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“I don’t.” I grabbed at Dean’s T-shirt with both hands. “Lou thought I did, but she was wrong. And she doesn’t speak for me. Okay?”
With his Oakleys firmly in place, I couldn’t see his eyes. Was he angry? Or offended? His T-shirt bunched in my fists, I stared up at him, waiting for him to respond.
It felt like forever, but he pulled his hands from his pockets and closed them over mine. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”
There was no way I’d share the gossip Lou told me, so I went for a partial truth. “Lou saw the bruises on my arm and thought you’d hurt me.”
“Fuck.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”
I shrugged his apology away. “I only have a couple of minutes, but I was hoping you’d call by today. I wanted to know—to ask—if you were doing anything tonight.”
“That kinda depends on you.”
It did? That was promising. “I don’t have any plans other than my sand art and walking King on the beach.” I clung to my earlier conviction and tried to sound confident. “What do you have in mind?”
Dean glanced down and scuffed his feet. A puff of loose sand eddied around the toes of his sneakers. “Here’s the thing. My new workmates are having a barbecue tonight, and they want me to go. It’s a family night, and they’ll all have partners and kids, and... yeah... I wondered if you wanted to go with me.”
Once again, I was speechless. He was asking me on a date, but at the same time, his normal arrogance was missing. He felt awkward, asking me. There were a number of reasons why that would be. I was a fuck, rather than anything more? I quashed that thought. “Yes,” I said. “I’d love to.”
“You would?” His lips tugged up at the corners. “Pick you up around seven?”
I needed to get back to the café, but I didn’t move. It was tempting to stay longer. I compromised by stretching up and pressing a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“You bet.” He released his grip but shifted his hands to squeeze my ass, and pull me against his body. “I’m back at work in the morning, but if you want to stay again tonight, that’s cool.”
Did I? That was a no-brainer. My feelings toward him still fell into the confused basket, but the more time he wanted to spend with me, the greater a fool I’d be to turn him down. And this invitation, to meet his new buddies—the ones who said he was a psychopath—suggested he might see me as more than a one-nighter. That felt good.
We shared another quick kiss, and then Dean set off for his cottage, while I hurried back to work.
The trick was not to obsess over the way my emotions flip-flopped about him. I could enjoy his company without getting in too deep. Couldn’t I?
Lou gave me a wary look when I returned to my position behind the coffee machine. There was a brief lull in the flow of customers, and it was enough for me to get my head back into the game.
“Are you okay?” Lou asked, her voice low.
“Yes. Thank you.” I sighed. “I know you meant well, but you added two and two together and made a hundred. Dean wouldn’t hurt me. He’s very...” I hesitated. Loving? Caring? “He’s very protective.”
Her face tightened. “But Susannah said—”
“What if she’s wrong? You’re badmouthing him when he can’t defend himself. That’s not cool.”
A couple of young women dressed in business suits approached the counter, and I pasted on a friendly smile, watching and listening as Lou took their orders. I’d get to see Dean with his workmates tonight, and I’d make up my own mind as to what they thought of him.
The next time we had a few minutes of quiet, Lou spoke to me again. “Look—I know you hardly know me, and I could be completely wrong, but if I’m not, you might need a friend. And I’d like that. To be friends. ’Kay?”
I touched her hand. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
“I studied psychology at Vic University. I wasn’t making it up about the psychopathic tendencies.”
“What are you doing, working here, if you’ve got a psych degree?”
Pink lined her cheeks. “I dropped out and didn’t finish. Besides, I like working here.”
I sensed there was more of a story to come, but not unless she volunteered it. I wouldn’t pry. “Yeah, I like it too. My workmates seem nice,” I said.
Her grin returned, and she nudged my shoulder. “Damn right, we are. If you’re free tonight, why not come out with me? We can hit the one pub in Peka Peka and pretend we’re somewhere exotic.”
Wow. Two invitations in one day. “I’m sorry.” My regret was genuine. “I’ve got plans, but maybe another night?”
*
I did my art earlier than usual and decorated it with pieces of pink shell I found washed up on the beach. The Event Horizon quote sparkled in the late-afternoon sunlight, and my photos were good. My mood was high as I walked back to my apartment, to shower and change.
The question of what to wear raised its head. It’d be informal. Barbecues always were, especially if there were kids around, and Dean said it was a family event. Long sleeves, of course, but did I wear jeans, shorts, or a skirt? Dean had only seen me in jeans so far.
I shimmied into a close-fitting camisole for underneath my sheer lawn shirt, and pulled on one of my long, hippy skirts. This one was ankle-skimming and shot through with silver thread and velvet ribbon. The matching velvet strip I braided through my hair pulled the outfit together. With the addition of flat, beaded sandals and a dozen slim metal bangles, I was done.
King whined at my feet, and I bent down to fondle his ears. “I don’t think you’re invited, puppy. We’ll come back and pick you up later.”
Dean was waiting outside, leaning against his SUV. He wore the Batman T-shirt again, paired with faded black jeans and Converse sneakers. Casual and sexy and my date for the night. I wanted to whoop with anticipation, but instead I smiled and reached up to claim a kiss.
“Hey,” said Dean. “You look hot tonight, little sandy girl. Loving the hipster vibe.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Bat Boy.”
“I assure you, I’m no boy.” His mock-serious tone sent a delicious shiver through me. He raised an eyebrow at the box in my arms. “What’s that?”
I carried a shallow carton of café-baked cheese scones. Jacques had made more than needed today, and as always, he let the staff take uneaten goods. I showed them to Dean.
“Good thinking. I’ve got a twelve-pack of beers on the back seat and a couple bottles of juice, so we have soft drinks available.” He shrugged. “I’m driving, so I won’t have any alcohol either.”
With the scones stashed in the back, we set off. From the way his fingers tapped against the steering wheel, I guessed he was not happy about going tonight. Should I ask?
No. I didn’t want to draw attention to going. I’d smile and play nicely, and hopefully he’d relax.
It wasn’t far to drive, and soon we parked in a wide street, not far from the fire station. Several other cars were there, and the sound of children playing drifted from the back garden. Dean carried the drinks, I took the scones, and we made our way to the front door.
Nerves bubbled in my stomach. The last barbecue I went to, I ended up drinking too much cheap gin and passing out on the kitchen floor. That was after dancing on the patio table and subsequently falling off, breaking a garden chair in the process. My then-boyfriend had been stoned at the time, but wouldn’t have cared anyway.
I wanted to make a good impression on Dean’s workmates. I wanted to like them, and I hoped they’d like me. It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?