wrong with being realistic.’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying to protect myself, I guess. I don’t want to be disappointed if I don’t get it.’
‘If they want a second audition then they obviously saw something they liked.’
‘That’s true.’ She twirled a strand of hair around one finger.
‘You’re immensely talented—you know that, right?’ He chewed on his own bagel, concentrating on the food so that he could hide the conflicting emotions doing battle within him.
‘Let’s just hope the Harbour Dance Company agree with you.’ She paused. ‘I’ve had fun staying on the boat.’
He’d hoped to hear with you emerge from her lips, but she stopped short. Stop waiting to hear that she’s fallen for you. She hasn’t.
‘I’ve had fun too.’
He half-heartedly waggled his brows and she swatted at him, laughing.
‘I don’t just mean the sex, Brodie. I mean I’ve had fun… hanging out.’
‘Hanging out? What are we? Teenagers?’ he teased.
She shook her head. ‘Way to make a girl feel awkward. Can’t a friend give another friend a compliment?’
Friend. There it was again—the invisible barrier between them. He’d broken his rule by sleeping with her in the first place. Funny thing was, that rule had always been in place to preserve the friendship, so that when he rejected any serious advances the other person wouldn’t get hurt. He’d never counted on it going the other way—not when he had his priorities sorted out and they certainly didn’t include a serious relationship.
‘I prefer my compliments to be of the physical variety.’
‘You’re not nearly as sleazy as you try to be,’ she said.
‘I’m not trying to be anything.’ It came out way too defensive. Why didn’t he just hold up a flag that said Emotional sore point. Proceed with caution.
‘Yes, you are. You’re hell-bent on being the casual, laid-back, cool-as-a-cucumber fun-time guy.’
‘You seemed to believe I was that guy.’
‘I didn’t know you then.’ Her olive eyes glowed in the bright afternoon light, the golden edges of her hair glinting like precious metal. ‘But I do now.’
‘You know what I want you to know.’
‘No way.’ Her lips pursed. ‘You sailed a yacht out here to show me dolphins… you packed a champagne lunch for me. All because I got a second audition—not even a proper job. That’s not a fun-time guy.’
‘What is it, then?’
He was giving her a chance to be honest, to open up to him. But the shutters went down over her eyes and colour seeped into her cheeks. Her hands folded into a neat parcel in her lap. Shutdown mode enabled.
‘You’re a good person, Brodie. I wish we’d got to be real friends sooner.’
There was that F-word again. If he heard it come out of her mouth one more time he was going to throw something. Clearly he was going out of his mind. Girls didn’t rattle him—that wasn’t how he acted. On the scale of annoyance, girl problems ranked somewhere between lining up at the supermarket and typos. In other words it fell into the bundle of crap he didn’t care about.
‘We should probably head back.’ He pushed up from his chair, feeling the burn of the afternoon sun on his legs. ‘Don’t want to make you late for work.’
‘Yeah, that thorn in my side.’ She sighed.
She followed him around as he prepared the boat to return to Newcastle. Her anxious energy irritated him—partially because he felt she had no reason to be anxious, and partially because it made him want to bundle her up and kiss her until she relaxed. The woman had an emotional stronghold over him that was both dangerous and stupid. He already had four women to take care of—five if he counted his mother. He didn’t need a sixth.
‘You don’t need to pick me up from the bar tonight,’ she said once they were back at the helm, with the boat cruising out of the marina.
‘I’ll be there.’ No way he’d let her walk back to the boat on her own.
‘I can stay at the accommodation, if you like.’
‘You’re welcome to stay on the boat until I have to sail back. That hasn’t changed.’
He didn’t look at her, but her nervousness permeated the air. She knew he was angry with her. He had to keep his emotions in check.
‘I want you to stay.’
‘Okay.’ She put her hand over his. ‘Thanks.’
Don’t grab her hand… don’t grab her hand. ‘No worries.’
‘I’ll be happy when I finish up at the bar. It’s certainly been a learning experience.’ She let out a small laugh. ‘Although the crowd is a bit rough for my liking.’
‘A bit?’ He stole a glance at her and regretted it immediately. Make-up-free, hair flowing, she looked young and vulnerable. You’re weak, Mitchell, absolutely weak.
‘Okay, a lot. It wouldn’t be so bad if the guys weren’t so handsy.’
‘What do you mean, handsy?’
‘You know—some guys seem to think by buying a few drinks they can have free handling of the dancers.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Pigs.’
White-hot rage brewed in his stomach. ‘Dammit, Chantal. Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because it’s not your problem—it’s mine.’ She spoke calmly, but she crossed her arms and stepped backwards. ‘Besides, last time you came into the bar you flipped out.’
‘Of course I did!’ He fought to wrangle the frustration and anger warring inside him. ‘It’s like you refuse to look after yourself just to prove a point.’
‘I’m not trying to prove a point.’ She gritted her teeth. ‘Anyway, I had a word with them and told them to back off.’
‘Jeez, you had a word with them? I’m sure that will make all the difference.’ He shook his head, gritting his teeth at the thought of these grubby morons touching her. ‘You need to tell me these things.’
‘I don’t need to tell you anything.’ Her eyes flashed like two green flames. Her lips were pressed into a flat line and her breath came in short, irritated stutters. ‘It’s not your job to protect me.’
‘What if they attacked you? What if you stayed at the accommodation and they followed you?’ Nausea rocked his stomach. If anything ever happened to her…
‘You’re not my knight in shining armour, Brodie.’ She spoke through
