Barbara Hannay - Borrowed Bachelor

When Maddy thrust a bunch of irises forward, Rick merely frowned. ‘Good evening,’ she began, trying not to sound too hesitant. ‘I managed to get some more irises and I thought I’d deliver them as soon as possible in case you were going back to the hospital tonight.’

‘Thanks,’ he muttered as he accepted the bouquet. Maddy felt her eyes widen. He wasn’t exactly rude, but there was certainly something exceedingly guarded about his expression.

‘It was no trouble,’ she offered. ‘The Golden Wattle in Adelaide Street had plenty of these flowers to spare and…seeing we’re neighbours…’ Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

Rick was staring at the bunch of flowers, a deep frown drawing his brows low.

‘I’m very sorry about the tussle over the flowers this afternoon.’ Maddy tried again. ‘I hope your…um…the patient—I hope she wasn’t too disappointed.’

‘Sam?’ The tanned skin around the grey eyes crinkled and Maddy thought she caught a hint of a smile. ‘It wasn’t a problem.’

She bit her lip uncertainly. Why was this stranger making her feel so inadequate? She had always considered herself to be very good with people. While her successful business had always depended on her skills in public relations, she’d gone out of her way to be on friendly terms with her neighbours as well. Life was much more comfortable that way.

She tossed her long dark curls over her shoulder and waited in the vain hope that he would be more forthcoming. Perhaps he would tell her about the woman in hospital. Anything to be sociable. But Rick Lawson clearly didn’t feel the need to make any kind of small talk.

She shrugged. If her new neighbour had the social skills of a newt, it was a pity, but she’d get over it. ‘Look.’ She tried one last time. ‘I know you’ve just moved in here. I don’t mean to pry or anything. I just wanted to apologise about the flowers and perhaps I could—I don’t know—maybe I could cook you a meal some time as a kind of compensation. While you’re settling in,’ she added with her most encouraging smile—the one she used for uncertain customers. ‘I mean if you’re spending a lot of time at the hospital, you might be pretty tied up…and I’m always cooking extra food for my kid brother at uni. He claims they starve him.’

‘That won’t be necessary.’

His bluntness angered her. Maddy stiffened. Why couldn’t this man be a little more grateful? Helping him would be a useful distraction. It would help her forget her other woes and she would feel less guilty about using him as a weapon against Cynthia. ‘You’re going to be obstinate, aren’t you?’ she challenged him.

‘Good Lord, woman!’ Rick exclaimed, with an exaggerated heave of his shoulders. ‘I’m saving you from having to cook dinner for me. How does that make me obstinate?’

She shook her curls defensively. ‘This afternoon you seemed terribly anxious to buy some flowers for your friend. The next minute Cynthia Graham virtually grabbed them off you for—for the stupidest of reasons. I felt bad—especially as you’re not just any customer. You’re my neighbour. I like to get on with my neighbours and—and I’d like to be able to compensate.’

Rick shoved his free hand deep into the pocket of his track pants and an eyebrow arched. ‘Ms Delancy,’ he said with exaggerated forbearance, ‘how about we agree that I shall put in a compensation claim if and when I feel you or your business have inconvenienced me in any way? Does that sound acceptable?’

It sounded to Maddy like a pretty clear snub. She could add it to her list of recent failures. It was bad enough that Byron had dumped her in preference for Cynthia. But now even this mature-age street kid was shunning her friendly overtures. Perhaps he had her tagged as a loser?

‘It doesn’t sound like good neighbourly relations,’ she said huffily.

‘For Pete’s sake,’ Rick Lawson cried, running distracted fingers through his hair. ‘This isn’t the United Nations. We are simply a man and a woman who happen to live in the same building. We don’t need any kind of a relationship. You just concentrate on this new fellow who’s moving in with you.’

Maddy stared at him, her mouth opening and closing while she tried to think of anything to say.

Rick took advantage of her dilemma to drive his point home. ‘Look, I know you’ve had some kind of bust-up with your fiancè. But it’s got nothing to do with me. I’m not a counsellor. Sorting out your love life is a job for your new boyfriend.’

Her face was bright red. She could feel it. This morning in the shop he’d heard every word of her reply to Cynthia. It was small comfort that he hadn’t actually seen her indicating that he was the boyfriend in question. Maddy had never felt so embarrassed, so caught out, so angry!

Lifting her head as proudly as she could, she glared at him. ‘My love life is fine, thank you. You must have a warped view of the world if you interpret every friendly gesture as related to—to sex!’

With another toss of her head, she spun around in a rather poor imitation of a pirouette. Unfortunately, she finished awkwardly and staggered for the first few steps as she tried to march haughtily away. But at least Rick Lawson had the good grace not to chuckle—not so loudly that she heard it at any rate.

During the week that followed, the monster upstairs made Maddy cringe or feel angry every time she saw him. He passed her shop several times each day, starting with an early morning jog around the time she arrived back from the markets. So she was provided with far too many opportunities to seesaw between self-recrimination for making such a mess of a simple friendly gesture and self-righteous wrath whenever she remembered his biting responses. How had she ever thought of him as some kind of hero?

They’d virtually ignored each other all week. A curt ‘good morning’ or an unsmiling nod was the most they’d exchanged.

But by Friday evening Maddy had begun to put the silly episode behind her. Mr Lawson certainly wasn’t worth another moment’s mental anguish. She tried not to let it bother her that he’d probably guessed by now that there was no new boyfriend.

At seven o’clock she closed her timber venetian blinds to block out the lights of Inner Brisbane and with her stereo system playing the hushed, slow crooning of her favourite jazz CD she curled contentedly on her sofa.

A plate of toast piled with beans and a mug of hot mocha sat on the coffee table beside her and a whole weekend stretched in front of her. Blissfully she crunched into a piece of toast topped with spicy beans and contemplated what her weekend held.

Chrissie, her part-time assistant, looked after the shop on Saturday mornings, so all Maddy had to concentrate on was the flowers for the Jameson wedding in the afternoon. And that was more or less in hand. Sunday would be hers.

But, socially…it was an empty weekend with no dates, no invitations.

Of course, no Byron.

Maddy tried to shrug away the thought. She couldn’t afford to let her mind wander down that weary, worn-out track. Thinking about Byron with Cynthia was even more hurtful and distressing than contemplating Rick Lawson.

When her doorbell rang, she remained quite calm. After weeks of leaping to answer the telephone’s ring or a knock on the door, Maddy at last knew, without any shadow of a doubt, that there was no chance the caller would be Byron. Slowly she rose to her feet and dusted toast crumbs from her T-shirt. As she padded across the room in her bare feet, Maddy noticed a bean had rolled down her front, leaving a bright amber trail over one breast, so she dabbed at the stain with a tissue. But the orange glob simply spread further.

She swung the door open and took two rapid steps back.