Looking Out, page 6
‘So,’ Jesse said, slumped in one of the wicker chairs, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, sipping on his coffee and looking around.
‘See anything you like the look of?’ Natasha said, sipping from her own mug, following his gaze.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, turning to look at her intently. ‘You,’ he said.
She blushed again and didn’t know what to say.
He took a sip from his mug, looking at her over the rim as he did. ‘Are you for sale?’ he said, appearing completely serious – there was no hint of playfulness now, just a steady, steely gaze.
‘No,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Oh, you’re naughty.’
‘That’s me sprung,’ he said, laughing openly. ‘Cute girls, by the way,’ he said, changing the subject and tone. ‘Your girls, I mean.’
‘Oh. Thank you. They’re pretty good, mainly. Teenagers …’ she said with a wry grin. ‘Do you have kids?’
‘No. Hasn’t happened.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘Oh, well, it is what it is. You make beautiful kids,’ he said.
What am I expected to do with that? ‘Thanks. Um, you really are very smooth,’ she said, fumbling slightly.
‘I do my best,’ Jesse said, grinning again as he raised his mug to his lips. ‘So I’m wondering if you’d like my help?’
‘With what?’
‘I’m thinking, how about you give me some of your business cards and I can hand them out to any potential clients I might come across for your interior design side of things. That’s how it works, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. That would be great. I’d really appreciate it.’
‘How much?’
‘Sorry?’ It took Natasha a moment to catch on that he was flirting again. ‘Stop it. You’re incorrigible,’ she said with a laugh. She had to admit, she was really enjoying his confident charm.
‘Don’t ask, you don’t get – that’s what my dear old mum used to say, bless her soul. Right, that’s me done,’ he said, draining the last of his coffee and putting his mug on the table. ‘Gotta run. It’s been fun, thank you.’ He picked up her hand and bent over it to plant a kiss.
Natasha almost gasped aloud before recovering herself just in time.
‘Have a good day,’ she said.
‘And you. Adios, my fair Natasha.’ At the door he gave another hand flourish.
And then he was gone, leaving Natasha feeling a bit bewildered, amused and also very intrigued. What an intense, interesting fellow. At the heart of it all, she realised she was disappointed by his abrupt departure. She wanted to know more about him – spend more time being admired …
The thought caused a wave of exasperation. But it was the truth. She was flattered. Nothing wrong with that. Anyway, a friendship with Jesse might prove very useful for her business down the track.
As she got on with her day, Natasha found she was missing Jesse, despite telling herself that was impossible; she barely knew him. But every time the bell on the door chimed, she looked up, feeling a little leap of hopefulness inside her as she did. And every time it wasn’t him, she felt a wave of disappointment sweep through her.
Chapter Nine
Natasha hadn’t seen Jesse for around a week and had been disturbed by how often she’d been thinking of him and, even worse, how much she yearned to see him. He was the only new and interesting thing in her otherwise highly structured and predictable life and she was keen to know if he had any leads for her. Tonight, though, she was having her usual monthly catch-up dinner with Monica, Miriam, Vanessa and Anastasia. She couldn’t wait. The last one had had to be cancelled due to a series of colds going through the school. Natasha longed to indulge in a good old whinge fest about perimenopause, ageing and life in general. They ate early and set out to make a night of it, but were always all yawning by nine p.m. and reluctantly dispersing soon afterwards, laughing at their lack of stamina as they got into their cars.
She’d dressed for the dinner that morning and had stayed later at work, filling in the time with some bookkeeping when she was jolted by a knock on the window. She looked up to see Jesse peering in, his hands cupped around his face. A mixture of delight at seeing him and disappointment that she needed to leave in a few minutes flooded through Natasha. She leapt up to open the door. As she did, her phone began to ring. She dragged it with her, checking the screen as she unlocked the door.
‘Hi, Jesse. Come in. I just need to get this,’ she said, stepping aside as she connected the call from Monica. He startled her by giving her a firm kiss on the cheek.
‘Monica, hi, what’s up?’ Natasha said into the phone, trying to ease out of Jesse’s embrace. There was plenty of commotion coming from Monica’s end. ‘Sorry, I can hardly hear you,’ Natasha said, frowning and concentrating.
‘Sorry,’ Monica practically shouted, ‘I can’t make it tonight. I’m in the midst of a burst pipe plumbing emergency and both Miriam and Anastasia have just messaged. They can’t make it either, did they text you? I just thought I’d better call in case you didn’t get my text.’
‘Oh, hang on, I might have missed them.’ Natasha looked at her messages. ‘Oh, yes, here they are,’ she said. The texts simply said they were sorry but couldn’t make it. They were clearly harried if they weren’t giving an explanation. She really hoped everyone was okay.
‘So, I’m afraid that leaves just you. Sorry,’ Monica said.
‘Yeah, that’s not happening,’ Natasha said. Damn. She loathed eating alone and had been really looking forward to the catch-up. ‘Bugger. Oh, well, can’t be helped. Is there anything I can assist you with?’
‘No, thanks, the plumber’s here and it’s pretty much sorted. Only some clean-up required now. My kitchen is a bit of a disaster zone, but it could have been much worse. Anyway, I’d better get back to it. I’m so sorry to do this to you at such late notice.’
‘It’s not your fault. Have you cancelled the booking?’
‘Yes, when I saw Miriam’s and Anastasia’s messages. I didn’t think you’d want to go on your own.’
‘You’re right about that.’
‘Okay, I’d better run.’
‘Good luck. See you soon. Hopefully.’
Natasha ended the call and was unable to hide her disappointment from Jesse, who was standing around a metre away, flicking through a stack of small prints in a wooden box.
‘Have your plans been cancelled?’ he said, turning towards her.
‘Yes. I was meant to be heading out to dinner with some friends but they’ve had to cancel.’
‘I wondered why you were so dressed up. You look stunning, by the way.’
‘Thanks,’ Natasha said, suddenly feeling self-conscious and awkward.
‘You really don’t do well with compliments, do you? We’d better change that. Because you’re gorgeous,’ he said, smiling warmly at her. ‘I know, you’re a married woman,’ he added with a sigh and raised his hands in a gesture of helplessness and surrender.
But you’re married, too, Natasha wanted to say, but was too busy trying to bring herself back under control, stop her racing heart, her throbbing nether regions, her tumbling stomach. She’d never so much as looked twice at another man during her entire marriage.
‘Come on,’ Jesse said, gently pulling her towards the door. ‘I’m taking you out. I promise I’ll be good.’ He grinned.
‘Hold on. I just need to get my handbag.’
He waited by the door while she grabbed her bag and locked everything away under the counter. Her slight arousal hummed away, unable to be ignored.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as she locked the door.
He looked around, tapping his lip, which gave him a cute sense of boyishness. She liked him even more when he seemed a little unsure.
‘Feeling daring?’ he asked, looking at her intensely.
‘Um.’ No, not at all. But when, in the last sixteen or so years, had she done anything remotely spontaneous or exciting, notwithstanding all the stuff that came along with having kids? ‘Oh, go on then,’ she said, laughing. ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘A friend is having a party. Fancy going? It’s in the city.’
With her initial rush of bravery threatening to desert her, she quickly said, ‘I’m in.’
He held the door to his ute open for her and carefully closed it when she was in. She practically swooned – not exactly the behaviour of a raging feminist, which she didn’t claim to be, but still …
In the time it took for him to go around the vehicle and get in his side, Natasha had become decidedly unsure about this course of action. He was a stranger. Lara’s recent comments about stranger danger came to mind.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘I don’t think this is a good idea,’ she finally managed. She suspected she might have become a little pale.
‘Of course it isn’t,’ he said. ‘That’s what makes it so much fun. How about this – I promise to return you to your car at any time you choose.’
‘Can we be back by around nine, regardless, please?’
‘Nine? But we’ll have to turn around and come back again as soon as we get there. But, of course, we don’t want the husband getting suspicious, now do we, naughty girl?’ he said.
Unable to quite read his expression and tone, Natasha cringed. She was about to say she was going to leave, even had her hand on the door handle, when a thought popped into her head. ‘But what about your wife?’
He looked at her like she’d sprouted a second head. ‘Wife? I’m not married. What gave you that idea?’
Natasha frowned. Am I losing my mind? He’d said he had a wife, hadn’t he? ‘You said the throw rug was a just-because gift for your wife.’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘I’m sure you did.’
‘I’m sure I would remember if I had a wife, my sweet,’ he said, and laughed. ‘Look, perhaps we’d better call it a night.’ He looked genuinely hurt.
Natasha’s heart lurched. ‘My mistake. I must have misheard you,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry. Please don’t be upset.’ She put a hand on his thigh.
He looked at her and sighed. ‘I wish I had a wife. Maybe that’s what I said.’
‘That must have been it.’
‘Let’s just go for a quick meal and leave partying for another time. Gary has them all the time.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ She removed her hand, suddenly realising it was still on his leg.
‘Actually, I’m a bit too tired. Let’s call it a night. I take it you park out the back? I’ll drive you around to your car. Okay?’
‘Yes. Probably best.’ Definitely a good idea. Though she still experienced a wave of disappointment.
He turned the key and put the vehicle into gear. The air in the cab was tense. Natasha cursed the fact that a lot of that tension was coming from her, mainly from the region of her groin. Christ, when had she last felt this horny?
When Jesse pulled up beside her car and leant over to give her a hug, she found herself putting a hand on his thigh again – high on his thigh.
He put his hand over hers. ‘Don’t start something you can’t or won’t finish, my dear,’ he whispered hoarsely, before lifting her hand, kissing it and then her lips and leaning away again. He continued observing her. ‘Oh, you’re a tease,’ he said, waggling a finger at her. ‘I think you’d better go home to your husband.’ He let out a long, loud breath.
She couldn’t read him now. Was he annoyed or just frustrated, like she was?
‘Bye.’ She scrambled out of the vehicle, dragging her handbag with her, and closed the door with a thud. She fumbled with her keys, cursing her painfully electrified groin and jelly-like knees, but welcoming the cold breeze on her face. Jesse idled nearby. She didn’t want to keep him waiting. As she put the car in gear, she considered how gentlemanly it was that he was waiting.
Chapter Ten
Natasha wanted to pull over and compose herself, but Jesse was behind her all the way home. She momentarily cursed living on the main road that made its way through several of the small towns. She’d have felt more comfortable all round if he could have passed her and zoomed off ahead, but there was too much oncoming traffic. She indicated with plenty of warning, then raised her hand from the wheel in a wave when he honked his horn as she turned into her long driveway. He roared past.
‘Hello, Angel, it’s just me,’ she said, bending down to pat the dog, who had greeted her inside the front door, tail wagging, eyes blinking, as if she’d just woken up from a deep snooze.
‘Is that you, Natasha?’ came Mitchell’s voice from deep inside the house – the lounge room, she thought. She went through. Angel climbed onto the couch where Mitchell was sprawled out, scrolling on his phone. The TV was playing silently.
‘Hey,’ Natasha said, perching on the arm of the couch, clutching her handbag to her.
‘What are you doing home so early?’ Mitchell sat up slightly. Angel stretched out across the spare piece of lounge as if to claim it. She let out a grunt and a groan and closed her eyes.
‘Cancelled. Not sure what was up with Miriam and Anastasia, but Monica’s got some plumbing issue or other.’
‘Oh, you must be so disappointed – you’ve been looking forward to it for ages.’
‘Yes, since the last one was cancelled.’
‘Oh, that’s right.’ Natasha appreciated Mitchell putting on a pout.
‘Hey,’ she said, the idea suddenly coming to her, ‘it’s still early. How about coming out to dinner with me?’
‘Me?’ Mitchell said.
‘Well, I wasn’t asking Angel,’ Natasha said with a tight laugh. The dog lifted her head and looked considerably more enthusiastic than Mitchell.
‘But then I’d have to get dressed,’ he said, indicating his pyjamas.
‘Yes, you would.’
‘I’m rather settled here.’
‘I can see. It was just an idea.’ I’m trying to reconnect, Mitchell, she thought, but said, ‘It’s okay. I’ll get changed.’ Natasha suppressed the heavy sigh that was making her chest tight.
‘There’s leftover stir-fry. It’s pretty good, if I say so myself. I’ll reheat some for you,’ he said, scrambling up.
‘It’s okay. I can get it. Stay there,’ Natasha said.
‘No problem.’ He slid his feet into his slippers.
As she went through to her – once their – bedroom, she thought the fact she was dressed up and he was in his pyjamas was a clear illustration of just how out-of-sync they were. When had they last headed out together, just the two of them? Natasha tried to cast her mind back and get a fix on it as she got undressed, but came up empty. They hadn’t even celebrated their anniversary or either of their birthdays with a night out together without the kids for at least the last couple of years. Normally it didn’t bother her, but Jesse had ignited a spark of something within her. Damn him.
Natasha went through to the kitchen and sat on a stool at the island, watching Mitchell getting out cutlery and then waiting for the microwave to ding.
‘Here we go,’ he said, putting a steaming bowl in front of her. He kissed the top of her head before pulling out a stool and sitting down opposite her.
‘You don’t have to stay and keep me company,’ she said.
‘That’s okay – least I can do. Oh. Wine,’ he said, leaping up again. ‘White?’
‘Yes, thanks. This is good,’ Natasha said, savouring her first mouthful of stir-fry with Singapore noodles.
He placed a glass of wine down.
‘You’re not having one?’ she asked, looking up.
‘No. I’ve about had my quota.’
‘Oh, are we doing quotas now?’ she said, a little cheekily.
He shrugged. ‘No, not really. But I do want to check the market later. And we don’t want me inadvertently buying some lemon stock,’ he said, clearly trying to sound light.
‘Fair enough.’ She dug her fork into the bowl again. She briefly wondered if they might imbibe a bit too much. They toasted celebrations, commiserations, deaths, births, life in general … every little thing. Never blotto these days, but still, you had to have something to look forward to at the end of the workday, other than insomnia. And it wasn’t like she drank during the day, except on rare lunches out.
‘Are you upset with me for not wanting to head out? I’m sorry but …’
‘No. It was just an idea that came to me. But I get it – you’re all settled.’ And since when have we ever been spontaneous? ‘So, it’s fair enough. It’s actually quite chilly out.’
Natasha assessed how she really felt. She shouldn’t be disappointed because his response was completely predictable. And, really, it was probably for the best. What did they have to talk about over dinner, anyway? And being in a pub or restaurant would just magnify the fact that the answer to that was nothing, really – especially if there happened to be a candle or small light on the table between them. Without the buffer of the girls and their antics, and knack of keeping the conversation rolling, there’d most likely be too many awkward silences. And awkward silences tended to be filled with the putty of things that you’d buried or at least wanted to. Who was it that had said that? One of her friends? Vanessa, years ago, when she’d got divorced? Maybe. Yes, best to just let sleeping dogs lie.
‘So, what was Monica’s plumbing issue?’ Mitchell asked.
Natasha searched her memory. ‘She didn’t really say. It was a two-second phone call and it sounded chaotic in the background.’
‘Do you think she might need me to go over and lend a hand?’
Bless him, Natasha thought, tucking back into her meal. Mitchell was the first one anyone called if they needed some help. While he wasn’t at all a hands-on, DIY kind of fellow, he was the calmest, most logical one in a crisis.
