Fly with Me (8 page)

She wasn’t
even sure why the thought of accompanying him should irritate her
so much. Oh wait, she thought as he opened the passenger door for
her and stood waiting with that easy smile for her to get in, maybe
it was the way he so effortlessly seemed to take over in that
damned easy-going way that no decent person could actually take
umbrage at - except for her. She was taking umbrage.

Or maybe that
was just her guilty conscious pricking at her. The man had been
nothing but polite and friendly. He’d just taken it for granted
that she wouldn’t mind a lift home seeing as she’d made that excuse
to get away from him. Not that he was aware of that last part.

She watched
Simon stride around the front of the car. Irritated she might be,
but she had to admit he cut a fine figure in his uniform. The pants
legs outlined his muscled thighs with every step, the short sleeves
of his shirt revealing the bulge and flex of his biceps and
triceps.

Man was
totally built.

Man was also a
little dangerous, but in a way she couldn’t quite figure out. Talk
about imagination overload, she must be suffering jet-lag or
something. Lack of sleep, that was probably it.

The panel van
rocked a little as he got in, Simon flashing her a wide grin as he
pulled on the seat belt. Nothing but friendliness on his handsome
face, nothing but friendliness in his smile. He wasn’t asking
anything of her.

She really was
turning into a real bitch. Kind of like when he’d been so kind to
her while she’d been blubbering her eyes out on the balcony and
been so suspicious of him, and he’d simply been kind. Like now.
Man, she
was
a bitch.

Then again,
look at her pedigree. Was it any wonder?

Pushing that
unwelcome thought aside, Elissa took a deep breath, annoyed at
herself, determined to be pleasant. Her problems were her own, she
didn’t need to take them out on innocent bystanders intent on
being, well, friendly.

With renewed
determination to be bloody nice even if it killed her, she slipped
her seatbelt on and smiled at Simon. “So, Arthur first?”

“Absolutely.”
He glanced over his shoulder, checked the mirrors both sides as he
backed out onto the road. “Poor little bugger’s probably
hungry.”

She settled
back in the seat. “So tell me about Arthur.”

Sliding the
van into gear, Simon started driving along the main street. “Arthur
is an old black cat that belonged to Mrs Tanner. She died a week
ago, so basically Arthur is an orphan.”

“An orphan,”
she echoed.

“Yep. Mrs
Tanner didn’t have rellies so I thought I better take him on.”

“What about
her friends?”

“A couple
tried, but Arthur isn’t what you’d call friendly.”

“Unlike
you.”

Simon
grinned.

“So Arthur is
old and cranky, and you’re intent on adopting him.”

“Oh, I’ve
adopted him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“That’s kind
of weird.”

He just
grinned again.

“What if
Arthur doesn’t like you?”

“Arthur
doesn’t like anyone.”

“Yet you’re
prepared to take him on.”

“Yep.”

“Just like
that.”

“Yep.”

Partially
turning in the seat, she studied him. He certainly didn’t look
worried. “What if he runs away?”

“I’ll just
have to look for him.”

“You’re an odd
man, Simon.”

The corners of
his eyes crinkled in that engaging way. “You think?”

“You’re the
talk of the town, going by the sounds of it.”

“Probably.”

“It doesn’t
bother you?”

“Why should
it?” Flicking on the indicator, he turned into a side street.

“Big tough
fireman chasing an itty bitty kitty? Doesn’t that kind of spoil
your reputation?”

“Sweetheart,
my rep certainly isn’t being a big, tough fireman.”

“A sap for a
cat?”

“Have you been
talking to Ryder?”

“No.”

He glanced
sideways at her, amusement clear on his face.

Okay, so he
wasn’t worried about spoiling his rep. That was nice. And where she
came from, unusual.

The panel van
turned into the driveway of a big, old, wooden cottage, the
dilapidated fence sporting a ‘For Sale’ sign on it. Straggling rose
bushes lined the driveway.

Simon gazed at
the house for several seconds in silence before unbuckling his
seatbelt and opening the door. Getting out, he straightened and
started to walk away.

Man had a nice
arse.

Suddenly he
stopped, turning and coming back to bend down to look at her
through the open window of his door. “Coming?”

“Me?” she
asked in surprise.

“Sure.”

“Uh…”

“You might be
lucky enough to see Arthur. Besides, he might respond better to a
woman.”

“He might eat
me, also.”

Simon winked.
“I’ll protect you.”

The wink
combined with the twinkle in his eyes had her smiling and pushing
open the door before she realised it. “I’ll hold you to that.”

The driveway
was dirt, puffs of it rising into the air as she walked, making her
frown down at her sneakers before she caught herself and raised her
head.
It doesn’t matter. It does not matter.

That brief few
seconds was enough to wipe the smile from her face, and it was more
than obvious that Simon noticed, his gaze dropping to her sneakers
then back up to her face, but rather than ask her anything he
simply led her around the back of the house.

The dirt
driveway led to a dilapidated shed and a leaning gate that was half
off its hinges. Opening it, he stood aside so she could go through
ahead of him. A small stone pathway led around to the back of the
house and a large expanse of lawn. A clothes line, surprisingly
new, stood upright in the middle of the lawn. Two wrought iron
white chairs stood on the sagging veranda. In one of the chairs
laid Arthur.

The black cat
eyed them narrowly, his whiskers bristling even as his ears laid
flat. He watched warily as they stood and observed him.

“Hey, Arthur,”
Simon said quietly. “Hungry?”

Arthur’s ears
flicked.

“Got food for
you, boy.” He moved calmly, taking the two steps up onto the
veranda that gave an alarming squeak under his weight.

Warily, Arthur
sat up.

A door led
into a room on the right through which Simon disappeared. “I’ll
just crack open a tin of fish for you, refill your water bowl.”

Elissa watched
Arthur, who kept Simon in his sights. Lifting his head he sniffed
the air.

He was an old
cat, it was more than evident by the way he stood slowly,
stretching a little stiffly. Though short, his coat looked like it
needed a brush.

Simon
reappeared holding a saucer of food. Standing in the doorway of the
room, he studied Arthur. “If you came home with me, you could be
snoozing on the bed.”

“He won’t let
you pick him up?” Elissa queried.

“Nope. He
thinks I’m the spawn of Satan.”

She nearly
laughed out loud at that. “That’s a little strong, don’t you
think?”

“Tell Arthur
that.” Simon took a step towards him.

The old cat’s
gaze didn’t move from him.

Another
step.

This time he
jumped down off the chair, watching warily.

Simon didn’t
push the issue, squatting instead to place the saucer on the
veranda. “Here you go, old feller. Eat up.”

Arthur sniffed
the air, took a step forward, then sat and waited.

Simon sighed.
“Let’s go.”

Watching the
two of them, the disappointment on Simon’s face, the wariness in
Arthur’s posture, Elissa couldn’t help but feel sorry for them
both. “Maybe if you spent a little time with him?”

“I have. I
do.” Placing his hand at her back, Simon ushered her across the
lawn. “But he won’t come too near. He’s too skittish.”

“I guess
falling out of a tree with you didn’t help.”

“Certainly
didn’t win me any points.” Simon cast her a wry look as he opened
the gate and stepped aside. “Like I said, spawn of Satan.”

Elissa
laughed. “I can’t see anyone thinking of you like that.”

“He runs if I
get too close.”

She started
for the van. “I can’t see anyone running from you.”

There was
silence for several seconds before he murmured, “You’d think so,
wouldn’t you?”

There seemed
to be a wealth of meaning in that short sentence, a whole lot of
meaning, one that had her swinging around in alarm to stare at him.
His gaze met hers squarely, directly, and so damned steadily it had
her heart bumping hard. Did he remember? Was he thinking of what
happened? Did he-

Still walking
backwards, her heel hit an uneven patch of sand, her arms
wind-milling out as she started to lose her balance.

Simon moved
fast, two big steps and he was there, his arm wrapping around her
back, jerking her upright and against him, his harder frame
cushioning her as she fell against him.

Several things
hit her at once - his scent, clean, a hint of light aftershave, a
touch of soap, the heat of his body, the swells of muscle against
her, the strength of his arm around her.

Gripping his
broad shoulders, pressed up against his body, she looked up at him
uncertainly. Her emotions in sudden chaos, her heart beating so
fast, so hard, she was sure he could feel it through their
clothes.

He looked down
at her, his big body steady as a rock, ungiving beneath her softer
one, his arm still around her waist. The top of her head barely
grazed his shoulders, making her feel so much smaller than him. His
arm around her back held her close, kept her against him in a
stance that was almost protective.

No smile was
on his face now, though. His gaze was unwavering, his thoughts
hidden as he looked down at her. His attention dropped to her lips,
lingered before moving back up to her eyes.

Mouth dry, she
waited for the recriminations, maybe another kiss, maybe - what?
Hell if she knew. He wasn’t giving anything of his thoughts
away.

Suddenly he
released her, his arm disappearing from her back leaving her
feeling strangely vulnerable. “All right?”

“I - yes.”
Feeling a little disturbed - okay, a whole lot disturbed - Elissa
stepped back quickly. “Sorry. I can be a bit clumsy at times.”

“No worries.”
He turned, giving her his silhouette, his hand there again at her
back as he ushered her across the uneven dirt surface of the
driveway.

Elissa’s
thoughts churned. What did his sudden inscrutable expression mean?
Did he remember? Was he going to start asking questions? Was she
over-thinking, over-reacting? Maybe he just thought she was a
clumsy ox.

He opened the
van door, waited until she settled into the passenger seat before
closing it again.

Watching him
walk around the front of the van made her realise anew how perfect
his body was, the peak of fitness and health, while she
was…squishy.

The sudden
burn in the back of her throat was forced away with several hard
swallows before he’d even gotten inside the van.
Practice makes
perfect
.

Inhaling
deeply, she shot him a sideways glance as he turned the key in the
ignition, the van rumbling to life. Say something? Don’t say
something? Forget it?

He looked back
as he reversed the van, pulling back out onto the road. As he
turned back to the front, he caught her glance and stilled, hazel
eyes regarding her levelly. “Okay?”

“Ah…yes. I
just…” She cleared her throat. “Are you?”

“Sure.”

“Okay.”

He looked at
her for several seconds then slowly smiled.

The relief of
it almost had her sagging.

“Okay,” he
repeated. “Let’s go and attack Ash’s breakfast. I’m famished.”

“Good plan.”
Relieved, she looked out the front windscreen.

Bewildered,
she had an internal conversation while outwardly donning a cool,
calm façade.

Oh my God!
What is wrong with you?

Nothing.
Nothing is wrong.

There is. Why
do you care if he isn’t smiling? It’s just a man smiling, for
crying out loud.

I like his
smile.

Big deal. Just
a smile, Elissa, just a smile. People smile all the time at you,
doesn’t mean they care.

But his smile
is warm and friendly. I like it.

You want it,
you mean. You crave acceptance.

No, I
crave…

Acceptance.

Okay.
Sure.

His acceptance
means nothing. He’s just being friendly because you’re Ash’s
friend. You can’t rely on everyone. If you want acceptance, you
need to be perfect, or as close to it as you can.

Not now. Not
anymore. I’m going to be me.

You? Do you
even know how to be you?

Biting her
lip, Elissa unconsciously wrung her hands. God, the same internal
battle she’d had for months, each battle growing stronger. Each
battle hitting a wall. But not this time, she assured herself. Not
this time.

A sudden
movement from Simon had her jumping but he didn’t look at her or
comment, flicking on the CD player and settling back in the
seat.

Soft music
filled the cabin, a song she was familiar with, and almost
instantly she started to relax, the tension in her body unwinding
bit by bit as the words and music filtered through her.

With a barely
audible sigh, she leaned her head back against the head rest and
watched the scenery pass outside the passenger window.

Somehow the
silence in the van was a little more cosy, more at ease, and she
lowered her lashes a little, letting her troubled thoughts
disappear for awhile under the soothing sound of music.

Music she
understood. Music she lived with, music was her soul, her crutch,
her quiet times, her rowdy times. Music she breathed.