‘Never got around to it.’
‘Less than an hour’s flight from Hobart?’ He glanced at her, surprised, and caught a wistfulness in her eyes before she blinked it away.
‘Never seem to get time to travel these days.’
‘You’ll have to visit some time. You’d love the boutique shopping. I—’
‘Shopping’s not one of my priorities.’ Her voice was brisk. ‘At least not the indulgent kind of shopping you’re referring to.’
‘You’d enjoy it anyway,’ he assured her, turning his attention to Breanna’s gift. He lifted the lid on the box. Inside was a home-made Christmas cake. The enticing aroma of brandied fruit filled his nostrils.
He nodded and said, ‘Family recipe?’ then wished he hadn’t.
‘No. One of your tropical fruit specialties, actually.’ She rose and walked to the tree and picked up another box. ‘One more.’
‘Breanna. You shouldn’t have.’ Damn, he really meant it. She had no idea how uncomfortable she made him feel, and with Olivia watching on, he just wanted to walk out and leave the pair of them to their sentimental traditions.
Beneath the wrapping paper he found a beautifully bound album. Old leather. The kind that might have been a photograph album a long time ago. Its pages were empty. ‘What’s this for?’
‘I thought maybe if you had some old photos, you could put them in here with some of mine around the same time period. A kind of combined effort. And I’m hoping that we’re going to make some memories together to fill the latter pages.’
‘I don’t have any photos.’ Photos were memories and he didn’t want them. He didn’t do sentimental and nostalgia. Especially not for Christmas. ‘Excuse me, I’ve remembered I’ve got to make a couple of business calls.’ Pushing up, he strode to the door.
‘Where are you going?’ Olivia’s voice. ‘What about tomorrow? Are you in or out?’
He didn’t turn around. ‘Later.’
FIVE
‘That didn’t go so well.’ Brie grabbed up a cushion and hugged it close. ‘The album idea was a mistake. I didn’t expect him to react that way.’
‘Not a mistake. He’s a chef—unpredictable—need we say more?’ But Olivia didn’t know his past so how could she judge? But business calls on Christmas Day? ‘Give him time, Brie.’ She sat next to her, smoothing the torn wrapping paper over her lap as she spoke. ‘Why don’t you give your sexy skipper a call and tell him you’re cleared for the rest of the afternoon? He’s single with an all-male crew, right? He’d probably love a bit of female company.’
Brie was slow in smiling but she unfolded herself and stood. ‘I might just do that. If you’re sure.’
‘Of course I am. I’m going to check on our ride for tomorrow, make sure everything’s okay, take a stroll around the harbour while I’m out.’ Anything to soothe tomorrow’s nervous anticipation. ‘See you later.’
* * *
An hour later Olivia walked downstairs on her way to the marina, going over last-minute details in her head. And Jett’s disappearance. This evening was the last chance for him and his sister to catch up before the race, and he’d walked out on her.
Following a hunch, she detoured via the bar and bingo—she saw Jett propped on a bar stool, a beer in his hands. Chatting up the long tall brunette beside him who looked as if she’d been poured into her shimmery red sheath. Reindeer antlers bobbed on her head as she talked and smiled and pushed her boobs into his personal space.
She counted herself lucky she and Jett hadn’t taken things further and watched the pair of them. On closer inspection, she noticed the brunette seemed to be doing most of the talking.
The woman he should have been talking with was Brie, but no. It just demonstrated oh-so-clearly that was how men were and why she didn’t waste her time with them.
Like her father’s decision to leave when Mum had got sick. Easier to walk away than to face the tough times. Like Brie’s dad—Jett’s father—who’d walked away from a child he’d made.
Jason who’d walked away because he didn’t like her sexual inexperience.
Maybe Jett felt her silent criticism because he turned and looked right at her. Déjà vu. Last night all over again, except this time Olivia was ready for the delicious onslaught. She wouldn’t be seduced a second time.
He slid off the stool without so much as a glance back at the woman he’d been talking with and headed Olivia’s way. Her jaw firmed as painful memories scratched over old scars. Like father like son. Olivia’s father hadn’t looked back either.