So Now You're Back Read online

  Then Trey’s big body was blocking her view. His hair-dusted legs akimbo, the wings of his tattoo rising above the damp fabric of his swimsuit. She could see Jenkin’s face, red and sweating and speechless, through Trey’s spread legs, gaping up at the man in front of her from his new position on the ground.

  ‘Who the fuck are you?’ Jenkin asked, still squeaking.

  Trey reached down, grasped the front of Jenkin’s Superdry shirt and yanked him up, until they were nose to nose. Jenkin’s feet wiggled, his toes barely touching the ground. Lizzie couldn’t see his face, his upper body obscured by Trey’s back, but she could hear the choking sound in Jenkin’s throat as Trey said, low and ridiculously calm, ‘I’m a friend of Lizzie’s. You come anywhere near her again and you’re going to be eating that dick you’re so proud of. Got it?’

  Jenkin hit the ground, hard, as Trey threw him down again. The double thump as his back and then his head connected with the earth was followed by the whoosh of air expelling from his lungs. He groaned, rolled, holding his ribs and swearing.

  ‘Get up and piss off,’ Trey demanded.

  Jenkin scrambled to obey, a grimace of pain twisting his face, and raised his hands in supplication. He edged away, the look on his face a picture of shocked panic. ‘OK, OK, you can have her.’

  Lizzie jumped up from her sitting position, finally able to get her limbs moving round her own shock. She lifted on tiptoes to peer past Trey as Jenkin limped off, like the cowardly perv he was. The grass stain on the back of his shirt waved like a badge of dishonour as he darted through the sea of gaping picnickers and disappeared round the side of the gatehouse—probably to escape the Lido before he ended up having dick sandwich for lunch.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Trey asked, his face grave.

  She had the strangest urge to laugh, which she recognised as one part shock and two parts relief. But underneath the inappropriate giggle was a huge wave of gratitude.

  Not because he had pounded on Jenkin and got rid of him—she could have got rid of him herself, eventually. Jenkin might be creepy, but he was too weedy and full of himself to be scary. And she was used to dealing with nasty remarks from men. Ever since she’d hit puberty, she’d got depressingly used to everything from wolf whistles to lewd suggestions hurled at her every time she walked past a building site or made eye contact with some arsewipe in a white van. It had scared her at fourteen, it just made her mad now, but beneath the anger was the bubbling cauldron of humiliation.

  And that’s where the gratitude came in. It felt impossibly gallant of Trey, especially considering she’d always been pretty mean to him, to put himself out on her account. That he would be genuinely outraged by remarks that hadn’t surprised her. All her friends had been down on her when she’d broken up with Liam—everyone had sided with him instead of her, even Carly—which had always made her feel as if the taunts were sort of her fault. For being stupid enough to latch on to him. And give him head whenever he wanted it. Those taunts had hurt not because they frightened her, or even outraged her, but because they made her feel diminished and insignificant. Right this minute, she didn’t feel small or insignificant for once. She felt important. Because Trey had stood up for her.

  Which probably meant she was in serious need of loads more therapy. But still, it felt good. ‘Yes, I’m fine. He’s just a nuisance, like a bad smell. But he’s harmless.’

  ‘Those things he was saying didn’t sound harmless to me.’ The tight tone sounded a bit judgemental—almost as if he were blaming her for not being more outraged. The warmth in her belly cooled. ‘Liam’s your ex, right?’

  ‘How do you know about Liam?’ Heat spread across her chest, the way it hadn’t when Jenkin had tried to shove his dick in her face.

  She’d split up with Liam nearly a year ago, long before Trey had started working for her mum. She couldn’t imagine Aldo saying anything about him. He’d hardly even met her ex the whole time they were going out. Liam wasn’t the sort of guy you brought home to meet your family.

  Instead of replying, Trey bent to pick up the towel and rubbed it over his face and neck, then glanced over to check on Aldo.

  She waited for his gaze to connect with hers again, as her chest reached boiling point.

  ‘Your mum mentioned you’d had a bad break-up with him,’ he said finally. He threw down the towel and picked up his polo shirt.

  Whaaaat?

  Horror gripped her insides. ‘And why exactly was my mum talking to you about me?’

  And how much had she said?

  Bloody hell, had her mum told him about the therapy she’d forced her to go to? No wonder he’d been so nice to her this morning. He probably thought she was some kind of fruit loop. The humiliation of having Jenkin think he could get her to give him a BJ in a public park was nothing compared to having the lame but hot au pair think she was a nutjob.

  He’d ridden to her rescue not because he thought she was important, but because her mum was probably paying him danger money to babysit her as well as Aldo.

  He shrugged, his big shoulder stiff, as he concentrated on running his thumbs along the bottom of his shirt. Good, she was glad he felt uncomfortable, because she was mortified.

  ‘She worries about you,’ he murmured. ‘She wanted me to look out for you while she was away,’ he added, still engrossed with the stitching on the hem of his shirt.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself. She doesn’t give a shit about me.’ Resentment flared anew to add to the tangle of emotions making her guts feel like a pit of vipers. ‘She was probably just worried you’d walk off the job if I said something to upset you. Then she’d have to cut her stupid book tour short.’

  ‘Why are you so angry with your mum?’ The question and the incredulous tone punctured her outrage long enough to make her realise how childish she must sound to him.

  ‘I’m not angry with her all the time,’ she qualified. Not every single second anyway. ‘I just want her to stop butting into my life. I’m an adult now and she treats me like a child. I bet she’s even paying you extra to watch out for me, too, isn’t she?’ Like a five-year-old.

  Way to go, Mum, why not make me feel like even more of a total loser?

  A puzzled frown appeared on his brow. ‘I get an hourly rate for looking after Aldo. That’s it.’

  ‘Then why did you decide to help me out with Jenkin?’ she asked.

  ‘Because the guy was a total arsehole.’

  The terse explanation should have mollified her, but it didn’t. Especially when he lifted his polo shirt over his head. The sight of his eight-pack stretching enticingly round his outie belly button made all the oxygen suck out of her lungs.

  Why does he have to be so freaking hot?

  He rubbed his hands through his hair, making the short strands stand up in patches—the haphazard style made him look even sexier, like a model who’d been professionally rumpled for a Hugo Boss ad.

  ‘Well, just so you know, you didn’t have to intervene. I don’t need a babysitter.’

  ‘I believe you said that already.’ He had the cheek to sound snotty. ‘To your mum at top volume before she left.’

  So he’d heard that, too, had he? The snakes took a greasy turn in her belly. ‘You shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations that have sod all to do with you.’

  ‘I was the subject of that conversation. And it’s not like I could fail to hear it the way you were shouting.’

  She decided to ignore that and the prickle of shame at the accusation. He knew nothing about her relationship with her mum, so he didn’t get to judge her. Even if he did have bionic hearing.

  ‘Just for the record, I was handling Jenkin fine on my own.’ Which wasn’t entirely true, but she’d be damned if she’d let him feel any more superior than he already did.

  ‘Handling that turd was my pleasure. No guy should ever speak to you like that. And if that’s the way your ex treated you—or let his friends treat you—I’m hoping you dumped him from a great height.’

 
The vote of confidence was so unequivocal and so unexpected, and so unlike the way any of her friends had reacted, her neck got hot. ‘Actually, I did.’

  The snakes in her belly slithered smoothly away at his nod of approval. Until all that was left was a slight breathlessness.

  ‘I don’t suppose you managed to castrate him while you were at it?’ His terse tone was only half joking.

  A smile flitted across her lips. ‘I wish.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  ‘Trey, why didn’t you come get me?’

  Lizzie turned to find Aldo, dripping wet and shuddering, his hands clasped round his shoulders. The accusatory glare he was sending Trey was only slightly weakened by the way his teeth were chattering like castanets.

  ‘Hey, buddy, I’m really sorry.’ Trey grabbed a towel from the pile on the blanket, but as he dropped it over Aldo’s shoulders, her brother shrugged it off, the glare intensifying.

  ‘Get off me. You didn’t even tell Lizzie about my somersault, did you?’

  Lizzie could see the storm clouds hovering, the prickly shrug a sure sign one of Aldo’s tantrums was fast approaching. The towel dangled from Trey’s fingertips and he let out a heavy sigh, as if bracing himself for the impact.

  Lizzie rested her hand on Aldo’s rigid shoulder. ‘Of course he did. I watched you do it. It was great.’ She had less than a moment to contemplate the fact she had actually tried to avert disaster for once, instead of fuelling it, before Aldo turned his glare on her.

  ‘You’re lying. I know you are. You never watched, because I waited and you never even looked.’

  He had her there, but before she could think of a way out of the white lie, Trey knelt, dropping to Aldo’s level. ‘I’m sorry, Aldo. I should have been keeping an eye on you, but that guy was saying mean things to your sister and I wanted to make him stop.’

  ‘Who cares if he said mean things to her? She always says mean things to me and you never do anything.’

  Trey’s chin dropped and he seemed unsure how to react. What could he say? When it was true?

  Shame stabbed into Lizzie’s chest. How hard had she made Aldo’s life in the past few years, and Trey’s in the past few months, with the endless sniping and needling?

  ‘I hate you,’ Aldo shouted at Trey. ‘You don’t like me. You only pretend to. Nobody likes me.’ Tears mingled with the water on Aldo’s face, his body shuddering with more than the cold. He didn’t look explosive any more. He looked devastated.

  ‘I do like you, Aldo. You know that’s true,’ Trey said, but he sounded weary and tense. And not all that convincing.

  Hug him, Trey, that’s all you have to do to convince him.

  She tried to transmit the suggestion telepathically while controlling her own urge to hug her brother. She wasn’t the Aldo Whisperer any more. So she’d have to wait for Trey to figure out the obvious.

  But Trey didn’t budge, or say anything, clearly at a loss as he watched Aldo shiver.

  So she knelt down herself and whispered, ‘We both like you, Aldo. How about I give you a hug to prove it?’

  Her brother looked up, his wobbly chin a dead giveaway. But she could see the suspicion. She braced herself for the rejection she deserved.

  She’d made fun of his ‘baby ways’ so many times in the past few years he probably didn’t trust her. The guilt over each one of those throwaway barbs jabbed into her as her brother’s gaze rose to Trey, his chin still quivering alarmingly.

  The knowledge it was Trey whom he wanted a hug from hurt. Trey, who in the space of three months had made an effort to become Aldo’s friend, his confidant, the guy Aldo looked up to like a big brother. Instead of his real big sister.

  But Trey stood up and then remained standing, stiff and distant by her side.

  Eventually, Aldo’s gaze slid back to her. And he dipped his chin. It wasn’t a proper nod. She guessed he didn’t want to risk one, in case she was only joking and used this moment to mock him.

  The urge to apologise for all the mean things she’d said to her brother over the past few years was swift and fairly agonising. But she didn’t give in to it. Because for once she realised this wasn’t actually about her.

  Standing, too, she took the towel from Trey, swept it round her brother’s shoulders and tugged him into her arms. He stood stiffly. His head was nearly to her chin now. He’d gotten so much bigger than the last time she’d done this. But still his body felt achingly familiar. The smell of kid sweat and the brackish scent of the Serpentine fresh on his skin triggered the phantom hint of the baby smell she had once adored. She remembered the weight of him on her tummy in their old flat in Hackney, the squelching sound as he chewed on his bottle and tugged on her hair, totally absorbed while she read Harry Potter—even though he was way too little to tell the difference between a Horcrux and a Muggle.

  ‘I like you, Aldo. I like you a lot,’ she whispered into his wet hair.

  She wasn’t sure he’d heard her, until his body softened and his shoulders dropped. The guilt slammed into her, like a gigantic wave knocking her off her feet. But then Aldo’s hands settled on the small of her back, chilly despite the warm day. And the wave receded, tugging her back onto dry land. She tightened her arms round her brother’s shoulders, silently thanking him for being brave enough to risk ridicule. And hug her back.

  Trey cleared his throat. He was staring at them both, his face clouded by an emotion she couldn’t read. But one thing was definite, he didn’t look anywhere near as confident as usual.

  He mouthed the word ‘thanks’.

  She nodded, wondering what the no-hugging thing was all about, then jotted it down on her ever-growing list of Trey enigmas to investigate at a later date.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Why not admit it, we’re hopelessly lost.’

  ‘We are not lost, oh voice of doom.’ Luke pointed vaguely across the stream that ran alongside the dusty former logging track and adjusted the map. ‘I think it’s this way.’

  ‘I think isn’t specific enough.’ Halle trudged on, ignoring her companion’s latest stupid suggestion. She slapped at her neck, not sure whether the sting was another trickle of sweat or the carnivorous insect that had already feasted on her and was now coming back for dessert.

  The jet lag had slammed into her like an eighteen-wheeler yesterday afternoon at approximately three p.m.—for the third day running. So she’d left Luke typing away industriously on his laptop and crashed out. Only to wake up at precisely 4.10 a.m. this morning. It was now eleven. And she was ready to face-plant again. Unfortunately, that was impossible because she appeared to be on a ten-hour scenic hike to nowhere. With a man who didn’t know how to read a map.

  So far their ‘extreme bonding experiences’ had been fairly harmless, but just strenuous enough to get her sleeping like the dead—until she woke up before dawn. But she should have asked their perky ‘personal concierge’, Bill, a lot more questions when he had said the word ‘hike’ this morning. Unfortunately, she’d gotten completely fixated on the word ‘bears’ instead in his opening spiel.

  He’d led them to a brand-new SUV and then spent the next half hour droning on about the fascinating culture of the Appalachians and the wide variety of flora and fauna in the Smoky Mountains National Park while driving them thirty miles up Old State Highway 73. During the journey, she’d simply assumed ‘hike’ in the US vernacular probably translated as a long drive and a very short walk. Turned out it meant a longish drive and an even longer walk. In baking-hot weather, with only a backpack full of supplies and an idiot for company.

  ‘Wait for me, dammit,’ she shouted as Luke disappeared into the overgrown trail ahead. ‘What makes you think it’s this way?’ she demanded as he stopped ahead of her.

  Time to be proactive. Clearly, slavishly following Luke isn’t working.

  ‘Because I am the keeper of the map.’ The dappled sunlight cast his face into harsh relief as she drew level, breathing heavily. ‘Why didn’t you tell them you were so unf
it?’ he murmured. ‘They would have organised something less strenuous.’

  His T-shirt stuck to his chest in damp patches, emphasising the sculpted contours of muscle and bone.

  Well, that’s distracting.

  ‘I am fit.’ Kind of. ‘I’m just not into walking around in circles for no good reason. In five-hundred-degree heat in the middle of the day.’

  ‘Then let’s go cool off.’ He flung out his arm to indicate the ominous trail ahead. ‘According to the map, there’s a waterfall this way.’

  ‘The map you can’t read?’

  ‘Yup, that’s the one.’ He waved the map in front of her face, in a gesture just guaranteed to piss her off. ‘I have it right here.’

  She didn’t need to cool off. She just needed to get this over with so she could go back to the privacy of her bedroom, where the firmness of his pectoral muscles would be a lot less distracting and the word ‘bears’ would not have the same significance. ‘Having the map and reading the map correctly are not the same thing.’

  ‘I know how to read a map. I’ve hiked in the goddamn Hindu Kush for five days embedded with US Special Forces.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re a paid-up member of the Taliban, I’m not going into the woods. It’s dangerous. There are bears and rattlesnakes and God knows what else out there,’ she huffed, scoping out the mile-high forest of mostly coniferous trees that stretched away up the mountainside, the dense vegetation broken up only by the occasional rock escarpment—which probably housed a multitude of bear caves.

  ‘It’s not dangerous. It’s a marked hiking trail. And, anyway, the snakes and bears will be staying the hell out of our way with the amount of noise you’re making.’ Luke dragged a bandana out of his back pocket to mop his brow. ‘Now stop moaning and look around you.’ He spread his arms. ‘This place is amazing. Let’s go and explore.’

  She unlocked her jaw. ‘We’re not exploring. We’re lost. There’s a difference.’

  He tucked the bandana back into the pocket of his hiking shorts. ‘I told you, we’re not lost. And, even if you don’t trust me—’ the thin smile was caustic ‘—Bill gave me a two-way radio.’ He patted his backpack. ‘So you can trust that.’