She knew that. And it wasn’t even that. It was her stupid anxiety and her stupid fear of being betrayed and abandoned and mocked and—
“Hey.” Zeta wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing them both to a halt. “Hey, Lis. It’s okay. We’re okay.You’reokay.”
Elisa looked into eyes identical to her own. Saw worry and compassion and understanding.
“I’m okay,” she whispered. She would be. Zeta would make sure of that. And so would Bria the second the three of them reunited.
“You’re okay,” Zeta repeated. “And hey! We’re in Australia, finally, and I’m assuming the second we step outside the airport there’s going to be kangaroos jumping all over the place and I know kangaroos everywhere will make everything better, even though youdidjust run away from a sexy Aussie in an exquisite suit wanting your number.”
Elisa chuckled and threw her sister a grateful smile. “You’re delusional.”
Zeta grinned. “Yes.” She curled her fingers around Elisa’s arm and waved her hand at the row of Christmas decoration-adorned custom stations stretching out before them. “Now, which customs officer looks the grumpiest?”
“Why?”
Zeta’s grin stretched wider. “I want to go through their counter so we can see who can make them laugh the most.”
* * *
“Honestly, Kara,” Angus Daniels tossed his overnight bag into the back seat of his sous-chef’s Lexus, and then climbed into the front passenger seat, “your timing sucks.”
Kara frowned at him as he closed the door. “So you didn’t get to give the American your number. Boo hoo. You know how many women are lined up hoping to catch the eye of Australia’s Most Eligible Bachelor?”
“Ah, sod off with that, will you?” He snorted, buckled in, and pointed at the busy traffic trying to navigate away from the international arrival pick-up zone. “Just drive.”
“Yes, boss.”
“I regret the day I ever answered the phone to that magazine writer. And I definitely should have said no to that stupid photoshoot.”
Shoving the Lexus into a miniscule gap in the sludge of traffic, Kara laughed. “C’mon. Admit it, you got off on the fame.”
“I got off on the sudden uptick in patrons at the restaurant,” he conceded. “But the fame… I’ll leave that to Owen’s cousin.”
“Is the rock star going to be at the engagement party?” Kara blasted her horn at the car in front with the same gusto she ruled the kitchen ofBuckley’s Chance.
“No idea.” Angus stopped himself from slamming on an invisible brake in front of him. Damn it, he’d forgotten how crazy Kara was behind the wheel. He would have thought two weeks driving on L.A. freeways should have prepared him, but nope. Was his life insurance up to date? “But Owen and Bria were talking about it being very low-key.”
He’d been thrilled when his best mate from school told him he was getting hitched a month ago. Owen—the maths nerd—had been voted by their year to be the “most likely to die a virgin”. Their year had voted Angus “most likely to start a harem”. Interestingly enough, Owen had lost his virginity in the maths block at school on the second last day of senior year, and Angus had skipped the whole dating scene after school finished to concentrate on his chef’s career. The decision had resulted in him being crownedAustralia’s Good Food Guide’s Chef Hat Award-winner every year since he openedBuckley’s Chance.
“Well,” Kara said, slowing down a fraction to take a right turn. “Regardless, it’s good to have you back in town.”
He laughed, scanning the crowd of people on the footpath streaming out of the airport. What would he do if he saw the American from inside?
Jump out? Go talk to her?
“Yeah, yeah.” Chest tight, he threw Kara a smirk. “You’ve been enjoying the power while I’ve been gone. Admit it.”
“Of course I have.” Kara swerved around a little purple hatch, blasted her horn, and shouted something in Portuguese as she shot past it. He’d missed his second-in-charge. Not so much her driving. “Bummed you’re back,” she said, flipping off a motorcycle rider in the lane next to her. “How did the meeting over there go?”
“Alright.” The meeting to open aBuckley’s Chancein Los Angeles had gone very well. The investors were ready to sign on the dotted line there and then.
Him though?
Angus wasn’t sure why, but something was holding him back. Moving to Los Angeles sounded amazing six months ago when the ripple effect of that ridiculous magazine article was making his normal life hell. No, he didn’t want to go on a singing show wearing some kind of costume to hide his identity. No, he was not interested in joining a group of twenty-somethings wearing almost nothing all wanting to hook up on an island for a television audience. And hell no, he didnotwant to be the bachelor ready to pick a wife from a bevy of eager women on an even more ridiculous show.
The producer forthatshow wouldn’t leave him alone, calling him every damn week, coming into the restaurant for dinner every second day. She’d even started jogging the same route he did around Bronte Beach every dawn, insisting he at least take a look at the contract. And when she’d found out he’d flown to LA last week, she’d suggested flying out to conduct a meeting with him there.
Getting out of Australia had sounded perfect afterthatphone call.