What Rosie Found Next (8 page)

Jane Harrison signed off and Rosie was left staring at the screen, re-reading the words. It was a valid request to remove certain items from the property, but to keep them from her own son?

The sound of scraping and scratching outside her window had Rosie’s attention, and she looked out to see that Owen had leant the ladder against the house and was clearing twigs and leaves from the gutters again, minimising fuel for any bushfire that threatened to come their way.

In the short time she’d known him, Rosie had begun to feel an overwhelming loyalty towards this man. But she’d also seen him that morning, riled by his mum’s behaviour, tearing up and down the pool to vent his anger. Did she really want to mention the email and stir up whatever angst there was between them?

Rosie’s own childhood and adolescence hadn’t exactly been a breeze, not by a long shot, but as she went downstairs to make a salad and watched Owen take position behind the barbecue, she felt glad there was never any mystery. Her family had been what it was. But for Owen, his family had things lurking in their past they appeared to have let mutilate their relationship with their son. She wouldn’t want to be in his position at all.

‘I’m sorry about the barbecue last night.’ The next morning Rosie squeezed her tea bag before dropping it into the bin and sitting opposite Owen at the kitchen table. ‘I think the sun must’ve got to me.’

Rosie had made the salad and some garlic bread and they’d chatted while they ate rissoles, peppered steak and fresh prawns. But despite the amazing food Owen cooked perfectly on the barbecue, she hadn’t been able to get Jane’s email out of her head. The words had tapped into her psyche, and whether it was that or the sun, she’d ended up with a headache that sent her to bed before any dessert.

‘Did the paracetamol work?’ Owen scanned the front page of the newspaper.

‘It did, thanks.’

He looked up. ‘Are you working this afternoon?’

‘Day off.’ She sipped her tea.

‘I’m going down to one of my properties by the beach. The tenant moved out yesterday and I want to check everything is in order, give the go-ahead for the bond to be released.’

‘Doesn’t the letting agency do that?’

He rolled his eyes as he stood to take his empty cup to the sink. ‘They do, but they aren’t quite as pedantic as me.’

‘I can imagine.’

Owen nudged her playfully but didn’t hang around to see how the feel of his touch had affected her. He pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. ‘You could come with me. I’d like the company, and Albert Park is a beautiful spot. The house is one road back from the beach and it’s a gorgeous day. You could bring your togs – that is, if you didn’t get too much sun yesterday.’

‘I’m fine.’ She blushed when she thought about him visualising her skin yesterday after the pool.

‘We can take your car if you like,’ he added. ‘I’ll need my toolbox in case anything needs fixing, but the pickup is definitely a work truck.’

‘Filthy, you mean?’

‘Yep.’

The idea was certainly appealing, and with Adam at work she had nothing to do here today. Grinning, she said, ‘Give me five minutes to get ready.’

*

‘I can’t believe I’m gunning towards the city in a
pink
car.’ Owen was glad the interior was a tasteful black. ‘The local supermarket was one thing, but this?’

‘Hey, we could’ve taken your pickup.’

‘Sure, but you’d have made me clean it first.’

She smiled at him because she knew he was right. He caught a waft of Rosie – something citrusy and fresh, shower gel maybe, or it could’ve been shampoo. When she’d trotted up the stairs that morning to get ready, his eyes had followed her, settling on her behind in a dress that clung in all the right places. He did his best to ignore the same cotton dress now, which sat just above her knees, inching upwards every time her feet operated the pedals.

‘Ah well,’ he said, ‘being a passenger has its benefits. I can sink into my seat when we get near people.’

‘I’ll make sure I put the roof down later and then you won’t be able to hide,’ she joked. ‘You’re too tall anyway. You’ve got no hope of being inconspicuous.’

He’d had Rosie down as being an overly cautious driver, or at the very least, a sit-in-the-middle-lane-no-matter-what driver. But she was neither. On the freeway she went as fast as he would've done, she did some impressive overtaking, and when they’d stopped near South Melbourne market to grab some food, she did an awesome parallel park outside the supermarket.

They’d walked around the market humming and hawing as to whether to go for stuffed olives or plain, falafels or meatballs, which was the best fizzy drink, and as Owen packed the supplies in the esky he’d lined with ice-packs from home, he couldn’t help thinking how well they slotted in with each other. The difference with Rosie was that, unlike other women he’d been involved with, he’d got to know her first, as a friend, without the relationship
aspect ever being a part of it. It was a completely new experience for him.

Rosie did as promised and put the roof down before they set off towards the house, and as they overtook the green and yellow tram and trundled across the tracks paving the way towards the beach, Owen realised that travelling like this was liberating in a different way than being on the bike: he could take in his surroundings, stretch out in his seat and shut his eyes if he wanted to. Letting someone else take control for a change was better than he’d expected.

Rosie negotiated the parked cars in the narrower streets of Albert Park with practised ease, and when they pulled up outside his property, he hauled the esky out of the boot while she opened the front gate and let him through.

‘Where’s the key?’ she asked, sunglasses firmly in place with the sun beating down on them outside the cream-fronted weatherboard.

‘In my back pocket.’ He couldn’t help the curl in his lips. He could ask her to get it – he’d enjoy that – but something told him not to push. Instead, he set the esky down on the concrete and pulled out the key, sure he hadn’t mistaken a smile creeping its way onto her face too.

‘Awesome,’ he said, picking up the parking permit from the hallway floor. ‘Most tenants conveniently forget to leave these behind. They hold onto their precious beach-side parking for as long as they can.’ He scooted back to the car and stuck the permit on the inside of the windshield before he took the esky inside.

Owen unlocked the bi-fold doors in the lounge room and opened them up to a small, square rear courtyard to let the air circulate through the house, which was stifling in the summer heat.

‘It’s a lovely house.’ Rosie peeked into the two rooms off the hallway before she came through to the kitchen and family area.

‘Thanks. I had the loft space converted to make another bedroom and bathroom, and I stripped out this kitchen and the downstairs bathroom and then painted everything.’

Rosie pointed to the staircase. ‘May I?’

‘Sure, go ahead.’ Her inquisitiveness sat well with him and he followed her up the stairs. ‘This was the first house I bought as opposed to an apartment. I was worried I’d taken on too much, but this place has turned out to be a gold mine. It’s my biggest income earner.’

‘I can see why.’

‘The beach is a huge drawcard, and it’s close to the city.’

Rosie gasped. ‘Wow, you can see the sea from up here, between those two houses.’ She pointed.

At the peaked window he leaned closer to share the view. ‘I think I’d be using a fair bit of artistic licence to describe this place as having “sea views”.’ He tried to ignore the wave of pheromones coming from her hair that smelt so good and caused his voice to falter.

‘Nonsense.’ She gestured with her hands to the space below the window. ‘You could put a window seat in here, about so high.’ She showed him with her delicate hands and neatly manicured nails. ‘You’d be able to sit here and see the ocean.’

When Rosie put both hands on his shoulders, he froze. She was so close.

‘Crouch down so you’re a bit lower than my height,’ she instructed. ‘And now imagine there’s a seat right here beneath the window.’

He did as he was told and was impressed at her ability to see what he’d never been able to. Out of the peaked window and between the roofs of two houses were the frilly, white foaming edges of the waves on the ocean as they broke and a strip of sunlight glimmering across the surface of the water. ‘Perhaps I should up the rent.’

When she laughed his stomach did a weird lurch, but then she was off again, checking out the en suite, running back downstairs – quicker with her dainty feet than he was with his size elevens – and mumbling something about the ornate fireplaces in the front bedroom.

‘So what do you think about having a window seat?’ she asked when she’d inspected as much of the house as she wanted to.

‘It’s a lovely idea, but I’m not sure it’d be worth my while.’

‘I disagree.’

He wanted to laugh at her stern face, her stance as she looked at him, hands on her hips just like the first night they’d met.

‘I think it’s those types of extras that could make all the difference,’ she said.

Owen didn’t usually listen to anyone else when it came to his property portfolio – with the exception of his sister-in-law, Sadie, who came over and gave places the woman’s touch before he advertised for sale or rent, adding a vase of flowers here, a pot plant or painting there. But Rosie did have a point about the little ‘extras’.

‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ he said. ‘I’ll do a quick inspection if it’s okay with you, and then we can eat.’

Owen left Rosie smelling the agapanthus and the cherry blossom in the rear courtyard while he walked around checking the wooden floors for extra marks or dents other than what could be put down to wear and tear. He checked the kitchen appliances were all in working order and looked beneath all the sinks for leaks that could’ve been missed and which could prove costly if he left them while the place was untenanted. He was pedantic, but the only place Owen was willing to cut corners was out on the open road on his motorbike.

‘How’s it looking?’ Sunglasses perched on top of her head, Rosie came indoors as Owen opened kitchen cupboards and stepped back to ensure they were clear and clean and ready for the next tenant.

‘I didn’t need the tools after all. It’s all looking good.’

‘You’re a perfectionist.’

‘So I’ve been told.’ She wasn’t wrong. He’d bought property after property and turned monstrous, ugly dwellings into something out of the pages of one of those fancy home magazines, and he got a real buzz in doing it.

Owen held her gaze a moment longer than he’d intended and then patted the top of the esky filled with food. ‘Are you ready for a picnic at the beach?’

‘I’ll get the industrial strength sunscreen and I’m good to go.’

Rosie disappeared into the bathroom to apply her sunscreen, and when she came back to the kitchen he borrowed the tube himself – it was the only way to stop her harping on about the UV index and how everyone had to be careful these days – and they headed down to the beach, away from the Sand Bar to where the crowds thinned out.

He set the esky down and Rosie rolled out a picnic blanket. They unloaded olives stuffed with cheese, breadsticks, kabana sausages, quiche, meatballs and a quinoa salad.

‘What can I tempt you with?’ Rosie asked, ready to fill a plate with his choices.

What could she tempt him with? There was something, but it wasn’t on the list.

‘I’ll have whatever’s within reach,’ he said, hoping food would distract him from having thoughts that would get him into trouble.

They watched the ocean as they ate, his mind calming with each wave that broke onto the shore. And when he’d eaten enough he lay back on the blanket, propped up on his elbows, shades pulled down. He watched Rosie carefully put all the lids back onto the containers. ‘You’re very domesticated.’

‘Well one of us has to be. This food will all go yucky if we leave it in the sun for too long, and you might want some more later on.’

If anyone could hear them, they’d think they were an old married couple. That had never happened before with any of the girls he’d dated, and he minded it less than he thought he would. This situation was weird, like a temporary relationship to try out what it would be like before he went back to his lifestyle of living between projects, driving in and out of town whenever he felt like it. Had Rosie not been at the house and had he not wanted time to snoop around, Owen knew he’d have left by now. But without the parent cloud that usually hovered over him, Magnolia Creek really felt like home and he was happier than he’d been in a long time.

Rosie sat on the blanket, but it took her a while to drop back onto her elbows like he had. When she did, her hair blew gently across his shoulder and made him shiver.

He sighed. ‘I love the beach.’

‘Me too, even if my skin doesn’t.’ She reached inside her bag and pulled out a wide-brimmed straw hat.

‘I thought you got sunburnt at the pool yesterday, but your arms aren’t red.’

She fidgeted. ‘I think I overheated, but I’ll be more careful today.’ She looked around them. ‘This beach is beautiful.’

‘You’ve never been here?’

‘Not that I can remember. Apollo Bay was the family favourite when I was little. Although Mum would never go in the ocean – lifelong fear of sharks,’ she explained. ‘It terrified her when I’d swim out of my depth, give her a wave.’

He looked out at all the unsuspecting swimmers now. ‘Wasn’t a shark found there recently?’

The bottle of Pellegrino
fizzed when she twisted the top off. ‘You’re thinking of Lorne.’ Her smile reached those brown eyes, richer in colour out here in the open air, with the ocean and the golden sand a picture-perfect backdrop.

He scooped sand into his palm and let it fall through his fingers. ‘So are you worried?’

‘About what?’

‘Sharks.’ He pointed to the ocean. ‘Out there, today, right now, swimming amongst us?’

She pulled a face.

‘You are!’ He laughed. ‘You’re a big scaredy-cat.’

Rosie stood up, flicked open the buttons down the front of her dress and let it fall to her ankles. She pulled out a brilliant turquoise rash vest from her bag, tugged it over her head and wiggled it down over her breasts, covering the same bikini she’d worn yesterday.