If his instinct proved right, they were going to make a good team.
She did something with her hair to secure it more firmly. He tried not to watch because it wasn’t a performance, just a woman fixing her hair after it had been squashed by a helmet. He watched anyway. Mena Grady was A-grade watchable content.
Which he had to get over.
Any time now, dickhead.
“What was it about me that made you think we’d met before?” she asked.
Good question. He looked at the world through the filter of its beats. Every place had its own signature sound, but so did every person. It wasn’t always up front like the crash of the sea or the low-grade rumble of traffic. You had to listen carefully to a person, to what they said and didn’t say, to what they did, to pick up their beat. And sometimes a person’s sound changed and that told you things about them too.
Evie before she reunited with Jay had sounded angry and frantic and sometimes brittle, even when she was joking around. Now that she was secure in their love, she sounded verdant, creative. Her beat was the same but the sound it sent out was different, richer.
If he tried to explain that to Mena, she’d assume he had a screw loose.
Especially if he said he’d recognized her beat, a complex composition of melodies alternating between shy and daring, because that didn’t make any sense to him either.
“I was just checking that we hadn’t shared a nod before.”
Behind those shades she probably rolled her eyes.
“You’re laughing at me.” He wagged a finger at her.
“Only on the inside.”
“That’s where it counts most.”
“Do you feel like we’re bonding now?”
“If I say yes, you’re going to get with the riot act, aren’t you? I haven’t shown you what makes me happy yet.”
“Just remember, I’m not judging and I’m on your side.”
He groaned. “Here we go.”
“You like the beach,” she said, “You have a coastal property, it’s a good fit and a good investment. Rarely lose with property in Sydney. You should keep it.”
That sounded a lot like praise. “You’re fattening me up before the kill.”
She looked at him over the top of his mirrored shades. “These are only my preliminary thoughts. The horse has to go. You could sue over the tea-tree plantation. It was a scam, but it will tie you up with legal fees without certainty, so cutting your losses is a decent outcome.”
Yeah, he’d guessed that. “Now what.”
“I’d like to see more property in your portfolio, and I’ll suggest an adjustment to your share investment plan. I want you to stop giving great swabs of your money away to charity and individuals.”
Oh fuck no. “That’s not going to fly.” Why had he thought a change of scene was going to make this easier? That a bike ride to the beach had helped them bond.
She started talking facts and figures. He only half listened, turning his head to look out at the line of surfers waiting for a set to roll in. He paid attention again when she touched his thigh.
“Grip, I’m not saying you can’t have a giving program, but it needs to be better organized and there are tax advantages you’re not . . .” and that was all he heard because her featherlight touch felt like a hot spark that burned through denim and singed his skin.
She cut herself off, taking her fingers back and clasping her own knee. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
He spoke over her. “It’s fine. I’m not radioactive and you were holding me on the bike.”
“I wasn’t holding you.”
She had more of his jacket than she’d had of his body. “Then you should’ve been.” What was it about her that made him feel a kick at the idea she might enjoy touching him? You need to get laid, dude, it’s been too long. You need to get laid by a woman who is not your money witch.
She sighed. “I find you very distracting.”
“In a good way?” In the rockpool he could see the group assembling. This is what he’d brought her here to see.
She made a mock sobbing sound. “I can’t tell if it’s good or bad. You are not like any of my other clients.”
“Is that going to cause you a problem?” Better put that on the plate with the fish and chips because when he added the cocktail sauce with what he was about to show her, it was going to blow her taste buds.
“Not at all. We’ve bonded now for better or worse.”
A marriage made in his fiscal failures and her numerical talents. “Have you ever heard of water music?”
She pulled a face. “Is it some kind of sex thing?”
His barked laugh caused people to look their way. What would make her ask that? “It’s a music thing, Mena.”
She definitely blushed. He pointed to the group of women assembling in the calm of the pool. “They’re a touring music group from Vanuatu. They’re water drummers, only their drum kit is still water and their stick and pedals are splashes and slaps and drips. They’re giving a free performance.”
He inclined his head towards the growing audience, and Mena moved with him onto the sand and closer to the rockpool.
“Water music makes you happy?” she asked when they were on the shore, their pants rolled up their shins so they could stand in the shallows.
He dumped their helmets, jackets, her shoes and his boots on the dry sand and waved an acknowledgement to the group leader. “Water music gives me ideas.”
He hoped it might inspire Mena too and he consciously didn’t think about
