Catch of The Day: Destiny Romance (10 page)

Winnie awoke with a start, her heart jackhammering in her chest. She’d had a nightmare, prompted by that photo of Mrs Mannix’s hubby from the museum.

She’d been swimming at the beach, the lighthouse in view, when a young, shirted man had suddenly thrust up from underwater, deathly pale and soaking wet. He didn’t say anything, but the grief in his eyes was hauntingly real. His ghostly fingers had offered Mrs Mannix’s fish-shaped pendant to Winnie, before his face morphed into Cyndi’s, grinning wickedly —

Fudge. Was that a creak?

Sitting up in the horrible camp bed, Winnie clutched the sheets to her chest. Her satin nightie clung to her perspiring back. Was it a burglar or was the place . . . haunted? Like it wasn’t enough she had a clothes-stealing weirdo on her case.

No, back to the land of the living, Winnie.
She was just being paranoid. There was no one there, of course – dead or alive. It was just because she was alone and she’d been to a ghost-ship-themed party. And – and Mrs Mannix’s grief-stricken look. She’d get herself some water and check the unit was A-OK to put her mind at ease, then it would be back to bed. Weekends were for sleeping in.

Swinging her legs out of bed, Winnie raced to switch on the light, just in case. Everything looked as it should, of course – including the swirly brown carpet, which unfortunately hadn’t magically become more aesthetically pleasing. And her vision board was still in place on the wall across from her bed. She took long strides towards the light switch in the lounge/kitchen area and coated everything in a fluorescent light, which was almost comforting. No one was there, naturally, and all was quiet – slightly unnerving when she was used to being rocked to sleep by ear-piercing car alarms and doof-doof music from nearby bars.

She filled a glass with spring water from the fridge – the supermarket
hadn’t
stocked coconut water – and stood at the kitchen window. Holding back the lace curtain, she stared out at the full moon in the licorice-black sky, her breathing slowing.

Tap!

Winnie almost dropped her glass. So much for feeling zen again. Eerie green eyes peered back at her through the glass. Feeling suddenly weak with relief, she blew out a breath. It was just the stray cat pouncing on the windowsill. That was all. Phew. The animal rubbed its body against the window, tottering on the ledge.

Although she couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought meat, she’d fed the cat some tinned tuna that afternoon. Fish seemed an appropriate choice in this town for her first foray into meat in years. Maybe she’d even get cat food eventually. She had to at least give the stray kudos for persistence – it hadn’t let up yet – and feeding it was better than letting it hunt the native wildlife.

A thought flashed into Winnie’s mind, one she knew she might live to regret. Still, it also meant she might actually catch some zeds. She wasn’t used to sleeping alone in a house, always having had her mum or a housemate to keep her company. Heading to the tiny laundry at the back, she unlocked the door and called out softly into the night, ‘C’mon, Casper.’

She’d come up with the name on the spot – the stray vanished and reappeared like a friendly ghost, so it seemed to fit. Obligingly, the cat jumped onto the cement path leading towards the laundry with the springy ease of a superhero and edged towards the back door. It sniffed every inch of the wooden doorstep before finally wandering inside, oozing catitude. She couldn’t keep it. Her Sydney apartment had a no-pets policy. Still, Winnie figured there was no harm in allowing it to stay indoors while she was in Kingston.

Not just for one night.

Alex was pulling into his driveway on Saturday after fishing when his phone shrilled from the passenger seat. Killing the engine, he reached for it and frowned when Winnie’s name flashed onscreen. As if it weren’t enough he was putting his life in her hands again with another driving lesson in a few hours. What else could she want?

‘Winnie?’ he answered, not bothering with pleasantries.

‘Hi Alex. How are you?’

‘Okay.’

‘Um, I was just wondering if you’d be able to help me with a quick detour before our driving lesson today.’

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. His frustration clashed with a sudden image of her last night, her hair shining like rose gold and her skin resembling butterscotch.

‘What kind of detour?’ he grunted, hoping to kill the memory by being gruff. It sort of worked.

‘The thing is . . . well . . . a cat’s kind of adopted me. A stray. I was only going to let it stay indoors one night, but it’s broken me. I feel sorry for it, being so unwanted and all. I know my mum would take it in the future if I can’t, uh, continue to. But I just wanted to take it to the vet first to make sure it’s not full of fleas. Or rabies —’

‘There’s no rabies in Australia,’ Alex interjected.

‘Oh . . . right.’

‘And what does any of this have to do with me?’

‘Well, I was hoping you could give me a lift on the way – help out in wrangling the cat. I thought maybe I could use one of your cane cray pots to transport it, seeing as I don’t have a basket or anything. Then we could pick up the office car afterwards. So long as you’re not allergic to cats, of course.’

Alex closed his eyes. He let out a long-suffering sigh, not bothering to cover the mouthpiece. ‘Fishermen use wire pots now. They’re not really suitable for transporting
cats
. But let me see what else I can find.’

‘Thanks, Alex. I really appreciate it. See you in about an hour?’ she chirped, before hanging up the phone.

He hit the steering wheel. Somehow, some way, he’d been sucked in by her antics again. Not that he knew why she was adopting a cat when she’d made it clear she wasn’t sticking around.

Forty-five minutes later, he was showered, dressed and at her place, a pet carrier from a neighbour in hand. He knocked and saw her appear behind the glass door, looking casual in a khaki-green top and denim shorts. He gave her a small wave and watched as she bent to remove a wooden pole from the sliding door’s handle. The door glided open.

He eyed the door-length pole as she rested it against the wall. ‘You know you’re in the country now. There’s no need to lock up your place like Fort Knox.’

Winnie shoved her hands in her pockets. ‘It’s just a trick my mum taught me once. It makes me feel more secure as a woman living alone.’

‘Fair enough.’ Gritting his teeth, he decided not to mention what a danger the overblown security measure represented in a house fire. A grey tabby cat with black markings on its back padded forward, curling its tail around Winnie’s leg. Alex nodded at the animal. ‘Guess this is the stray in question then. Sure it isn’t anyone’s from around here?’

‘Nope. I already asked round all the units. Several neighbours had noticed it hanging about, but they all agreed it was a stray.’

‘Okay then. Got a name for it yet?’

‘Casper, though I’m not sure if it’s a boy or a girl.’ She reached down to pat the animal’s head. ‘Well, guess we’d better get ol’ Casper in your ute. Fingers crossed the vet visit doesn’t cost me an arm and a leg. A friend once paid a thousand bucks just for an ultrasound for her dog, because it had a heart defect.’

‘Huh.’

The feline was coaxed into the carrier using pet food from Alex’s neighbour as bait. The cat glared at Alex, realising it had been had, as he carted it to the ute.

‘You got yourself a new side mirror,’ Winnie observed, trailing behind.

‘A friend at the mechanic’s sorted me out,’ Alex offered in a low, gruff voice.

‘So how much do I need to fix you up for?’

Alex climbed into the driver’s seat, securing the pet carrier in place next to him with the middle seatbelt. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.’

Winnie gave a small shrug, sliding in beside him. ‘If you insist.’

Slipping on his sunglasses, Alex started the engine and began backing out the driveway. Black Sabbath’s ‘Paranoid’ spilled from the speakers, the station tuned to Triple J.

Winnie leant forwards to fiddle with the dial, station-hopping without bothering to ask first. ‘I can’t
stand
Ozzy Osbourne.’ She shuddered. ‘Not after he bit the head off a bat, among other things, the horrible man.’ She stopped at Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers doing ‘Islands in the Stream’. It wouldn’t have been Alex’s first preference. She hummed along as he steered the ute onto the highway. He felt her gaze prickling on his skin.

‘They’re genuine Ray-Bans,’ Winnie observed after a beat.

He cast her a sideways glance. ‘You think I’m too country bumpkin for the real McCoy?’

‘No, it’s not that.’ She had the grace to blush. ‘I just didn’t figure you as a labels kind of guy.’

He thought it best not to respond.

She shifted in her seat, filling the space. ‘So have you heard the news? Eden Delaware’s conned me into being in her bridal party, can you believe it? I’m a last-minute replacement after some poor gal broke her leg. I’ve already got a dress fitting tomorrow.’

‘Lucky you,’ Alex said dryly, then made a noise in the back of his throat. ‘Uh, met the rest of the bridal party yet?’

Winnie looped hair around her finger. ‘No, not yet. I figure they can’t be any worse than Eden, though.’

It was Alex’s turn to shift in his seat. In truth, she had another thing coming, but it wasn’t his place to tell her. She’d find out soon enough who was involved in the wedding. ‘Well, we’ll suffer through it together then,’ he said instead. ‘I’m the official photographer.’

‘Lucky you.’ She reclined in her seat, observing the road ahead quietly for a moment. ‘You know, I should repay you for helping me out today – with Casper and the driving. Maybe I could buy you lunch later or something?’

She almost sounded appreciative. Strange.

‘Thanks, but I’ve already had some.’

‘Half your luck. I’m starving.’ Her mouth twisted, and this time she almost looked shy. ‘What – what about dinner then? Are you doing anything tonight?’

He fixed his gaze ahead. ‘I was looking forward to a quiet one, actually.’

‘That’s no fun. How about going to the Old Woolstore Café & Restaurant? I hear they do fantastic Asian cuisine. You can tell me what to expect on the fishing trip.’ Her voice grew pleading. ‘I just couldn’t bear to spend Saturday night alone in this town. It’s depressing enough.’ Quickly, she tacked on, ‘You know, being so far away from home and all’, but it was too little, too late.

‘Uh-uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea.’ He shook his head. ‘Dining together is equal to exchanging vows in this town.’

Winnie pouted. ‘What is wrong with this place? And why should I care about stupid small-town gossip anyway when I’m not going to be —’ She stopped, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip. A
delectable
bottom lip. Not that he should have noticed.

‘When you’re not going to be around here much longer?’ Alex finished for her.

She stared out the passenger window. ‘You know what I mean.’

Alex could feel himself caving again, giving in. Being in her company was like stepping in quicksand – he quickly lost his footing. He puffed out his cheeks. ‘Look, if it squares the ledger once and for all, then fine, dinner it is.’

Silently he decided that would be the end of it – no more favours, no more catch-ups outside of work, no more, full stop.

Winnie smoothed her hair. ‘Let’s just hope we don’t bump into Cyndi Hartley tonight.’

That was all that Alex needed.

Alex pulled up short on the sand, jamming his hands in his pockets. ‘I can’t believe I’m being your accomplice in this. Kirk would never let me live it down if he saw.’

He watched Winnie struggle to rein in the cat on its new purple leash as the animal sniffed the dune grass. An owner hadn’t been found for it in the vet’s records, so the feline, confirmed as a desexed male, was officially hers.

Against his better judgement, he’d taken a sojourn to the beach with Winnie in between the vet’s and the driving lesson – to
walk the cat
. Thankfully, there was barely a soul around, though the coastal view that day looked like a kid had been let loose with a box of crayons: the water was a vivid blue, interspersed with white-capped waves, and the sand a golden yellow.

Winnie scrunched up her nose. An adorable nose, admittedly – if she were his type. ‘Where’s your sense of fun? Why should Casper miss out on some beach action just because he’s a cat?’ she asked, like it was the most normal thing in the world to utter. ‘The leash is the only way to stop him from being taken by a hawk or from hunting a seagull. It protects him
and
the wildlife.’

‘Right,’ Alex said, his head belying his response by slowly shaking from side to side. He emitted a small sigh. ‘Maybe we should stop for a breather.’

Seeing as she didn’t seem to care how much of his day she took up, he might as well call some of the shots. Somehow, once again, she’d sucked him into another of her unusual excursions before he knew what hit him.

Winnie sank down next to him, near the dunes, pulling Casper into her lap. ‘Fine with me.’

They sat in a relatively comfortable silence, gazing out at the ocean, before a question began its ascent up Alex’s throat, burning for release. He played with a nearby stick, marshalling his thoughts. ‘You know, you never told me the full story about that thing with your married boss. Why you had to come here.’ He wasn’t sure why he even cared.

Winnie’s shoulders grew rigid. She looked down, stroking Casper’s head. Meanwhile, the cat watched the crashing waves, round-eyed. ‘I can’t change the past, so I guess it doesn’t really matter if I tell you. Though, you can’t tell a soul, of course.’

‘I won’t,’ Alex promised.

Looking out to sea again, Winnie blew reddish-gold strands from her face. ‘Grant is the executive chairman of the magazine publisher that owns
Beach Life
, along with a heap of other titles. His family founded the company.’

‘So he should have known better,’ Alex interjected quietly.

‘I guess.’ Winnie glumly shrugged. ‘Grant’s super-charming, and married, as you’re already aware. Young, ambitious, attractive, fit – all the rest of it. He’d flirted with me at the office for months. Half the time, I thought I was imagining it, but I was just happy being in his orbit. Entranced someone like him would even pay attention to me.’

She licked her bottom lip and Alex imagined she tasted salt. ‘Things culminated at the Christmas office party.’ She shook her head, the words rushing out of her mouth like a torrent. ‘Christa was actually the one who caught us mid-clinch on the balcony. Still, if she hadn’t, who knows how far I might have let things go? Luckily, she’d never breathe a word as she wouldn’t want to fall out of favour with Grant. But that one mistake was essentially the ruin of me.

‘I was sent out here because Grant didn’t want word getting back to his wife. Maybe he thought I would randomly turn up on his doorstep one day, all lovelorn, or that I’d let something slip at the office, set the rumour mill in motion.’ She shook herself, causing Casper to peer up at her curiously. ‘I’m probably not the only one he’s moved sideways either. I’m a walking cliché.’

A seagull cawed above. Winnie turned to pin Alex with her gaze, her dark eyes troubled. ‘Have you ever been so won over by somebody you’ve gone against everything you believed in? Looked past any failings, despite knowing that doing so would only hurt you in the end? I don’t even know what I was thinking at the time. Grant was hardly going to leave his wife for me. There was never going to be a happy ending.’

Alex dragged his eyes away from hers, focusing on the horizon, trying to steady himself. ‘If you’re asking me if I’ve ever done anything foolish for love and paid the price, then the answer’s yes. But I’ve learned my lesson and I’ll never make that mistake again. Neither should you.’

‘I have learned my lesson,’ Winnie said bitterly. ‘And then some.’

Alex’s fists clenched at his side; maybe he shouldn’t have asked. The whole thing only served to anger him. He felt mad at the slimy executive chairman for laying a hand on Winnie and taking advantage of her in his position of power. And at Winnie for thinking so little of herself and letting it happen. To think Alex was working for one of the titles Grant’s family owned. Hastily, he got to his feet, brushing sand from his jeans.

‘We should go,’ Alex said quietly. ‘That cat won’t walk itself.’ Even the oddball act of cat-walking was preferable to contemplating the situation further right then.

‘Okay,’ Winnie said meekly, placing the cat back on the sand and getting to her feet.