Page 36 of The Omega Verse
I laugh. “Sure, but Sandy Bay isn’t exactly a metropolis. I’m pretty sure I’ll know the way.”
“Cool. Then it’s the Azure Retreat, up on the Hill. You heard of it?”
I nod, trying to keep the sour look off my face. The Hill is the most expensive real estate in town and basically an enclave of showy mansions for holidaymakers from the city. I usually don’t have any reason to visit, but the Azure Retreat is one of the rental properties owned by Greg Murphy, our mayor, and my short-lived fling.
I only visited once, on the night of a dinner party where I was asked to bring the dessert. I knew before I even served up the tiramisu that our host – who was also my date – had moved on to the attractive blonde at the end of the table. I’ve seen Greg around town a couple of times since, but he’s rarely with the same woman twice. I tried to console myself that at least I’m not the only one who fell for his politician’s smile, but the truth is, I was lonely and he knew it.
I don’t mention any of this as I follow the winding road up the hill. It backs directly onto a protected national park, and the property is at the end of a cul-de-sac. It’s huge and glamorous, but mostly it reminds me of a dentist’s office with all its white concrete and stark glass.
“This is it,” I tell them as I pull up outside. It’s definitely a retreat with the massive perimeter wall, but the only thing azure about it is the glimpses of ocean through the trees.
“You coming in?” Kobi asks when I keep the engine running.
“I really need to get to the bakery,” I hedge. “Can I swing past later?”
Kobi has the door open, but he bends down and frowns at me. “You sure? Tom wanted us to stick together…”
“I won’t be long,” I promise. “I just need to check on things and grab some more clothes.”
“Okay, but then I think we need to get together with the other guys and talk. About what happens now, but also about Steven. You still want to learn some more about him, right?”
“Yes, definitely,” I say quickly, because that hasn’t changed. And now my heat is over, there’s no reason for the guys to stick around. A flash of panic grips my chest as I drum my fingers on the wheel. “How about I head back at around eight and bring dinner?”
“Sounds good.” Kobi shuts the door and I wait for Silva to jump out, but he slides over the console and sprawls into the seat next to me. When he buckles himself in, I raise my brows at him. “Don’t want to go check out the azure view?”
The look he gives me - from my damp hair to my equally damp undies - is sinful. “Pretty sure the only thing I want to look at in this town is right here.”
Cass
The streets are increasingly busy as we approach the town centre. The surf competition brings people from as far away as California, all eager to watch the world’s best surfers tackle the monster Southern Ocean waves. It’s great for business, but it turns our sleepy little town into a bit of a circus, with tents popping up on the beach and Kombi vans breaking down on Main Street. There’s also the influx of reporters and sporting celebrities, so all the hotels and B&Bs are overflowing, the pubs and cafes working overtime to keep everyone in food, beer, and wi-fi.
At close to six p.m., every shop and eatery is open on the Esplanade. Tables crowd the footpath and fairy lights hang from awnings, swinging wildly in the brisk sea breeze. Windburned tourists are dashing across the road, headed for a beach picnic or a night swim. It takes forever to inch our way around the clock tower that marks the centre of town. And then it’s another ten minutes creeping along behind a convoy of caravans before I’m pulling into the tiny carpark at the bakery. We could have walked here in half the time, and I'm hot and irritated when I leap out.
I cast a professional eye over the building as I fish the spare keys out from under the drainpipe and lead Silva up to the back door. The rubbish bins are tidy, the rear windows are intact, and the rosemary bushes are alive, although they’re pretty low-maintenance as far as hedges go. Satisfied the place hasn’t burnt down in my absence, my first stop is the small office at the back of the building. There’s only enough room for my desk, the ancient computer, and a wall rack covered in a selection of Cookie’s hats and scarves.
Silva pauses to read the Rolling Stones’ article on the noticeboard as I snag a pale blue scarf off the rack and loop it around my neck. It’s not that I want to hide Tom’s mating bite, exactly, but the soft material feels soothing against my tender skin.
“Great picture,” Silva murmurs, nodding at Steven’s happy face.
“Mm.” I clutch the edges of the scarf, studying my brother’s electric smile. Knowing what I do now, it has to be because of River. With that sparkle in his eye, he must have been thinking about his mate. “I’m glad he was happy, even if it didn’t last for long.”
Silva squeezes my fingers, a comforting presence as I grab the pile of unopened mail from the tray. I stuff it in a beach bag I keep under the desk and then we head into the kitchen, flicking on the overhead fluorescents as I go. It’s overly bright after the cramped office, and I look around with an assessing eye. But as far as I can tell, everything is in order. The bench is spotless, the sink is wiped down, and the mixer, deep fryer, and ovens are all ready to go again tomorrow.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. It looks surprisingly clean. Tom said two of our casuals have been splitting the shifts. I thought the place would have burned down by now.”
“I heard that, you know,” a familiar voice chirps from the doorway, and I spin around to find Dusty smirking at me. “Hi, stranger!”
“Hey! What are you doing here?” One of the benefits of running a bakery is closing after the lunch crowd. Even with clean up, prep for the morning, and the grind of paperwork, we can be done and dusted by three pm.
“I saw you out on the street and followed you,” he admits without a twinge of shame.
“Stalker.” I shoot him a mock scowl as I pull open the fridge and check the prep for tomorrow.
“How could I resist?” he asks with a dramatic huff. “New car and new man…”
I turn around just as his eyes go comically wide and his hand slaps over his mouth. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Ohmygodyou’reSilvaSterling!” he shrieks, pointing in his direction.