Someone Like You Page 22

  She wasn’t going to waste this man.

  Lizzie reached up to hold his face in her hands. There was a sudden flare in his eyes and he got there before she did. His lips crashed down on hers so fiercely that he bent her backwards, the only things holding her up were his arms low on her waist. All her strength was in that kiss. Her lips parted in thrilling desire and his tongue tangled with hers, taking her, sharing her longing, reflecting back how much she wanted him. Lizzie didn’t hear another sound from the crowd. The whoosh in her ears drowned out everything else. She pulled him closer, clinging to him, wanting to feel the strength of him hard against her as they kissed.

  When they stopped, reluctantly, a cheer went up around them. Dan’s eyes caught hers.

  ‘Happy New Year.’ His voice was deep and rough and it set off a fire between her thighs. She never wanted to let him go.

  ‘Right back at you,’ she said, finding the back pockets of his jeans and slipping her fingers into them, squeezing his butt. Every nerve ending in Lizzie’s body crackled like sherbet on her tongue. She sighed and relaxed against him, softened in his embrace, used his strong body to prop up her exhausted limbs. With her head against his chest, she could hear the boom of his own heartbeat. One sure hand cradled her head.

  ‘Lizzie!’ From behind her, another set of arms was around her. It was Julia. She lifted her head a little and saw Ry, who was smiling at the size of the crowd.

  ‘Happy New Year!’

  Lizzie felt a swell in her heart. ‘I’m so glad you’re all here.’ The crowd around them exclaimed at another starburst of fireworks.

  ‘We wouldn’t miss it for anything,’ Julia laughed. ‘I tried to get Joe to come as well, but…’ her voice trailed off and she shrugged. She didn’t have to say any more for Lizzie to know what he would have said.

  ‘Look at all these people,’ Ry said, rubbing his hands together. ‘All spending money in my pub. Excellent.’

  ‘Mate,’ Dan laughed, holding Lizzie tight in his arms. ‘Stop thinking like the owner and start thinking like a local, will you? They’re making memories, not making you rich.’ The tease in his voice was obvious to them all.

  Ry grinned. ‘Yeah, that too, Dan. Stop making me sound like a miserable bastard. Happy New Year, you pain in the arse.’ Ry slapped Dan on the back, his face creased with a smile that said so much more.

  At another gasp from the crowd around them, all eyes turned upward to the sky. Lizzie stole a glance at Julia and Ry. Her best friend was nestled in the arms of the man she loved and she looked radiant. What a year it had been for them, she realised, reunited after so long, and life was only going to get better with their wedding in February.

  She turned so her back was against Dan’s chest, held on tight to the arms that were crossed possessively around her.

  It was a new year. For the first time in so many, Lizzie felt slightly more hopeful that the turning over of the calendar would bring her better things, too.

  Once the fireworks display had ended, the crowd on the roadway outside the pub dissipated. Some went back inside to continue celebrating, others with sleepy children ushered them home to bed. Lizzie glanced over her shoulder. Her job was to go back inside and work until closing at two a.m. That was the other hard thing about this time of year. Everyone else continued the party. She continued the hard labour.

  Dan held her hand, his thumb rubbing circles there. ‘You’ve got to go back to work, huh?’

  She sighed. ‘I do.’

  ‘Damn it,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘I thought maybe you could come back to my place and we could make some fireworks of our own.’

  Lizzie took in his sexy grin and his raised eyebrows. ‘Wow. I reckon that was the cheesiest line I’ve ever heard.’

  Dan lifted her hand and touched his lips to the back of it. ‘Our fireworks might last a bit longer.’ Oh my. She knew they would. And she didn’t think about it before she asked. She just put it out there.

  ‘Why don’t you come over to my place tomorrow night? Tonight. New Year’s Day.’ She laughed through her exhaustion. ‘Eight o’clock. I have this amazing bottle of French champagne. Feel like sharing it?’

  Dan leaned down for one last kiss of the night, gentle, soft, full of promise and expectation. ‘Yes, I do. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he murmured against her lips. ‘Or maybe that’s today.’

  Lizzie ran her hands down the firm muscles of his chest, across the flat plane of his stomach and around his hips to grip his butt again with both hands.

  ‘See you then, Big Guy.’

  CHAPTER

  22

  New Year’s Day felt like it was forty-eight hours long. Dan hadn’t fallen into bed until two in the morning but he hadn’t slept for more than a couple of minutes at a time and his state of mind in the morning reflected it. His head had been full of the promise of being with Lizzie again, instead of the imperative of getting some shut-eye. Somewhere in between the tossing and the turning, the tangle of sheets around his legs, the sweat on his brow and a raging dawn horn, he’d decided he should tell her the truth.

  The whole truth and nothing but.

  About everything.

  About who he used to be and who he was now. About how the accident had changed him in so many ways. About what he wanted for his life.

  Because he finally knew. And it was all about her. The months he’d spent in Middle Point, time in which he’d allowed himself to begin the healing of his body and his soul, had been a journey towards finding his new life. Anna had played an important professional part in that recovery during the past month. He’d dug deep and found the strength and the enthusiasm to get back to work, to be a friend again and business partner once more to Ry. And last night, standing in front of the majestic stone pub that his best friend owned, with the promise of a new year and a new beginning, rockets going off in the distance, Lizzie in his arms, he knew.

  He would say goodbye to the city and make Middle Point his home.

  For good.

  With any luck, a home with Lizzie in it.

  Lizzie checked her watch and padded barefoot to the kitchen. Five minutes to eight. Just enough time to slip on her sandals, kick Joe out for the night and spritz perfume on her neck and wrists. It would be fair to say she’d gone to a little trouble to look good. She’d carefully chosen white three-quarter length pants and topped them with a plain white singlet top, which hugged her curves and made her booty feel damn bootylicious. Around her neck hung an apple-green chunky-beaded necklace that draped down into the swell of her breasts, and matching beads dangled from her ears. It was dress-up Middle Point style, beachy and relaxed, crisp and fresh.

  At the sound of her footsteps, Joe looked up from the kitchen table where he sat reading the local newspaper.

  ‘Nice,’ he said with a whistle and a reluctant smile in his eyes. Lizzie stopped in her tracks. She’d hardly seen such an expression from him lately. Come to think of it, she’d hardly seen him at all in the past week. This was her first day off since Christmas Day and, with the tourist season in full swing, she’d barely had time to shave her legs, much less spend quality time with Stinkface.

  Lizzie widened her eyes dramatically and took a mocking look around the room. ‘Are you talking to little old me?’ She fluttered a hand to her chest and shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Yeah, Mosquito.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Joe. I reckon that’s the first compliment you’ve ever given me. And it’s only taken you—what—your whole life? You must be getting soft in your old age.’ She’d meant it as a joke, but judging from his reaction, Joe hadn’t taken it that way. He heaved a huge sigh, placed his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands.

  ‘Joe?’ Lizzie edged towards him, suddenly nervous.

  ‘Shit, Lizzie. I’m also getting useless in my old age.’

  A ripple of fear shivered through her. She’d had enough bad news in her life to read the signs. Something was coming. Her heart began to race and thump in her che
st.

  ‘Joe…what’s going on?’

  ‘Have a seat, Lizzie,’ he said quietly.

  Oh God. The nausea of her recent and humiliating hangover had nothing on this. This was stomach-clenching fear. Lizzie pulled out a chair and sat. It all felt like slow motion. For a few moments, Joe said nothing, just stared down at the wooden table, tracing his fingers in a never-ending circle.

  Finally he looked up. His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

  ‘I’ve got some news.’

  Her words tumbled out urgently without thought, without hesitation. ‘Jesus, Joe, you’re not sick are you?’ Lizzie’s most primal fear voiced itself in that one sentence. They’d lost their grandmother and their mother to illness. To cancer.

  He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not that. Thank God it’s not that.’

  ‘Then what, Joe?’ She reached across the table to cover his fist with her fingers.

  ‘How’s this for a story. “Leading Sydney newsman loses job comma wife”.’

  ‘Joe…’ Lizzie brought her other hand to her mouth in disbelief. ‘Oh no…’

  ‘You are looking at an ex-journalist. No one reads newspapers anymore. It’s been coming for a while and one month ago I was handed the DCM.’ Joe ran his hand over his face, slumped again.

  ‘The DC what?’

  ‘The ‘don’t come Monday’. Twelve of us were made redundant on the one day.’ Joe took a deep breath. ‘And when I told Jasmine, she considered it for about ten seconds and decided she didn’t want to be married to me anymore.’

  Lizzie tried to cling to some vestige of hope, for her brother’s sake, even thought she’d never liked the, ahem, North Shore whore.

  ‘Joe, she’ll change her mind. I know she will. She’s probably back there now, kicking herself for having walked out on one of the most handsome and talented men in Sydney. You’ll see.’

  Joe shot her a look, a dark flash in his eyes. ‘Here’s another headline for you, Mosquito. “Wife found in bed with husband’s best mate”.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ Fresh tears welled in Lizzie’s eyes. ‘So you’ve come back here to…’

  ‘Hide, basically. I hung around Sydney for as long as I could bear it. Then I ran. From all of it.’ Joe raked a hand through his hair. ‘I just got in the car and drove.’

  ‘Oh, Joe.’

  ‘And I don’t know if I can go back.’

  Lizzie sighed, felt the tears spill down her cheeks. ‘I think this calls for a drink.’

  Just after eight o’clock Dan walked up Lizzie’s driveway, smiling at the pink flamingos. There was no doubt about it. They were kind of weird. He’d brought with him a second bottle of that fancy French champagne he’d given her for Christmas, figuring, hoping, one might not be enough. Maybe they could start a new tradition to kick off this particular year. He smiled at the idea as he looked back at the broad sweep of her view.

  From this elevated position on the rise behind the point, he could see for miles and miles. It was still light out, the sun low in the west, but night hadn’t quite fallen yet. Purple and indigo streaked the vast sky and Norfolk Island pines formed silhouettes in the distance. He was starting to understand the pull of the place and the thought made him grin.

  From inside, a lamp was shining in one corner of the living room and he could make out the shapes of two people. He didn’t need to look twice to know that one was Lizzie. The other being the brother. Couldn’t the guy take a damn hint and leave? Dan knew he’d have to get used to him, since he was planning on having a future with Lizzie, but there was something about him. Dan always sensed a barely hidden undercurrent of mean in Joe, something just waiting to blow if the wrong person scratched the surface. It put Dan on edge.

  Since he was used to the Middle Point way of doing things by now, he didn’t bother knocking, simply pulled the screen door open and stepped inside.

  Where he found Lizzie standing in the kitchen, the light of the fridge shining on her face, which was ghostly white and wet with tears. His heart thudded into overdrive and he almost threw the champagne on the table as he stalked across the room to her.

  ‘Jesus, Elizabeth, what the hell’s wrong?’ Before he could blink, he’d thrown his arms around her, clutching her to him, feeling her heart beating wildly against his chest. Over her blonde hair, he saw Joe, his back to both of them, staring out the double glass doors, past the deck and into the distance. Without acknowledging Dan or even looking back, Joe slowly slid one side open, stepped out onto the deck, and closed it behind him with a squeaky shudder.

  Lizzie’s sobs racked her frame and her sad tears wet Dan’s shirt. He brought one hand up and stroked her hair, trying to comfort her, and he realised that trying to soothe her, console her, was suddenly the most important thing in the world to him.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ he whispered into her hair, the smell of fresh flowers and shampoo, so Lizzie, assaulting his senses. ‘C’mon now, can’t you tell me what’s the matter?’

  ‘Dan,’ and she sniffed, stifled a sob, held on to him harder, her arms around his waist now, their bodies squeezed tight against each other. ‘It’s Joe,’ she mumbled into his shirt.

  ‘What did he do?’ Dan’s voice came out in a harsh command.

  Lizzie stiffened and let go of him, wriggling out of his hold. She flattened her palms on his chest and pushed, creating a distance between them. When she looked up into his face, her eyes were ice-cold.

  ‘He didn’t do anything. Something’s happened to him.’

  Dan swore to himself. He wasn’t a totally cold-hearted son of a bitch, no matter what he thought of the brother. ‘Is he all right?’ he asked reluctantly.

  Lizzie looked over to the silhouette of her brother on the deck, almost a shadow now in the fading light. ‘His life’s gone to hell in a hand-basket. That’s why he’s back here in Middle Point.’ She turned back to Dan. ‘And the worst thing? He’s kept it a secret for months. He didn’t want to quote unquote burden me with the truth. Can you believe that? I’m his sister, for fuck’s sake. I’m the only one he has left and he couldn’t even tell me?’

  Dan felt an icy chill up his back. Maybe he had more in common with the brother than he realised. ‘What exactly happened to him, Lizzie?’

  ‘It’s not my story to tell, Dan. Not yet.’ She rubbed her palms over her eyes. ‘I can’t do tonight. I’m so sorry.’ Lizzie allowed herself a sombre nod, hugged herself tight. ‘I have to spend some time with him. He needs someone to talk to.’

  Dan got it. He knew how important it was to her to have Joe back. After all she’d been through, all she’d lost, he understood that she wanted to hang on to what family she had left.

  ‘We’ll raincheck the champagne. You need to be with your brother now.’

  For a long moment, Lizzie simply looked at him. Her lips were parted slightly, as if there were words there that she was trying to say. Then she heaved a huge sigh.

  ‘Our timing is terrible,’ she whispered.

  From somewhere deep inside, Dan summoned the strength to leave her. At the threshold, he turned back for one more look. ‘You know where I am. And I’ll be waiting.’

  Lizzie nodded and watched him walk away. It was only after he’d gone that she noticed what he’d left on the table. The bottle of French champagne. Her heart swelled. The man was trying to know her. And he seemed to know that right now, family came first. He understood that blood is thicker than water and that, for the first time in fifteen years, her brother needed her. And she couldn’t let him down.

  She slipped the champagne into the fridge in place of the bottle of white wine she’d just pulled out, grabbed two glasses, the multicoloured crocheted rug that was her grandmother’s, and headed out to the deck to sit with Joe.

  It was the promise of an easy Australian victory in the fifth and final Test of the Ashes that drew Dan to Ry’s place. Watching the game on Ry’s big-arse television sure was better than his compact screen.

  ‘Catch.’ Ry slipped a beer over Dan�
��s shoulder and he reached for it without taking his eyes off the action. Ry fell onto the white leather sofa next to him, unscrewed his twist top and took a slow swig.

  ‘Great catch!’ Ry shouted as the Australian bowlers claimed their first victim. He reached over and clinked bottles with Dan. Then he turned to his best friend.

  ‘So,’ Ry started.

  Dan was eyes front, waiting for Australia’s best bowler to heave another thundering delivery down the wicket. ‘So what?’

  ‘I guess you haven’t heard.’ A roar went up from the crowd as the batsman swung and missed.

  ‘This better have something to do with cricket, mate.’

  ‘Nothing to do with cricket and everything to do with Lizzie.’

  At the mention of her name, Dan cast a scrutinising glance in Ry’s direction and noticed he wasn’t paying one bit of attention to the game. ‘So are you gonna come right out and tell me or are we playing twenty questions here. I’m trying to watch the match.’

  ‘You don’t know, do you?’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about, Ry?’ He was not in the mood to be discussing Lizzie with anyone but Lizzie.

  Ry looked up the stairs to make sure Julia wasn’t in earshot.

  ‘It’s Joe. His life’s gone to shit.’

  Dan took a good, long swig of his beer. Watched a whole over while not taking in anything happening at the SCG. The brother. It had been a couple of days and he hadn’t heard from Lizzie, so he genuinely didn’t know what Ry was talking about. Lizzie had maintained radio silence and he figured it was all because of Joe. Did Dan resent him for it? Hell yes. Did he also understand her connection to what was left of her family? Of course. But that didn’t mean staying away from her wasn’t driving him bat-shit crazy.

  ‘So what exactly happened to the bloke? Elizabeth mentioned something but not the specifics.’

  ‘Shit,’ Dan said with tight lips. ‘If Julia knew I was telling you, she’d have my guts for garters. But…’ Dan dropped his voice, just in case, ‘…the poor bastard lost his job and his wife on the same day.’