Annie West - Dreaming Of... Australia

She sat back.

Terrifying . Sam Gregory—the man who seemed to be afraid of nothing—was frightened for his marriage. Everything he’d not quite said these past days, every ‘fine’ instead of ‘great’ came into crashing focus.

This changed everything.

And nothing.

The tightly reined emotion in his eyes said that he was raw and hurting and vulnerable to suggestion;

this was not the time to be careless with the knowledge she’d unexpectedly found herself holding. But she could lead by example and have some courage.

‘I kissed you before I knew you were married,’ she said.

His eyes flared, as if he hadn’t truly expected her ever to return to the taboo subject. Maybe he’d thrown it out there as a distraction, but she grabbed it with both hands.

Fair’s fair .

‘I’m not someone who would ever knowingly …’ Her father’s wandering eye had wrecked her family. But she couldn’t tell Sam that. That wasn’t the sort of thing you revealed over a casual lunch. Even her friend Danielle didn’t know the full story about her past. ‘I wouldn’t have done it if I’d realised.’

Talking about the kiss was somehow self-fulfilling, drawing her eyes to his lips unconsciously and reminding her of how they’d felt so warm and surprised against hers. Her mouth watered with the memory.

She forced her eyes upward only to collide with ones so intense and earnest they stole her breath.

‘You remember it. I was beginning to wonder.’

‘Of course I remember it. How many men in vehicle wrecks do you imagine I’ve kissed?’

‘Not as many as me.’

‘Wh—?’

‘Mouth-to-mouth,’ he said with a straight face, but couldn’t hold it. His smile undid all the tension of the past five minutes.

Her relief bubbled over. He was making this easier for her. How was it possible she was laughing again so soon after the awkwardness of just a moment ago?

Because this was Sam. ‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘That’s what I was doing that night.’

He laughed. ‘Yeah, let’s go with that. Really good mouth-to-mouth.’

And just like that the awkwardness was back. At least for her. Sam didn’t seem the slightest bit affected. His eyes strayed to the large parcel that contained the mirror, and he took shelter in a new subject. ‘I just hope Mel likes it as much as you and I did,’ he said.

Wow—how much had changed that talking about his wife was safer territory between them? ‘She will. She’d have to be blind not to see how hard you’ve worked to get the perfect gift.’ No man had ever made an effort to please her as Sam was making an effort to please his wife. ‘She’s very lucky.’

Her breath sucked in on a tiny gasp at her accidentally spoken words.

Sam lifted his eyes. ‘Lucky?’

‘That you’re going to so much effort,’ she stumbled. ‘That you care enough to do … all of this … for her. You could have just gone with flowers.’

His lips twisted. ‘She has no idea.’

‘Then tell her,’ Aimee said, locking her eyes on his. ‘Every woman deserves to know she’s cherished.’

Sam frowned. ‘I can’t even imagine a conversation between us that would lead to that.’

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘You don’t talk?’

‘Not like that.’ He shook his head and his gaze flickered away. ‘Not like this.’

Again her breath tightened. So it wasn’t only she who found their time together easy and natural. ‘That surprises me.’

His eyes lifted. ‘Why?’

She shrugged. ‘The Sam I met dangling off that highway … That’s not a man I can imagine having difficulty communicating.’

‘Mel’s not really a talker.’

‘Have you tried?’

His eyes shaded over. ‘Repeatedly.’

She knew firsthand how frustrating it was to try and talk to someone who didn’t reciprocate. Except in her case it had been more a case of Wayne not being a listener. He just hadn’t stopped talking long enough for her to get a word in, and if she had, his reflex had been to disregard it.

Sam’s gentle voice drew her eyes back to his. ‘Has someone made you feel like that? Cherished?’ The blue of his irises seemed to have grown richer.

Her mouth opened and then closed again without answer. That wasn’t a question she could answer without embarrassing both of them.

Silent moments ticked by.

‘Is our friendship one-way, Aimee?’ he asked out of nowhere, shifting in his seat, not letting up with the eye-contact. Not angry, but rough enough that she winced—just slightly. ‘You can ask me personal things but I can’t ask you?’

‘I …’ That was actual hurt in his eyes. Or was she imagining it? Her pulse quickened. ‘I’ve … I must have …’

He leaned forward. ‘Everything I know about you I know from that one night on the mountain. Since then you haven’t … invited personal conversation.’

Her heart beat in her throat. ‘We just had one. About …’ The Kiss .

‘That wasn’t personal. We were both involved. I’d like to know more about Aimee Leigh, about what makes her tick. You told those kids yesterday more about yourself in one hour than you’ve told me since we met.’

Old scars pinched tightly. In her household personal discussions had been discouraged lest they led to … you know … actual caring. She didn’t do emotional risk. And opening up to this particular man would definitely be risky.

‘Why?’

The question seemed to anger him. ‘Because we’re friends, Aimee. Or at least I think we are. I don’t know.’ He threw his hands into the air. ‘Maybe we’re not?’

Her chest tightened. Friends . ‘We are. Of course we are.’ It’s all we ever can be .

‘Then open up. Let me in.’

She matched the lift in his voice, though hers was tighter. ‘I can’t.’

He pressed his palms onto the table. ‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re not mine to let in,’ she half-shouted, her chest fixed with the pain of where they were about to go, of what she’d just admitted.

Neither of them moved.

For entire moments.

Even the birds around them held their breath. ‘Opening up means something to me, Sam. I’m programmed to …’ She shook her head. ‘It means something.’

Her parents had cloistered her so tightly she didn’t even know how to take a risk. How to dare to.

He leaned in. ‘Aimee, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be obtuse. I truly do not understand what you’re saying.’

Her face pinched, and she recognised somewhere far away, deep inside, that this was not one of her finest moments. Her breath fluttered. ‘I don’t … open up … easily. But if I did it would be because we meant something to each other. And we don’t have that kind of relationship.’

He squinted his confusion. ‘You do mean something to me, Aimee.’

She groaned her frustration. ‘I’m not talking about friendship, Sam.’ Lord, could he not hear her?

He shook his head, as though it might rattle all the pieces together into an understandable shape. ‘Are you saying that you only open up with someone if you’re in a relationship?’

She just stared at him.

‘What? So I’m either in or I’m out?’ he grated. ‘There’s nothing in between?’

‘You’re not someone I could let in just a little bit, Sam.’ Please understand what I’m saying .

Please .

He blinked at her. ‘I don’t want to be out.’

So innocent in its utterance, so painful in its intent. ‘But you can’t be in.’

And finally it dawned in his eyes. What she was trying so hard not to say. He sat back and took a deep, slow breath. ‘This is about Melissa.’