customer came in through the front, they left the door wide open behind themselves. The cold air barrelled in, Alice became chilled, and the heat had to build all over again. ‘I feel the cold,’ she said, not bothering to explain this ceaseless cycle.

  By way of an answer, he dragged his jumper over his head. Caught in the jumper, his shirt lifted for a moment, exposing his stomach and a line of dark hair between his navel and waistband, then dropped back into place. The temperature seemed to spike.

  Dean crossed the room, lifted one of the customer chairs with one grease-stained hand, and carried it over to her desk. When he sat opposite her, sweat on his brow despite the chill outside, a line of oil beneath his eye and a smile on his face, Alice felt the warmth of the room move into her body.

  He was beautiful. Despite being dirty, roughly dressed and so full of test
osterone it seemed to thicken the air around him, he had a gentle, kind quality that smoothed the edges of his sharp masculinity. She wouldn’t be surprised if the women in this town were breaking their cars on purpose.

  Misreading her expression, he said, ‘Is it okay if I hang out here for a bit and chat?’

  She nodded.

  ‘You’re not too busy?’

  Alice glanced between the phone and her computer. ‘That feels like a trick question.’

  He laughed. ‘Fair enough. I’m not asking as your boss.’

  ‘What are you asking as?’

  Propping his elbows on his knees, he considered her. ‘Your friend?’

  Laughter tickled the back of her throat. She’d never known a person to be capable of being both boss and friend. Her working life had been populated with capricious shift managers and uncaring senior managers, but there was something in Dean Foster’s eyes that arrested her building smile. It was unveiled vulnerability, and it did strange things to her already fast beating heart.

  She swallowed, and dared to let him in a little further. ‘Okay. Friends then.’ Until she did something he didn’t like and he became her employer again. ‘Do you want a coffee?’

  His grinned. ‘Yeah, you want to go to Sal’s?’

  ‘No, I’ll just get us some instant. Just between friends, my boss keeps us all on a pretty short leash.’

  They smiled at each other for a fraction longer than friends might do, then she turned and left the room.

  It felt like an age before the kettle boiled, which gave her time enough to wonder about the man waiting for her out the front. They were on dangerous ground. Within days they had moved from acquaintances to colleagues, and now to friends. Where would they be in a week?

  Her job depended on her staying on good terms with her boss, and she needed the money more than she needed a mate, but she couldn’t seem to say no to Dean. She wanted to know more about him. She liked when he looked at her. Hell, it felt good just knowing he was in the adjoining room.

  Alice closed her eyes. Oh no. Beneath her feet, the world seemed to tilt.

  She didn’t have time for hormones and crushes. She had a mortgage to pay, school fees to budget for. A ceaseless procession of expenses that kept her awake at night. And however much she was at odds with her father, she was still saving whatever money was left over for when the time came that he would need care. John Jaye was an ungrateful, taciturn widow who had archaic opinions and a keen sense of victimisation, so he wouldn’t thank her for supporting him in his old age, but in the end, he was her father, and she felt obligated.