‘I’m working till midday.’
‘I’ll call for you at one.’
‘Um...’
She hesitated, and he knew it was a big step for her.
‘Okay.’
He gave in to the temptation of kissing her cheek. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday.’
When he reached the end of the path he looked back to find her still watching him. He lifted his hand in farewell. With a visible start she waved back, before disappearing along a path between the office and a picnic table.
His hands clenched. Had anyone ever put her first? Fought for her? Put everything on the line for her?
He knew the answer in his bones—no, they hadn’t.
Do you want to be the next person to let her down?
He wasn’t going to let her down! He was going to show her how to live. When they parted company, she’d be glad they’d met. That was his objective.
* * *
Mia gazed around her tiny living room and could barely credit the difference a few knick-knacks made. She’d never had a chance to try her hand at decorating before. Her father had maintained a rigid view on what was and wasn’t respectable—a line her mother had never crossed—and Mia hadn’t even been allowed to put up posters in her room. She’d learned early on that it was easier to submit and keep the peace than to rebel.
When she’d met Johnnie his home had already been beautifully furnished. She’d been in awe of his taste. And in the two years between leaving home and moving in with Johnnie she’d lived such a hand-to-mouth existence there’d been no money left over for decorating the mean little rooms she’d rented.
And then there’d been prison. She’d learned to make do with as little as possible there. She’d left the place with the same attitude, but for the first time she questioned that wisdom. It was true that she didn’t want to get too attached to material things—like Johnnie had. But it wasn’t a crime to make her living space comfortable. It wasn’t a crime to make it welcoming for visitors.
‘Earth to Mia?’
She snapped back when a hand was waved in front of her face.
‘You were miles away,’ Dylan teased. He gestured to the room. ‘Do you like it?’
‘I love it.’
Shopping with Dylan today had been...fun. It had also been a revelation. She’d thought he’d walk through the shops and select the things she needed—like her father and Johnnie would have done. He hadn’t, though. He’d asked her opinion every step of the way.
‘I love the colour scheme you’ve chosen.’ He planted his hands on his hips and glanced around. ‘It makes everything so much lighter in here.’
‘The colour scheme was a joint effort. I’d never have known where to start.’
He’d taken her shopping and asked her what colours she liked. She’d eventually settled on a china-blue and a sandy taupe. She now had scatter cushions and throw rugs in those colours on the couch, as well as a tablecloth on the table. New jars in a jaunty blue lined the kitchen counter, a vase and some knick-knacks sat on the mantel, and two beach prints in funky faded frames hung on the walls. A jute rug with a chocolate-coloured border rested beneath the coffee table and a welcome mat sat at the door.
Mia turned a full circle. ‘It’s made such a difference.’ She clasped her hands beneath her chin and let out a long pent-up breath. A breath she felt she’d been holding ever since she’d proffered the dinner invitation. ‘I no longer need to feel embarrassed.’
‘A vase of fresh flowers here.’ Dylan touched a spot on the kitchen counter. ‘Maybe a plant on the coffee table or the hall table there, and the room will be perfect.’
Yellow-headed daisies in the kitchen and an African violet on the coffee table. ‘I’ll get them through the week.’
He grinned at her. ‘Even better—it all came in under-budget!’
His delight with himself made her laugh. She watched his face light up with pleasure as he studied the room he’d helped her to transform and her heart started to thud against her ribs.
Friends? She didn’t believe in promises and words, but Dylan’s actions today had spoken volumes. He’d given her his friendship willingly and generously. He’d treated her like a friend.
Now it was her turn.
‘WITH US COMING in under-budget and all...’ Mia’s mouth started to dry. ‘Well, I was thinking...how about I buy you dinner as a thank-you?’
Dylan swung to her, his eyes alert and watchful...hopeful.
‘As a friend,’ she added. She didn’t want him getting the wrong impression.
‘When?’
She strove for a shrug. ‘This evening, if you’re free.’
‘I’m free.’ He glanced down at himself. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a button-down cotton shirt. So did she. ‘Can we go somewhere casual?’
‘Casual sounds good.’ Casual sounded perfect!
‘I know—gorgeous evening...end of summer and all that... There’s this great pizza place down near the beach. It does takeaway.’
His face lit up and all she could do was stare. When—how?—had he learned to milk enjoyment from every moment?
‘When was the last time you had pizza on the beach?’
‘I... Never.’
‘C’mon, then.’ He took her hand and led her to the front door. ‘That’s an oversight that should be corrected immediately.’
* * *
‘See? Didn’t I tell you this was an inspired idea?’ Dylan claimed a patch of pristine white sand and grinned at her.
Mia bit back a laugh and spread out a towel so he could place the pizza boxes onto it. ‘I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve tried the pizza.’ She dropped two bottles of water to the towel too, and then turned to survey the view spread out in front of them.
They had another half an hour of light—possibly longer. The water reflected the last of the sun’s brilliance in tones of pink, gold and mauve. Barely a breath of breeze ruffled her hair, and the only sounds were the whoosh of the waves rushing up onshore, the cries of the seagulls wheeling overhead and the laughter of a family group picnicking further along the sand. To her left, Newcastle’s famous Nobby’s Lighthouse sat atop the headland. Straight out in front of her was the Pacific Ocean.
So much space. So much room to breathe.
She pulled in a deep breath before turning to find Dylan watching her. With a self-conscious shrug she sat beside him. But not too close. She kept the pizza boxes between them. ‘You couldn’t have chosen a better spot. It’s wonderful down here.’
‘A perfect night for a picnic. Now, try a piece of this pizza.’’
She took a piece from the proffered box and bit into it. The flavours melted on her tongue and it was all she could do not to groan in appreciation. ‘Good...’ she murmured. ‘Seriously good.’
They munched pizza in silence for a bit. The longer they sat there, the lighter Mia started to feel. Dylan reminded her of all the pleasures—big and small—that the world held. Even after almost eleven months she was still afraid of giving herself over to enjoyment.
‘A penny for them.’
His voice broke into