Hold On to Me (39 page)

Love.

Yes, she had been loved. She could see that now through the eyes of an adult. And she felt the gift of that love in her own heart. Hers was filled with so much love that she wanted—no, needed—to share it. With this town, with her friends.

And finally, completely, with Luca Morelli.

She'd set the wheels in motion the week before last and spoken to Ian and Lee. They were thrilled and had agreed to the sale immediately once she'd told them she had a wonderful builder who would be more than able to do the work to restore the place.

Or at least she hoped she still had a builder.

Oh, Luca.

He'd waited so patiently for her. He'd never pushed, and had given her the space she needed to get help, which she might never have done if it hadn't been for him.

He was a one in a million. There was nothing surer.

Although she wanted to know what he thought first, she'd been doing a lot of thinking of her own about what she would do with the space, and had decided to keep it simple. Her plan was to turn it into a gallery instead of returning it to its former life as a café. She figured Luca would advise her that the rebuild overheads would be lower if she didn't have to install a commercial kitchen, and anyway, it definitely wasn't the time to try to lease out another café, given the quieter autumn and winter months ahead.

Stella looked up to the sky, blue and shimmering and warm on her pale skin. She was putting down roots and she didn't have the words to describe how that made her feel. Grounded. Maybe that was it. The upheavals of her childhood, her failures in Sydney, were all behind her, and had been for years, although she hadn't realised that until now.

She checked her watch. It was almost time to open the shop and she had to squeeze in a double espresso first. Within a couple of minutes she was ordering her coffee at the best café in Port Elliot (formerly the second-best) and waiting for it to be handed to her.

She felt good. She felt happy, but she still had one thing to resolve.

‘Here you go, Stella.' The waiter passed her coffee over the counter and she paid for it in loose coins she'd been clutching in her hand. With a smile, she breathed in the heady aroma and headed back to Style by Stella.

‘Are you gunna finish that coffee so we can go see this shop?'

Grace Morelli was sitting opposite Luca, wearing a huge broad-brimmed hat, and tapping her fingers on the table like a crazy woman.

‘In a minute,' Luca said, downing his third double espresso. He was back in Port Elliot, two minutes walk away from Style by Stella, and he was slightly freaking out.

‘Well, come on. Anna's told me all about the shoes and I need to see them for myself.'

‘Okay, okay.' Luca stood, pushing back his chair with a scrape, and followed his little sister out onto the street.

He'd been waiting patiently for the woman he loved to get the help she needed, but he couldn't wait any more. He thought that he could show how much he loved her by giving her space. But that was bullshit.

He had a whole other plan to show her. And it was burning a hole in his pocket.

Stella reached her shop, unlocked it and flipped the sign on her front door back to
Open
. When she was inside the empty quiet space, she breathed a sigh. She would never tire of looking around Style by Stella, at all the things she loved and which her customers loved too. The bright colours cheered her and the sun shining down from the skylight—Luca's skylight—was bright on a display table of her loveliest glassware. Just as Luca had suggested, it acted as a drawcard to every person who walked in. No matter what else was happening in her life, her shop was a constant. She had managed to make that a success by pouring all her energy into it. And now, she had a plan to pour lots more energy into the shop next door.

Lots of energy.

Lots of pent-up energy of the sexual kind.

Boy, did she have a lot of that going on. She fished her mobile phone out of her bag and was about to dial Luca's number when the bell above the door tinkled.

It was Courtney, in uniform, frowning. ‘Hey, Stella.'

‘Hey, Constable. You look like you're in a hurry.'

‘I've got a date. And I'm desperate.'

‘Aren't we all?' Stella said with a raised eyebrow.

‘Oh god, I'm that too, but right now I need a dress. Something that doesn't look like …' she motioned to her dark navy trousers and shirt ‘… “cop”.'

Stella weaved around the counter to grill her friend. ‘So when did this all happen, huh?'

Courtney blushed the colour of sunburn. ‘I was called out to a break and enter last night and he lives next door. He wasn't a witness or anything. He just happened to arrive home when I was about to leave. And we got talking about old Mrs Derringer and then we got on to how he'd just moved here from Adelaide and didn't know her that well. It turns out he's the new teacher at the high school. And did I mention really cute, in a nerdy, hot, distracted kind of way?'

‘Sounds interesting. And you're not breaking any kind of ethical police rules or anything because he's not a victim or a criminal, right?'

Courtney's face lit up. ‘Exactly! I'm totally ethically in the clear. Which is such a relief. Not that I have found criminals I've arrested vaguely cute at all, given that the chances of them being guilty are pretty high. Although there was that one guy I caught speeding on the road to Yankalilla last Easter. Boy, was he a picture. Dangerous, you know? But totally out of bounds, obviously.'

‘Obviously,' Stella agreed.

‘So that's why I'm excited about the teacher. He seems totally normal in that cute, nerdy, hot, distracted kind of way. Did I mention that before?'

‘Yes.'

‘So anyway, that's why I'm here.'

‘How hot do you want to look?'

Courtney's eyes widened. ‘You have to ask? I want can't-keep-his-eyes-off-me hot. I want steam-up-his-glasses hot. Can you pull off a miracle, do you think?'

‘I have some shoes I think might just do the trick.' Stella grabbed Courtney's hand and led her across the shop to a particular pair of bright red stiletto heels. They were the ones Anna Morelli had loved and bought at the reopening and Stella had continued stocking them ever since. It seemed women loved a pair of fuck-me shoes as much as men did.

Courtney
oohed
and
aahed
as she handled the shiny patent leather, turning one over and assessing the heel height. ‘These are totally gorgeous, even though I won't be able to walk in them without losing feeling in my toes. I don't know, Stella.'

‘Trust me. You want hot? These shoes are hot.'

Courtney put the shoe back on the display rack. ‘I think they might be a little excessive for the Middle Point pub on a Monday night.'

Stella thought for a moment. ‘What if you bought these instead of a new frock and wore your navy sundress, the one you bought last summer for your grandmother's birthday barbeque? Maybe some silver hoop earrings or a chunky necklace? That would look so great on you. And it'll be hot without being over-the-top hot, you know what I mean?'

A smile began to blossom on Courtney's face. Once they'd found her size, she tried them on in a change room so as not to arouse any suspicions that she was a strip-o-gram, and then whipped out her credit card.

Stella reached down to a low shelf for a paper bag and a pile slipped out onto the floor. She pushed them aside with her foot and completed Courtney's transaction before slipping the shoebox into a bag. ‘I want all the gory details, Courtney. I especially want to know if the FM shoes worked.'

Courtney's eyebrows knitted together. ‘The who what?'

Stella lowered her voice. ‘The fuck-me shoes.'

Courtney snorted. ‘That's good. Let's hope that's really what they are. I'll catch up with you—and thanks so much, Stella. You're a lifesaver.' She turned to go.

‘One more thing,' Stella said.

‘What's that? Make sure I have a condom?'

‘Well, that too.' Stella grinned. ‘But I was going to suggest you wear bright red lipstick.'

‘Thank you, style guru. Bright red lipstick. I'm on it.' Courtney smiled and walked out the door. Stella crouched down to tidy the dropped paper bags, pushing them back onto the shelf under the counter. She stood, grabbed her phone and dialled Luca's number.

Then she heard the shop's front door bell tinkle and a familiar ring tone.

And her heart thudded at what she saw.

Luca Morelli walked into her shop, his long-legged stride and echoing footsteps so familiar to her that she would have known it was him even if she'd had her eyes clenched shut. He stopped a metre from the counter, lifted his chin and nodded in her direction.

He held out his phone. ‘You calling me?'

Stella hurriedly jabbed her finger on her phone keypad to disconnect the call. ‘What are you doing here?' she stammered, her voice a mixture of happiness and bubbling nerves. She couldn't believe he was there, as if by just thinking about him she'd summoned him out of thin air. That was a party trick she wouldn't mind perfecting.

‘It's great to see you. You look great,' Luca said.

‘You too.' Of course he looked great. He wasn't dressed in a fancy way, just a plain old Luca relaxed way, in worn denims and a white T-shirt. It didn't need to be tight to hint at what was underneath it: she knew full well what that well-worn fabric was covering.

His gaze flickered from her eyes down her dress, a sleeveless tunic she was wearing with pointed beige flats. Around her wrist dangled a bone-coloured chunky bangle and her signature red lipstick was freshly applied.

Luca tucked his phone in his front pocket. ‘So … what's up? You can tell me in the flesh now. You got a problem with something?' Luca lifted his eyes to the ceiling, looked around at his work. Her heart swelled at the pride in his face.

‘Not a problem as such.' Stella bit her lip and tried to find something meaningful to do with her hands in case she accidentally reached out for him.

‘No?' When his gaze returned to her face—her lips, to be precise—she had a shock of memory about kissing him, and being kissed by him. And dear god, it looked like he was thinking the same thing because he seemed reluctant to look away from her.

‘Luca!' Someone was calling his name from the doorway.

When the bell above the door tinkled again, a woman joined them. She was petite—hell, she was short. She was wearing a pretty sundress and a golden tan and her full lips were pulled to one side in a scowl. She held a huge hat in her hand, in tan raffia.

‘I said I'd be two seconds, Luca. I just ducked across the road to the bookshop and I turned around and you weren't there. Would it have killed you to wait for me?' When the woman's attention drifted from the back of Luca's head to Stella, she stopped and covered her mouth with a flat palm. ‘Oh. Sorry. I didn't see you there.'

‘Welcome to Style by Stella,' its owner proudly proclaimed. She swallowed to loosen up her clenched throat.

‘Wow.' The woman glanced around, taking in the shop and all its pretty, shiny things. ‘This is incredible.' And then she elbowed Luca in the side. ‘So, is this her?' The woman's gaze switched back and forth from Luca to Stella, like she was watching the final of the Australian Open. When Luca didn't answer, she nudged him again, more fiercely this time. ‘Well, is it?'

Luca shoved a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah. Stella, this is Grace. Grace, Stella.'

‘Nice to meet you.' Stella could feel her nails digging into her palms. It hurt like hell. She wanted it to.

Grace swivelled her gaze back to Stella. ‘You won't believe how much I've heard about this place.'

Stella found a smile. ‘Really? That's so nice to hear.'

‘He hasn't shut up about it. For months.'

Stella flicked a glance at Luca.
Months?

Grace threw her hands in the air in frustration. ‘For god's sake, you two. Will you talk to each other? I'll be in the bookstore across the road.' With a huff, the pocket rocket stormed out. Stella blinked. There was something so confrontingly familiar about the woman. Her height. Her stomping. The way she spoke to Luca.

Stella turned her attention to Luca and pointed at the empty doorway. ‘Is that …?'

He rolled his eyes. ‘My little sister. Graciella Morelli.'

‘Oh. Your sister. Of course.' And then Stella started to shiver inside. It came over her so suddenly she reached out to grasp the edge of the counter to steady herself.

‘I wanted to show her what I did here.' The corners of his lips curved upwards. ‘What we did together.'

In an instant, Luca was by her side, his strong fingers on her forearm. ‘You all right?'

Stella's gaze dipped to the top of the counter. The old Formica was covered in golden stars. Or maybe she was seeing them: she couldn't exactly be sure. His voice was in her ear, soft and powerful, making her shiver harder.

‘I'm fine.' How could she tell him that she'd thought his sister was someone else entirely? How could she tell him her knees were buckling in sweet relief that he hadn't moved on, that perhaps he hadn't found someone else to love?

She didn't have the right to go back there, to that place where they were together and they could say things like that to each other.

But to hell with it.

She decided to anyway.

Because Stella had learnt something while they'd been apart. Her past and her secrets had buried her for too long. She now understood that she'd tried to use them as a shield, but all they'd done was keep her locked up tight within them like an emotional chastity belt.

‘I thought …' She straightened her back and laughed out loud at the sheer relief of letting herself be honest. It echoed around the shop and Luca looked at her, confused.