The poems had stopped after his seventeenth birthday. The flirting, too. He’d been busy with the rugby, working hard, and then, a year later, he’d left for college. He was a bit of a sensation after his triumphant return to Riversend five years later, capitalizing on his short-lived but relatively successful rugby career by opening the most successful business in town and surroundings. But he hadn’t socialized much, just dated here and there. So it had been a surprise to hear that he was dating Tanya Krige.
And then, one night, a year ago—shortly after his breakup with Tanya—he’d tried to flirt with her again. And because Shar and the rest had been around, Daff had toyed with him and then rebuffed him again. Old habits.
But she’d been interested and flattered. Then, later, she’d been furious and indignant when she discovered that he had asked his brother to distract—and “pretend” to like—Daisy while Spencer attempted to flirt with Daff.
She’d borne an irrational grudge against him since then, even after Daisy and Mason had fallen in love, though Daisy bore Spencer no ill will whatsoever. Daff had taken it very personally.
“Anyway, I’m not proud of the way I treated him in school. Their circumstances were difficult beyond our imagining.” Daff shook her head in self-disgust. “I was a bitch and a bully.”
“We allowed Shar and Zinzi”—Shar’s best friend—“to influence our lives for way too long. You weren’t the only one guilty of that, Daff.”
“Daisy never bought into their bullshit, and she was relentlessly bullied by them because of it. And you were never a total bitch, Lia. You never lost sight of who you were. In this last year, since we stopped hanging out with them, I’ve come to see that everything I thought I’d achieved was just . . . I don’t know . . . an illusion. I was so focused on shallow shit like being with the right guy, wearing the right clothes, saying the right things . . . that I don’t know who I am without all that crap.”
“I know who you are,” Lia said, delicately nibbling away at a strawberry. “You’re my sissy. You’ve always had my and Daisy’s backs. You’re fiercely protective and loyal. You’re freaking smart, never mind what the aunties say. You’re ambitious, but you’ve never found a focus for that ambition. Once you do know what you want, you’re going to be unstoppable.”
“There are . . . other things, too,” Daff admitted uncomfortably, remembering the moment she’d invited Spencer to squeeze her neck. “But I can’t discuss them with you. Yet. Maybe never. I don’t know. It’s something I have to work out for myself, but I think Shar may have had a hand in that, too.”
“Gosh, she’s like a supervillain. I mean, if not for her I’d never have met Clayton, either,” Lia said, wrinkling her nose, thankfully not pressing Daff on the secrets she wasn’t ready to divulge.
“Well, at least we don’t have to deal with her any longer,” Daff said. “We just have to figure out how to cope with the fallout of having her noxious presence in our lives for so long. And really, we can’t blame her for everything. We have to own up to our own mistakes. We may have allowed her to manipulate us, but every decision we made was our own.”
“True.” Lia was quiet for a moment while contemplating her half-eaten strawberry. “So are you going to eat that tasty-looking soup, or are you just going to sit here moping all day?”
“Shut up.” Daff grinned and finally popped the lid off the container.
“Knock, knock.” Spencer looked up from his income and expenditure spreadsheet, close to the end of the day, to meet Daff’s smiling eyes. She stood framed in the doorway of his tiny office, looking fantastic in a pair of faded skinny jeans, combined with a ruffle-fronted blouse, a slouchy cardigan, and scuffed brown cowboy boots. Her pretty hair was up in a ponytail. Her grin widened.
“Ah, the Clark Kent glasses. Nice.”
“Hey?” he greeted cautiously. Not sure exactly where they stood at the moment. One thing was for sure—while it was frustrating as hell, it was never boring around Daff.
“I wanted to personally thank you for lunch and to tell you . . . one last time, so don’t you dare roll your eyes, I’m sorry. You had nothing to apologize for. I was—” She looked off into the distance for a moment and shook her head with a smile. “Crazy. I mean, completely nuts this last week. And you bore the brunt of that. And—I’m going to say it again, brace yourself—I’m really, really sorry.”
She looked . . . different. Lighter somehow, like the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. It made Spencer happy just to see her like this. He wasn’t sure what had changed, but it seemed to be a step in the right direction, and it suited her.
“May I sit?” she asked, indicating the rickety chair opposite his desk.
“Of course. Be careful, it’s a little wobbly.” She sat down cautiously and then met his eyes again. Sincerity shining from hers.
“You were right, I was never fully on board with our arrangement. And I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of having sex with you. And that’s through no fault of yours,” she hastened to say. “It was all me. I do like you and I am attracted to you and the stuff we did . . . when I was in the moment, it was all phenomenal. Better than anything I’d ever experienced before. I wanted you to know that. But at the same time, after thinking about it, I’m really grateful that you didn’t take it further. Clearly, I have a few issues to work out. But I do hope that we can be friends, Spencer.”
“I’d like that,” he said quietly.
Her eyes went suspiciously bright before she blinked a few times and cleared her throat.
“So guess what?”
“What?”
“I handed in my notice today.”
“That’s bloody fantastic. I’m happy for you, Daff.”
“Everybody’s been congratulating me on being unemployed.” She chuckled. “It’s bizarre.”
“It’s a fresh start,” he corrected. “So what’s next?”
“No clue. I have to figure out what I enjoy doing.”
“There must have been aspects of working at the boutique that you liked and maybe could focus on.”
“I’ll think about it. Right now I’m just enjoying the feeling of having a whole world of possibility open to me. I feel optimistic and excited and ready to take on anything.” No wonder she looked so damned radiant.
“I’ll miss having you just down the road.” He tried not to wince as he wondered if that was an entirely friendly thing to say. He was going to be second-guessing his every word from here on out.
“I’ll still be here for another two months, so you’ll have plenty of time to share lunch with me.”
“And you wouldn’t mind that?” he asked uncertainly, and she shook her head.
“No, but I think we should take turns bringing lunch. My turn next week.”
“Like proper food? No salads. As a side it’s fine, but don’t give it to me as a meal.”
“I know. Don’t worry, I won’t starve you.”
“You’re sure about this?” Somehow he had never pegged her as someone who enjoyed cooking, but maybe he was mistaken.
“Yep. Absolutely.”
“You done for the day?”
“Uh-huh, just thought I’d pop in on my way home.” She got up and smiled at him. “Thanks for listening, Spencer. I really want this to be a clean slate for us.”
“It will be,” he assured, getting up as well. He debated whether he should hug her or not but decided against it. It was too soon to touch her after everything that had happened between them. First he needed to retrain his body not to react whenever he touched her. Until he had his responses under control, they should probably stick to formal handshakes.
“Great.” She hovered awkwardly for a moment, obviously debating whether to hug him as well before seeming to come to the same conclusion. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Tomorrow night, if I’m not mistaken,” he reminded her.
“Oh yeah, the dinner. With everything that’s happened, I’d almost forgotten. Anyway, see you then.”
“Hmm.” She grinned at the noncommittal sound—reading God knew what into it this time—and turned away. He tried his damnedest not to let his eyes drop—they were friends now, after all—but for fuck’s sake, he was a red-blooded man and her ass looked spectacular in those damned jeans. He waited until she disappeared down the winding staircase before groaning and adjusting himself. This was not going to be easy.
We’re having a girls’ night! You’ve GOT to come over!!!
Daisy’s text a couple of hours later was almost instantly followed by another, this one filled with crazy emojis—dancing chick, fireworks, beers, martini glasses, champagne bottle, more beers, wineglasses. Okay, Daisy seemed to be implying that there would be drinking involved. Daff rolled her eyes.
Maybe I’ve got plans, she replied. She didn’t, of course. Her evenings had once again opened right up since she’d ended her no-sex sex thing with Spencer.