Page 10 of Chasing Blue
The bar top—made from a beautiful piece of raw Tasmanian oak—is having what smells like Tung oil rubbed into it by a young kid whose sole focus is on his work.
Aside from the natural dimming light coming in through the windows, the place is lit by a couple of large halogens plugged in and glaring up from the floor. Other than the walls being undercoated in builders’ white paint, the space is a shell. A completely blank canvas that instantly has my designers’ fingers twitching as ideas start firing in my brain.
‘3 Nights’, by Dominic Fike, is blaring through hidden overhead speakers and the kid moves to the music while singing along at the top of his lungs, totally oblivious to my presence. I can’t blame him, it is a feel-good kind of song that makes youwantto sing along and dance if you’re so inclined, which this kid obviously is. I watch him straighten, step back and admire his work; at the same time, he continues to move his hips and sing. He might be a kid—and by kid, I mean probably eighteen or nineteen, and I might need to get laid, but I’ve not yet resorted to perving on minors—but damn,he can move.I’m not ashamed to admit that I watch for maybe a moment too long. Taking in the way his Hard Yakka work pants fit his fine arse, I may also notice the way his T-shirt stretches over the defined muscles of his back and broad shoulders, and that his dark blond hair is a little long, reaching past the neckline of his tee. I decide to cut myself off at this point and call, “Hey.” His head snaps around, and I feel my mouth drop open as a pair of green eyes meet mine.
Taking a step back, I can only stare as his gaze rakes over me.
I don’t know many people with eyes that shade, but every single pair remind me of just one person—the one and only boy to ever break my heart, Jack Motherfucking Cole.
The kid smiles at me, and I know I’m going straight to hell when my thoughts digress from the dick head from my past I only ever refer to as The JMC, to thinking ‘Damn’, just like him—The JMC—this kid is also gonna break some hearts because, well, damn, that’s about all I’ve got for now.
“Hey,” he says with a chin lift.
Pulling myself together, I manage to smile and move one leg in front of the other towards him. He taps on his phone, which is resting on the bar top, and the music quietens.
“Hey, I’m Scarlett from Ilahi design. I’m supposed to be meeting Milly here.”
“Milly? Nah, she runs our office. It’ll be my dad you need to speak to.”
“Your dad?” I question.
“Yeah, Milly probably booked you, but my dad’s the owner, it’s him you’ll be meeting.”
“Oh, okay. Sorry, it’s just that Milly is the only name I’ve been given.”
“Yeah, she’s . . .” He trails off as goosebumps race across my skin and my scalp pulls tight. A flash of lightning illuminates the ever-darkening sky outside, and I put the weird sensation crawling up my spine down to the static in the air, charged by the storm. I shudder, at the same time the kid says, “Hey, Dad.” His eyes no longer on mine are instead looking over my shoulder. “This lady’s here about some design stuff . . .”
I turn as a loud crack of thunder fills the room, making me jump. But it’s the green-eyed gaze hitting mine that almost knocks me to the floor.
My hand flies to my chest, and I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it.
“What the fuck? Blue?”
No!
Not him.
Not here.
Not that name.
I stare, swallow, open and close my mouth while feeling totally stupid as tears burn the backs of my eyes, and I get that all too familiar tingle in my nose.
This cannot be happening.
Not now.
Not ever.
‘Really, you’re gonna cry? After all these years, that’s all you’ve got? Do. Not. Let him know what he did to you still hurts!’Zoe’s voice inside my head orders. Straightening my shoulders, I tilt my head to the side, frown, and possibly spout the most ridiculous words to ever leave my mouth . . .
“Sorry, have we met before?”
Plastering on what I hope is a look of complete confusion, I take a step forward, hold out my hand, and smile. “Scarlett, Scarlett O’Brien. Sorry, you’ve got me at a disadvantage, I thought I was meeting a Milly here.”
His hands, his big hands with those long fingers that have been on me,insideme, go to his hips. Hips that have been between my legs, and rest there as he laughs and shakes his head.
“Really, Scar? Don’t play fucking dumb. You know who I am.”
