didn’t you keep going straight along the main road?’ he asked when she swung right onto Terrigal Drive. ‘It’s quicker.’
‘Not any more, it isn’t. It’s suffering from terminal roadworks. If you came home a little more often, you would know that,’ she pointed out somewhat waspishly. ‘Apart from that, I’m the driver here. You’re the passenger. The passenger does not tell the driver where and how to drive. That’s bad manners.’
He laughed again, though this time it had a harsher sound. ‘Glad to see you haven’t changed, Scarlet.’
‘I was just thinking the same about you. You might look different, John Mitchell—you’re certainly dressing a damned sight better—but deep down, you’re still the same obnoxious boy who thinks he’s smarter than everyone else.’
This time he made no come-back, leaving Scarlet to feel totally ashamed of herself. She’d overreacted, as usual. She’d always had a quick temper, especially around John.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly into the uncomfortable silence. ‘That was very rude of me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, surprising her with a wry little smile. ‘It wasn’t far off the truth. I can be quite arrogant.’
She couldn’t help it. She smiled back at him.
Their eyes met for a long moment, Scarlet being the first to look away, John’s eyes still on her as she struggled to put her mind back on her driving. It kept rattling her, this sudden attraction between them.
‘Will you stop staring at me?’ she snapped at last, but without looking his way.
‘I wasn’t staring,’ he denied. ‘I was just looking and thinking.’
‘About what?’
‘Don’t forget there’s a speed camera just along here.’
Scarlet rolled her eyes. ‘For pity’s sake, John, I live here twenty-four-seven. I know about the speed camera.’
‘Then why are you doing nearly fifty?’
‘I can do fifty. It’s not a school day.’
‘The sign said forty. Roadworks ahead.’
Scarlet jammed on her brakes. Just in time, too.
‘If they dig up one more road around here,’ she muttered, ‘I’m going to scream.’
‘No screaming,’ John said in droll tones. ‘Can’t abide screaming women.’
When she glared over at him, Scarlet was astounded to find him smiling at her.
‘John Mitchell,’ she said, her mouth twitching. ‘You’ve actually found a sense of humour.’
‘I have today, it seems. Which is just as well. I’m almost home.’
Which they were.
The street where Scarlet lived was no different from most streets on the Central Coast, full of a motley collection of houses of all different shapes and sizes. It was a family-friendly street where the inhabitants actually stayed put, rather than moving every seven years or so, as seemed to be ingrained in the Australian psyche. Of course, it was in Terrigal, which had been voted recently one of the ten most desirable places in the world to live.
It would be difficult to find anywhere better to bring up a family. Admittedly, they didn’t have ocean or lagoon views in their street, but that made the houses more reasonably priced. They still enjoyed the wonderfully mild climate which came from living near the sea. On top of that they were so close to everything, not just the beach. Erina Fair shopping centre was only a ten minute drive away and Sydney a little over an hour.
Scarlet could never understand why John didn’t come home more often.
‘Looks like a big turn-out,’ John said once Scarlet turned the corner into their street.
‘You have your mother to blame for that. If she didn’t put on such a good spread, she wouldn’t get so many people accepting her invitations. It’s always like this when it’s your family’s turn for the Christmas party. Look, there’s your mum and sister on the front porch, waiting for you.’ No father, though, she noted. ‘I’ll just stop in our driveway and you can get out. I want to put the car in the garage.’
‘Fine,’ he agreed, hopping out and taking his bag from the back seat before slapping the car on the roof and shouting thanks to her.
She pressed the remote for the garage door, watching John in the rear-vision mirror whilst she waited for the door to roll its way slowly upwards. He really did look amazing today. Great buns in those jeans. Great body all round. If he’d been anybody else, she might have been tempted to flirt with him.
Just the thought made her laugh. Flirt with John Mitchell? What would be the point in that?
Scarlet laughed again. She was still amused over the idea when she returned to the party.
CHAPTER FOUR
SCARLET looked for John straight away. When she couldn’t spot him anywhere amongst the crowd of partygoers who’d all gathered under the outdoor entertaining area, she wandered back inside the house. But the only person she found there was his mother, getting a couple of bottles of wine out of the fridge. The large open-plan living room was empty of people, with no sign of John anywhere.
‘Ah, Scarlet,’ his mother said. ‘Thank you so much for getting John. It was very good of you.’
‘No trouble, Mrs Mitchell. Where is he, by the way?’
‘Upstairs in his bedroom,’ Carolyn retorted, sounding a bit annoyed. ‘Said he had to go get my anniversary present but I think he’s just avoiding talking to people. Look, could I bother you to go up there and bring him down? All the food is ready. You look lovely today, by the way, dear,’ Carolyn rattled on before Scarlet could accept or reject the request.
Strangely, she didn’t mind the mission. It would give her the chance to see if he still had all those girlie posters over his walls.
He didn’t. The room was stripped bare of all boyish paraphernalia. John was standing by the window, staring down at the street, his bedroom being at the front of the house. His bag had been slung on top of the bed, unopened. Scarlet glanced around but couldn’t see any present anywhere.
‘I’ve been sent to bring you downstairs,’ she called from the open doorway.
He turned from the window and smiled a rueful smile. ‘Poor Scarlet,’ came his ironic remark. ‘You’ve been given all the awful jobs today.’
She didn’t deny it. The strange truth, however, was that she hadn’t minded driving him home as much as she’d thought she would. And she didn’t really mind coming up here to collect him. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.
‘Did you find your mother’s present?’
‘I did,’ he said, and patted the right hip pocket of his leather jacket.
