Real Men Don't Break Hearts (15 page)

“Is it serious?” he asked.

“Looks like a mild stroke,” the paramedic replied. “Are you a relative?”

“No, just a neighbor.”

“Okay. We’ll sort out who to call when she gets to the hospital.”

Mrs. Bennett made a gargling noise as she was trundled past Nate. Her eyes rolled so violently he told the paramedics to stop. “You’ll be fine in the hospital.” He patted her shoulder. “They’ll take good care of you.”

In the background Porkchop continued to yap, his bark now hoarse. The old woman’s eyes widened, the appeal in them too obvious to be ignored.

Nate groaned silently. No, not him. He didn’t want to look after the aggressive little mongrel. But there wasn’t anyone else, and Mrs. Bennett was practically begging him.

“Don’t worry about Porkchop.” He sighed. “I’ll look after him.”

The battle-axe teared up before the paramedics wheeled her away. They were loading her into the ambulance when Ally emerged from the shadows, sleepily rubbing her eyes.

“The flashing lights woke me up. What’s going on?”

He explained the situation in a few brief sentences, and they watched together as the ambulance drove off.

Ally snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s cold out here. Let’s go back to bed.”

The invitation of her warm curves lit an instant response in his body, but then he remembered Porkchop. For a second he contemplated leaving the dog to his own devices, as the old Nate would’ve done, but he knew he couldn’t do that. Sighing, he tugged Ally toward Mrs. Bennett’s house. “There’s something I have to do first.”

Porkchop should have been exhausted by then, but when Nate opened the bathroom door the little tyke still had enough energy to have one more go at Nate’s ankles.

“No, you don’t!” With a deft maneuver he gripped the animal by the scruff and carried him out the house at arm’s length. They went back to Nate’s place, where he pondered what to do with the menace.

“He doesn’t look too friendly,” Ally remarked as Porkchop glared at her, his body vibrating with his low-pitched growling.

“He’s just tired and worried. Get me a bowl of water, would you? I’m going to try and settle him in the laundry room.”

Keeping clear of Porkchop’s needle-sharp teeth, Nate folded an old blanket into a sleeping pad and placed it on the tiled floor of the laundry. The dog was still snarling, but by now he was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. He lapped at the bowl of water Ally set before him, and then collapsed onto the blanket, his scruffy ears drooping. Nate turned off the light and shut the door.

“How long are you going to keep him?” Ally asked once they were back in the bedroom.

“Until Mrs. Bennett comes home, I suppose.”

She paused in the middle of drawing back the sheets and stared at him. “That could take a while.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have much choice. She doesn’t have any relatives or friends, or none that I’ve ever seen. She lives pretty much all on her own.”

“Poor thing.” Ally got into bed and drew the sheets up to her chin.

“Poor thing, my arse. She’s a mean old biddy. When I was living here with Robbie she’d complain about anything and everything we did. And since I moved back, she’s been no better. We can’t stand each other.”

“And yet you’re willing to look after her vicious dog.”

“Well, Porkchop is all bark and not much bite. A bit like Mrs. Bennett.”

She was gazing at him with a strange expression on her face. “I never knew you could be so…neighborly.”

He shrugged. “I intend to stay here a while. Might as well get on with her.” He reached for Ally across the pillows. “Now…where were we?”

The odd look in her eyes intensified as she laid a hand on his shoulder, holding him off. “Are you trying to make amends somehow with Mrs. Bennett?”

“Now, why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you feel bad about the things you did to her? The things Robbie did to her?”

The amber lamplight highlighted the curve of her cheek and the tips of her tousled hair. He frowned at her. Why were they yakking instead of getting naked again? And why did she have to be so perceptive about things?

“Yeah, okay, I feel a
bit
bad about
some
things I’ve done. Doesn’t everyone?” Turning away from her, he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms over his chest.

“But it’s not just what
you’ve
done.” She nibbled on her fingernail, her eyes deep and thoughtful. “It’s also about what Robbie’s done. That’s why you’re reviving his landscaping business, why you’ve moved back into this house, isn’t it? You’re doing all this because it’s what Robbie would have wanted?”

At that he gave a snort. “Hell, no. You obviously didn’t know my brother very well. You think he would have wanted me to give up my lucrative job, my penthouse, my expensive car? That was the life he always dreamed of. He’d be turning in his grave right now if he knew what I was doing.”

Robbie had always wanted to escape to the city and live the life of a modern-day rake, but instead he’d been stuck here. His lack of schooling and stroppy attitude had stymied his job prospects, yes, but he’d hung around in Burronga because of Nate, too, because he was worried about Nate living with his violent stepfather, and when Nate had finally had enough and bolted to him, Robbie had been even more stuck in Burronga. How could he have followed his dreams when he was in charge of a rebellious teenager who got into trouble all the time?

Robbie had sacrificed his hopes for Nate’s sake. So when Nate got the opportunities Robbie hadn’t, he had to take them. He’d forged the life Robbie had always dreamed of, only Robbie wasn’t alive for Nate to tell him the dream was just an illusion, a cotton-candy confection that tasted good but couldn’t sustain you in the long run.

He threw a sideways glance at Ally. She was toying with a corner of the sheet. “I don’t mean to pry,” she said, “but I know a thing or two about the pitfalls of taking over a family business.”

“You mean your gift shop?”

Ally nodded. “At times it’s felt more like an obligation. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy running it, but it wasn’t my first choice.”

“What was, then?”

“Not exactly sure. After Seth, it took me a while before I started thinking about my future. I considered going to university or maybe opening a coffee shop, but then Nana’s heart problems started, and it seemed easier all round for me to stay and help her out. All I’m saying is, don’t restart Robbie’s business because you think you should. Only do it because you genuinely want to.”

She’d think him nuts if he tried to explain his feelings about his brother to her. “Boy, you like turning things into a therapy session, don’t you? And all because I’m looking after a neighbor’s mutt for a few days.”

“Okay.” She scooted down under the sheets. “Obviously you have everything worked out.”

“Obviously.”

He clicked off the lamp and tried to settle on the pillow, but his mind was still churning. He couldn’t stop thinking about Robbie, missing him. Damn that thieving mongrel who’d stolen his photo—he really wanted that picture back, and the police were doing nothing about it. The thought made him pitch about restlessly, and as he turned over he glanced at Ally’s profile.

In the darkness the mattress shifted as she rolled toward him, her warmth reaching him in a welcoming cloud. She touched his cheek gently, as if she sensed that for once he needed comfort more than sex from her, and he marveled at how well she read him. She wrapped her arms around him, and his body instantly relaxed, curling in against hers as if they’d done this a million times before. There was tenderness and ease in her embrace, and he fell into it gratefully, his eyes already closing before he could snuggle his nose into her hair.

Chapter Thirteen

“That’s one helluva lump of metal.” Don Bridges, the council’s operations manager, tipped back his hat and scratched his head as he studied the bronze tail lying in the back of Nate’s pickup truck. “And you carried it home from Clifton Gardens all on your own when you were fifteen?”

“I had a shopping trolley.”

Don nodded. “That’s using your head.”

Nate shifted, squashing his small burst of pride at the manager’s admiration. He hadn’t come down to the council offices for approval but to make amends for his past misdeeds. “I’d like to pay for the statue’s repairs and make a further donation for Clifton Gardens. Maybe you could use the money to redo the bandstand.”

“That’d be great. We could give you an engraved plaque on the bandstand once it’s done.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Nate began to haul the severed tail out of his truck, and Don moved to help him. Together they lugged the bronze piece into the nearby workshop, and Nate gave the manager his details before driving off.

Strange how time changed one’s perspective on things, he mused as he made his way back home. From the moment he’d dragged the tail into Robbie’s shed he’d tried to forget about it, secretly ashamed of what he’d done. Which was stupid, because he’d done worse things, like petty theft and drunken brawling. But he supposed it was because he’d gotten away with the tail, whereas he’d had to front up to the magistrate for his other crimes. Now that he’d finally returned it, he felt good but also a little disappointed that he’d gotten off so lightly.

He arrived home to the sound of Porkchop’s yapping. He’d left the dog locked up in his laundry room, and now the animal sounded furious. As soon as Nate opened the door, the animal went for his ankles, and Nate had just enough time to grab him by the scruff of his neck. Hunkering down, he met the dog’s crazed glare head-on.

“Now, look here, mate. If you’re going to survive around me, you’re going to have to get the ground rules straight. Number one, you
don’t
bite me. Got it?” He let go of the dog. Porkchop snarled, his sharp teeth glinting, but he didn’t latch onto Nate’s ankles, just stood there growling and shivering. Nate stood. “Okay, then. So now we know who the alpha male is in this house.”

He opened a tin of dog food and carried the bowl out to the backyard, Porkchop trotting behind him. Nate hoped the dog would behave when he took him along to his afternoon job at the Tarletons. He figured it would be better to bring the dog with him instead of locking him in the laundry, and the dog might as well get used to Nate’s routine because it looked like he’d be staying there a while. Nate had visited his neighbor in hospital, where the doctor had told him she was lucky. The stroke was mild, and she’d gotten to the hospital in time for clot-dissolving drugs to be administered. Nate had reassured her that he’d look after Porkchop for as long as was necessary.

A knock at the front door got him to his feet. He walked through the house and opened the door to find himself face-to-face with Jess. She was just about the last person he’d expected to show up on his doorstep. Despite being the same age, they’d never fraternized; Jess was the responsible, popular girl with a steady boyfriend and a spotless record, and though she’d never said anything outright snotty to him, he’d always known from the looks she’d given him that she didn’t approve. Judging by the pained expression on her face now, that opinion hadn’t altered one iota.

“Hello, Nate.” She cleared her throat and pinched her lips together.

“Hi.” He glanced past her shoulder. “Is Ally with you?”

“No, she’s at the shop.” Jess fiddled with the strap of her handbag, a slight frown between her eyes. “She doesn’t know I’m here.”

Ah. Aware he’d later regret it, he pushed the door open wider. “You’d better come in.”

She minced into his living room, darting suspicious glances around his place as if expecting it to be littered with drugs and porn. “I suppose you know why I’m here.”

Wedging his shoulder against the doorjamb, he let his gaze travel over her slowly and insolently, knowing it would unsettle her. “Let me guess. You don’t think I should be involved with Ally.”

A flush burned across her cheeks. “That’s right, I don’t.”

“Last time I checked, Ally was an adult, able to make her own decisions.”

Jess shook her head. “Most times, yes, but not in the last few weeks. She’s been worrying over the gift shop and my grandmother hasn’t made things easy for her, and then Seth’s wedding upset her. She hasn’t been herself recently.”

Nate felt his forehead knitting up into a fierce scowl. “The shop is doing great, and she’s over Seth. Has been for years. She said so herself.”

“Of course she’d say that.” Jess made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “She’s trying to convince herself, not to mention everyone else, too.”

“You’re wrong. I saw her at the wedding. She was only concerned about you. There wasn’t a hint of feeling left for Seth.”

Jess flicked her head back, her eyes critical. “You’re just saying that so you won’t feel guilty about taking advantage of a girl in a vulnerable state.”

He thought about Ally, about the way she lost herself in their lovemaking. No way was he taking advantage—she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Or was that merely another justification a man like him would make? He jerked upright and stalked away from Jess. Even with his back turned he could feel her censorious gaze biting into him.

“Who says I feel guilty at all?” he growled. She thought he was nothing but a callous womanizer, so why disappoint her?

She sucked in a quick breath. “Are you really going to stay put here in Burronga? Or are you bored already and just looking for a distraction?”

“You’re so sure I’m bad for her.” It wasn’t a question.

Tightening her grip on her handbag, Jess cast around the room as if searching for clues. “I don’t even know why you’re chasing after Ally. She’s not your type at all…”

His head fizzed with anger at Jess’s assumptions. Ally wasn’t a “type.” She was individual, unique, special. He rested his rear against the back of his couch as weariness suddenly invaded him. It felt as if he’d been fighting an invisible army for so long, and Jess was just another battle. But he’d be damned if he let her win. She was wrong about Ally, about him, about everything, and he didn’t give a toss about her opinion, or anyone else’s, for that matter.

“You’re wasting your time, Jess.” He loped toward the front door and flung it open. “Whatever’s going on between Ally and me has nothing to do with you.”

With a peeved scowl she stomped out the house. “I don’t get you.” At the bottom of the porch steps she paused one last time. “You helped to shatter my sister’s dreams once, and now you don’t give a damn if she gets hurt again. You must be one sick jerk.”

Hot retorts clogged his throat, but none managed to come out, and he could only glower at Jess’s retreating back.

That afternoon Nate took out his frustrations on the Tarletons’ garden, tearing down the rotting old pergola in record time. By the time he’d tossed all the debris into the Dumpster, his muscles were aching, and his ire had subsided to a more manageable level. After discussing with Mr. Tarleton the new arbor he’d be constructing, Nate packed up his tools and left.

As he drove home, he couldn’t help glancing at his mobile phone every so often, wondering if he should call Ally and arrange a rendezvous for later. After her sister’s visit, he felt strangely constrained about seeing Ally again, as if going to bed with her that night would just be confirming Jess’s worst opinions of him. Which was all bullshit, of course, because he didn’t give a damn what she thought, and he wanted to see Ally, wanted it a lot.

He decided he’d take a shower before making the call, but he’d barely arrived home when someone knocked on the door. Hoping it was Ally, he opened the door only to be disappointed when he saw a man and a teenage boy on the porch. The man was a few years older than him, maybe in his mid-thirties. Nate had never seen him before, but the boy seemed familiar. He finally recognized him from the night his briefcase had been stolen—it was the scrawny teenager, the one who’d given Nate the finger. He didn’t look so cocky now. His head was ducked low, his hands firmly behind his back.

“Hi, my name’s Duncan Grey.” The man proffered his hand toward Nate. “And this is my son, Oscar. We live just a few blocks away.”

“I’m Nate Hardy.” Nate shook hands, nodded toward the boy. “I believe I’m already acquainted with Oscar from a few weeks back.”

A red tide mottled Oscar’s pimpled cheeks, and he stared furiously at his sneakers. The father seemed equally embarrassed. “Uh, this is a bit awkward. Oscar has something to say to you.” He nudged the adolescent. “Go on, son.”

The boy jerked his hands from behind his back to hold up a familiar briefcase. His chin trembled as he struggled to meet Nate’s eye. “I—I’ve come to return your stuff. I’m s-sorry for stealing it from your car the other night.”

Without saying a word, Nate took his briefcase. Empty-handed, the boy drooped.

“Oscar, go wait at the gate while I talk to Mr. Hardy.” The father paused until the boy had retreated before turning to Nate, an imploring look plastered on his face. “I’m really, really sorry this happened. I caught the boy with your stuff this morning. He wouldn’t tell me where he’d gotten it from, otherwise I would have been here sooner. I hope everything’s still intact.”

Nate checked the briefcase and relief washed over him when he glimpsed Robbie’s photo. He didn’t care about the rest of the stuff, but everything seemed to be there, including the Mont Blanc pen, the Rolex, and, most surprisingly, the money.

“Yup, looks like it’s all in order.”

“I was hoping we’d be able to sort this out between ourselves without involving the police.” He glanced back at his son, who was lounging against the gatepost picking at his chin. “Oscar’s just turned thirteen. He’s not a bad kid; it’s just that he’s going through a rough patch at the moment, hanging out with the wrong crowd. You know what it’s like being a teenager.”

Nate remembered all too well. He’d been younger than Oscar when he’d started roaming the streets at night, getting into whatever trouble he could find. If he’d discovered an unlocked Maserati, sure as eggs he’d have stolen something from it. Not because he wanted the stuff, but just for the thrill of it. His way of giving the finger to society in general.

“I’ve had my fair share of scrapes,” he admitted.

Looking hopeful, Duncan nodded. “I don’t want Oscar to get into trouble with the police again, but I don’t want him to get off scot-free, either. I was wondering if Oscar could come by and do some chores for you. You know, mow your lawn, wash your car, maybe. That’d be a real punishment for him.”

“And in exchange I don’t tell the police about him?”

“He’s already been in front of a children’s magistrate before.” Duncan grimaced. “I don’t want him going down the same path as his deadbeat dad.”

Nate raised his eyebrows. “But aren’t you his…?”

“Oh, I’m his stepfather. Sorry for the confusion. I’ve been with his mother for eight years, so I think of myself as Oscar’s father, even though there’s no biological connection.”

Nate couldn’t help but be impressed by Duncan. Though he didn’t think the teenager would be much use to him, he liked the way Duncan had handled the situation. He and Oscar could easily have left the briefcase on the front porch anonymously, and Nate would have been none the wiser. But Duncan was trying to teach his son ethics as well as protect him from the law.

“Okay, I’m willing to give it a try on one condition,” Nate said, quickly making up his mind. “You set Oscar an evening curfew, and you enforce it.”

“Consider it done. He’ll hate me for it, but I’d do just about anything to set the boy straight.”

“Oscar can start helping me tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great!” Duncan smiled in relief. “What did you have in mind?” he asked before glancing at the freshly painted house and the neat garden. “Doesn’t seem like you need much help around here. Your place looks shipshape.”

Nate lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun and gazed over the fence at Mrs. Bennett’s weed-choked yard and the peeling weatherboards of her dilapidated house. “Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve got just the job for Oscar. It’ll keep him out of mischief for a long while.”

Robbie’s photo looked best on the bookcase just above the stereo equipment. Nate stood back and surveyed the living room. Without a weekly cleaning, the place wasn’t exactly pristine. There were crumbs on the cushions, a sweater slung over an armchair, newspapers scattered on the coffee table, but he liked the clutter. It was beginning to feel like home now, a proper home. Not just somewhere to crash or to impress people, but a place where he felt at ease and comfortable with himself. Picking up his glass of wine, he raised it in salute toward Robbie’s picture.

“Hey, big brother. Looks like I belong here after all.”

Is that wine you’re drinking?
He could almost hear his brother gently scoffing at him.
You must be going soft.

Maybe he
was
going soft. Because it was after eight, and he’d showered and eaten and had his favorite CD playing, but he felt out of sorts because Ally wasn’t with him. He’d planned to ring her, but the surprise visit from Duncan Grey and his stepson had changed his mind. When Ally saw Robbie’s picture she’d start asking him more awkward questions about his brother. Not that he had any secrets to hide, but he wasn’t used to divulging his inner feelings to another person, let alone the woman he was having incredible sex with.

He had friends, of course. But they were all Sydney friends who’d only known the city him, the smooth-talking, successful Nate Hardy, whereas Ally knew him from way back when. She knew what he’d been like, had suffered firsthand from his youthful arrogance. So if he confided in her about how he felt about Robbie, how would she react? Would she laugh in his face? He didn’t think so. Ally had every reason to hold a grudge against him, but she didn’t. She was generous, open, and…loving.