A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (inspirational books for students .txt) 📗

‘Doesn’t matter. I bet you did a lot of this.’

Shutting out everything, she pictured the first time she’d seen Jon. He’d been striding across the resort’s lawn, making a beeline towards her and ignoring the protesting yells from the gardener to ‘use the path!’ Tall, and with the loose-limbed confidence that comes from knowing what you want and how you plan to get it, he’d kept his gaze fixed on her face and a smile on his own. With one look, he’d made her feel as if she was the only person in the world and she’d shivered with anticipation. She did the same now and lowered her head, kissing him full on the lips.

His lips were warm and he opened his mouth to hers. She took her time exploring it as if she was kissing him for the first time. At first he was passive, accepting what she offered and savouring it. Then he groaned and deepened the kiss, claiming her mouth and infusing her with his yearning and his essence. It was as erotic as it was intimate and the tiny part of her brain not flooded by lust wondered why they’d always rushed kissing and raced to sex.

Then rational thought disappeared and she immersed herself in the kiss—the touch of his hands in her hair, the pressure of his mouth on hers, the heat streaking through her and the way his tongue demanded her response. His thighs jerked underneath her, reminding her that although his body struggled to respond to her in the way they both wanted, his desire for her was as strong and urgent as it had always been.

Right now, it was enough.

CHAPTER

32

Jade rewrote the fourth draft of her article so it was legible to type up the next day. It was too big to type on her phone so she’d booked a computer at the library and organised for Bob to mind Milo. She planned to upload the article to Medium, then email it to the list she’d collated of online news companies and print newspapers.

Her pen stalled on a garden statistic. She wished Helen was home to check the figure, but it was a park food night so she and Bob were out feeding her homeless friends. Helen had never invited Jade to tag along, and Jade didn’t want to ask in case Helen said no and took back her ‘you’re a good mother’ compliment. Did good mothers drag their kid out to a park at night when he was tired, had a runny nose and should be in bed? Probably not. And she knew Helen would tell her as much.

The other night, Jade had pushed out Milo’s bath and bed time because she was desperate to finish reading Lost for Words. Milo had been fractious and Jade tried fobbing him off with a DVD. Helen had muttered something about ‘the importance of routine’.

All Jade had wanted was to dive under her doona with the book and hide from the world until she’d read the last page.

‘I’ve only got fifty pages left,’ she’d said. ‘Can you bath him?’

Helen had given her that just-sucked-on-a-lemon look. ‘I could, but he’ll scream for you and then all three of us will be miserable.’

‘He only yells because you don’t give him much attention.’

‘He’s not my responsibility.’

Frustration surged. ‘I thought old ladies loved children!’

‘I’m not old!’ Helen had stomped into her room, leaving Jade with a crying child.

It had been their first argument since the truce. They’d been managing cooking and cleaning together, sharing a TV and not getting in each other’s face, but Jade resented how Helen just tolerated Milo. Worse, she hated that she wanted Helen to love him.

She rewrote the final sentence and chewed her pen. What would Mrs Kastrati say about the article? Sometimes her English teacher had returned her essays covered in red lines and circles, and other times the only red was Nailed it. Jade took a photo of the article and used some of her precious data to email it, even though she was uncertain if Mrs Kastrati still taught at Finley High.

Switching off her data, she wondered about starting a new book, but she was still mourning finishing Lost for Words. She was reaching for the TV remote when she heard the throb of a diesel engine. Corey? Her heart thumped but not in a good way. He didn’t know Helen was living here and chances were he’d go ballistic.

It’s none of his business.

Milo’s his kid.

A knock shook the wire door, making her jump. Corey never knocked. Macca? She dismissed the thought. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d taken the PlayStation and that suited her just fine. Perhaps Helen had forgotten her key.

Another knock followed. Worried Milo might wake up, Jade ran to the door and used the peephole. A fluttery feeling, similar to the times she’d received a school prize at assembly, danced in her belly.

She opened the door. ‘Lachlan?’

He wore a yellow T-shirt, black pants, a cape and was holding a garden broom, bristles pointing skyward. Even for him, it was weird.

‘Bit early for Halloween,’ she said.

He grinned and picked up an esky with his free hand. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Ah, sure.’ She stood back, giving him space to walk through the door. He smelled of sunshine, laundry powder and cologne—fresh and clean. And sexy. She gasped on the thought and immediately coughed.

Lachlan frowned. ‘You okay?’

The coughing continued so she waved and nodded, trying to indicate she was fine. He strode to the kitchen and poured her some water.

‘Drink this.’

She drank, coughed, drank again, then cleared her throat. ‘Thanks.’ The word came out low and husky as if she was a pack-aday smoker. ‘Want to tell me why you’re dressed like a bee?’

He rolled his eyes and tapped the small logo of a badger on his chest. ‘If I was a bee I’d have wings.’

It took her a moment to work out what he was talking about, but