‘What?’ He comes awake with a slight jolt.
‘Being taken in hand,’ he rasps, sounding almost surly. ‘Male-led households. Domestic discipline. Your parents. Think they might be into kink.’
He closes his eyes as I loosen my grip.
‘Oh God,’ I whisper. Then I vomit in my mouth a little bit.
‘Afternoon.’
I’m on the deck, finishing brekkie when Kai finally appears, looking far too dapper to be truly hung-over: Dark, slim fitting shorts, a pale coloured button down with short sleeves, and suede driving shoes that look suspiciously Gucci-esque. Steele-grey aviators complete the high-end ensemble, or hide tell-tale puffy eyes. I can’t quite tell, as I place my cereal bowl on the glass topped table.
‘Shh, kitten. Not so loud.’ Sliding onto the opposite sofa, he props his feet on the low table in front.
‘No need to ask how you pulled up this morning. Feeling a bit dusty, are we?’
‘If you mean hung-over, yes. Why didn’t you warn me Geoff has the constitution of an ox?’
Glass half-way to my mouth, I exclaim, ‘How was I to know he’d want to bond with you? And at the bloody pub!’ To be honest, I thought he’d be lucky if he’d gotten the bombastic bugger to listen at all. ‘I thought you’d gone to tell him about us, not try to become best friends.’
‘Golf club.’
‘What?’
‘Not a pub. At least, not at first. We talked at his office, and he invited me for a drink. How was I to refuse? God, beer always leaves me feeling like this.’
‘Thought you’d been hitting the whiskey?’
‘Later, when I found out he’s fond of the stuff. I bought a bottle of Jameson’s. The rest... I can’t remember too clearly, thankfully.’
‘What did Geoff say? About us?’
Kai inhales. ‘Lots of things, initially.’
‘Lots of things he ought not have, I’ll bet.’
‘No. He wasn’t terribly pleased. Seems he’s a big fan of your prick of an ex. So I set him straight.’
I don’t have an answer. In fact, I can find absolutely nothing to say. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Geoff. He’s the boorish, belligerent type, his opinions delivered volubly in a deep baritone, leaving no space for anyone else to speak. He’s got an opinion on everything, and he may have taken on me and Mum—for which, I suppose, I have to be thankful—but it doesn’t stop me seeing him for what he is. A big, barrel chested, loudmouthed bully. Yep, that’s my dad.
Lifting his feet from the table, Kai slides his glasses to the end of his aquiline nose, peering over the rims. Yep, hangover eyes. Heaps red, but I suppose I must look gobsmacked.
‘Sweetheart, I’m responsible for negotiating billion-dollar deals. I think I can handle your dad.’ Pushing his sunglasses back, he pauses, glancing down. ‘What on earth is that?’
My own eyes fall to the latte glass in my hand. ‘Milo. Want some?’ I proffer the glass.
‘It looks like stomach contents,’ he says, turning his head away so quick, I think he might hurl. ‘Australians seem stranger by the day.’
‘The drink of champions, this.’ Scooping the teaspoon from the glass, I begin to munch the stuff I’ve spooned on top. ‘This is the only kind of malt I’m interested in.’Mmm, yum.
‘Eurgh. After last night, I’m swearing off the other kind. At least, for a while.’
‘Lightweight,’ I laugh, digging the spoon in again.
‘A’teni.’ He holds out his hand. ‘I mean, please. Give it to me. I’d like a taste.’
I hold it out and he takes it from my hand, simultaneously grabbing my wrist with his other hand. Before I know it, I’m stretched across his lap, bum vulnerable and in the air. One palm resting high on my back, his other strokes from the backs of my knees up.
I shudder reactively, even as my body stiffens. We’re outside—anyone could be watching, though they’d probably have to do so from a boat. And then there’s Jazz. Did she come back last night? What if she walks by?
