“This is happening so fast, I can’t catch my breath,” Meadow mumbled, shaking her head slightly as if she was trying to shake away the sensual fog between us.
Like hell!
Opening my mouth, I took her lips in a barely controlled kiss, teeth, lips and tongue clashed, sucked and tangled. There was no way I could allow this fire to simmer and smoulder out. Giving her even a second to reconsider not an option.
“Come home with me, Meadow,” I growled, “I want your body imprinted on my mattress, your scent on my sheets.”
Big green eyes shone back at me; this close, I could see the myriad of different shades of greens.
“Ok—”
The sound of my phone buzzing in my top pocket stopping her reply and most likely our night.
“Fuck it!”
The beaten and battered sideboard taunted me into doing something exceptional with it. To work my usual magic and give it a second chance in life, the only problem was … I had nothing.
Three hours of staring and walking around, hell, even talking to it, and I was no closer to taking a piece of sandpaper to it as I was explaining why the executives at Channel 10 decided Plate of Origin was a good idea for a cooking show.
This was what I do for heaven’s sake, I take old furniture and give it a second lease in life. Transform the scratches and dents and turn them into a story of survival. Well, most of the time, I do.
Three days ago, that all stopped. My mojo left the building at the same time that big, sexy arsehole, Luca, paused our kiss to answer his phone. Leaving me high and dry while he rushed out of the pub to go do … well, to be frank, he left me high and wet from his kisses, touches and sexy growls. Where he went, I had no idea, because he just up and left. Let me go from his embrace and dashed away.
Had I developed bad breath? Did I not kiss good enough? I mean, really, what was his friggin’ problem?
“Stupid, dumb, muscled wanker.” Muttering helped me somewhat in a lot of situations, in fact. Not just when I lock lips with a complete stranger, agree to spend the night at his place, allow him to practically grope me in public, and more or less climb his chiselled, honed body in a mini dress.
Oh, the shame. What had I been thinking getting all slutty with a man when I didn’t even know his last name?
“You weren’t thinking Meadow, you were obviously horny.”
Slamming my hand down on the surface of the poorly looked after antique, I silently apologised to the furniture gods and took a minute to calm myself. Spring was on my case to get this piece started and finished by the end of the weekend. She had a buyer for the sideboard, but if I didn’t get my gears in motion, an irate customer would be the least of my worries.
Spring had been on a rampage since the day after my disastrous dance with Luca. What she had to be pissed about, I didn’t know, she was the one that went home with her hunky, honey pot. While I made a quick exit out of the beer garden door so no one would see my flaming red face after Luca unceremoniously let me go and did a sprint for the front door. Okay, so he didn’t drop me or anything, and if I am being honest, he had given me a chaste kiss mumbling something about responsibilities and something about his crotch that I didn’t quite hear properly. The end result, however, was the same.
I went home alone to take care of myself.
Footsteps at the front of the store alerted me to the presence of either my sister or a customer. Neither one appealed to me; dealing with my sister when she was on the warpath was not a joy for customers, when all I wanted to do was commit bodily harm to Luca, also not a good idea, which pissed me off because I loved talking to customers. Seeing their eyes light up when they found the perfect piece of furniture or decoration piece. Today, however, was not that kind of day.
“Meadow?” The soft dulcet tones that was my mother’s voice came from the front room. Jumping to my feet, I rushed out of the workroom and smacked right into my mum.
“Slow your roll little girl, don’t you know I am precious to your father?” Mum tsked me good naturally with her usual jovial if not inappropriate comebacks.
Rolling my eyes, which was a constant whenever in my mum’s presence, I shook my head at her.
“Really Trish, can’t you just be normal, just once?”
“Oh Meadow, no I can’t,” Mum answered deadpan, and I couldn’t help the burst of laughter that escaped. My mother was one of a kind, and despite all the eccentricities and sometimes embarrassing behaviour, I loved the woman more than a fat kid loves cake.
“No, I don’t think I would like that anyway,” I told her, then walked into her open arms and melted into the best hug you could ever get.
“How you doing, baby girl?” My mother’s soft hands glided up and down my long hair.
“Eh, I don’t have much motivation today,” I told her truthfully. Lying to my mother was a fruitless task, she could sense a lie from her children before you even spoke it, so being honest was a must in our household.
“Not just today, from what I hear.” Pulling back, Mum cupped my cheek tenderly.
“Want to tell me about it, baby?”
“What did Spring tell you?”
“Just that you met the man of your dreams and you left the Western in tears.”
“Oh please,” I scoffed, “he was hardly the man of my dreams, and trust me, there were no tears, Trish.” The lie felt foreign on
