Lingerie Wars (The Invertary books) (26 page)

"We need to hack your computer," she mumbled.

Lake sighed.

"You do know that you don't actually have to have someone's computer to hack it, right?"

"That's not what my hacker led me to believe," she said miserably.

"By the look of it, your hacker is ten years old."

"Thirteen."

Lake ran a hand over his face as he tried to remember what his life had been like back when it was normal.

"Why, exactly, did you want to hack my computer?"

She glared at him.

"To put a stop to your stupid competition. You can't sell yourself off to some woman. It's indecent to spend the weekend with someone you don't even know. All to sell underwear. It's bad for the town."

She folded her arms in a huff. Mad at him. Unbelievable.

"Bad for the town?" He started to smile.

"You're getting us a terrible reputation."

He ran a hand over his hair.

"Let me get this right. You planned this so that I wouldn't spend a weekend with another woman?"

"Well done. You caught up, Einstein," she said angrily. Then she thought about it. "For the town's sake. Not mine."

"Right." He tried not to a grin. "For the town."

He zipped up his boots and stepped towards Kirsty.

"I'm going to sort that out." He pointed to the front window and watched her wince with guilt. "You call your mum."

She frowned at him.

"As for you," he said. She gulped. "I'll deal with you later."

Before she could object, he leaned towards her and kissed her hard.

"Crazy women," he muttered as he went to sort out the damage.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Just when Lake thought that things couldn't get any more complicated, his parents turned up. He was standing outside his shop, supervising the glaziers as they installed a new pane of glass, when the old converted school bus rolled to a stop beside him. Rainne flew out of the shop behind him and ran at the bus.

"Eric, Joyce." She squealed with delight as she bounced on the spot, hardly containing her excitement at seeing them.

Lake continued to watch the guys fit the glass. He wasn't going to even pretend that his folks were there for him.

"Darling," his mother said as she climbed down from the bus. "You look wonderful. Are you drinking those teas I sent you?" Rainne nodded. "I thought so. Your skin is glowing."

Lake suspected the glow had more to do with young Alastair than with the herbal teas his mother had sent. His father came around from the driver's side of the bus. All long, loose limbs as usual, and still as skinny as a pole. He hugged Rainne with his usual detached air.

"You came," Rainne gushed. "I didn't think you would."

"And miss the big show?" Joyce said.

Although anyone could tell by looking at her that she was mystified by the whole thing. Lake scoffed to himself. If it wasn't a "cause" then it didn't usually penetrate the fog around his mother's head. And the lingerie shop definitely wasn't a cause. He was surprised they'd bothered to make the trip.

Then it hit him. They had an ulterior motive. He looked at Rainne's beaming face and wished she wasn't so damn trusting. With an inward sigh, he went to greet his parents. It was glaringly obvious that they weren't going to bother greeting him.

"Mum. Dad," he said with a nod.

His dad looked at him blankly and his mother pursed her lips with disapproval. At thirty-eight, parental approval was low on Lake's list of priorities.

"I wish you would use our names," his mother said. "We do have them, you know?"

"I know," Lake said.

They stood in silence while panic grew in Rainne's eyes. His sister was like a weather station, tracking the moods of everyone around her.

"So," his mum said, turning to Rainne. "This is your shop."

She smiled, but she didn't fool anyone. She wasn't impressed.

"Technically, it's Lake's shop," Rainne said.

The look his mother shot him made it clear that she knew exactly who was behind her daughter's bout of rebellion.

"But," Rainne pressed on, "once he's got it up and running it will be mine again."

Lake stilled. Now wasn't the time to tell her otherwise, but the enthusiasm in her voice twisted like a knife in his gut.

"Tell me," his mother said, "what are you going to do with it?"

Rainne blinked a couple of times and cast a glance at Lake for help before answering.

"I'm going to sell underwear," she said at last.

"Yes, yes." His mother threw her waist-length braid back over her shoulder and adjusted the strap on her purple canvas satchel. "For what reason? What cause will this benefit?"

Rainne's cheeks flushed. Lake couldn't stand it any more.

"She's going to make money. That's what shops do. They provide services for cash."

His mother gave him a withering look.

"Money isn't a reason for doing something," she told him. "Capitalism isn't a way of life. It's a disease."

"Looking after yourself and helping the community isn't a disease," Lake said.

"Helping the community by selling underwear?" his mother scoffed.

"We all wear it, Mum—even you," Lake said evenly.

He half expected Rainne to shout "stop fighting" like she did when he still lived at home. If you could call a bus "home".

"I'm starting an environmentally friendly range of products," Rainne said. "I plan to only buy local, use people in the community and recycle as much as I can."

His mum rewarded Rainne with a dazzling smile.

"Why didn't you say so?" she said. "You're starting a cottage industry. You're making a stand against sweatshops and the cost to the environment by shipping produce halfway around the world when there's good enough locally. You're starting a movement, dear."

"Excellent," his dad said.

Lake was almost surprised to hear his voice.

Rainne beamed.

"It's great, isn't it? Plus, there's a room in back that Lake uses to teach self-defence. I thought I could run yoga classes too."

His mum leaned in to Rainne for another hug.

"I'm so proud of you," she said.

Yeah, right
, Lake thought. Maybe Rainne couldn't hear it, but he could. His little sister was being humoured.

"I brought some of your favourite food," his mother said as she retrieved an old, multi-coloured woven bag from the bus. "I thought I'd make us dinner."

"Do you hear that, Lake? Joyce is making us dinner." Rainne beamed like a kid.

Lake smiled for her. He was pretty sure that the invitation didn't include their eldest child.

"Yes," his mother said tightly. "You can stay if you must. I'm making bean stew with organic black rice."

"As delicious as that sounds, I have plans."

Only Rainne was disappointed.

"Come on, Lake. You can cancel your plans for one night," his sister said. "How often do you see your parents?"

About once every decade, he thought.

"I can't," he said. "Meeting for the fashion show. If I don't turn up, I could be ousted." He turned to his parents. "And then your trip up here would have been wasted."

He saw the flicker of a look pass between his parents, and his heart hardened further. They weren't there for the show. They were there for Rainne—and not to support her, either. They wanted to drag her into their latest cause. He clenched his fists as he looked at his sister's grinning face. The only way he could stop them would be to tell her that the shop was hers.

And that he couldn't do.

Against her better judgment, Kirsty turned up at Caroline's house for the meeting about the show. Now that Caroline was involved everything had to be coordinated, planned and documented. She loved her friend dearly, but she didn't have time for all this planning. She needed to be doing. She heaved a sigh as she knocked the front door of the tiny terraced house. It was one of the old miners' cottages that sat on the back hills on the edge of Invertary. The row of houses was quaint against the green countryside, all crooked and miniature. Not that she could see them in the dark.

"I brought wine," said Lake as he came up behind her, making every nerve ending in her body stand to attention.

"To a meeting?" she said. "Last night you came for dinner empty handed, today you bring drinks to a meeting. Is this how they do things in England?"

He stepped in towards her, crowding her on the narrow path.

"If I remember right, last night you didn't mind one bit what I brought to your house." That low voice of his sent tingles up her spine.

"And what was that?" She swayed towards him.

"Me."

Kirsty stuck her tongue out at him as Caroline opened the door.

"Good. You're on time," she said.

Kirsty found it hard to ignore Lake as Caroline led them through the short hallway and into the living room. Her senses were tuned into him. It was as though she was an FM radio and someone had set her to automatically find their favourite station. In this case, Lake. She was aware of where he stood, how he sat, what he wore, how he smelled. Everything about him was exaggerated to her keenly tuned senses. To make matters worse, it seemed that he was tuned into her too.

He put his hand on the small of her back to guide her ahead of him into the living room and her skin throbbed under his touch. He leaned towards her to talk as Caroline hung up their coats and his breath brushed her cheek, making her heartbeat race. He sat beside her on the couch, brushing his knee against her every time he moved. She was sure it was intentional. He wanted to touch her. He wanted her to be aware of him. He got what he wanted.

To stop from throwing herself at him, Kirsty tried to focus on her environment. Caroline's house hadn't changed since her grandparents owned it. Caroline had been too busy raising her younger sister to spend much time, or money, on decor. The result was a house full of furniture you'd find in a retirement home. At least the furniture went well with the faded brown wallpaper. Lake handed the wine to Caroline, who seemed a little stunned by it.

"Thank you," she said.

There was a pause.

"What do I do with this?" Caroline said at last, making Kirsty grin. "Should I give you a glass? We won't be clearheaded for the planning."

"I'm pretty sure we'll all be clearheaded on one glass of wine," Lake said.

He obviously didn't know Caroline. One glass of wine and she was three sheets to the wind.

"Leave it until the end," Kirsty told her. "I'd love a cup of tea, and I'm sure Lake would like one too."

Caroline nodded and left the room, carrying the wine as though it had fallen from the sky.

"That wasn't supposed to be hard," Lake said.

"You don't know Caroline," was all Kirsty said in reply.

Lake rested his elbow on the back of the couch and traced a line down Kirsty's shoulder with his index finger.

"How's the cupboard technique going? Added anything to the list today?"

"I've given up on that," she told him primly, but it was hard to focus on the conversation when he was touching her.

"We still have work to do, though," he said lazily as he gently caressed her cheek.

Kirsty clasped her hands in front of her and focused on her breathing.

"You know," he said. "Therapy." His blue eyes darkened. "I thought it went well. We should do more."

Kirsty swallowed hard. Her eyes dropped to his chest as she imagined him naked in front of her. She chewed her bottom lip.

Lake groaned softly.

"You're killing me here, Kirsty. I'm not sure how much more I can take."

He wasn't the only one.

Caroline came in with a tray laden with mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits, and Lake dropped his hand back to his side. Kirsty was both relieved and upset that his touch was gone. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and saw he was watching her. A small smiled curved his lips and Kirsty snapped her head back to Caroline.

Ten minutes later they all nursed mugs of tea while going over the plan for the show. As ordered by Caroline, Lake and Kirsty had brought photos of the lingerie they planned to showcase so that there wouldn't be any double-ups. The evening would have been completely routine if it wasn't for the fact that every time she looked at Lake, she didn't see him sitting there fully dressed in Caroline's living room. Oh no. She saw him almost naked in hers. And every time he brushed against her when he reached for the photos on the coffee table in front of him, she didn't feel the innocent touch of a competitor. No. She felt his hot skin beneath her fingers as she explored him. It was driving her mental. There was no way she could concentrate on anything Caroline said. She found herself agreeing to things that she had no recollection of. Come morning, she'd have to call her best friend and ask her to recap the meeting. Honestly, it was a relief when the evening drew to a close.