Fly with Me (21 page)

She glanced
out the window at the sole two cars passing in the street. “The
excitement is wearing me out.”

“Tell me about
it. Staying for awhile I hear.”

“A month. Here
for the wedding then house-sitting while Ash and Scott are on their
honeymoon.” She hesitated, flicking Simon a glance before looking
back at Ryder. “Maybe a little longer.”

“Great.”
Stirring the coffee, Ryder studied her. “So, got a job waiting back
home?”

Now this was
more like it. Simon pushed the empty plate back, picking up the
bran muffin as he waited for her reply.

“I’m kind of
in-between jobs,” she hedged.

Music gigs,
isn’t that what they called them? Simon took a big bite of toast.
Maybe he watched too much TV.

“What kind of
work do you do?” Ryder queried.

“A bit of
this, a bit of that.” Her reply was surprisingly evasive, and Simon
looked sharply at her.

Well,
hello
.

Catching his
eye, she flushed a little but kept her head up and her gaze steady
as she looked back at Ryder, who was regarding her just as closely.
“I’ve done a few jobs. Receptionist, waitress, checkout chick.” She
paused. “Sang a little.”

No sooner had
she said that than another face appeared, this one from over the
top of the back of her booth. “Holy heck! I thought I recognised
you!”

Elissa leaned
to the side, twisting her upper torso a little as she looked up at
the face beaming back down at her. “Um…hi.”

“Hi.” Farris
stuck his hand over the top, with the result that she had to reach
up and give it an awkward shake. “I’m Farris. I work on one of the
farms.”

“Ah.” She
smiled up at him. “Guess you’re busy then.”

“Yep. But man,
I heard you sing in the city a couple of months ago. One of the
pubs, can’t remember which.” His smile was all teeth.

Simon
exchanged a glance with Ryder. Ryder’s eyes were gleaming with a
combination of amusement and curiosity. Simon just wanted to place
his hand on Farris’s face and push him back over the edge of the
booth. Perfectly reasonable reaction, after all, they were having
breakfast and here was Farris going all fan-mad on Elissa.
Perfectly reasonable.

“Glad you
enjoyed it.” Her smile was genuine, pleasure flashing in her
eyes.

Okay, she
obviously didn’t find the young farmhand annoying.

“You
disappeared after singing, I tried to find you,” Farris
continued.

No surprise
there, Simon thought. He had no doubt a few men would have wanted
to talk to Elissa.

“I don’t hang
around,” she said. “Sorry.”

“So I wanted
to ask you, do you have any CDs out?” Farris queried.

She hesitated.
“Well…maybe.”

“Really?”

Jesus, if the
man’s face got any brighter he’d rival the sun.

“When?”

“No set dates
as yet.” She glanced at Simon, back up at Farris. “It might not
happen.”

“Bummer.” His
face fell. “Well, are you going to tour soon, then? I’d buy
tickets. Just tell me where and when.”

“Aw, that’s
sweet, but I don’t tour.”

Farris was
struck dumb, but unfortunately it didn’t last long. “You
don’t?”

“No.”

He scratched
his head. “Really?”

She
nodded.

“Oh.” He
thought about this, his gaze going to Simon and then Ryder as
though for confirmation.

Ryder just
shrugged, Simon copying.

Not one to
give in so easily, Farris returned his gaze to Elissa. “Do you hold
concerts? You must hold concerts.”

“Sorry to
disappoint you.”

His mouth fell
open. “But you
have
to.”

And there it
was, a slight flicker in her eyes, a slight tightening of her lips,
barely discernable to anyone who wasn’t watching her as closely as
Simon.

Chapter 6

Maintaining
her friendliness, she continued to smile at the young farmhand.
“It’s not always what it seems, Farris.”

“But everyone
will pay to listen to you sing. You’d make a fortune with that
voice.”

To anyone else
that would be a compliment. To Elissa, it was a knife twisting in
her back. “Well, it’s not so easy. Anyway, Farris, it’s been lovely
to meet you, but I have to finish breakfast and get back to my
friends.” Softening the blow, she added, “But I’ll be around for
awhile, so no doubt we’ll meet again.”

He had no
choice but to either rudely continue or graciously accept her
nicely-worded ‘goodbye’. He graciously accepted, disappearing from
view to pop straight back up with a paper napkin in his hand. “Can
I have your autograph?”

Okay, she’d
have to be dead not to at least appreciate that. It wasn’t the
first time she’d signed one, maybe wouldn’t be the last. “Sure, but
I don’t have a pen.”

“Here.” Ryder
fished one out of his pocket and slid it across the table to
her.

“Thanks.”
Picking it up, she signed the napkin with a small flourish, mostly
to appease Farris, and handed the napkin up to him.

“Thanks so
much!” Beaming, he took it like he was handling gold. “I’ll leave
you to eat in peace.”

“Much
appreciated.” Elissa passed the pen back to Ryder. “Thanks.”

He slid it
back in his pocket. “You’re a singer?”

“Of sorts.
Nothing big.” Nothing she wanted big. “Hobby.”

Simon was
watching her quietly, missing nothing, his calm gaze just taking in
everything she said and did with a deceiving laziness.

“So,” she said
brightly, turning the conversation away from herself, “did Dee
punish you by throwing you out?”

Ryder eyed her
shrewdly but took the hint. “Dee wouldn’t throw me out, the
sheila’s mad about me.”

“Mad
at
you, you mean.” Simon took a sip of apple juice.

Ryder waved
that away. “You’ll never guess what she did.”

“I could do
with a laugh.”

“She wanted me
to pay for the few things the kittens creatively redesigned.”

Elissa
exchanged an amused look with Simon. “Creatively redesigned,
huh?”

“Those kittens
are learning, developing, they need entertainment.” Ryder tapped
the table with his fingertip. “I get up this morning and what’s
waiting for me on the table? A bill!”

“Really?”
Yeah, Elissa could see Dee doing that.

“For seventy
six dollars!”

“Cheap,” Simon
commented.

“Cheap?
Cheap?
I’m her
fiancée,
for God’s sake. You don’t
charge your
fiancée
for damage done by
our
kittens.”

“Dee does
whatever she wants.”

“I told her I
wasn’t paying it.”

“Oh, this
ought to be good. What’d she do?”

“I’m not sure
yet.” Ryder frowned. “But she had that glint in her eyes. She’s up
to something.”

“Be sure to
keep us updated.”

Laughing,
Elissa swallowed the last of the orange juice, the coldness
spilling down her throat. The change of conversation from singing
was a welcome one, for sure.

“Woman needs
taming.” Ryder checked his watch. “Gotta go, I’m taking her car in
for a service. Ben’s dropping me off at my house, so how about you
blokes meet me there?”

“No
worries.”

Ryder stood
up. “Wait, we’re all on for tonight still, aren’t we?”

Simon nodded.
“Scott’s house.”

Wondering what
was on at her friends’ home that night, Elissa said as Simon turned
back to her, “I guess I better go as well.”

“Sure.” He
nodded. “Have enough to eat?”

“Thanks, yes.
I owe you.” No sooner had the words left her mouth than she cringed
inwardly, especially when he turned those hazel eyes on her, the
laziness vanishing to be replaced with a directness that seemed to
see right through her.

“You owe me
breakfast if you
want
to owe me. This has no strings
attached.”

“I know. I
just meant-” Before she could finish, he had pushed to his feet and
held his hand out to her. “Um…”

Well, cripes,
he didn’t answer, didn’t move, just waited. It was either be rude
and push past him because the man was now standing beside her seat,
or be polite and take his hand.

So she placed
her hand in his, immediately having her smaller one engulfed by
his, those long fingers curling securely around her own. If that
wasn’t enough to make her heart skip a beat, he then supported her
hand with ridiculous ease as she slid out of the booth and stood
up.

Then he
totally floored her by keeping hold of her hand, turning and
leading her from the café as though it was completely normal to be
holding her hand. Just held it like he was her boyfriend or
something, because geez, no man
ever
held a woman’s hand
unless there was meaning there, right?

Tossing a
cheerful ‘thanks’ to Cheryl, who watched them with unmistakeable
glee, her glance falling meaningfully to their joined hands, Simon
led her out of the café, holding the door open for her without
letting go her hand as she stepped outside.

Cripes, what
did she say? Do? Did she pull her hand away now that they were out
of the café? Did she tell him to let her go?

Did she want
him to let her go?

Hell no, would
be the answer. But she didn’t really know him either, in fact,
apart from having bawled her eyes out beside him on a balcony on a
rainy night, watched him fall from a tree, threw a mobile past him
on a rainy day, told him what she’d meant to keep private, ridden
on the back of his big motorbike to feed his soon-to-be cranky cat,
and had breakfast with him, she hadn’t had anything much to do with
him.

Okay, maybe
she’d had more to do with him in a couple of short days than most
people did in a couple of weeks.

Now he held
her hand, led her around, and currently was sliding the helmet over
her head, his smile friendly, his movements lazy, and nothing in
his warm eyes to give away his thoughts.

The man was a
mystery to her, and damned if she didn’t find that a little
intriguing. Or maybe that was because he treated her like no other
man ever had. God knew.

Now her
emotions were tangling again, her thoughts starting to chase each
other around in her head. What was she doing letting him do this?
Do what? Treat her with a protective friendliness? Like a man
caring for a woman in a friendly way? Certainly non-threatening,
because she doubted right then that this man could threaten anyone.
Congenial, happy, contented, easy to talk to, he was the very
embodiment of a friend.

That was until
she caught another glimpse of heat in his eyes, a flicker of flame
as he looked down at her while fastening the strap beneath her
chin.

Cripes, no
denying that heat in his eyes, just as there was no denying the
answering heat she’d had in the café, the shiver of heat that
spiralled up her spine now. But at this instant there was something
more in his heat. Something in the way he’d silently waited for
her, the way he’d held her hand and led her from the café.
Something more.

Something more
earthy, more male.

Maybe he
wasn’t as safe and uncomplicated as she’d first thought.

Damn it, right
now what she didn’t need was
unsafe
and
complicated
.

His eyes were
locked with hers, holding her almost captive, her heart beating
like wings in her chest. Right then she didn’t know what she wanted
to say or do. Well, shit, she knew what she wanted to do, but it
went against everything her commonsense told her.

Plus grabbing
him on the street and kissing him hard would probably shock him,
not to mention knock him unconscious with the bang of the helmet
now covering her head. Not a smooth move even if she’d been game to
do it.

Unable to hold
his gaze any longer, she looked away. What was she thinking?
Scratch that, she knew what she was thinking, but it wasn’t
something she should be thinking. Hell. Definitely not something
she had planned on thinking.

He didn’t
linger, sliding his helmet on and swinging astride the big bike,
kicking off the stand and starting the engine, the powerful throb
of it filling the quiet street.

This time when
he tapped the seat behind him, Elissa swung on silently, wrapping
her arms around that lean waist. Unsettled, she would have put as
much distance between their bodies as she could, but with no
experience on motorbikes, she snugged up against him.

Well, she had
to, right? It was part of being a good pillion passenger. She was
just doing what she should do.
And you keep telling yourself
that
.

When the
motorbike pulled into Ash’s driveway, Elissa didn’t have to worry
about what she was going to say to Simon because Ash and Scott were
waiting for them. Scott was done up in his leathers, his motorbike
waiting in the driveway. As Elissa swung off the bike, another big
metal and chrome beast pulled in beside Simon’s bike, the rider
pulling off his helmet to reveal Kirk.

He smiled at
her. “Hey.”

“Hey back.”
She waited patiently while Simon undid the strap of the helmet and
slid it off her head.

Immediately
her hair tumbled around her shoulders and down her back in a riot
of curls. Feeling suddenly conspicuous, she gathered the messy,
heavy length in her hands, twisting it into a long rope and
clipping it to the back of her head with the clip, then gave her
jumper a tug into place, smoothing it over the generous swell of
her hips. A glimpse down had her inwardly gasping in dismay. The
hem of her slacks were spattered with mud stains. Riding on a
motorbike after the rains definitely wasn’t a wise idea.

But damn, it
had been fun while it lasted. She’d felt like she’d been free,
flying along. Until now when she suddenly realised how dishevelled
she was, a little messy, definitely not the neat appearance she was
used to maintaining.