And now he couldn't think of anything else.
Everything, from this day on, was about her.
Dan turned, lay on his back again, his hands clasped under his head. He went over and over about what had happened to her on that dark London street. Those two arseholes. Those two … there weren't words strong enough for what he felt about men who did that to women. Just thinking about what they'd done set his jaw to stone.
And Lizzie - scared, young, small town Middle Point girl Lizzie - had screamed and kicked and fought. Then, she'd packed up her heartbreak and come home to more of the same. And all she'd gone through since? It would be enough to rock anyone's foundations and their ideas for their life.
But she'd survived.
Didn't she realise she'd always been strong, that it had been in her all along?
She was Elizabeth Blake. And she was magnificent.
Her perfect, sleeping face was at peace. Her cheeks soft, her blonde eyelashes resting on her cheek, a smattering of freckles across her nose. She looked released. Free.
And he then wondered if he could he really ask her. How could he ask Lizzie to be with him here, in Middle Point, when it meant asking her to remain in hiding? To stay here would mean she would always feel a little bit like the small town crazy girl who tried to have a life but ended up running from it instead.
Could he let her do that?
Lizzie woke to an empty bed and an empty house. Dan's note, slipped into a clean and empty coffee cup he'd left on the kitchen counter, said simply:
Be back soon.
She let it flutter to the kitchen bench, pulled Dan's dinner shirt tighter around her middle. She stared out his front windows to the roadway and the beach beyond. Cars were already parked and unloaded, their drivers and their contents spilled onto the sand for another summer's day in paradise.
Another day. She looked around Dan's house, listened to the sound of nothing. It felt empty without him, without his voice and his body and the look in his eyes that he tossed her way and that sent her knees buckling. She didn't need to think too much about where he'd gone. She knew he'd be back because that's the kind of man he was. But what would he say when he returned?
Had her secret scared him off? And as she wondered about that, searched deeper, she had to ask herself if she'd wanted it to. If she was being honest, part of her was relieved he wasn't there. It would have meant having the conversation. About what came next. About where they went from here, if anywhere.
What did she want? Really, really want? Saying it out loud, really wanting it, would mean the disappointment would be so more crushing when it didn't happen. Since she'd come back from London, she hadn't dared wish for anything.
Until The Market. She'd let herself imagine something there and had helped it come to life. Could she apply that same strategy to Dan? If she imagined a life with him, could she help it come to life?
Perhaps it was time for Operation Lizzie, time to start plotting the story of the rest of her life. Up until now, she'd let it happen to her, let it run on the 'shit happens' principle. Maybe now it was time to create that life for herself.
Lizzie rubbed her eyes, suddenly energised. She found her dress, slipped it on. Looped the straps of her sandals around an index finger and closed the door behind her as she left.
CHAPTER
34
Lizzie stood in her kitchen, arms crossed, wishing the kettle would bloody well hurry up and boil. This was going to be the first day of the rest of her life. If she'd ever needed caffeine, it was now. Right now.
What she didn't need was a smirking big brother, especially one who was staring at her with suspicious eyes, noticeably taking in her crumpled blue bridesmaid's dress.
'Morning, Lizzie.' He bumped her aside with his hip and grabbed some juice from the fridge. He reached up to a high shelf for a glass and filled it. Drank it in one swallow. Filled it again. Placed it carefully on the counter.
'Joe.'
'Great night last night, huh?'
'Yeah, it was. Did you have a good time?'
He smiled, and she saw something in his eyes. Something self-satisfied and macho. 'I did, as a matter of fact. And you know what? You were right. I did need some no-strings-attached dancing. It's done me the world of good.' Joe stretched his arms high, almost meeting the ceiling, and then fisted his chest like King Kong. 'Man, I'm feeling fantastic this morning.'
What had got into him? Lizzie wondered. She reached over, patted him on the shoulder. 'Excellent news.'
'And what about you, Mosquito? Enjoyable night?' His curious eyes ran up and down yesterday's dress.
'I'm not telling you anything.'
'Not even about the way you ran off with-'
'I said no questions. I'm not in the mood for a press conference today, okay?' She didn't know where the edge in her voice had come from, but it was there. And she suddenly felt on edge. She was feeling nervous about Operation Lizzie all of a sudden. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Maybe it was thinking about Dan and The Talk.
Joe held up his hands in mock surrender. 'No questions from me. Can't think of a single one.'
'Good.'
Joe gave her one of those looks like he knew what she was thinking. 'You all right? You don't look all right.'
'I mean it, Stinkface. Absolutely, definitely no fucking comment. Damn the stupid kettle.' She twisted off the flame with vicious intent. 'I just need to get some sleep.'
Then Joe stepped in front of her with the urgency of a traffic cop and grabbed her by the shoulders. 'I say this out of total love and respect for you, but you look like hell. And you have panda eyes. Why don't you jump in the shower first?'
That sounded like a plan. She managed a smile. 'Good idea. You do have them occasionally, you know. And hey,' she turned to him. 'Thanks for looking out for me. I do appreciate it.'
Lizzie took a step closer and reached up, planted a big kiss on his cheek and threw her arms around his neck for a big brother-sister hug. Which was when she smelt perfume. Not aftershave. Not cologne. But perfume. Something exotic and feminine.
She dropped her arms and felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. No strings attached dancing. Excellent.
Dan thumped the steering wheel, and swore loud enough to be heard above the music blaring in the cabin of his four-wheel drive. He was stuck an hour away from Middle Point on the main highway heading south out of the city. A highway? That was a lie. It was more like a fucking car park in the traffic. He didn't want to be there. He wanted to be eighty kilometres further south with the afternoon sun on his face, where the only queue was at the local bakery.
He looked around impatiently, in front to check again if the traffic was moving, and then in his rear-view mirror to judge how long the queue behind him was. When he glanced down into the sedan in the next lane, he softened. A small girl, a little blondie secured safely in her car seat, had her tiny fingers pressed up against the glass and was looking right up at him with a shy smile and big blue eyes.
A blondie.
Damn, that kid was cute. And she could have been Lizzie thirty years ago. He let all his tension out in a big exhale and grinned just thinking about her.
He checked his watch. It was five in the afternoon. It wouldn't be long before he'd see her. He'd been caught up in the city all day, putting the elements of his plan together. He'd left early that morning, before Lizzie stirred, fired up and wanting to get this final piece of the plan in place.
He was ready to make a change in his life. He was done with the nightclubs and partying and women. Had the accident forced the change? Hell, he didn't know. Didn't care to analyse why. But to his enormous surprise, the sleepy beachside town of Middle Point was home now. He didn't want to go anywhere else. Maybe he'd ask Joe to teach him how to surf. Could he do that at his age? Thirty-five wasn't too old. Would his leg hold up? Maybe. He hadn't been feeling it lately and that was a good sign. Every month away from the accident was a month of feeling physically better. And what about the other part of him?
A glance over his shoulder into the back seat revealed his special cargo was still safely packed away and he let himself smile about it.
He wondered what Lizzie would think about his plan. The angry sound of a car horn, and the raised middle finger in his rear-view mirror, cut off that thought and he realised he'd missed the green light.
As he took off, every car length taking him that much closer to home, he laughed and gave the guy behind him a wave.
'Chill, man. You need to do something about your stress.' Then he grinned like a maniac. 'Like move to Middle Point.'
Lizzie had scored Sunday off, since it was the day after the Big Wedding, and she needed every bit of it to recover. Amazing what a wedding and sex could do to you. It may have been a brilliant summer's day outside, with a gentle breeze and a temperature in the low thirties, but she needed to veg out.
After a long and luxurious shower in the morning, she'd thrown on a tank top and some shorts, ferreted out some of her favourite movies, and settled in for a day of no-guilt-involved slacking off. She couldn't remember the last time she'd spent the whole day with nothing to do, no one to help, or nothing to think about.