“Mum’s girlfriend.”
“Oh. Well, she sounds very knowledgeable.”
“Mm-hmm,” I say, shooting Ainsley a look. “She does, doesn’t she?”
Ainsley smiles, and there’s understanding in it. Like she gets it without me having to explain.
The girls hurry ahead again, then stop to rummage through Lily’s Barbie bag. After a few moments, they whisper to each other then burst into fits of laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Ainsley calls to them.
They exchange a look, then Isla holds up a doll. “Look, Da! This Barbie’s just like you. She’s even got a bun!”
I squint at it. The hair’s roughly my colour and is indeed in a bun. More than that, though, she’s dressed almost exactly like me. Tan shorts, plain T-shirt. Christ.
“Well, would you look at that,” Ainsley says, grinning.
“’Splorer Barbie’s new name is Stwuan!” Lily declares.
Everyone laughs, even me. And something about Ainsley’s laugh—real and unguarded for once—catches me off-guard. Makes me want to hear it again.
We reach the pebble beach and spot the gang gathered just down from Lachlan’s place, the barbecue already smoking away beside them. The sea breeze carries charcoal and cooking meat to us. I joked to Sophie about feeding Isla plenty of meat this weekend. Seems I’m actually following through.
Gus spots us first and comes charging over, all golden fur and boundless energy.
“Hiya, boy,” I say, crouching to greet him.
But the traitor throws himself at Ainsley’s feet instead. She laughs and pats him. “Good boy,” she croons. Gus practically melts.
“Really?” I complain. “I’ve known you for years, andshegets the hero’s welcome?”
Ainsley just smiles, scratching behind Gus’s ears as he gazes up at her adoringly.
Can’t say I blame the daft mutt, though. Something about her gets me too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AINSLEY
Blair and I sit in camping chairs on the pebble beach, shades on, glasses of wine in hand. The afternoon sun glints off the sea, and for once, I’m not thinking about getting the salon up and running or bracing for Lily’s next meltdown. Down by the water, Finn, Isla, and Lily take turns throwing sticks for Gus, their laughter carrying on the breeze.
Blair’s phone buzzes. She checks it and groans. “Aw, Ellie’s pulled out. I was looking forward to you meeting her properly.”
“Ellie?” I take a sip of wine. “Oh, she was the fiddler the other night, wasn’t she?”
“That’s right.”
I remember her vaguely—frizzy light-brown hair, oversized jumper, sleeves bunched up at her elbows as she played. If I’m honest, my attention had been much more firmly fixed on the guitarist with the half-up ponytail and the voice that could melt butter.
Of course, it really shouldn’t have been. Temporary insanity brought on by the music and dim lighting. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.
Blair glances around then leans in conspiratorially. “You know how you confided a secret in me the other night? MaybeI can confide one in you. There’s no way in hell Ellie would’ve pulled out if Douglas had been coming.”
“Douglas?”
“Big red-haired dad? Has twins who are little chaos gremlins? Let’s just say Ellie’s into him. In a big way.” She wiggles her brows. “Entirely unrequited, though. The man is oblivious.”
“Oh.” I’ve not been in Ardmara long, but it seems I’m already being initiated into the town gossip.
