Three Words: A Novella Collection Read online

  Three Words

  A Collection of Five Short Romantic Stories

  Lindy Dale

  © 2015 Secret Creek Press

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  Daisy Darling Meets A Man

  Chapter 1

  “Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

  Daisy pulled an arm into Jack’s sloppy grey cardigan and yanked it down to cover her pyjama top. Tugging the sides together, she padded down the hall trailing her finger through the dust on the console as she went. I really must give the house a spring clean, she thought, instantly dismissing the idea as a waste of energy. Daisy hated housework. That was the beauty of living by herself. She didn’t need to bother so much. After all, it wasn’t like anyone was going to see it.

  As she reached the door, Daisy exhaled a sigh of exasperation. All she’d wanted was to wallow a little longer, have a glass of wine or three then follow it with an early night to try and eradicate the dark circles that seemed to have popped up under her eyes. She didn’t want a visitor, particularly at this time. It had to be at least nine o’clock.

  With one hand on the deadlock, Daisy steeled herself for the possibility of what lay on the other side of her front door. She could hear Rex, the Border Collie, barking but not in his ‘go away stranger’ bark. It was more of an excited bark, the type he did when Avery came home from school.

  “God,” Daisy groaned to herself. “It had better not be Mrs. Hanson again.”

  There were only so many more of her neighbour’s late night visits Daisy could tolerate. She was so over listening to Mrs. Hanson gossiping about other people in town. The woman was a human version of a tabloid newspaper and on more than one occasion Daisy had slipped up and almost become the subject of the gossip herself. It wasn’t like Mrs. Hanson even came to help. She merely stuck her blue-rinsed nose where it wasn’t wanted so she had a bit more gossip to spread. Yes, Daisy had been a bit down in the dumps since Jack had gone. And yes, the house was deathly quiet since Avery had returned to school in Perth but Daisy didn’t need a babysitter. She wasn’t quite ready to jump off the bridge just yet, thank you. That was a damn long way down.

  On the other side of the door, a sudden deluge of rain began to pelt against the tin cladding that covered the walls of the house. A gust of wind whistled around the porch and blew plops of rain into the sidelight. Rex let out a playful yelp. It had been like that all evening, ten minutes of downpour, then silence for the next ten.

  With the knocking becoming more insistent, Daisy flicked on the outside light and put an eye to the spyhole. A blur of what looked like a black leather arm stood on the other side and from the shape of it, it definitely wasn’t Mrs. Hanson. Not unless she’d grown an Adam’s apple and started wearing sheepskin vests.

  “Who is it?”

  From the other side of the door, a muffled, yet rather manly voice replied, “Henry.”

  “Henry who?” She certainly didn’t know anyone called Henry, unless you counted Henry who volunteered with her at the Visitors Centre each Friday. And he wouldn’t be at the door at this time of night. He was lucky to remember what day it was at his age. Plus, he was only allowed to drive in daylight.

  “Henry ….” A thump, a small bleating noise and some more barking smothered the rest of Henry whoever-he-was’ last name. Then there was thud, like the sound of falling, followed by some of the most colourful cursing Daisy had ever heard.

  Daisy rolled her eyes. She guessed she had no choice. It was bucketing down out there and the person on the other side clearly sounded distressed. She’d have to open the door. Turning the snip, she pulled the door open a crack and peered around it into the night.

  “Uh, hi.”

  A man was lying in a heap on the doorstep, unable to move because of two rather large black and white paws that had him pinioned and a rough pink tongue that was leaving a trail of slobber over his jaw. A very tall, very good-looking man wearing dark denim jeans and a sodden leather jacket.

  “Rex!” Daisy growled. “Down! Heel!”

  Looking upset at having his fun spoiled, the dog disengaged himself and went to sit at Daisy’s feet.

  “Sorry about that,” Daisy said. “He gets a bit excited at visitors.”

  Brushing himself off, the man scrambled to his feet. Drips of rain splattered from the peak of the navy baseball cap that shielded his face. The man’s arms were gently wrapped around his chest, cocooning a furry white ball that squirmed on the outside of his jacket as he tried to lift it.

  “That’s okay,” he began, his eyes wandering down her body and back to her face, taking in the indigo blue of her nightwear and old Ugg boots that kept her feet warm. “Sorry. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  Suddenly self-conscious, Daisy pulled the cardigan tighter around her body. She was aware that it was old and ugly but it was comforting. It had Jack’s smell.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I was wondering if this belonged to you.” With a slight smile, the man leant forward to show Daisy the contents of his arms.

  “Oh my God,” she exclaimed, her face stunned with shock. “It’s Marsha!”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Marsha?”

  “Long story.”

  Daisy had six lambs grazing on the land at the moment, affectionately nicknamed The Brady Bunch because their tight wooly curls ranged in colour from black to sandy and they loved to get into mischief. The Brady Bunch had been her favourite show as a child, so the name had been a no-brainer really. “Where’d you find her?”

  “On the road. I nearly ran her down,” he explained. “Shit!”

  He held the lamb out before him as a spray of yellow liquid hit the floor of the porch. “I guess she wasn’t too happy with my driving.”

  Avoiding the puddle, Daisy stepped out onto the doorstep and took the lamb from his arms. Instantly, Marsha quieted as Daisy stroked the soft wool along the top of her nose between her eyes. Poor little Marsha, her mother had died giving birth to her a few weeks back. Daisy had been hand-rearing her with a bottle ever since. It was hard to believe she’d gotten out of the enclosure. She didn’t usually go far from the rest of the flock. Now she was nearly run over.

  She cuddled the lamb to her. “Thank you so much.”

  The man ~ arms held out from his body like a wee-soaked scarecrow ~ gazed down at the huge patch of wet spreading over the crotch of his jeans. “No problem. I think.”

  “You’ll need to get out of those jeans, pretty quick. Sheep wee is a real stinker. It lingers on the skin for ages.”

  The man wrinkled his nose and wiped his wet hands on a dry patch on the side of his pants. “You don’t say.”

  Then they stood looking at each other.

  Hmm, Daisy thought. This was a bit awkward.

  With a command to Rex to get back to bed, Daisy stepped through the door, making to go into the house with her charge. “So, um, thanks again. And, uh, have a safe trip.”

  The man, however, appeared to have some idea of joining her inside the house. Abruptly, he reached out, barring the door from closing and giving Daisy so much of a scare that she almost jumped out of her Ugg boots. This in turn frightened the lamb, which began to bleat in a most distressed way.

  “Look, I don’t mean to intrude,” the man yelled over the din, “But I put my car into the ditch outside your place when I swerved to avoid Marsha. I need to ring for help but my phone doesn’t seem to have any reception and I’ve got no idea where I am.”

  “That’s because mobiles don’t work out here, not unless you stand under that tree.” Daisy pointed to a dead tree on
the edge of the boundary about three hundred metres away.

  “You’re joking, right?” He gave her a horrified look. Clearly, he thought she meant for him to stand out there in the rain to make his call, whilst covered in sheep wee.

  Daisy looked up over his shoulder and into the black of the night. In a way, she guessed she wasn’t kidding. She didn’t know this man and she didn’t want to end up on an episode of Serial Killer Sunday ~ as his victim. He might be one of those weirdoes who drove up and down country roads looking for lonely women and using innocent lambs as his in. He could be some sort of psycho who’d been watching her with binoculars for ages waiting for his chance. Marsha mightn’t have even been on the road. You never knew.

  A huge clap of thunder sounded overhead as if to alert her that she was in danger of over-analysing. Again. Things like that didn’t happen here. This was the country. The worst thing that had happened in the last six months was when Gwen Thompson had lost control of her supermarket trolley with the twins in and it had run through the plate glass window of the gym, ramming into the rather rotund bottom of Mrs Porter.

  No. This man wasn’t a threat. He was simply someone in a spot of bother. And Daisy was always the one to help out someone in a spot of bother.

  “Yes. Sorry. That was a joke. I shouldn’t tease. It’s always getting me into strife.”

  “Is it okay if I use your phone, then?”

  “Of course. Come in. The least I can do is offer you a fire and a glass of wine while you wait especially after what you did for Marsha. I might even be able to rustle up a spare set of clothes so you can take those smelly ones off. I’m Daisy, by the way. Daisy Darling.”

  “Henry Moon.”

  Leading the way, Daisy walked back down the hall towards the kitchen, turning on the lights as she went. Henry Moon? She was sure she’d heard that name before. If only she could remember where. Maybe she should ask him.

  Chapter 2

  Daisy’s kitchen was warm and cosy, exactly how a country kitchen should look. An old pine dresser, lined with blue and white plates, stood beside the white painted cupboards. A string of garlic hung from the extractor fan over the cook top. Yellow painted walls were highlighted with daisy printed curtains and a bunch of daisies from the garden had been carelessly shoved into a chipped white vase on the table. It was homely and, well, comfortable.

  After offering Henry a stool at the counter and giving him the cordless phone, Daisy bustled about putting Marsha onto a blanket by the fire and fixing her a drink. She could hear Henry on the phone talking to someone called Georgia, explaining what had happened. It was probably his girlfriend. A man who looked like that wouldn’t have a shortage of girlfriends.

  Putting his hand over the mouthpiece, Henry whispered, “What’s the address here?”

  “Lot 5 Wagtail Lane. Turn right into Hanley Road off the highway and then take the second left. We’re about 2km along on the bottom side of the road. Stone house.”

  “Thanks.” He repeated the instructions into the phone.

  Daisy walked back to the kitchen bench and took two wine glasses out of the drawer. If Henry was being picked up, it was going to take at least fifteen minutes and he wouldn’t be driving, so it was perfectly acceptable to offer him a glass of wine, wasn’t it? Unless his girlfriend got narky, of course. She might be the jealous type. She lifted the bottle slightly, gesturing towards him.

  Henry nodded, giving her the thumbs up.

  Daisy poured two glasses of wine and propped herself up on a stool opposite him. There was no way she was going to sit next to him at the counter. She must look a sight. Jack’s old cardigan was covered bobbles of matted wool and her blue flannelette PJ’s had a stain from the spaghetti she’d had for dinner. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a messy topknot, the way she liked to wear it when she slept and though her face was freshly scrubbed ready for bed, she sort of wished she still had the traces of makeup on from the day. At least he wouldn’t have been able to see the dark circles she’d been cultivating.

  Henry’s long fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass. Daisy noticed his beautifully manicured nails as he lifted it to his mouth ~ a manly sort of mouth with deep pink lips. Then as he tilted his head she saw his eyes clearly for the first time. Her heart began to pound ever so slightly faster. Gee whiz. A girl could drown in eyes like that. They were the colour of melted chocolate and surrounded by the longest black lashes she had ever seen on a man. Not that she went about checking out men’s lashes on a regular basis, mind you, but if she did… Well, they were enough to make you quiver with excitement. Or want to kill for.

  Surreptitiously, she studied the rest of him. Wide straight shoulders topping the type of chest and torso a girl would die to run her fingers over like keys on a piano. Long, lean legs. How could it be that he could be allowed out alone without being mobbed? Surely, he needed a security detail or something? She watched as he sipped his wine, those full lips kissing the glass, trying not to imagine what it would be like if those lips were on hers. It was an odd thought to have, given that she’d never exactly been one for looking at men in a sexual way.

  “So Henry,” she began as she took the phone that he’d handed her and put it aside on the bench, “What brings you out into the middle of nowhere on a night like this?”

  “Well, I travel a lot and when I go to a new place I like to take a day and see the sights. I like to take photos. That’s what I was doing today. But it got dark and I think I took a wrong turn.”

  “So, you’re a tourist?” That would explain his getting lost on a country road.

  “No, I’m here for work, but today’s my day off, I guess.”

  “Where’re you working?”

  A look of something she couldn’t define crossed Henry’s face. Was it confusion? Guardedness? Or was he trying to suppress a smirk? She was so out of touch with the world lately, she had no idea. Being so wrapped up in her own misery she’d forgotten how to read the expressions of others. Maybe he just didn’t like questions.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Daisy said.

  “No. It’s not rude at all. I… I’m just … it doesn’t matter. I’m working over at the Sandalford Estate in Margaret River.”

  Daisy picked up the bottle and topped up his glass. “It’s lovely there. Great wine.”

  “Yeah. Good concert venue, too.”

  A drip of water from the brim of Henry’s cap splashed onto the bench and suddenly Daisy noticed that he was shivering. His hands looked pale and cold and his lips had turned a funny shade of purplish blue. She’d been so confused by the fact that this vision had landed on her doorstep that she’d completely forgotten about the spare clothes she was meant to be finding for him. How embarrassing.

  “How long will it be before your lift arrives?” she asked, getting up. “Because I’m thinking if you’d like to have a hot shower to get the smell off and warm up a bit, I could toss your clothes into the washer and get you those spare ones to wear while they dry. You’ll catch a death sitting there like that. Plus, you do reek a little.”

  Henry’s eyes crinkled at the corners. He seemed to consider the idea. “Well, I guess.”

  “No pressure. I just thought you’d be more comfortable.”

  “I don’t want to put you to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. I’ve got a whole wardrobe full of clothes that’ll fit you and a spare bathroom right through there.” She pointed along the hall that lead to the bedrooms.

  Henry got up from the stool, setting his glass down on the bench. “In that case, thanks. That’d be great.”

  He peeled off his hat placing it on the bench. He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair making it stand on end.

  Oh. My. God.

  Colour burst across Daisy’s cheeks. Her eyes bulged like ping pong balls. How could she be such a dipstick? There she was sitting around in her pyjamas casually sipping wine like she had a wine tree growing in her backyard and the man opposite her was
…

  No. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. No wonder he’d looked at her like she was a stalker when she mentioned the shower. Oh. My. God.

  “Um, oh,” she spluttered, a splash of wine tipping down her chin. “Oh. You’re …..”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “Shiiiiiit.”

  Daisy stared at him, her mouth all but falling to the floor. This must be a dream. Yes, that was what it was. She’d had one too many wines and she was having one of those dreams. In a minute they’d be having wild sex on the counter or something and peacocks would be dancing to Lady Gaga in the background. She blinked a few times; convinced he’d be naked the next time she opened her eyes. But no. He was still there, fully clothed and smiling. This was very real.

  “Shit,” she repeated. “I mean not like, ‘shit’, shit because that would be bad. But like a ‘wow’ type of ‘shit’.”

  Henry’s mouth bent into an amused smile at her rambling.

  “I mean, it’s good. You’re good. I mean, I love you so much! Oh shit, I don’t know what I mean.”

  How could she know? Her brain had left the building and taken her tongue muscles with it. Hawk Moon was sitting at her breakfast bar. The Hawk Moon. The most popular male music star on the entire planet. He’d hinted at who he was when he said where he was here working but she hadn’t twigged. Here she was, someone who professed to be his biggest fan and she hadn’t even recognised him when he told her his real name. And then she’d blurted that she loved him like a teenager or something. Talk about an idiot.

  “You okay, Daisy?” Henry asked. His gaze was intent and slightly worried looking. She wished he’d stop staring. It was making her feel more ridiculous than she did already.

  “Yes. I’m fine. Just a little shocked, that’s all. I mean… I don’t even know what to call you.”

  “You can call me Henry.” Henry held up a hand. “And it’s okay. I get it.”

  Daisy felt the relief flow through her body. He really did get it and for some reason she knew that he didn’t care at all. This wasn’t a weird groupie thing. She was in shock. Not to mention hideously embarrassed. On a scale of one to ten, this rated right up there with the time she’d walked into that mirrored pole in Target and said ‘sorry’ to it in front of three sales assistants.