Dreaming Of You. Margaret Way
cheated on him with anyone, but Connor no longer deserved her bitterness. He had a little daughter now, responsibilities. He’d paid for his mistakes, just like she’d paid for hers. If what her mother had told her was true, Faye had left Connor literally holding the baby six years ago. Jaz would not make his life more difficult.
Something inside her lifted. It eased the tightness in her chest and allowed her to breathe more freely for a moment.
Connor turned and his eyes met hers through the plate glass of the shop window. The weight crashed back down on her with renewed force. She gripped the edges of the stool to keep herself upright. Connor might not deserve her bitterness, but she still had to find a way of making him keep his distance, because something in him still sang to something in her—a siren song that had the power to destroy her all over again if she let it.
Richard turned then too, saw her and waved. She lifted a numb arm in response. He said something to Connor and both men frowned. As one, they pushed away from Connor’s van and headed for the bookshop door.
A shiver rippled through her. She shot to her feet. She had to deal with more Connor on her first day? Heaven, give her strength.
The moment he walked through the door all strength seeped from her limbs, leaving them boneless, useless, and plonking her back down on the stool.
‘Hello, again,’ Richard said.
‘Hi.’ From somewhere she found a smile.
She glanced sideways at Connor. He pursed his lips and frowned at the ornate pressed-tin work on the ceiling. She found her gaze drawn upwards, searching for signs of damp and peeling paint, searching for what made him frown. She didn’t find anything. It all looked fine to her.
Richard cleared his throat and she turned her attention back to him with an apologetic shrug.
‘These are the keys for the shop.’ He placed a set of keys onto the counter in front of her. ‘And this is the key to the flat upstairs.’ He held it up for her to see, but he didn’t place it on the counter with the other keys.
Connor reached over and plucked the key from Richard’s fingers. ‘What did my receptionist tell you about the upstairs flat?’
Her stomach started to churn. ‘That you’d given it a final coat of paint last week and that it was ready to move into.’
Connor and Richard exchanged glances.
‘Um…but then you’re a builder, not a painter, right?’
He’d painted the sign for the shop, so maybe…
She shook her head. ‘Painting the flat isn’t your department, is it?’
‘No, but I can organise that for you, if you want.’
‘You didn’t think to check with me?’ Richard asked.
The thought hadn’t occurred to her. Though, in hindsight… ‘She said she was contacting me on your behalf. I didn’t think to question that. When she asked me if there was anything else I needed done, I mentioned the sign.’ She’d wanted it bright and sparkling. She wanted her mother’s name loud and proud above the shop.
‘I’m sorry, Jaz,’ Connor started heavily, ‘but—’
‘But I’ve been given the wrong information,’ she finished for him. Again. From the expression on his face, though, she wouldn’t want to be his receptionist when he finally made it back to the office. Shame pierced her. She should’ve known better than to lump Connor with the meaner elements in the town.
She swallowed. ‘That’s okay, I can take care of the painting myself.’ She wanted to drop her head onto her folded arms and rest for a moment. ‘What kind of state is the flat in?’
‘We only started tearing out the kitchen cupboards and the rotting floorboards yesterday. It’s a mess.’
Once upon a time he’d have couched that more tactfully, but she appreciated his candour now. ‘Habitable?’
He grimaced.
‘Okay then…’ She thought hard for a moment. ‘All my stuff is arriving tomorrow.’
‘What stuff?’ Connor asked.
‘Everything. Necessary white goods, for a start— refrigerator, washing machine, microwave. Then there’s the furniture—dining table, bed, bookcase. Not to mention the—’
‘You brought a bookcase?’ Connor glanced around the shop. ‘When you have all these?’
For a brief moment his eyes sparkled. Her breathing went all silly. ‘I’ll need a bookcase in the flat too.’
‘Why?’
The teasing glint in his eyes chased her weariness away. ‘For the books that happen to be arriving tomorrow too.’
Connor and Richard groaned in unison. ‘Has your book addiction lessened as the years have gone by?’ Richard demanded.
They used to tease her about this eight years ago. It made her feel younger for a moment, freer. ‘Oh, no.’ She rubbed her hands together with relish. ‘If anything, it’s grown.’
The two men groaned again and she laughed. She’d actually laughed on her first day back in Clara Falls? Perhaps miracles could happen.
She glanced at Connor and pulled herself up. Not those kinds of miracles.
‘Relax, guys. I’ve rented out my apartment in Sydney. Some of my stuff is to come here, but a lot has gone into storage, including most of my books. Is there room up there to store my things?’ She pointed at the ceiling. ‘Could you and your men work around it?’
‘We’ll work quicker if it’s stored elsewhere.’
It took her all of two seconds to make the decision. ‘Where’s the nearest storage facility around here? Katoomba?’ She’d organise for her things to go there until the flat was ready.
Connor planted his feet. ‘We’ll store it at my place.’
She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He stuck his jaw out and folded his arms. ‘It’s my fault you thought the flat was ready. So it’s my responsibility to take care of storing your things.’
‘Garbage!’ She folded her arms too. ‘You had no idea what I was told.’ He was as much a victim in this as her. ‘I should’ve had the smarts to double-check it all with Richard anyway.’
‘You shouldn’t have had to double-check anything and—’
‘Guys, guys.’ Richard made a time out sign.
Jaz and Connor broke off to glare at each other.
‘He does have the room, Jaz. He has a huge workshop with a four car garage for a start.’
She transferred her glare to Richard.
Connor shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. ‘This is the last thing you should’ve had to come back to. You shouldn’t be out of pocket because of someone’s idea of a…prank.’
It was more than that. They all knew it.
‘I’d like to make amends,’ he said softly.
She found it hard to hold his gaze and she didn’t know why. ‘Okay.’ She said the word slowly. ‘I’ll accept your very kind offer—’ and it was a kind offer ‘—on one condition.’
Wariness crept into his eyes. Tiredness invaded every atom of her being. Once upon a time he’d looked at her with absolute trust.
And then he hadn’t.
‘What’s the condition?’
‘That you go easy on your receptionist.’
‘What?’ He leant across the