Page 39 of The Orchard at Rosevale
‘It seemed only fair we celebrate a Galahs trivia win.’
He’d deliberately misunderstood her and she rolled her eyes.
‘I can’t figure you out, Cruz Wardlow.’
‘That’s probably a good thing.’
She tilted her head, studying him, the firelight casting beguiling shadows across her face. ‘You don’t get to kiss my palm and then pretend it didn’t happen.’
‘Fair enough.’ He paused. ‘To be honest, I’m not the wining and dining type. I’m too busy for relationships, so my interactions with women are brief and transient, but I didn’t want to complicate our working relationship, so I am retreating.’
‘Interactions?’ She snorted, amusement tilting her kissable mouth. ‘Is that what thirty-year-olds are calling sex these days?’
‘Stop being ageist.’
‘Stop being naïve.’ But her words held no bite. ‘I’m well aware of how brief my time here will be. I’m just out of a crappy relationship where the prick cheated on me with his housemate, yet, for some bizarre reason, thinks I’ll take him back. So a briefinteractionsounds perfect right now.’
Hell. The beautiful El had just offered herself to him, no strings attached. What was he waiting for?
‘I like your bluntness.’ He held out his hand to her and she took it. As he closed his fingers around it, he wondered if he was about to make a huge mistake. ‘But I still have reservations.’
She made a cutepfftsound. ‘You overthink too much.’
‘True.’
Thoughts whirled through his head, most of them centred around how much it would suck if they slept together and then had to work through awkward tension.
‘Okay, so here’s the plan. We’re going to finish our wine.’ She raised her glass with her free hand. ‘Then soak up this romantic ambience. Stare deep into each other’s eyes. Flirt a little. Hold hands.’ She squeezed his. ‘Then I’m going to drag you to bed.’
He chuckled, before tipping the rest of his wine down his throat. ‘There. Wine finished. Can we fast-track the rest?’
Her coy grin set his heart racing as she stood and tugged him to his feet. ‘I’m all for fast-tracking.’
‘You sure you wouldn’t like to be romanced?’
‘You can romance me in bed.’ She eyeballed him, and the desire he glimpsed fired his libido. ‘Now.’
Cruz didn’t have to be asked twice.
CHAPTER
20
While Ferne appreciated Bette bringing over dinner, she couldn’t wait for her new friend to leave.
From the moment Bette had mentioned Jesse and the restaurant’s proximity to the apartment, Ferne had known what she needed to do.
Less than ten minutes after Bette left, Ferne shrugged into her jacket, slipped her phone into the pocket along with the key card, propped the crutches under her armpits and hobbled to the lift. Thank goodness she had a walking boot and not plaster, because she wouldn’t have got far if she’d had to hop, but the boot supported her leg as well as taking weight as she moved at a snail’s pace down the street. She couldn’t stop thinking about how, if she hadn’t made the connection between Jesse and Lee’s House of Fusion, she could’ve popped in for takeaway one evening and run into Mac’s boyfriend.
The thought made her chest tighten and she had to take several steadying breaths before rounding the corner that would bring her within a few steps of the restaurant.
She’d be lying to herself if she hadn’t admitted a certain curiosity about Jesse and had contemplated looking him up online but had resisted. Every time she thought of Mac lying to her for decades, treating her with barely concealed disdain despite Ferne doing everything in her power to be a good wife, she wanted to strangle him, and her anger spilled over to Jesse too. When she’d first discovered Jesse’s existence and Mac’s other life, she’d been furious. She’d alternated between wanting to have his cremated ashes flushed down the toilet and wanting to publicly shame him. She’d yearned to know if anyone in town had been privy to his secret but hadn’t wanted to taint Cruz or have her son hearing rumours about his father’s sexuality, knowing how fast gossip travelled in a small town. So she’d ended up fuming in private, lying awake at night, staring at the moonlight dappling the ceiling, wishing she’d lived her life differently.
But after the initial shock wore off, she’d determinedly ignored Mac’s secrets and faked sorrow through his funeral, graciously accepted condolences from townsfolk, having already mentally checked out and looking forward to starting her new life far from Rosevale Grove.
Her curiosity now didn’t stem from wanting to know about Jesse. It came from a desire to know if her husband had been a different man, one who’d taken his anger out on her because he’d had to hide his true self.
As she spied the restaurant, the irony wasn’t lost on her. She’d travelled hundreds of kilometres to escape Mac’s reach, only to be confronted by yet more evidence of his treachery. As if the apartment wasn’t proof enough.
