Cody joined Bridie in grabbing lunch down the main street. He needed some air, a change of scenery, after the Paloma wedding head-fuck.
As much as he didn’t want to care, he wondered how far the popstar would go to ‘consummate’ the Hollywood marriage, play her role. Damn it. He had to stop his brain’s bloody merry-go-round. It was the last time he’d let his emotions get in the way of his work. Confuse a story subject with anything real.
Bridie had combined the lunch run with dropping off business flyers, fresh from the printer, at each shop they passed. Her idea. She had more reliability in her little pinkie than Paloma had in her entire body.
Here Bridie came now from the butcher’s, which was overrun with Christmas decorations like the rest of the quaint, roadside stores. She fell into step beside him again as a fragrant sweetness, like Christmas mince pies, drifted on the breeze … or was it her? Ms Jingle Belle?
She shot him a sideways look. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, what will happen with Goldlake after your month is up, presuming the business is a success? Which is highly likely. Will any of you stay on?’
Cody rubbed his jaw, the stubble scraping. ‘Jaxon will. He moved back in when Dad’s health woes started up and he’s always been a Hills boy at heart. Vance and I will still have a share in the property, but Jaxon will look after it for the foreseeable future—all going to plan. Really, he’s the one who’ll be the most cut-up if we lost the place. He and Dad were as thick as thieves.’
‘And it’ll be back to the bright lights of LA for you?’
He quirked up a corner of his mouth. ‘Yep, that’s the plan.’
‘You must love your work over there—the thrill of the chase, the glamour, the whole bit.’
Cody shrugged a shoulder. ‘I wouldn’t say it’s glamorous staking out a celebrity alone for hours in a blacked-out car. Or being swung at by a disgruntled star. But there is something addictive about the line of work. And of course you get a kick out of seeing your pictures splashed around the world.’
Bridie nodded. ‘Plus, it’s not the kind of job you’d do forever, right? With all the late hours and travel and stuff. So you’ve got to seize everything it offers now.’
A frown curled his lips. She sounded like she was parroting his father. His voice came out steelier than intended. ‘To be honest, I don’t really see an endpoint, aside from maybe branching out with my own picture agency. I’ve got nothing planned in the future that’ll hold me back.’
‘Marriage and kids’ were the unspoken words that hung in the air. Maybe a shrink —the kind Hollywoodites frequented—would say he had issues around not wanting to end up like his father … forever stuck in a rut, misplaced, should a relationship end in heartbreak. But after Cody had risked opening himself up to something permanent with Paloma, keeping his heart under lock and key didn’t seem a bad idea.
‘Fair enough,’ Bridie replied noncommittally. ‘I’ll just go drop some flyers at the Asian grocer’s.’
‘No problems.’ He hung back on the footpath as Bridie sped in. Within seconds, she was back by his side.
She continued the conversation as they walked. ‘So how’d you get into paparazzi work?’
He shrugged. ‘I was a bit of a globetrotter in my twenties and wound up in LA for the surfing. A guy from an entertainment photo agency saw me taking candid pics at the beach. Maybe he liked the way I used a camera or the light or something. Anyway, he said they were one short on their freelance team that night, and if I wanted some easy money, he had work for me. I did the job, got the shots they wanted, and never looked back.’
‘Huh, talk about land on your feet. After all these years, I guess some of the celebs must know you by name?’
Cody strangled another grimace, though it wasn’t Bridie’s fault her comments kept hitting close to the bone. ‘Some celebs do. But then, plenty are pretty lonely and the photographers trailing them can seem like the only ones who really know them. That’s another bonus of working with big names—you soon realise how much better it is to be on the other side of the lens. To live an ordinary life.’
‘I can understand that,’ Bridie murmured, looking off into the distance. Her gaze snapped back past his shoulder. ‘Ooh, Cornish pasties—I’d go one of those.’
He half-smiled. ‘Good choice. Apparently the bakery uses recipes passed down for generations.’ He reached for his wallet. ‘How about you order me a steak pie as well? And while you wait in line, I’ll drop some flyers on the other side of the road.’
‘Sure … though, just to be clear, I’m paying for myself this time.’
‘Nah. I owe you something for helping land our first job. A pastie’s nothing,’ Cody insisted, holding out some cash. With reluctance, she traded her pink flyers—the colour also her idea—for his notes.
She nodded at something else afar. ‘Hey, looks like you’ve got some competition in the paparazzi stakes.’
He turned to see a huddle of amateur photographers snapping away at a gum tree a few metres away. Squinting against the sun, he followed their focus to a furry, grey marsupial, chomping on leaves high up in the branches.
‘A koala’s definitely worth a shot over another of Taylor Swift,’ he remarked.
With a grin, Bridie waltzed away, and it was only then he realised he hadn’t asked her a single question that afternoon. She was a wily chick like that.
* * *
‘Okay, so give me the details.’ Megz’s singsong voice came down the line as Bridie wandered about her temporary lounge/dining area that evening. The buttery scent of sandalwood incense was ‘purifying’ the air, just in case Megz had a sixth sense about that sort of thing and knew Bridie hadn’t gone through with her promise. Megz pushed on, ‘Where are you working? And staying?’
Bridie plonked on the couch, her fingers snaking into an opened packet of FruChocs nearby. ‘I’m working for a wedding photography business, doing marketing and admin mainly. The business is actually run by triplet brothers and I’m staying in a guesthouse on their property. It’s this sprawling, semi-rural place in the Adelaide Hills. Perfectly, the contract’s just for one month.’
‘Hold up, weddings … and triplets,’ Megz exclaimed. Bridie could almost hear her friend’s eyes narrowing down on the other end. ‘These guys don’t also happen to be young and handsome, do they?’
‘Um, well, I guess you could say that, bu—’
Megz cut her off. ‘You’re staying with three hot brothers you’ve just met, on their property in a backwater town? Don’t you think that might be unwise after all your heart’s been through lately? Even … dangerous?’
Bridie swallowed the remnants of a chocolate-coated apricot ball. ‘The Belshaws are good guys. I know it in my gut. And they’re professionals. They needed someone who could be on-hand at odd hours while they kick-started their business, and I needed somewhere to stay. That’s all there is to it.’
The fact that she had more of a rapport with one of the brothers was neither here nor there … right?
‘I’m going to meditate on this after our call. In the bath.’
Bridie swallowed a sigh. Megz could be so overdramatic sometimes, as lovable as she was. ‘Do whatever you need to. I’m fine, seriously. Much better than I have been.’
‘And Rory—have you entertained contacting him yet? Before your month is up?’
Bridie felt a clamp-like squeeze on her heart at the reminder of Rory and his floppy dark blond hair, puppy-dog brown eyes and boat tan. Characteristics that now seemed familiar and foreign all at the same time.
‘No, I haven’t.’ Bridie scratched her forearm. ‘But he keeps popping up in my dreams, which is annoying.’
‘That’s because you have unfinished business,’ Megz exclaimed. ‘You’ll have to confront him eventually. You can’t run forever.’
Unlike Bridie’s mum.
A monstrous yowl reverberated down the line. ‘Amalfi, what are you doing?’ Megz’s old black cat, who also happened to have his own Instagram account, had clearly stolen her attention. ‘It’s not time to go outside, it’s night, you poor, confused sod.’ The line crackled, signalling Megz’s focus was back on Bridie. ‘The poor thing has dementia and has no idea what’s going on half the time. How will I be a proper witch without him?’
‘I’m sure he still has plenty of days ahead of him,’ Bridie reassured her friend, glad the conversation topic, however morbid, had been diverted away from her.
Minutes later, Bridie bid Megz goodbye, threw down the phone, and yawned. Reaching for the remote, she flicked through the channels on the guesthouse’s small TV, but reruns of The Bachelor and Snog Marry Avoid? weren’t really doing it for her right then. The frothy content meant her mind too easily wandered to contemplating the strangeness of her life lately, and where she’d wound up. She may as well head to bed; she still had a sleep debt to catch up on after the past few turbulent weeks anyway.
Blowing out the incense, she brushed her teeth in the tiny bathroom, then slipped on her Mad Men-esque sheer pink nightgown. Another new buy, and more pink glorious pink. In her temporary room, she found the double bed’s mattress had just the right amount of spring and cosiness, gazumping all the motel ones she’d laid on recently. The gentle lapping from the lake, was also quite soothing …
Hours later, Bridie sat up abruptly, her heart racing. A loud noise had wrenched her from her slumber. A strange, scraping sort of sound. One that seemed to come from the locked room adjacent. She’d assumed the one space in the guesthouse she couldn’t enter was a junk room, too messy for visitors to poke their heads in. But maybe Megz had been right about her being too trusting, too vulnerable. What if—sweet Jesus, Bridie drew her knees up to her chest—there was a person, being held hostage in the next room?
Okay, now her imagination was really running away from her. The Belshaw boys were good sorts. Her guy-radar might have been off lately, but she wasn’t totally dense when it came to picking up on bad vibes.
Another scrape tore through the air and this time Bridie sprang up, sprinting for the front door. She yanked it open and hightailed it out of the guesthouse, swerving around clawing branches and dancing shadows. Her bare feet connected with dewy grass, dirt, concrete … So much for the ‘healing’ incense and nightmare-diverting dreamcatcher.
At the main house’s front porch, she paused to catch her breath, wondering what the hell to do now. She couldn’t go back to the guesthouse. Not then. Even if there was a logical explanation for the noise, she wasn’t game to find out just yet.
So, should she ring the buzzer and wake up the Belshaws with her tale of things going bump in the night—she looked down, gulp—in her sheer nightie? Have them think her a paranoid loony, or worse, a desperate floozy? Or should she curl up somewhere on the porch, ensuring she disappeared before dawn to freshen up?
She twisted her mouth. One last ditch idea was to try the double doors and see if one was unlocked. It was the country—who knew? Yup, she was grasping at straws, but what else could she do?
Grabbing a brass handle, she tentatively turned it to the right and nearly wept at the satisfying click it made. What a miracle. Thank the moon and stars the Belshaws were so careless with their security. Or forgetful. Maybe she would be too if she was built like a Ken doll …
Tiptoeing into the shadowy hall, she gently closed the door behind her, locking it this time. Right. A cup of English Breakfast tea might help shush her mind. Then she could find a dark corner to retire to until day broke. It was some sort of plan.
She padded towards the kitchen, the moonlight illuminating her way. But as she hovered in the doorway, the air left her lungs. That wasn’t the moon. A crystal pendant light shone down on a solitary figure at the circular dining table.
‘Bridie.’ Cody looked up, snapping shut his laptop. ‘Can’t sleep either?’
She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling virtually naked next to him in his jumper and jeans combo. The quiet and darkness evoked an intimate air as it was.
‘Uh, I-I’m always like this in a new place.’
Cody frowned. ‘Hope the guesthouse’s comfortable enough. I know it can get kind of rattly near the lake.’
The lake, of course. That must have been what had caused the noise. She just wasn’t used to the sounds and their impact on the guesthouse. ‘No, it’s a great spot. I really appreciate you providing me a room. It just takes me a while to get used to a space.’
‘You’re shivering,’ Cody observed.
‘I-I am?’
Before she had time to think, he stood to whip off his grey knit. As he did so, she caught a glimpse of taut, tanned stomach beneath and a tantalising streak of dark hair trailing down from his bellybutton. Just as quickly he pulled the hem of his navy-blue tee, worn underneath, back into position and walked over to press the jumper into her hands. The wool itched her fingertips, but she was too focused on trying to remember how to breathe to really notice. He should be the one the paparazzi were clamouring to photograph.
‘Wear this,’ he said. ‘The temperature drops around here at night, even this time of year.’
Her voice came out like a mouse squeaking. ‘Okay.’
The wool swamped her, but at least her headlights and lacy briefs were no longer on display. Maybe that was what he’d been thinking too. Regardless, Bridie breathed in the heady combo of sandalwood, pine and masculinity that lingered on the fabric.
His clear-blue eyes drilled into hers. ‘Nice seeing you without your glasses on for a change.’
Immediately her hand went to feel about her face. Sugar. ‘Oh … right.’
His double dimples resurfaced, though such facial features ought to be illegal. ‘Want a midnight snack?’
‘Great idea.’
The distraction of banging about with cupboard doors and crockery sounded like just what she needed. She followed him over to the island bench.
He pulled a packet of crumpets from the dark wood pantry. ‘I could toast these up?’
‘Sure. I’ll put the kettle on in the meantime.’ She grabbed the silver pot from atop the stove and filled it up with tap water.
‘What toppings do you fancy?’ His deep voice reverberated from within the fridge.
It could have been like a fun sort of slumber party if he weren’t so unavailable, wrong, and her so newly single and raw.
‘I like a bit of a strange combo at home.’ She laughed self-consciously. ‘Greek yoghurt, peanut butter, honey and sliced banana. But I’d be happy with something much simpler—jam, Vegemite, whatever.’
‘That is different,’ Cody agreed, pulling items out of the fridge and unloading them on the counter. He added a banana from the fruit bowl. ‘You’re in luck, though, because we have everything on your list. Might even give it a go myself; I like an adventure.’
Bridie’s mind veered off on a devious detour, making the disruption of the kettle boiling a godsend. Both decided on hot chocolates.
Back at the table, they tucked into the fare, with Cody agreeing her toppings mishmash was ‘gold’.
At a lull in conversation, Cody appraised her. ‘You know, you’ve heard the story of my parents, but I haven’t heard anything about yours.’
Oof. Her parents. That was a subject she never got used to talking about. But the dark of the night called for honesty, especially when he’d opened up to her a few times already.
She hugged her mug with both hands—one ironically emblazoned with the words, World’s Greatest Dad—and took the plunge. ‘Actually, you might have guessed already, but I was raised by my aunt and uncle. My mum had me young. Too young. I was an … accident. One she couldn’t cope with. She got postnatal depression, and didn’t receive any help from my father—whom I’ve never met, by the way.’
Something about Cody’s non-judgemental expression made her continue.
‘So one day my mum had me stay with her sister and brother-in-law, who couldn’t have kids, and, um—’ Bridie tried for a jaunty lift of her shoulder, failing as always, ‘—well, she never came back for me. I mean, Mum’s always drifted in and out of my life and in and out of jobs; she’s never been a permanent fixture in my world. Not that I blame her. She’s had a tough life. And my aunt and uncle have been truly amazing. I’m lucky to have had their support. To still have it.’
Cody’s gaze didn’t leave her face. Her stupidly glasses-free face. ‘It must have been tough, though. Your mum just upping and leaving.’
‘I don’t see it as being abandoned,’ Bridie replied, hearing the primness in her own voice. ‘I see it as being welcomed with open arms by two people, full of love, who could do a much better job.’
Yep, she might have tried that one out before.
Cody slowly nodded. ‘True.’
Bridie made a show of yawning—a) because she was tired, and b) because she really didn’t want to talk about her sad childhood anymore.
‘Looks like the midnight snack’s done its job,’ Cody offered lightly. ‘Reckon you could sleep now?’
‘Hope so.’ She swallowed down the remnants of her drink and crumpet.
Cody got to his feet, sweeping up their empty mugs. ‘Want to stay in one of the guest rooms upstairs? Might be better than trekking out into the cold night again. The beds are made up already.’
‘Actually that’d be great.’
Though she’d have to lock her door, just so she didn’t sleepwalk in the direction of his room, accidentally on purpose.
‘You can return my jumper in the morning,’ he added before heading for the sink.
It was just the kind of discouragement she needed, like being doused with a bucket of icy water. Down, girl.