Second Chance Lane Page 8

  CHAPTER

  13

  Jane had consumed her second vanilla slice and was feeling the effects, surreptitiously sliding open the top button of her jeans before reaching for her skinny latte. The juxtaposition never failed to amuse her, how she sought comfort in sugar-laden baked goods while forgoing sweetener and full cream milk in her coffee. Story of her life really—over-indulging in some areas, skimping in others. Seeking comfort in the wrong things—withholding her true self from the people who mattered.

  ‘You look like you could use another vanilla slice.’ Betty sat on the chair opposite. ‘You can’t sit here with a sour expression. You’ll scare away the customers.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Jane forced a smile. ‘By the way, your vanilla slices get better every day.’

  ‘Tell me something I don’t know.’ Betty’s wide grin warmed Jane’s heart. The baker was one of the few people in town Jane could honestly call a friend. She’d poured her heart out to Betty on more than one occasion while drowning her sorrows in sugary treats and the older woman had never judged, just been supportive in a way Jane treasured. Pity her son hadn’t inherited his mother’s sunny personality.

  ‘Actually, I’m glad you popped in today. I want to get your opinion on something.’ Betty pointed at the wall behind them. ‘We’re expanding. I’ve already instigated proceedings to buy the empty shop next door and want to knock down this wall to open the place up.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I’m really excited about the expansion.’ Betty pressed her palms together in a begging motion. ‘Would you mind taking a quick squizz and giving me suggestions about the refit? Your interior design skills are legendary around here.’

  Heat crept into Jane’s cheeks. She’d completed a six-month interior design course at a small college in Echuca when she left school because she’d always loved prettying up rooms. It had been her thing, something she’d wished she could share with her mum but their relationship had always been shit. She loved the feel of fabrics, the splashes of colour, the art of arranging furniture for good feng shui. Because Gladys had spent an inordinate amount of time making every room in their mansion perfect, Jane’s idealistic teen self had envisaged opening a small business with her mum one day, doing something they both enjoyed.

  That dream, along with several others, had been ripped apart courtesy of Gladys’s callousness after her dad’s death that had driven a wedge between them permanently. Since then, Jane had helped out a few folks in town. She’d had a hand in redesigning the CFA’s meeting room, the main hall and the boutique in Main Street. They’d wanted to pay her, but she’d refused. It had been her way of giving something back to the town she’d always loved, a way to show them she wasn’t the spoilt entitled brat many of them assumed.

  Another thing townsfolk didn’t understand: why she stayed around. Having a substantial trust fund meant she could’ve escaped to Melbourne and beyond when she turned eighteen, but Jane had never craved freedom like so many others in her year at school.

  What Jane wanted was the one thing that remained elusive.

  Security.

  She wanted a partner, a strong, silent type who would provide her with more than money could buy. A stoic, dependable man like her dad, who she missed every single day. And if she couldn’t have the man, at least staying in the town she’d grown up in gave her some semblance of the security she craved.

  ‘Hey, where did you go?’ Betty snapped her fingers in front of Jane’s face. ‘You totally checked out for a while.’

  Jane grimaced. ‘Rehashing memories I shouldn’t.’ She stood. ‘Shall we check out this new space?’

  ‘Great. The real estate agent left me a key so we can do some preliminary planning.’ Betty led the way out of the bakery. ‘The advantage of living in a small town, huh?’

  Betty was one of the most recognised faces in Brockenridge so it didn’t surprise Jane that the realtor trusted her with a spare key.

  ‘Here we are,’ Betty said. ‘I’ve got a few ideas already, but I’m sure Mason will have more.’

  Jane stiffened, not wanting to have anything to do with Mason Woodley after the way he’d stared down his snooty nose at her earlier. But before she could beg off helping Betty, the door to the empty shop opened and the man himself appeared.

  ‘Glad you’re already scoping out the shop, Mason.’ Betty squeezed her son’s arm as she bustled past him. ‘I was just telling Jane you’d have some ideas for this place but I really want her opinion.’

  ‘Why?’ He stared at Jane like he’d stepped into a bucket of paint and she resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

  ‘Don’t be rude.’ Betty’s sharp rebuke had Jane biting back a grin as Mason glowered. ‘Jane’s got a good eye when it comes to interior design and I want her input.’ A loud beep emitted from Betty’s smart watch and she groaned. ‘Damn, I forgot about the flourless orange cake. Why don’t you two get started and I’ll pop back soon? Besides, this place is going to be Mason’s baby so it’s only fitting he has more input than me.’

  Jane’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted to do was give advice to a rude guy who wouldn’t value it.

  But Betty touched her arm as she left, murmuring, ‘Thanks for doing this, Jane, you’re a gem,’ leaving her no choice but to stick around.

  As if reading her mind, Mason said, ‘You don’t have to stay, I’ve got this.’

  She tilted her chin. ‘So you’re an interior designer like me?’

  ‘I’m a patissier who’s trained with the best in Paris,’ he said, managing to sound condescending, patronising and cocky all at the same time, reminding her so much of his teen self she wanted to laugh. ‘So I have a vision of what I want this place to look like.’

  ‘And you don’t think I have anything to offer? Your mum’s a friend. She asked for my opinion so I’ll give it.’

  He stared at her for a few tension-fraught seconds before giving a brief nod. ‘Okay.’

  Surprised by his capitulation, she swept her arm wide. ‘What do you envisage here?’

  ‘I want to recreate a Parisian vibe, cosy yet chic. A touch of luxe. High-end pastries and coffees. Something different. I think townsfolk are interested in seeing expansion and development, so why not give them something new? Most haven’t been to France, so why not bring France to them?’

  Jane stared, surprised by the transformation in Mason as he talked about his vision for the café. The frown disappeared, as did the lines bracketing his mouth, and his brown eyes almost sparkled with enthusiasm. This is what he’d been like in high school with his friends, a group of geeks who somehow managed to fit in with everyone but her. He’d been fine with Louise and Bec, and they’d been popular girls too. It seemed like he’d reserve his special brand of snark just for her, and she’d hated it. She wanted to ask him why he did it, but that would lend credence to it and she didn’t want to show him she’d once cared.

  When their eyes locked and he raised an eyebrow in provocation, she cleared her throat. ‘So you’re thinking white wrought-iron tables and chairs, pastels everywhere, artisan posters on the walls, that kind of thing?’

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, the admiration in his gaze making her feel warm. ‘Uh, look, I want to apologise for how I behaved earlier.’ His cheeks reddened and his gaze slid away before refocussing on her. ‘You’re right. High school was a long time ago and I acted like an idiot.’

  ‘It’s okay,’ she said, wondering what he’d think if he knew she’d done a lot of stupid things since.

  ‘I’d like to get this place up and running sooner rather than later …’ He glanced around, pride straightening his impressively broad shoulders. Must be all that dough kneading. ‘I know we were enemies in high school and the way I reacted when we bumped into each other earlier wouldn’t have changed your impression of me, but would you be interested in acting as our interior design consultant?’

  While Jane remained silent, struggling not to gape at his offer, he continued. ‘I mea
n, it’s obvious Mum trusts you, otherwise she wouldn’t have asked for your opinion in the first place, and the way you just articulated my vision so clearly means we’re on the same wavelength.’

  He smiled, it wouldn’t be the first time, and all the air whooshed out of her lungs at its potency. If he’d smiled more often at her in high school she wouldn’t have been so bitchy and they might have stood a chance at becoming something resembling friends.

  ‘So what do you think?’

  Jane thought she was completely bonkers for agreeing to undertake anything alongside this guy, but she found herself nodding regardless.

  CHAPTER

  14

  Tash shouldn’t feel anything other than anger towards Kody. Anger that he’d chosen this town to heal his wounds, anger that he’d forced her hand when it came to Isla, anger that he had the potential to turn her tight-knit family upside down. But as she pulled into his driveway, killed the engine and glanced at the soundly sleeping rock star, she knew some of that anger should be directed at herself.

  She’d done the wrong thing in keeping Isla a secret from him all these years and because of her, he’d missed out on so much. Like the time eighteen-month-old Isla had tumbled headfirst into a bucket of apple peels at the roadhouse, making Tash, Harry, Alisha and Clara laugh. And the time she’d aced her two-times tables in prep. And the first time she’d shot a goal in netball. And several months ago, when she’d rocked the year six play by breaking into a surprising rendition of an Aussie pop classic. Tash had experienced a particular twinge of guilt that night, realising Isla must get her strong voice from her father. But she’d learned to subdue those twangs over the years because no good could come of it.

  She’d never believed in karma or fate or any of that crap, but Kody turning up here and taking away her choice to divulge the truth was the cosmos having a belly laugh at her expense.

  Kody snuffled in his sleep, a cute snorting sound that had her biting her bottom lip. Watching him slumber brought back a host of memories she’d spent thirteen years trying to forget. She’d lain next to him so many nights doing this very thing, watching him, marvelling that an incredibly sexy guy liked her. He’d been larger than life back then and she’d had no doubt he’d make it big. When Kody Lansdowne strutted into a room, people—especially women—took notice. He’d never told her anything about his past. Then again, she hadn’t revealed much about hers either. She’d liked the fact they never discussed their pasts so all that mattered was the present. They’d been so caught up in each other, so blissfully happy, she’d never anticipated her future being twisted into something unrecognisable. But Isla was a by-product of their self-absorbed love and Tash would never regret that, no matter how much her heart ached for all they’d lost and what could’ve been.

  Kody blew out a small puff of air and it drew her attention to his lips, the bottom one fuller than the top, and for a scant second she allowed herself the luxury of remembering exactly how sensational they felt trailing over her body—

  His eyes snapped open and she jolted, heat scorching her cheeks.

  ‘That’s creepy,’ he mumbled, straightening. ‘Quit staring at me.’

  ‘You were drooling and I didn’t want it getting on my window.’

  A half-smile quirked his lips. ‘Thanks for bringing me home.’

  ‘No problem,’ she said, opening her door and all but tumbling out in her haste to escape his too-knowing stare. She almost preferred him angry because the softer Kody, the guy with a killer sense of humour who used to love teasing her, had the potential to undermine her.

  By the time she grabbed the crutches from the boot he had the passenger door open. Their fingers touched as she handed them over, a fleeting brush that lasted less than two seconds, but long enough for Tash to know she needed to focus on Isla and not memories of Kody’s lips or hands or any other damn thing.

  ‘I’ll be going if you don’t need anything else—’

  ‘Actually, I do need a hand.’ He steadied himself on the crutches, his expression carefully blank, but she could see how much it annoyed him to have to ask for help. Kody had always been stubborn and if having her pick him up weren’t bad enough, asking her to stick around would be the pits. ‘I really need a bath, seeing as you said I stink, but I can’t get the plaster wet and it would help if you could rustle up some plastic bags, ties, that sort of thing.’

  His mouth may be set in an unimpressed line but she glimpsed vulnerability in his eyes and that’s what ultimately made her stay.

  ‘Fine, but only because you reek,’ she said. In reality, Kody didn’t smell. She’d only said that earlier to buy some thinking time about how to ask Isla if she was ready for the big face-to-face with her father now she knew the truth.

  She had the sense not to offer assistance as Kody hopped to the front door, unlocked it and struggled to push it open. It must’ve cost him big time to ask for help with the bath and she didn’t want to rub his nose in it.

  ‘Why don’t you head on through to the bathroom and I’ll rummage around for bags and ties in the kitchen?’

  ‘Okay.’ He paused. ‘Thanks for doing this.’

  ‘No worries,’ she said, heading for the kitchen before she could blurt how much she liked this unguarded side of him. Even when they’d been dating she’d never seen him anything other than confident and in charge. She’d liked that alpha side of him because she’d been so ridiculously naïve and having him take control of their relationship made her feel treasured. It wasn’t until she’d returned to Brockenridge, been abandoned by her folks and endured the birth of her baby alone had she realised how much she’d come to depend on Kody. Isla’s birth had been the wake-up call she’d needed, because as a single mother with a newborn to care for, she’d realised the only person she could rely on was herself and now she had to be the strong one for the both of them.

  She hoped Isla admired her independence and that she’d taught her daughter the value of self-reliance. She might have the support of her pseudo-family at The Watering Hole, but she’d done it alone for a long time. Which brought her full circle back to Kody and that rare glimpse of vulnerability. Gone was the cocky guy she’d dated, or the furious man she’d hidden the truth from all these years. Instead, for a few fraught moments, she’d seen a … broken man. A man pushed to his limits. A man defeated.

  Blinking back the sting of tears, she rummaged through the drawers beneath the island bench, discovering what she needed in the last. She snapped an extra large garbage bag from a roll and grabbed some ties, then dragged in a few breaths. She could do this. She could help get Kody sorted for his bath, then make a run for it.

  However, as she followed the sound of running water to a room at the end of the hallway, she knew she couldn’t abandon him. He’d need food and maybe a top-up of painkillers. She’d make sure he was okay before bolting because he was a man in need.

  ‘Hey, I found what you were after …’ she trailed off as she reached the bathroom, completely gobsmacked by the sight that greeted her.

  Kody. Naked.

  Well, not completely naked. He still had his jocks on—she didn’t know whether to be grateful or disappointed—but his chest and legs were on full display where he sat on the edge of the bathtub. He’d always been lean but sported more muscles than she remembered: clearly defined pecs and abs, impressive biceps, delineated quads … wowza.

  ‘You’re staring at me like you used to, but you don’t have the excuse of studying anatomy anymore.’

  His amused drawl snapped her back to attention. She should say something, make light of the fact she’d been blatantly perving on his impressive body, but her brain wouldn’t work in sync with her mouth and she couldn’t think of one damn thing to say.

  With a knowing grin that did strange things to her insides, he turned off the taps, giving her time to reassemble her wits. Hating how discombobulated he made her feel, and channelling her old nursing training in which bodies were nothing more than something that h
ad to be healed, she barged into the bathroom and squatted in front of him.

  ‘Here. Stick your leg in this,’ she said, holding open the garbage bag.

  ‘Damn, this plaster is heavy,’ he said, grunting as he lifted the lower half of his leg and slid it into the bag.

  ‘Depending how bad the break is, you could make do with a fibreglass cast, or even a walking boot,’ she said, focussing on securing the top of the bag with the ties. ‘Did you get an opinion from the orthopaedic surgeon?’

  ‘No. The registrar on duty read the X-rays, said I had an ankle fracture, and plastered it.’

  ‘You should get a second opinion,’ she said, standing and backing away a few steps so she wasn’t so close to all that tempting skin on offer. ‘It’ll be much easier for you to move around in a boot.’

  ‘And miss out on having you help me like this?’

  He was laughing at her. She could hear it in his voice and when she finally raised her eyes to meet his, what she saw took her breath away.

  Awareness. Not anger. Not loathing. Recognition of what they’d once shared.

  She swallowed and backed up some more. She couldn’t do this, let down her guard, for him to revert to disdain tomorrow. Because she had little doubt the painkillers were responsible for blunting the edges of his pain—emotional and physical.

  ‘I’ll fix you something to eat while you take a bath,’ she said, only stopping to close the door on his soft, taunting chuckles.

  Kody hated baths. Growing up in foster homes, he’d barely have a shower because being naked in a houseful of sadists, even with a lock on a door, left him uneasy, so no way in hell would he ever take a bath. Besides, he could never see the attraction in sitting around in one’s filth. But Tash had loved baths and he remembered her squeezing into the tiny tub in his studio apartment, covered in strawberry-scented bubbles, poring over textbooks. He wondered if that’s what her stunned expression had been about as she stared at him earlier.