Page 44 of So Now You're Back

She hated Jenkin, always had, the way he stared at her—oozing sleaze and speculation—when she was hanging out with Liam. That look alone had felt like cockroaches were crawling over her flesh whenever she was within ten feet of him, like now. But somehow the judgemental stares of all the clean, comfortable, polite people made the harassment a thousand times worse.

‘Stop playing hard to get. You know you love to suck dick.’ He cupped his pathetic package again to emphasise the point and she thought she might gag. But as she raised her head to tell him again where he could stick his dick, a shadow fell over her face. And Jenkin’s shoulder jerked. His arms flayed and he made a weird squeaking sound before crashing backwards with an audible thump.

Then Trey’s big body was blocking her view. His hair-dusted legs akimbo, the wings of his tattoo rising above the damp fabric of his swimsuit. She could see Jenkin’s face, red and sweating and speechless, through Trey’s spread legs, gaping up at the man in front of her from his new position on the ground.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Jenkin asked, still squeaking.

Trey reached down, grasped the front of Jenkin’s Superdry shirt and yanked him up, until they were nose to nose. Jenkin’s feet wiggled, his toes barely touching the ground. Lizzie couldn’t see his face, his upper body obscured by Trey’s back, but she could hear the choking sound in Jenkin’s throat as Trey said, low and ridiculously calm, ‘I’m a friend of Lizzie’s. You come anywhere near her again and you’re going to be eating that dick you’re so proud of. Got it?’

Jenkin hit the ground, hard, as Trey threw him down again. The double thump as his back and then his head connected with the earth was followed by the whoosh of air expelling from his lungs. He groaned, rolled, holding his ribs and swearing.

‘Get up and piss off,’ Trey demanded.

Jenkin scrambled to obey, a grimace of pain twisting his face, and raised his hands in supplication. He edged away, the look on his face a picture of shocked panic. ‘OK, OK, you can have her.’

Lizzie jumped up from her sitting position, finally able to get her limbs moving round her own shock. She lifted on tiptoes to peer past Trey as Jenkin limped off, like the cowardly perv he was. The grass stain on the back of his shirt waved like a badge of dishonour as he darted through the sea of gaping picnickers and disappeared round the side of the gatehouse—probably to escape the Lido before he ended up having dick sandwich for lunch.

‘Are you OK?’ Trey asked, his face grave.

She had the strangest urge to laugh, which she recognised as one part shock and two parts relief. But underneath the inappropriate giggle was a huge wave of gratitude.

Not because he had pounded on Jenkin and got rid of him—she could have got rid of him herself, eventually. Jenkin might be creepy, but he was too weedy and full of himself to be scary. And she was used to dealing with nasty remarks from men. Ever since she’d hit puberty, she’d got depressingly used to everything from wolf whistles to lewd suggestions hurled at her every time she walked past a building site or made eye contact with some arsewipe in a white van. It had scared her at fourteen, it just made her mad now, but beneath the anger was the bubbling cauldron of humiliation.

And that’s where the gratitude came in. It felt impossibly gallant of Trey, especially considering she’d always been pretty mean to him, to put himself out on her account. That he would be genuinely outraged by remarks that hadn’t surprised her. All her friends had been down on her when she’d broken up with Liam—everyone had sided with him instead of her, even Carly—which had always made her feel as if the taunts were sort of her fault. For being stupid enough to latch on to him. And give him head whenever he wanted it. Those taunts had hurt not because they frightened her, or even outraged her, but because they made her feel diminished and insignificant. Right this minute, she didn’t feel small or insignificant for once. She felt important. Because Trey had stood up for her.

Which probably meant she was in serious need of loads more therapy. But still, it felt good. ‘Yes, I’m fine. He’s just a nuisance, like a bad smell. But he’s harmless.’

‘Those things he was saying didn’t sound harmless to me.’ The tight tone sounded a bit judgemental—almost as if he were blaming her for not being more outraged. The warmth in her belly cooled. ‘Liam’s your ex, right?’

‘How do you know about Liam?’ Heat spread across her chest, the way it hadn’t when Jenkin had tried to shove his dick in her face.

She’d split up with Liam nearly a year ago, long before Trey had started working for her mum. She couldn’t imagine Aldo saying anything about him. He’d hardly even met her ex the whole time they were going out. Liam wasn’t the sort of guy you brought home to meet your family.

Instead of replying, Trey bent to pick up the towel and rubbed it over his face and neck, then glanced over to check on Aldo.

She waited for his gaze to connect with hers again, as her chest reached boiling point.

‘Your mum mentioned you’d had a bad break-up with him,’ he said finally. He threw down the towel and picked up his polo shirt.

Whaaaat?

Horror gripped her insides. ‘And why exactly was my mum talking to you about me?’

And how much had she said?

Bloody hell, had her mum told him about the therapy she’d forced her to go to? No wonder he’d been so nice to her this morning. He probably thought she was some kind of fruit loop. The humiliation of having Jenkin think he could get her to give him a BJ in a public park was nothing compared to having the lame but hot au pair think she was a nutjob.

He’d ridden to her rescue not because he thought she was important, but because her mum was probably paying him danger money to babysit her as well as Aldo.

He shrugged, his big shoulder stiff, as he concentrated on running his thumbs along the bottom of his shirt. Good, she was glad he felt uncomfortable, because she was mortified.

‘She worries about you,’ he murmured. ‘She wanted me to look out for you while she was away,’ he added, still engrossed with the stitching on the hem of his shirt.

‘Don’t kid yourself. She doesn’t give a shit about me.’ Resentment flared anew to add to the tangle of emotions making her guts feel like a pit of vipers. ‘She was probably just worried you’d walk off the job if I said something to upset you. Then she’d have to cut her stupid book tour short.’

‘Why are you so angry with your mum?’ The question and the incredulous tone punctured her outrage long enough to make her realise how childish she must sound to him.

‘I’m not angry with her all the time,’ she qualified. Not every single second anyway. ‘I just want her to stop butting into my life. I’m an adult now and she treats me like a child. I bet she’s even paying you extra to watch out for me, too, isn’t she?’ Like a five-year-old.