Mistletoe Not Required. Anne Oliver
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dry throat. She’d kept tabs on him for the past three years? Hell. ‘So?’ he said, meeting her gaze.
‘Olivia’s not like that.’
‘You saying last night she wasn’t herself, then?’
She waved her hands about her, unsure. ‘I don’t know about last night, I wasn’t there. I’m just telling you what I know about who she is. How she is. Usually.’
‘She’s hardly talking to me as it is. Don’t worry, I won’t lay a finger on her. Or anything else.’
Unless she asks me to. He grew hard just thinking about last night and where his fingers had been. He refilled his glass and sat on one of the recliners to hide the incriminating evidence building a bonfire in his shorts. Yeah, any glimmer of reciprocation on the best friend’s part and all bets were off.
Breanna took the other recliner. ‘I’m not saying don’t have a good time, Jett. She deserves some fun. She’s in desperate need of some fun. But...’ She shrugged, seemed to consider. ‘Fine. You’re both adults, I’ll leave it up to you. And her.’
He nodded. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he reassured her. ‘You’re racing tomorrow. I take it she’s sailing with you?’
‘Livvie’s the reason I’m going. We’ve sailed together heaps.’ She hugged her shoulders and smiled. ‘I can’t wait. It’s turning out to be such a great Christmas.’
‘Yeah.’ His gaze flicked to the harbour, filled with myriad different craft on the white-flecked water, some decked with tinsel or coloured streamers. He’d never tell his sister he always spent the twenty-fifth of December doing anything so long as it wasn’t related to Christmas.
When his trip to Thailand with a couple of mates had been cancelled at the last minute, he’d decided, on the spur of the moment, to accept Breanna’s invitation to meet up in Sydney. He’d not realised he’d accepted the full Christmas Day deal until too late. She’d sounded so damn thrilled about it, he just hadn’t been able to bring himself to disappoint her.
But she looked as if she was settling in for a bit of a sisterly chat so he said, ‘Reckon I’ll lie here and snooze for a bit.’ He closed his eyes. ‘Didn’t get much sleep last night.’
She cleared her throat. ‘Right. I’m going to take a shower.’
‘Okay.’ Which reminded him he’d been disappointed the pretty strawberry underwear had disappeared when he’d used the second bathroom this morning.
The air was warm and muggy and he was dozing within moments...
* * *
...Hurry up, Mummy. She was always late to pick him up from school. Jett had got himself there this morning because he hadn’t been able to wake her up. Again. He’d been so hungry he’d asked his teacher if he could have a Vegemite sandwich from the canteen, cos they did that sometimes when his mum didn’t give him food cos she’d run out of money.
But then strangers came and took him away to another house and told him his mum had passed away. He wasn’t sure what that meant but he knew he wouldn’t be seeing her again and he cried heaps cos she’d told him she loved him and promised him that one day they’d go and live with his father in a big house and there’d be everything he’d ever wanted.
The lady that had picked him up told him he’d be living with other kids like him and he’d have lots of fun and make new friends. And he tried. But he didn’t have fun and they picked on him cos he was smaller. So he fought back. And then they told him he was a trouble-maker and moved him to another place, then another. Who needed dumb friends anyway? He was waiting for the day his father came to get him, then everything would be okay.
And while he waited he dreamed how it was going to be. His father would laugh and open his arms and fold Jett in close like his mum used to do on her good days and tell him he’d been waiting for this day too.
Then one day they said his father wanted him to come for Christmas Day. He was overcome with breathless anticipation. Filled with wonder and excitement; his first proper Christmas with a real turkey and a tree and presents and stuff. His father might’ve got him a bike and he’d take him outside after lunch to teach him how to ride it and then he’d tell him he loved him and wanted him to stay for ever and that he had his own bedroom with a pirate bed and a pirate night light, cos he really liked pirates.
But when he got there, the man he’d dreamed about had sad eyes and didn’t smile like how he’d imagined. He took him inside and there was a lady there too. Jett didn’t understand why the lady wouldn’t look at him or why she left the room with wet eyes. Then his father showed him a tiny bundle of baby with dark hair and eyes just like his own and told him her name was Breanna. His very own sister. And he forgot the man had looked sad cos now he was smiling and he let Jett touch the baby’s skin and it felt like his mum’s silk pillow case that she used to let him sleep on sometimes, only even softer. Today was the best day in the world.
But then the lady came and took the baby out of the room and his father told him that Jett couldn’t be a part of his new family. Ever.
* * *
Jett stirred, rasped a hand over his stubble but kept his eyes closed. Christmas—and the old bad still followed like a dark shadow.
But his sister—the baby who’d ousted him from his rightful place in the family—was a bright light and not what he’d expected. He was still amazed that Breanna had come looking for him after their father had died and she’d learned she had an older brother. She’d been the sole heir to their father’s estate but didn’t seem to want anything from him but his friendship.
‘You,’ muttered a curt female voice. Just sharp enough to cut through the air and ensure he was listening, followed by the sound of fingertips drumming impatiently on the balcony rail.
His lips curved but his eyes remained closed. ‘Hello, Trouble. Taking a few moment’s down-time. Didn’t get much sleep last night.’
‘It’s not your sleeping habits I’m bothered about.’
Her fresh apricot and cucumber scent wafted to his nostrils and he cracked open one eye. She’d showered; her gloriously red hair was damp and kissed elegant bare shoulders. A short black-and-white geometrically patterned dress hugged her curves. Curves he’d been getting intimately acquainted with not twelve hours ago. Curves he might have got even more intimate with if Breanna hadn’t phoned Olivia and cut his plans for the rest of the evening short.
Breanna had phoned him too. Checked up on him. Left messages of concern, then annoyance. Which he probably should have answered but simply hadn’t got around to.
Who the hell ever checked up on Jett Davies?
He caught Olivia glancing at him from beneath auburn lashes. She turned a pretty shade of watermelon pink when she saw him admiring her physical assets, then looked away and became preoccupied with counting the vehicles crossing the Harbour Bridge.
‘You sure about that?’ he said to her profile, his smile widening when he saw the increasing tension in her shoulders. ‘My sleeping habits could be a good conversation starter. Why don’t you sit down and we can discuss them?’
He’d half expected her to decline but she took a chair opposite him. ‘As I was saying...it’s your typical irresponsible male behaviour.’
‘I am male,’ he pointed out. ‘I thought you’d have noticed last night. And yes, I’m pretty sure it was typical male behaviour when in the company of a sexy woman who wants the same thing he does. What I’m not sure about is the word irresponsible. I have heard of safe sex.’
She inhaled sharply, poured herself a glass of water from the table beside her. ‘You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?’
‘But you’re going to tell me.’
‘Last night...’
‘Last