anticipation swirling like a tornado through her body. Tearing up her reason and sensibility and logic.
Trent pulled his T-shirt up, the white cotton making way for toned abs and a broad chest and those delectable vee muscles driving down into the waistband over his board shorts… Well, Cora wondered if maybe there wasn’t really anything so wrong with indulging every once in a while.
What happens in Australia stays in Australia?
But she quickly brushed the thought off. Getting involved with another guy would be jumping from the frying pan into the fire.
More like into the inferno.
Exactly. A guy like Trent would burn her to ash, and she needed to protect herself right now. Protect her heart and her head, protect all the wounds still raw from her failed-before-it-ever-started marriage.
She wasn’t ready to open herself up to anybody yet. Not matter how tempting.
…
Several hours later, Cora’s statement was confirmed: she was the worst cricket player in history. She hadn’t hit a single thing.
However, watching her run for the ball, curly hair flying out behind her, smile as wide as the coast, was easily the most beautiful thing Trent had ever seen. When she let go, Cora was joyous. Luminous. She outshone and out-sparkled everything around her.
Now, the whole crew—joined by a few extra friends—were crowded around a collection of tables at the White Crest that they’d jammed together to fit everyone. Food was being passed around, beer glasses were clinking, and it was as noisy and cheerful as ever.
“So, tell us again how you forgot to turn off the water mains.” Dean stuffed a chip into his mouth and munched, shaking his head. “Rookie move, bro. Even I know that.”
“Yeah, even Dean knows that, and he can’t change a bloody lightbulb on his own.” Skye rolled her eyes.
“Uh, not true. The reason I wouldn’t change that bulb was because there was a giant spider in the fixture.” Dean shuddered. “Huntsmans are the worst.”
“What’s a huntsman?” Cora asked, looking on from her seat with interest. She’d piled all her hair on top of her head and a few curls, fortified with saltwater, had fallen out around her face.
An evil grin passed over Skye’s lips. “Should I show her a picture?”
“Hell no!” Dean thumped a hand down on the table. “If you start pulling out the spider pictures, I am out of here.”
Trent laughed. “How did you survive living in this country for so long with a fear of spiders, mate? They’re harmless.”
“He squealed like a little girl when I took the light fixture off and the damn thing went scuttling across the roof.” Skye laughed as her brother rolled his eyes. “I thought he was going to faint.”
“Oh, well, since we’re sharing family stories, how about I share the time you freaked out when that moth flew into your bedroom?” Now it was Dean’s turn to look evil.
“Moths?” Trent asked. “Really, Skye? I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”
“Not all moths, just the big ones. They’re so…erratic.” She shuddered. “I tried to trap it under an empty ice cream container, but its wings were too big.”
Poor Cora looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head.
Our guest. Trent winked at Cora across the table, and her lips automatically curved up into a smile. There’d been no doubt in his mind that his mates would accept Cora into their group, even if she was only around for a few weeks. She and Maddy already had plans to grab coffee so she could show Cora around the bookstore.
“Maybe they should issue a survival guide when they check your passport at the airport,” Cora said. She’d ordered a Diet Coke and took a long sip on the straw—which made Trent’s mouth suddenly run dry. The sight of her pink, glossy lips wrapping around that straw…
He dragged his eyes back to his meal. The chicken parma had barely been touched, save for him snacking on a few of the chips piled to one side.
“Not hungry?” Nick asked with a raised brow. While the statement might appear to be a show of sibling concern, Trent knew better.
“Yes, I’m going to eat it all. Keep your mitts off.” Growing up had been like that in their house—always fighting for the leftovers, especially when it came to his three older brothers, who all ate like horses. His mum had cursed the lot of them, saying it was like feeding an army every night.