Clover stomped around the corner towards her house. She was lucky to live so close to the main street of Kallista. In fact, she could see the house from the roundabout at the end of the main street. It certainly saved car and petrol costs, but it gave her no time to get through the simmering anger that had her feet stomping the ground. She kicked a can, missed it and stubbed her toe on the footpath. ‘Damn Liam Sinclair and his Upper Crust Bakery,’ she muttered, and she waited for her toe to stop throbbing. She picked up the can and threw it into a bin.
She continued walking across the street, stepping onto the bitumen without considering traffic. A car horn blasted, snapping her out of her annoyance. She quickly back-stepped to the footpath, smiled apologetically and waved the car on, this time looking before she crossed.
She couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. Imagine having someone do a background check on her. Of all the nerve! Why would he do that anyway? If he asked, she would have told him — well, maybe not all at once. But all he had to do was be nice to her and strike up a conversation.
She almost laughed at the understanding she showed him this morning. It had hurt her thinking of him as a lonely child, without a mother to cook for him. Well, he was a product of his environment. And she’d let him go without paying for breakfast to top it all off. If anyone could afford a ten dollar meal, it was him.
Maybe it was fortunate she saw this side to him so soon on. She’d thought she liked him! She’d thought about his empty stomach and felt sorry for him! She gritted her teeth in annoyance at herself. That wouldn’t happen again. She needed to keep him close so she knew what he was doing, but not so much as to feel anything for him. So far, that had not worked well.
Tomorrow was another day, and she would make a clean start. She needed to fight for the existence of her café and not make the same mistakes her father had. Mistakes she was still paying for. Literally. She had seen him let bad decisions get the better of him. Seeing that had taught her well. Liam Sinclair could read all the facts he wanted about her. She wasn’t going to back down just because his business was bigger. She’d let his business and what it stood for fuel her anger. Anger meant motivation. Motivation meant success. There was no mention of the word ‘attracted’. She let out a sound of frustration as she stepped onto the sidewalk and to the entrance of her house.
The gate screeched open on rusty hinges. She’d have to remember to get the WD-40 and give it a spray. She followed the gravel driveway along the side of the house to the backyard. Large trees that grew along the fence line made a roof of bright green leaves. She looked at the new growth threatening to spiral to the ground. The branches would need to be trimmed if she hoped to keep the driveway clear.
She didn’t want to look at the house. Although beautiful, built at the turn of the century, it badly needed to be maintained, the woodwork sanded, puttied and painted. Clover sighed, the weight of the work falling heavily on her shoulders. She barely had time to sleep, let alone restore her century-old home.
It once would have been magnificent. A broad verandah ran around all sides of the house and was trimmed with art deco woodwork that joined the roof and the supporting columns. Deep beneath the verandah, the walls were dotted with solid double opening windows, mostly with the original leadlight glass. The doors leading inside were all French, one at the front and one at the back, leading to a centre hallway inside the house with various rooms that pocketed from it. She’d only known this house. Years ago it had been a happy home; now it looked as downcast as its occupants.
Clover refused to acknowledge the blanket of gloom that settled on her shoulders. It had been like this too long. When she had the time or the money, she would see about putting things right and restore her home back to its former beauty. Her mother would like that and hopefully it would lift the depression that had overtaken her recently.
She rounded the back corner of the house, the chook-house in her sights. She called to the hens as she stepped into the roost. ‘Good girls, ten eggs today. You’ve done well.’
It was as if they understood the words she spoke. They clucked about her feet, loving the attention she gave. She quickly fed them some grain and set the eggs aside in a basket kept for that reason on the verandah. Before she went inside, she checked over the vegetable garden. Her vegetables were coming along well. She had plans to utilise the whole block — the backyard was certainly big enough — and it would make the age-old fruit trees a bit more manageable if they were cut back to make the extra space. Hopefully it would help stock seasonal supplies for the café. Maybe she could ask her mother to tend it and make sure it was free of pests during the day to ensure a good supply of healthy vegetables. She reached for a strawberry and popped it into her mouth, savouring its sweetness before heading off into the house.
* * *
‘Your father and brother will be at the shop at noon tomorrow.’
Noon. That would mean he could ask the electricians to have the kitchen finished so that he could show his father the new modifications he’d made, learnt from the mistakes of previous fit-outs. He wished he could have had the fit-out proceeding ahead of time; his father would note that, but it hadn’t worked out that way. He’d pushed the trades people as much as he could and the work was proceeding well. He’d just have liked to have more done for his father. Thank goodness he wasn’t running behind time. His father wasn’t a man to abide by missed deadlines.
‘Noon will be fine, Judy. Do they need a lift from the airport?’
‘They will take a taxi there and back.’ Judy paused. ‘It will just be a flying visit. Your father has an early morning flight out’
Liam could never shake the sting of disappointment. He thought his father might have stayed for a couple of days. It had been a while since he’d seen his father for more than a couple of hours at a stretch. The last time had been at a cookware convention eight months ago.
‘Is Connor staying?’
‘He’s left his schedule free for the upcoming week.’
A smile lit his face at the thought of seeing his brother. ‘That’s great. Could you book us into a nice quiet restaurant?’
‘Sure thing, would the….’ The line went dead.
Frowning, Liam took the phone from his ear. The battery was dead. Great. He knew he’d used his phone a bit today and was cutting it close with the battery power. However he had no way to re-charge it at the moment. He’d left his charger at the hotel, and the phone line wasn’t installed at the shop. He couldn’t get a call in or out.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t have a car, and relied on the taxi service to take him to and fro from the hotel to the shop. At seven pm, the street was deserted, shops closed and no pay phone. He was stuck here. He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering what on earth he could do. The thing about the suburbs was there were no taxis floating around looking for fares. Even if he were to stand on Burwood Highway, there’d be no telling if he would get a taxi. And he had no idea which bus to take.
He let out a long sigh. There was nothing he could do. Then he remembered the address on Clover’s fact sheet. She lived around here. Somewhere very close.
He went back inside the shop and picked the sheet from his father’s folder he’d printed out earlier, reading her address. It was a one minute walk. He grimaced. She wasn’t going to be in a very conducive mood when she saw him, but surely she wasn’t hard-hearted enough to deny him the use of her phone. One call and he’d be out of the house and her evening.
Just why was it her, and why was it tonight?
* * *
‘Someone’s at the door!’
‘Okay Mum, just stay there. I’ll get it.’ Clover opened the lid of the microwaveable container and placed it on the tray before heading for the door. She charged down the hallway, wondering who would be calling in right on dinner time.
She opened the door to a pair of wary cinnamon eyes. ‘What are you doing here?’
The wariness changed to amusement and fuelled her already lit internal fire.
‘Don’t look at me like that. How did you know?…oh. The Fact Sheet. Of course, that would surely have listed my home address. If you want any more information, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until business hours.’
She went to close the door and found his foot lodged between it and the frame.
‘I actually need your help.’
‘I don’t open my door to stalkers.’
His eyes deepened to a dark coffee colour. ‘I’m not a stalker!’
She held up her hand and ticked off points using her fingers. ‘You get a Fact Sheet written up about me, you come into my café and accept my meals…’
‘You offered…’
Clover made a frustrated sound. ‘…that’s beside the point. And you turn up at my house when I thought I made it perfectly clear I didn’t want anything to do with you.’
He sighed. ‘I know this isn’t the best time…’
‘You bet it isn’t!’
‘I just need to use your phone. Then I’ll be out of your hair. I promise to make it quick.’ He looked at her with a hang-dog expression that squeezed her heart. She steadied herself, refusing to acknowledge the wistful expression on his face.
‘Who’s at the door?’
She gasped. Her mother probably heard everything she’d said from the lounge room. She spoke over her shoulder. ‘It’s no-one, Mum.’ She faced Liam again. He looked so lost and so — lonely — standing on her doorstep. Her heart twisted a little more. She wasn’t going to fold beneath her emotions.
‘Don’t you have a phone?’
He sent her a lopsided smile. ‘Battery ran out.’
‘You were on that thing all afternoon.’
His brows flicked up. ‘You noticed?’
Of course she had noticed. Her and every red-blooded woman that drank coffee at her café that day. A man with his physique and good looks didn’t blend into the background. She’d heard and understood the various giggles that had plagued her all afternoon. ‘I couldn’t help notice you spent all afternoon on the footpath on that thing.’
‘We don’t have a phone line in the shop yet.’ He looked over her shoulder and as he did she heard her mother’s footsteps soft behind her.
She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘He’s just going, Mum.’
Her mother looked over her shoulder and Clover grimaced at the way her eyes lit up at the sight of Liam. ‘Oh, a young man! Well, what’s he doing outside, Clover. Ask him in.’ Clover cringed at her mother’s breathy tone.
‘He’s going, Mum.’
Her mother opened the door and gently pushed Clover aside. ‘Nonsense. We don’t get visitors here very often. Especially ones like you.’ She took Liam’s wrist and man-handled him inside.
‘You can say that again,’ Clover mumbled.
Liam must have heard her. As he walked past the amusement in his eyes burned. Her cheeks flooded with heat. She normally wasn’t rude to anyone, but he’d gotten under her skin for some reason and she couldn’t seem to get him out.
She stood behind him, suddenly aware of how much space he seemed to take up. She wasn’t the tallest woman, and neither was her mother, but she wasn’t used to seeing a healthy male, all tall and broad-shouldered in her house. She found she had to tip her head back all the more to see into his face. It was entirely disconcerting.
To her horror, her mother held out her hand and shook Liam’s hand. ‘I’m Gloria, Clover’s mother.’
‘Did you know that, too?’ She bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
She did her best to look contrite as Liam turned. He looked like he’d been caught doing something…mischievous. So much younger. So much more handsome. With his ruffled hair and the quick grin he sent her, she was captured. Ensnared. Her heart stumbled. She could look at him forever looking like that. Something indefinable shifted beneath his eyes. Heat stung her cheeks again.
‘No. I didn’t know that.’ He turned his attention back to her mother. ‘I’m Liam Sinclair. Nice to meet you, Gloria.’
He placed his hand over hers, capturing her smaller hand in his much larger one. Her mother practically wilted. She pressed her spare hand to her chest and giggled as though she were twenty years old again. Clover rolled her eyes. He could certainly pull the charm if he wanted to. ‘Such manners! How can we help you?’
‘If I could use your phone?’ Liam suggested.
‘Yes, of course. It’s in the kitchen.’
Clover didn’t have an option but to follow her mother and Liam down the hallway and into the kitchen. He held Gloria steady, placing her elbow through the crook of his much larger, sturdier arm. Her mother seemed to walk straighter, the limp a little less obvious, leaning less on her cane than usual. As they entered the room, Clover noticed Liam looking over the kitchen. She followed his gaze, realizing just how old and worn everything looked. Things she’d seen so many times and didn’t see any more jumped out at her screaming ‘fix me’, ‘paint me, ‘restore me’. However, she refused to be embarrassed. Every fix and renovation had been done by her hands. Maybe not the most professional. But it had her personality indelibly etched into every wall and facet making it unique. There certainly wasn’t a house anywhere the same as this one. And that was something she was proud of.
Liam must be used to luxury, and this house was far from it. Even the paint she’d applied early last year had marks on it. But repairs, paint and restoration needed money, and that was where her café came in. If it made money and was successful, she’d have enough money to afford to fix the house and maybe even hire someone to help her. Maybe.
His eyes drifted around the room and rested on her. In the luminous glow from the kitchen lighting his eyes looked deep and dark. They roamed her face, as though memorising every line, dip and curve. Again, she was ensnared and it was all she could do but let his eyes travel over her face, as intimate as a real touch. ‘It’s lovely,’ he said.
Clover blinked back into real time. ‘Excuse me?’
‘This kitchen. This house. It’s just how I imagined it would be. It suits you.’ His mouth tipped into a gentle, almost nostalgic, smile.
Clover folded her arms across her chest. ‘What do you mean by that?’
‘It’s got you in every nook and cranny. Your paintings on the wall, the colours, the chairs and table. I can see where the ideas for your café come from.’
Clover eyed the furniture she’d bought from various garage sales over the years and restored back into use. She’d even made the leadlight windows for the century-old sideboard that contained their dinner ware. As she looked about her kitchen, she dismissed the work it needed doing and was surprised that he’d seen the work she had done. She was also surprised at the wave of pleasure that washed through her, as though his noticing had validated her in some small way. But she wasn’t ready to give up her anger about the fact sheet.
‘Well — thank you,’ she said begrudgingly. She indicated the wall phone. ‘There’s the phone.’
She watched him move to the phone and make a call. Her mother nudged her, signalling with her eyes to Liam. Clover frowned and shook her head.
‘It’s engaged,’ Liam said.
‘Why don’t you wait until it’s not so busy and stay for dinner?’ Gloria suggested.
Clover rounded on her mother, sending her a large-eyed stare, ‘Mr. Sinclair is a very busy man…’
‘Actually, I’ve finished for the day. I would love to accept your offer, Gloria.’
‘We…we only have leftovers,’ Clover said.
‘There’s enough for all of us. Do you like spaghetti bolognaise? Clover made a big batch yesterday and it’s delicious,’ Gloria said, looking up at Liam, blinking her eyelashes. Clovers mouth dropped open. Either her mother had a lash in her eye, or she was flirting with Liam.
‘Sounds lovely.’
She placed her hands on her hips, staring at her mother. This was getting out of hand. Gloria smiled and limped to the sideboard. ‘That’s settled then. I’ve got a bottle of red wine that will go nicely with dinner.’ She patted Liam on his arm and handed a bottle to him. ‘If you would like to do the honours?’
‘I can’t remember the last time I had a home cooked meal. I’m looking forward to this. Thank you, Gloria.’ Liam took the bottle, smiling at Gloria. Clover noticed the small tremble of her mother’s hand as she handed the bottle over. It was second nature to take the bottle herself before the strength left her mother’s arm, but Liam beat her to it.
He turned his smile to her and she was blinded by the wattage. ‘Thank you, Clover.’ His voice enveloped her, weaving through the soft-centre of her mind and body. He handed her a glass of red wine and she was powerless to do anything but let him place the stem into her numb fingers. His mouth stretched into a sexy-as-sin smile. She forgot to breathe. Sensation pooled low in her belly, a liquid fire that swirled in private places. To make matters worse, he helped Gloria sit, before he took a seat, stretching his long legs beneath the table.
She sipped, letting the first relaxing mouthful of potent wine calm her frayed nerves. She’d been master manipulated by her mother. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The man she’d been so angry with was now in her kitchen drinking red wine and laughing with her mother. There was not a thing out of place. It was natural. Normal. Clover realised with a start that the house seemed less lonely, less empty.
As though he filled a space she’d not known was empty before he’d come along.