with a renewed sense of resolve.
To find Ry staring right at her.
CHAPTER
6
He’d seen her from across the street. It was as if he had some kind of warped radar when it came to Julia. It was only a glance and he knew it was her. No double-take necessary because, damn it to hell, he’d know her anywhere. And as he stood there, feet planted on the footpath out front of some gallery, Amanda’s voice like an angry seagull screeching in his ear, all he could see was Julia.
He decided his best option was to stay exactly where he was. Was he a weak-arse coward for not wanting to run into her? They did have an agreement, after all, to stay as far away from each other as possible. To pretend they didn’t even know each other. If he stayed on his side of the street, keeping his distance from her, he could meet his part of that agreement. Could they really be in the same neck of the woods and not run into each other? For fuck’s sake, who was he kidding? She lived next door. Middle Point seemed to be at the centre of some huge geographic conspiracy to throw them together.
Even from across the street he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Which is why he realised something wasn’t right. She looked overcome, with her eyes squeezed tightly closed and her hands jammed into the pockets of her big coat. She wasn’t moving, seemed glued to the spot outside of the fancy shop with big blue pots in the window. Even at that distance he could see the rise and fall of her chest, as if she was trying to catch her breath.
Instinct overcame reason and history and good sense and, without thinking, he stepped off the footpath and onto The Strand, and was almost collected by a fast-approaching Volvo to his right. With a curse under his breath and an adrenalin rush, he pulled up, stepped backwards out of harm’s way and returned the grim look the driver shot at him.
There was a pause down the line. ‘Ry? Are you still there?’
‘Must be a bad line. Where did you say you were?’
The second time he crossed, he was more careful, making sure to look both ways, before ducking between cars to reach Julia. He found himself standing right in front of her and when he looked at her up close, a waveof resignation and regret swamped him. The woman he hadn’t seen in fifteen years still got him right where it hurt. That mysterious place somewhere between the neck and the gut that he didn’t have a name for, but when it ached, it felt like hell.
And there she was, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing there. God, she was still as beautiful as he remembered, her cascading brown curls framing her face, her skin — so soft and pale — was anchored by high cheekbones, her lashes lay full and long on her cheeks.
Had he thought about Julia in all those years? Too many times to count. Usually late at night, in the quiet dark, when there was too much time to think about all the what-ifs in his life. Sometimes in the morning when he woke up alone and wondered what his life would have been like if things had turned out differently. When he’d bought the pub. When he walked the Middle Point beach. Every time he looked up at the dazzling night sky, studying once again the stars he’d only ever seen with her.
He was caught out.
Julia opened her eyes and gasped. Her full lips parted as if she was about to speak, then she hesitated, caught herself, and simply stared right through him. Like he was a complete stranger.
Ry reached a hand up to rub his chest. There was that ache again. She was looking at him as if they’d never met or seen each other naked. Fuck . Ry wanted to slap himself across the head. Don’t think about her naked. It was way too late for that now. The images were right there, like a photo. And if he couldn’t stop thinking about her naked, there was no way he could do anything about the long, slow trip his eyes took down her body, from her caramel eyes past her big old woolly coat to the tips of a pair of unbelievably
To find Ry staring right at her.
CHAPTER
6
He’d seen her from across the street. It was as if he had some kind of warped radar when it came to Julia. It was only a glance and he knew it was her. No double-take necessary because, damn it to hell, he’d know her anywhere. And as he stood there, feet planted on the footpath out front of some gallery, Amanda’s voice like an angry seagull screeching in his ear, all he could see was Julia.
He decided his best option was to stay exactly where he was. Was he a weak-arse coward for not wanting to run into her? They did have an agreement, after all, to stay as far away from each other as possible. To pretend they didn’t even know each other. If he stayed on his side of the street, keeping his distance from her, he could meet his part of that agreement. Could they really be in the same neck of the woods and not run into each other? For fuck’s sake, who was he kidding? She lived next door. Middle Point seemed to be at the centre of some huge geographic conspiracy to throw them together.
Even from across the street he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Which is why he realised something wasn’t right. She looked overcome, with her eyes squeezed tightly closed and her hands jammed into the pockets of her big coat. She wasn’t moving, seemed glued to the spot outside of the fancy shop with big blue pots in the window. Even at that distance he could see the rise and fall of her chest, as if she was trying to catch her breath.
Instinct overcame reason and history and good sense and, without thinking, he stepped off the footpath and onto The Strand, and was almost collected by a fast-approaching Volvo to his right. With a curse under his breath and an adrenalin rush, he pulled up, stepped backwards out of harm’s way and returned the grim look the driver shot at him.
There was a pause down the line. ‘Ry? Are you still there?’
‘Must be a bad line. Where did you say you were?’
The second time he crossed, he was more careful, making sure to look both ways, before ducking between cars to reach Julia. He found himself standing right in front of her and when he looked at her up close, a waveof resignation and regret swamped him. The woman he hadn’t seen in fifteen years still got him right where it hurt. That mysterious place somewhere between the neck and the gut that he didn’t have a name for, but when it ached, it felt like hell.
And there she was, completely oblivious to the fact that he was standing there. God, she was still as beautiful as he remembered, her cascading brown curls framing her face, her skin — so soft and pale — was anchored by high cheekbones, her lashes lay full and long on her cheeks.
Had he thought about Julia in all those years? Too many times to count. Usually late at night, in the quiet dark, when there was too much time to think about all the what-ifs in his life. Sometimes in the morning when he woke up alone and wondered what his life would have been like if things had turned out differently. When he’d bought the pub. When he walked the Middle Point beach. Every time he looked up at the dazzling night sky, studying once again the stars he’d only ever seen with her.
He was caught out.
Julia opened her eyes and gasped. Her full lips parted as if she was about to speak, then she hesitated, caught herself, and simply stared right through him. Like he was a complete stranger.
Ry reached a hand up to rub his chest. There was that ache again. She was looking at him as if they’d never met or seen each other naked. Fuck . Ry wanted to slap himself across the head. Don’t think about her naked. It was way too late for that now. The images were right there, like a photo. And if he couldn’t stop thinking about her naked, there was no way he could do anything about the long, slow trip his eyes took down her body, from her caramel eyes past her big old woolly coat to the tips of a pair of unbelievably
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