number hung upside down on the door, one of its nails having rusted and fallen out. Holding her breath, she shoved the key into the lock and turned. The room didn’t smell quite as bad as the bar, but the stale air still made her recoil as she entered the room.
‘Home sweet home,’ she muttered, dumping her bag onto the bed. ‘Not.’
The small room was almost entirely filled with an ancient-looking double bed covered in a faded floral quilt. A light flickered overhead, casting an eerie yellow glow over walls that were badly in need of a new paint job. A crack stretched down one wall, partially covered by a photo frame containing a generic scenery print. It was probably the picture that had come with the frame.
A quick peek at the bathroom revealed chipped blue tiles, a shower adorned with a torn plastic curtain and a sink that looked as though it needed a hardcore bleach application.
Chantal dropped down onto the bed and checked her phone. Nothing. What was she expecting? Brodie to be calling? Asking her to come back?
Something dark scuttled across the floor by her feet. Chantal drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.
She would not cry. She would not cry.
Brodie woke to the sound of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He stretched, palm smoothing over the space next to him in the bed. The empty space.
Grinding a fist into his eyes, he forced the fogginess away. What time was it? He groped for his phone, fumbling with the passcode. It was a text from Scott.
Bro, I thought we were going for a run? Where are you?
Run? It was three o’clock in the afternoon. Crap, how had that happened?
Sorry, got caught up. Will have to reschedule.
The bed sheets were tangled around his legs and he caught a brief flash of Chantal’s ocean-coloured dress peeking out from underneath his jeans in the corner of the room—a sure sign that the lavish images of losing himself in her body over and over weren’t from a dream.
His phone immediately pinged with a new message.
Got caught up with what? Or should I say who?
Ugh. Where was Chantal? His feet hit the ground, thighs protesting as he stood. Yep, that was a sign of one hell of a night. He stretched, forcing his arms up overhead and pressing against the tightness in his muscles. Damn, he felt good.
He poked his head into the en-suite bathroom. No Chantal there. Padding out to the kitchen, he typed a message back to Scott.
No comment.
She wasn’t in the kitchen either. Why hadn’t she woken him? He wandered out onto the deck to see if she was doing any of her yoga stuff. Nope, nothing there either.
He raked a hand through his hair, coming back to the kitchen and flicking the coffee machine on. It whirred, grinding beans and then flooding the room with its delicious, fresh-brewed coffee scent.
Weak. Not that it takes a genius to figure it out…
Scott had a point. It had been bound to happen between him and Chantal. Their tension had been through the roof back then, and eight years hadn’t dampened it at all. It had been a special kind of torture having Chantal back in his life… even if only for a short period of time.
Last night had been easily the best night of his life. But only because she was insanely hot and did things with her mouth that would make the most experienced of men blush. It was a conquest thing—a very long-awaited notch on his belt.
Yeah, right.
Okay, so maybe he normally woke up hoping the girl had made a quick exit… if he’d even brought her back to his place. Normally he opted to go to hers, so he had control over a quick getaway.
But something about Chantal’s leaving didn’t sit well with him. He felt the absence of her keenly—almost as if he wasn’t ready for it to be over. Understandable, since he’d been lusting after her for such a long time. He needed a little while longer to get it out of his system. Like forever.
So much for the ‘hands off your mates’ rule.
Frowning, he plucked his espresso cup from the coffee machine and breathed deeply. Where could she have disappeared to? Surely she hadn’t gone back to that crappy bar on her own? His chest clenched, fingers tightening around the china cup.
The thought of her getting back up on that stage, dancing in front of those men… It was enough to unsettle even the most relaxed guy. He sipped the coffee, relishing the rich flavour on his tongue, but it didn’t satisfy him as much as usual. After tasting Chantal all other flavours would pale in comparison, of that he was sure.
Perhaps the dance company had called her in for another audition? Not likely, since she’d only auditioned yesterday. She couldn’t be back at that bar. How would she have got there on her own? Her car had never come back to Sydney.
His phone vibrated again, and he was about to curse Scott’s name when Willa’s photo flashed up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Brodes.’
The traffic in the background told him she was calling from the road.
‘I wanted to let you know I drove Chantal back to Newcastle.’
Dammit. ‘When?’
‘I dropped her off about an hour ago—I’m still on my way back. It’s a long drive! Thought you might want to know, since I got the impression she hadn’t said anything to you this morning.’
‘She hadn’t.’
‘I don’t like the idea of her staying at that place.’
He let out a sharp breath. ‘Neither do I. I wouldn’t have let her go…’
‘That’s probably why she didn’t tell you.’ She sighed. ‘I only took her because I knew she’d find her own way if I said no. I didn’t want her hitchhiking or anything like that.’
He swore under his breath. ‘She makes me lose my cool, Willa.’
‘She must be the only girl ever.’
He ignored the jibe. ‘I’ll go get her.’
‘Good.’
By the time Brodie had sailed back up the coast, the sun had dipped low in the sky and his blood had reached boiling point. He wasn’t sure what made him angrier: the fact that she’d left him the morning after or that she’d returned to a crappy job that was not only beneath her but a possible threat to her safety.
Okay, maybe he was overreacting, but that bar was shady. The guys who hung around it were rough. He could only imagine what the on-site accommodation looked like. The thought of one of those men following her after she’d finished her shift…
His fists clenched. He had to get her out of there.
He
