Attraction: (A Temptation Series Stand-alone) (The Temptation Series Book 4) (8 page)

This traumatic event, Alexis and Bryce’s traumatic event,
had now reinforced the fact that I would NEVER EVER have children of my own.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Two weeks had passed since I’d made that horrid inconsiderate
slip of the tongue to Alexis, and I wanted to prove, if not to my friends then
at least to myself, that I could be a better friend. That night, when Alexis
had told me about her miscarriage, I organised a bunch of flowers to be sent to
the apartment. I couldn’t take back what I had said, but I was a girl, and I
knew all too well that flowers always made the biggest of fuck-ups seem not so
bad. Plus Alexis loved flowers and, regardless of whether she’d accepted my
apology or not, I wanted her to have pretty buds of colour to look at and find
some form of comfort in.

During our telephone conversation, she’d asked to be left
alone; to be given time with Bryce to grieve. And as much as it damn near
killed me, I respected her request. I wanted nothing more than to take her out
— broken foot or no broken foot — plaster her with alcohol and make her forget
what had happened. But I knew deep down that it would not benefit her in the
long run, nor was it a permanent fix. Not that there could be a permanent fix
for what she had lost.

So instead I gave her space, knowing, like so many times
before, that she would call upon me when she needed me — it was how we rolled.
What she didn’t know was that her request for solitude had an expiration date.
She had one month, one month before I tracked her down.

***

For the duration of term three at Yellow Bark Primary
School, the curriculum’s focus was on emergency situations. I had arranged for
members of the police force, fire brigade, ambulance and SES to visit the
school in the coming weeks in order to educate the children through
demonstrations and impart information on what to do in the case of an
emergency.

Also, as part of Emergency Education Month, the staff had to
participate in a first aid refresher course. Pressing Send, I forwarded a memo
to the teaching staff’s email accounts, reminding them of the course and that
it was compulsory to attend.

Before I was able to move on to my next task for the day, my
phone beeped indicating a message.

Back in Melbourne. Ready for a soaking? ~ Derek

His messages had a tendency to catch me off-guard, but to be
honest, for the past couple of weeks, I hadn’t really given the sexy
firefighter much thought. I’d been depressed and moping around after Lexi
revealed her bad news. Then I’d had my new
Carly-is-the-best-friend-you-can-have makeover and had been busy pulling my
weight around the house ever since. Not to mention the enormous workload that
came with the start of a school term.

Feeling in a daring mood, I figured I’d give him a run for
his money. At Lexi’s party, he seemed to like that.

I’m not the moist type ~ Carly

Almost instantly, a response came through.

Trust me, I can make you wet ~ Derek

Fuck me stupid. He is already on his way to making
that
happen.
Going by one of Carly’s Cardinals — ‘Do not let penises have the
upper hand’ — I opted to be brazen rather than modest.
Who am I kidding?
Modesty is not a part of my repertoire.

Oh, yeah? How exactly? ~ Carly

Again, faster than Quick Draw McGraw, he drew one out and
fired it back at me.

I have a hose ~ Derek

Oh, and how I want to see this hose, touch this hose and
douse my fiery hole with it
. Caramello Koala had me hook line and sinker
and I couldn’t help but play with him.

It must be a pretty good hose ~ Carly

It’s the best. But there’s only one way for you to find out ~
Derek

Let me guess. You’ll need to use it on me ~ Carly

That’s the plan ~ Derek

Closing my eyes, I struggled to maintain my composure for
what I was about to type.

I like your plan ~ Carly

You free tomorrow night? ~ Derek

Sweet baby cheeses, yes! But no. OMG! I need to de-fuzz.
I need a colonic irrigation. I need to sharpen my nails. I need to strengthen
my facial muscles.

Yes ~ Carly

Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit.

Sweet. I’ll pick you up at six. What’s your address? ~ Derek

As I pressed Send and forwarded my address to Derek, a timid
voice captured my attention. ‘Miss Henkley, I don’t feel very well.’

I looked up to find a rather sickly-looking Samuel Barker —
aged six. To say he was many shades of green did not do his complexion justice;
he was as emerald as the city of Oz.
Eww, I hate this part of my job. I hate
vomit ... and sneezing ... and snot ... and toileting accidents.

‘Samuel, do you feel like you want to throw up?’ I asked
quickly.

He nodded gingerly. ‘Yes.’

Standing up at the speed of light, I pushed my chair back.
Every fibre in me wanted to scream,
RUN! RUN THE FUCK TO THE TOILET!
But
I didn’t. I knew very well that I was required to remain calm, although calm in
this situation went against my better judgement — that kid needed to haul arse
to the dunny and fast. ‘Well, quickly go to the sick bay toilet. I’ll be right
behind you,’ I informed him.

He moved off the step and hurriedly made his way to the bathroom
and, just as he bent over the bowl, a spewnami hurtled from his mouth.

I held my breath and pulled a face that probably had me
looking like a pufferfish. Then, gently rubbing his back, I comforted him as he
continued to vomit. ‘It’s all right, mate. Get it all out. You’ll feel so much
better.’

Fuck me, this better not be gastro.

***

What’s that saying ... famous last words, or put the mockers
on something? Well, whatever the saying is, it fucking happened. Yes, Samuel’s
spewnami was the result of gastroenteritis, which also resulted in me getting
gastroenteritis, which in turn meant my Derek-hose-sampling never occurred.

The morning of our date night — if that’s what we were to
have — I got struck down with the highly contagious bug. I’d had to text Derek
and tell him I needed a raincheck. Unfortunately, I got the impression he
hadn’t believed me. It was now four days later and still not one text from him.

The relentless stomach bug spread right through the school
faculty. Mind you, given that Lib and I lived together, it was inevitable that
she, too, would contract the virus.

I’d been vomiting on and off for days and was only just now
able to keep my food down. Lib, however, was still in the stages of
everything-is-gonna-come-up.

As she walked into the lounge room wearing her pink fluffy
slippers, Tweety Bird flannel PJs and carrying a bottle of water, I felt her
pain. I’d gained enough energy to shower and do my hair. Lib, on the other
hand, looked like a walking troll doll, her red hair somehow defying gravity.

‘Feelin’ any better?’ I asked from my curled position on the
couch.

She flopped down beside me and commandeered the other end of
the seat, resting her feet against mine. ‘No.’

Adjusting my blanket, I spread it out so that it covered her
as well. ‘You contracted it roughly a day after me, so you should start to
improve tomorrow.’

‘I hope so,’ she groaned. ‘I’ve got so much stuff to get
through in preparation for the emergency services members who are visiting
early next week.’

I flicked the channel of the TV, searching for something decent.
‘Can you not ask the substitute to get started with it?’

‘Of course, and she will. I just had some special activities
that I wanted to do with my kids.’

Lib loved being a teacher. LOVED it. She was forever going
far beyond the call of duty and what was expected of her. I didn’t get it ...
not that I really needed to.

‘Being sick sucks,’ I said resolutely. ‘I had a hot date
planned the other night which I had to cancel. And, to top it off, he is a
firefighter. Lib, my vagina is a blaze and I wanted him to put it out with his
fire hose.’

She raised her eyebrow, then scowled and rubbed her tummy.
Knowing these signs, I calculated in my head that she had less than five
minutes before she was blowing chunks again.

‘Where’d you meet him?’ Lib asked before taking what looked
like a laboured sip of her water.

‘You want me to get you anything, a dry cracker?’ I
suggested. ‘It may make you feel a little better.’

She shook her head. ‘No thanks, it will barely see my
oesophagus. I don’t want to waste a good cracker.’

I let out a small giggle. Lib was the biggest tight-arse I
had ever come across. She wasted nothing. ‘You need to eat something. You can’t
just rely on water.’

She groaned. ‘Do we have any more of those Hydralyte ice
blocks? I’ll suck on one of those.’

I stood up. ‘Hang on. I’ll check the freezer.’

Shuffling into the kitchen in my moccasins and yellow duck
PJs, I opened the freezer and searched for the hydrating ice stick.

‘So, where’d you meet this fireman?’ Lib called out from the
other room.

‘He’s Alexis’ boyfriend’s best friend,’ I shouted back,
delving into the depths of the freezer.

Managing to find the ice treat for her, I snipped the
plastic top off and wrapped it in a paper towel.
I’m such a good fucking
friend.

Just as I was about to head back into the lounge, Sasha
barked from her position outside and not so subtly scratched the glass sliding
door with her paw. I opened it and let her in. ‘Who’s a good girl?’ I praised
in my Scooby Doo voice
.

She wagged her tail and gave me a smile — at least, it
looked like a smile — then proceeded into the lounge. I followed her and handed
Libby the ice block. ‘Here. This will at least hydrate you.’

‘Thanks. So ... tell me more about this firefighter. Is he
hot?’

I laughed. Hearing Derek referred to as hot would always
make me laugh. ‘God, yes! Seriously, Lib, he is the hottest guy I have ever
seen.’

She bit down on the ice block then made a
holy-shit-that-is-cold face. ‘Nice! So when are you seeing him next?’

‘I don’t know,’ I answered sullenly.

‘What do you mean you don’t know?’

‘I mean that when I texted him and told him I had gastro, I
don’t think he believed me. He didn’t ask when I was free again.’

‘So text him back and ask when he is free,’ she suggested,
as if it were that simple. It wasn’t. There was a process, an unwritten law on
how these first dates were handled. He was meant to chase me. Not the other way
around.

‘Elizabeth,’ I sternly remarked, ‘with all due respect, when
was the last time you dated?’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ she griped.

‘A shitload. You don’t chase the guy before the first date.’
I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Everyone knows that. He has to chase you.’

‘Who says?’ she mildly groaned, clenching her tummy.

I flicked my eyes in her direction and gave her a
questioning glare. ‘You gonna be sick? If you’re gonna be sick, fuck off. This
is my favourite blanket.’

Lib closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again.
‘I’m good. I’ve got this. I am a strong woman who is in charge of her body. I
say what it does and doesn’t do.’

Looking at her as if she had grown a second head, or was
about to wrench off her bra and set fire to it in our living room, I asked her
what verbal diarrhoea was spilling from her mouth. ‘What the king fuck of
Fucktown have you been reading?’

‘None of your business. Just know that it works. I’m in
charge and ruler of my destiny.’

‘You’re a ruler of looneyville. Where all loonies liaise and
sprout utter looneyness.’

Before I was able to hold my intervention in order to pull
Lib out from her obvious descent into cray cray country, Sasha happily placed
her head in Libby’s lap and presented her with a dead bird.

‘Oh my god! What is that? Get it off me. Is that a bird?’
Libby screamed.

She leapt off the couch, flinging the mangled bird carcass
in my direction.

‘Argh! Don’t throw it at me,’ I screamed back, while
throwing my legs up in the air in defence and looking somewhat like a beetle
trying to get itself upright.

I was quickly tangled in my blanket, still performing the
beetle dance. ‘Where is it? Lib, for the love of god, where the hell is it?’

Peeking out from underneath the corner of my blanket, I
observed Lib standing there with her hand over her mouth, eyelids tightly
closed and shaking her head. It was written all over her face that in mere
seconds she was going to throw up again.

Sasha’s wagging tail, repeatedly tapping the side of the
couch, grabbed our attention. We glanced in her direction. What I thought
earlier on was Sasha smiling at me had been one hundred percent correct.
Because there, standing happily on four legs, was my dog with the dead bird
half hanging out of her smiling mouth.

‘Ugh, I’m gonna be sick,’ Lib said, running off at rapid
speed.

‘Sasha! Out! Go! Get outside,’ I yelled at her.

She gave me a look that said what-did-I-do-wrong, then
drooped her head and made her way to the back door.

***

After a week’s absence, Lib and I returned to work, having
recovered from our spate of gastro, although both of us felt a little seedy for
the duration of the work week. You’d think that after working around children
our immune systems would be invulnerable. They weren’t. Well, at least mine
wasn’t. I was forever coming down with every germ, bug and infection that these
fucklets felt necessary to share with me. Now over a week later, things had
returned to normal.

‘What the hairy spider has he written?’ I mumbled to myself
as I tried to decipher the principal’s notes for the weekly newsletter I was
typing up. ‘The prep students can write neater than this.’