It was stop start traffic as they hit the path leading into Reserve. Over the tops of the trees Sable could see the tip of the Ferris wheel turning over, and she thought she could even hear the fairground music. And where the day before there had been acres of fresh green grass, there was now row upon row of sleek European sports cars that would look more at home in Monte Carlo, along with dented old Datsuns with their owners shining them up with pride, and more FJ Holdens than she could count.
Spying a gap in the low wooden fence lining the path, Janie hooked left, bumped over the small gutter and hit the grass.
Gripping the window frame, Sable said, “Do you know where you’re going?”
“Yep,” Janie insisted, eyes scanning the crowd as she bumped over the grassy ground. “I helped create the mud map for every car coming today. Rafe has me on the payroll as Bossy Little Sister.”
Someone official-looking suddenly jumped in their way, holding a glowing arrow. Waving madly that they head off to the left. Janie rolled her eyes, but did as she was told, and they soon found themselves in a sea of Beetles and Kombi vans, all splashed in bright, hippy colours and motifs.
Janie parked, and they both hopped out of the car.
Sable strained to see Rafe through the streams of cars and the burgeoning crowd. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Standing on tiptoes made no difference. But what if...?
She walked around the car, pressed her hands into the bonnet. “Think it’ll hold me?”
Janie grinned. “Never know till you try.”
Sable kneed her way up onto the bonnet, pausing for a second when it made a light crumpling sound. If the thing buckled, she did know someone who could fix it.
She redistributed her weight and slowly stood atop the curved roof of the old Beetle. And wondered what the hell she’d been thinking.
Rafe. She was thinking about Rafe.
Eagle eyes on high alert she scanned the crowd. Looking for dark curls. Broad shoulders. Sending out sensory feelers for a man of strength and goodness. A great big beautiful forgiving heart. And hotness that surpassed all hotness.
There! By the big rigs. Dark chambray shirt and jeans while everyone around him was rugged up in scarves and beanies. All that glorious inner heat keeping him toasty warm.
Sable shivered, wrapping the leather jacket around her T-shirt. Wishing she could wrap herself around him. Hoping, if she hadn’t screwed everything up so badly in her effort to do right, she might yet get that chance.
He was distracted, phone to his ear. Other hand on his hip. Frowning off into the distance.
Sable’s next breath in was a shaky one.
“Hey!” called Janie from way down below.
Sable didn’t dare look. She couldn’t take her eyes off Rafe lest she lose him. Again.
“I found her! She’s here! With the Kombi vans.”
“You talking to Rafe?” Sable asked.
Janie gave her a thumbs-up.
In the distance, Rafe spun on his heel, his gaze glancing off the cars in between them and the growing groups of people who were now turned her way, pointing at the crazy lady standing atop the car, as if expecting some kind of announcement. Or catastrophe.
Rafe’s hand flew out to the side as he shrugged. Sable imagined she could see his frown deepening. Oh, how she loved that brooding frown. Proof how seriously he took himself, and his place in the world. How deeply the man felt.
“Tell him to look up,” Sable said.
“Look up!” said Janie.
Rafe did just that. Stilling the moment his eyes found hers.
“Give me the phone,” Sable said, carefully crouching down and holding out her hand.
Janie reached up and slapped the mobile into her palm.
The phone was warm when it reached her ear. Or maybe her ear was warm already. She felt hot all over. Feverish. But determined.
She had no plan of what she ought to say. In fact her entire future felt blank. Beautifully so. No plans, wants, wishes, dreams, hopes, regrets or fears bar what she might do in the next minute. Bar convincing Rafe to give her another chance.
“Rafe,” she said into the phone, her voice little more than a breath.
His voice came to her, deep and dubious. “I thought you’d gone.”
“Still here. Can we talk?”
“Kinda busy right now.”
Sable blinked and the hundreds of cars still streaming into the park came back into focus.
“Right. Of course,” she said. “Yeah. Me too.”
His laughter came through the phone all tinny and faraway. But she could feel him thinking. Considering. Weighing up what was more important.
And the sense that she had pulled away, right to the very outer reaches of the invisible rubber band that had always held them together, softened, just a little.
“What the hell are you doing on top of the car, Sutton?”
“Not just any car. My car. The one you made me. With your own bare hands. Because you were smitten with me. Even back then. Even when you kept telling yourself you couldn’t be. When you were so convinced you—that wild Thorne kid—didn’t know how to be happy.”
“Sable—”
“I had to see you and it felt like the quickest way.”
She heard him breathe in deep. Saw him, even at a distance, do the same. Then his head dropped, his hand went back to his hip.
She waited. The whole world waited. Trapped between breaths. Between heartbeats. Then he lifted his head.
“Sable,” he said, only this time his voice was a rough, sexy, surrender.
The urge to go to him, Hollywood style, leaping from car rooftop to car rooftop, was huge.
“Don’t even think about it,” he said, his voice a low growl.
She felt it in her spine. Her veins. The tips of every hair on her body.
She teetered but stayed upright. “You can’t possibly know what I’m thinking.”
“I can. And I do.”
Yeah, she thought, doing a little of her own deep breathing. He really could. He really
