Catch of The Day: Destiny Romance (11 page)

‘I told you this wasn’t a good idea,’ Alex grumbled across the table at the Old Woolstore that night.

Winnie could also sense the eyes on stalks around her, but was doing her best to act like she wasn’t the prize exhibit at an agricultural show. Let the locals think Alex had a date for the night. What did she care? Like Alex said earlier, she wasn’t going to be around for a long time – much less a good time.

She glanced around the spacious restaurant – a former historic woolstore that had been lovingly restored so it was now all timber panelling, stone walls and exposed beams.

‘And I didn’t think you cared what other people thought,’ Winnie huffed, opening her menu with a flourish. ‘Meanwhile, I’m starving just looking at all the delicious dishes – Asian
and
Aussie, so the farmers can still have their steaks! There really is something for everybody.’

Alex barely disguised a harrumph. He’d been behaving like a bore ever since they’d taken the cat to the beach, though he’d been all right earlier on. Could he be annoyed she’d told him the details of what had happened with Grant? After he’d been the one to ask. At any rate, things had certainly gone downhill since.

Having some sort of company, though, was still better than being alone on a Saturday night in social Siberia; than thinking about how she could be kicking up her heels right now with Bruna amid the bright lights of Sydney.

‘So, anything take your fancy on the menu?’ she asked Mr Closed Book, determined to keep her tone upbeat.

Alex snapped his menu shut. ‘The chilli pork should suffice.’

‘Ooh, a stir fry – nice. Hmm, well, I like the sounds of the red lentil and tofu curry.’ Winnie paused to sip her lemonade and grinned. ‘It’s kind of funny to be ordering Chinese in a place that screams “Aussie farmer”, don’t you think?’

Alex shrugged slightly, but his face remained immovable. ‘The chef’s Asian.’

Urgh. He really needed to lighten up.

Possibly sensing her frustration, his shoulders loosened a little – finally – and he cleared his throat. ‘How’s, uh, being a new parent?’

He was referring to Casper, of course, but Winnie instantly thought of her mum. And Dad. ‘Well, I can’t be any worse than my own at the job,’ she deadpanned.

‘Family,’ Alex agreed quietly. ‘They can be the bane of our existence.’

‘I gather you’re the black sheep then?’

‘Something like that,’ he offered sullenly.

A waitress hovered to take their orders. Winnie related hers, hastily adding, ‘And could I have cutlery instead of chopsticks, please?’

The waitress nodded. After she’d taken Alex’s order and sailed away, he turned to Winnie with a teasing gleam in his eye. ‘You eat Chinese with a knife and fork? And here I thought you were a woman of the world.’

‘Your choice of words, not mine. You’re the one who seems keen to keep putting me in a box.’

Alex shifted forwards in his seat, his knees momentarily knocking hers. She tried not to think about the taut thighs they led to. ‘Okay, how about we try some other labels on for size? What would you call someone who lies about how long they’re sticking around town for? Or who canoodles with their married boss? Huh?’

Darn one drunken night for loosening her lips in his company. She hadn’t told him the complete story just so he could use it against her. She narrowed her gaze. ‘This from the man who’s probably broken more hearts around town – Cyndi’s included – than had hot dinners. Like you’re so perfect. Ever been a one-woman man, Alex?’

‘Once,’ he offered sullenly, sitting back on his chair. ‘Never again.’

He was nothing if not predictable. Suddenly, Winnie had no idea why she’d invited him to dinner. He was right – it
was
a bad idea. What had she been thinking? No amount of loneliness should have made her resort to entertaining his company. Pity she kept being distracted by the gold flecks in his green eyes. And those big, strong, tanned hands of his.

Their not-so-friendly banter was swiftly interrupted by the waitress returning with steaming, heaped plates. She placed one in front of each of them. Alex speared the stir fry with his chopsticks as the waitress trotted away. At least devouring the food would stop him talking, stop harsh words spilling from those well-formed lips.

Swallowing a generous mouthful, Alex suddenly looked up, his eyes watering and his face flaming like he had a fever. He reached a hand up to his throat, emitting a hacking cough. Clearly, the dish had more chilli than he’d thought.

Winnie couldn’t help enjoying seeing the master of control slip for once, despite feeling a little mean. It’d only last so long.

Coolly, she downed the dregs of her lemonade, noting his beer glass was empty. ‘Too hot for your tastes? Must be really
authentic
Chinese, then.’

Alex grabbed a slice of bread from his plate and tore into the crust with his teeth.

Winnie grinned. ‘Guess you’re not a man of the world either then.’

A gleaming black BMW X5 SUV was parked outside Eden’s house on Sunday. Gliding into a spot behind, Winnie figured it could only be the bride from hell’s chariot. It offered plenty of room for future princelings with double-barrelled surnames. She could see two shadowy heads – of the adult variety – in the back seat and one in the front, which meant she was the last to arrive and Eden was raring to go. Bugger.

Climbing out of her own car, Winnie headed towards the BMW, halting mid-step when a stream of water squirted in her eyes. She rubbed at them, trying to blink the offending droplets away. Bloody Eden must have used been using the windshield washer.

As if on cue, the bride-princess poked her head out the driver’s window, oblivious to her actions. ‘Hello, Winnie,’ she cooed, before opening the door and jumping out. A diamond horseshoe pendant glimmered like lightning at her neck, while a black velvet headband kept her hair in check in the sea breeze. ‘I picked the other two up from brunch on the way back from church this morning. Feel free to hop in. I just remembered I left my second wedding folder inside – won’t be a jiffy.’

Second
wedding folder?

‘Uh, no problems.’

Eden winked over her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you girls to introduce yourselves.’

‘Okay then,’ Winnie murmured, heading towards the front passenger door. Her palms were suddenly clammy, just imagining what the Edenettes would be like. The things she did for her job. Wrenching open the door, she slid onto the beige leather seat, immediately assaulted by the scent of a vanilla air freshener. Vanilla was obviously Eden’s signature scent.

It was now or never. Placing her handbag on the floor, she gritted her teeth and turned to smile at Eden’s clones. As she did so, her stomach dropped umpteen storeys. She reached a hand back to grip the door handle, cursing Eden for her ill-timed disappearance.

‘
You
,’ she squeaked, staring into none other than Cyndi Hartley’s big blue eyes. To make matters worse, the crazy beautician’s pregnant sidekick was seat-belted to her left.

Darn. She should have twigged Honey might be involved in the wedding. Really, how many pregnant women would there be in such a small town at the same time? A second thought hit her – Alex. He must have known who was in the bridal party. Well, it would have been nice if he’d warned her. Instead he’d probably been secretly amused at how things might play out.

Cyndi’s gaze dropped to her lap, where she was busily rubbing a non-existent mark on her trousers. ‘Hello again.’ Colour stained her cheeks, which was something. Still, anger rushed through Winnie, replacing her fear.

‘
Why?
Why’d you steal my shoes and clothes the other day and leave me in the lurch? It wasn’t very . . . nice.’ In her rage, she couldn’t think of a better word.

Head still down, Cyndi pouted overly glossy pink lips. ‘I thought you’d come back to collect them. It was just a joke. Everything’s still at the salon.’ Looking up, she pouted some more. ‘There’s no need to cry about it.’

‘I’m
not
crying,’ Winnie huffed. ‘Eden got the stupid windscreen washer in my eye.’

Honey leant forwards urgently – well, as far as her pregnant stomach would allow her seatbelt to stretch. ‘What I think my friend here is trying to say is sorry. I tried to make her go back with your stuff that day, but she wouldn’t see sense.’

The curvy blonde toyed with her hands. ‘Maybe I did overreact a bit,’ she relented. ‘It’s just a friend of a friend saw Alex dropping you at your unit and I kind of lost it. We have . . . history.’

Small-town talk was apparently even speedier at getting around than Zara was at putting out collections. It was high time Winnie quashed Cyndi’s unfounded concerns.

‘Nothing’s going on between us,’ she assured her. ‘Alex and I work together, that’s all. He’s doing some photos as a sideline for the magazine I edit. And for the record – if you hear anything – I had dinner with him at the Old Woolstore last night, which was purely platonic. Nothing more, nothing less.’

She need not mention the sex dream she’d later had starring the fisherman, following their harsh words at the restaurant. It had disturbed her even more than the nightmare about Mrs Mannix’s late husband.

‘Right,’ Cyndi said to her lap. ‘Guess you’ve probably got a boyfriend back wherever you’ve come from anyway . . .’

‘Sydney,’ Winnie said quietly. ‘And no, I don’t.’

Honey nodded her head at Cyndi, rolling her eyes. ‘This one thinks every pash she has with a bloke is a full-on love affair. Her ex, T-Bone, screwed with her head a little. Seriously, it’s not like she has any claim on Alex.’

Cyndi’s head jerked up. ‘Thanks a lot.’

Honey shrugged petite shoulders. ‘Someone’s got to tell you and it may as well be a good friend.’

The pair were like an old married couple who relished in niggling each other. Amusement slowly began to replace Winnie’s fury. They were kind of funny. Strange, but funny.

‘Not all of us are lucky enough to backpack around Oz on a gap year from Sweden and wind up with a rich cray fisherman.’ Cyndi pouted. ‘Even if you’re half the height of the average six-foot blonde from your home country. And what’s with that hello-sailor neckline you’re wearing today anyway?’

‘I can’t help the extra cleavage,’ Honey retorted. ‘My chest’s next life is as a milk bar. Though, admittedly, the mauve
does
make me look a bit like the Purple People Eater, as though I ate the old, skinny-minny Honey.’

She sighed and Winnie swallowed a giggle.

‘So,’ she ventured a nod at Eden’s house, ‘how’d you guys get roped into this?’

Cyndi pulled a face and Winnie felt instantly relieved she hadn’t put her foot in it. ‘Eden’s kind of hard to say no to. We call her the General. I think she thought, as friends, we were a package deal. Though Honey didn’t know she was pregnant when she agreed. We’re just praying the bridesmaid gifts are good.’

‘Do you know who the other girl was who dropped out?’ Winnie enquired.

‘Just some old schoolfriend of hers.’ Honey shrugged. ‘A snob from the city . . . uh, no offence.’

Winnie offered a half-smile. She’d been called worse things, including by Alex. ‘None taken.’

They were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and Eden darting out. Seconds later, the bride-princess slipped back into the driver’s seat, starting the engine. ‘Good to see you girls have introduced yourselves. So, what did I miss?’

Honey piped up brightly from the back seat, ‘I was just telling the others about my new vaginal weights that arrived in the mail the other day. They’re meant to strengthen my pelvic floor post-labour, seeing as I’ve been useless at doing any exercises in the lead-up. Can you believe I weed when I sneezed the other day?’

Winnie bit the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing. Honey had a mouth from the south to rival Olive’s.

‘Interesting,’ Eden said primly, steering the BMW into the street.

‘Yeah, pregnancy’s a real riot,’ Honey plunged on. ‘The cankles, the snoring, my fingers swelling up like frankfurters so I can’t get my wedding ring off, swallowing multivitamins the size of horse tablets every morning, being unable to pick something up off the floor when I’m a klutz, random people rubbing my tummy for luck like I’m a genie in a bottle. Did you know after the birth your feet can permanently remain one size bigger and your bellybutton stay an outie?’

‘I’m sure there are lots of
lovely
things about being pregnant too . . .’ Eden’s voice was a tad high-pitched.

‘No periods,’ Cyndi chimed in.

‘Well, I plan to be pregnant one year from my wedding,’ Eden said resolutely, eyes on the road. ‘Then have a break of about two years and try for another one.’

Winnie bet Eden already timed her and Flynn’s bedroom activity with precision.

‘I’d like two kids one day, too,’ she found herself saying. Despite the poor example of family life her parents had set, it was what she’d always imagined for herself. Maybe it was the only child in her.

A glossy catalogue hovered in Winnie’s face, opened to a particular page. ‘Well, this is what you can look forward to wearing when you do get knocked up,’ Honey said. ‘Though they feature models with tiny bumps who’ve really only eaten a sandwich. My bump size is apparently too gargantuan for the fashion pages. Check out these nursing tops.’

Grabbing the catalogue, Winnie glanced at the image of a model pulling back the top of her scoop-neck number to reveal a hint of breast. ‘I
have
seen similar attire in Kings Cross,’ she deadpanned.

‘I don’t even get the fun of pregnancy aqua aerobics or baby expos here to make up for all the pain,’ Honey moaned.

Winnie twisted around to hand back the catalogue. ‘I’m sure you’ll fall in love with the cherubs once they arrive.’

Honey’s gaze grew dreamy. ‘I know.’

Eden jumped on the pause in conversation. ‘So what would you girls like to do first when we arrive in Mount Gambier?’ She glanced at Winnie. ‘Famed for its Blue Lake.’ Then she looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Lunch?’

Outside the window, houses made way for farmland and endless sky. Honey patted her belly. ‘Indeed. I’m hanging for Singapore noodles and KFC chips – all at the same time. The twins are like tiny vampires, sucking the nutrients out of me. First though, being pregnant, I’ll have to wee.’