Discovering Stella (5 page)

I agreed with
my
sister; there were many reasons.
She
was only eleven months
older,
yet
it
may
as
well have been eleven years: she was smart, organised, far
more
mature and,
as
far
as
sisters
went,
she was the best.

Turning
the handle to the bathroom
door,
I walked in while pulling
my
t-shirt
over my
head, eager to wash the
day’s
grease from
my
skin.

“Get out!” a woman screamed, shocking the
absolute
shit
out
of me.

Now
hurrying to yank the t-shirt off and away from
my
face so I could see who the fuck was screaming at me, I became aware I was standing in
front
of Stella. A wet, towel-covered Stella.
Shit! I completely forgot.

“What are
you
doing here?” she screeched, holding the towel to
her
body.

I
couldn’t
help but
take in
her
damp golden legs and
how
her
wet hair hung long, clinging to
her
neck, shoulders and the tops of
her
tits.

“Lawson!” she yelled again, snapping
my
eyes and thoughts from the roaming of
her
body.
 
“What are
you
doing
 
here? Get out!”

I locked eyes with
her
and gave
her
a small apologetic grin.
“I
live
here.”

Let’s
try this again

He lives here? Oh hell no. This is not good.
“You
can’t,”
I stuttered like an idiot, clasping my towel tighter.

He raised his hand and gripped the back of his neck, showcasing his extremely ripped chest for the second time that
day.
“Um ... yeah, I can and I do. Meg is my sister and this is our
house.”

Desperate to tear my gaze away from his
body,
I bent down to retrieve my clothes when my towel popped open and partly fell to the floor. “Shit!” I gasped¸ squatting completely and fumbling with one hand in order to cover up.

I
couldn’t
reach the other end of my stupid towel without exposing more of myself, so I opted to just hug my legs instead. “Get out! Please, just get out!” I begged.
Oh my god, this day could not get any worse.

Lawson’s
booted feet stopped before me, prompting an intake of warm, steam-filled air to my lungs as I took a deep breath. I
couldn’t
move. I was frozen solid, vulnerable and half naked in
front
of a stranger who had seen
more
of
my
body in the few hours I’d known him
than
I would have liked.

Still crouched down, I flinched slightly when the towel I had abandoned was draped across
my
back, covering
my
body com
pletely.
Lawson then helped me stand, keeping his eyes locked
on
mine and
not
letting them stray like he had earlier that
day.
Straightaway, I noticed something different within them,
some
thing they conveyed that seemed to
calm
me instantly.

“Stella, please
don’t
be afraid
of
me.
The last thing I want is
for
you
to be scared
whenever
I’m
around
for
fear that
I’m
some
sick pervert.
Let’s
get
one
thing straight right
here,
right
now
...
I’m
not
a sick pervert, okay? I had
no
idea
you
were
in
here.
Swear to fucking god. And as
for
earlier
today,
I
didn’t
mean to cause whatever
it
was that happened between us by the
side
of
the road. The way I acted was
low.
Really
low,”
he
explained in a
calm
tone,
tucking in
my
towel
but
keeping his eyes
on
mine, and his hands respectful. “So
...
taking
into
account that we will be seeing each other a hell
of
a
lot
while
you
are staying
here,
how
about
we start this
all
over
again?”
He
smiled coyly and
held
out
his hand
for
me to shake.
“Hi,
I’m
Lawson
Drake.”

I stared, dumbfounded, at his outstretched, calloused and slightly grease-smeared hand, deliberating whether
or not
to wipe the slate clean.
He
did seem genuinely remorseful and, to be honest, our faux pas introduction
wasn’t
entirely his fault.

Tentatively,
I placed
my
hand
on
top
of his and smiled
meekly,
finding his
light-blue
eyes through
my
lashes.
“Nice
to meet you, Lawson.
I’m
Stella, Stella
Walker.”

He
grinned and,
for
the first time since meeting him, I was able to really survey the man standing before me.
Wow!
He
was cute. Really cute.
Hot
even,
as
in
burn-my-nether-regions
hot. Gruff, tanned, tattooed and completely ripped-as-hell hot. The well-defined muscles of his shoulders, arms, chest and abdomen indicated he had a friendly relationship going
on
with a set of weights. And his hair! His straight,
dark-blond
hair was free from the ponytail that had held
it
previously and
now
sat just below his chin.

We
both stood there smiling and shaking hands
for
longer
than
necessary when I realised I was still draped in a towel and
not
in a
position
to be
making
small
talk.
“Um ...
do
you
mind waiting
outside
until after
I’m
dressed, please?” I asked, retracting
my
hand.

Lawson took a
couple
of steps backward, finally dropping his
gaze
to
my
towel-covered body before turning around and heading
for
the
door.
“Yeah,
of course.
Take
your
time.”

I giggled. “Thanks.”

He
stopped, turned to face me and displayed
an
incredible smile.
“Now
that was
nice,”
he said with amusement.

Confused, I raised
an
eyebrow.
“What was?”

“That sound
you
just
made.”

I giggled again. “What sound?”

“That
one.
It
sounds nice.
You
should do
it
more
often,”
he answered before turning and leaving the room.

Staring at the white-painted hardwood door he had just closed behind him, I was momentarily stunned, speechless.
What the hell? A giggle?
It
sounded nice
...
I should do it more often?

“I
do giggle,
don’t
I?” I whispered to myself.

Well,
I used to giggle. A lot. Before the
...
I
couldn’t
bring myself to say
it
and, unable to
prevent
the onset of
emotion,
the enemies that were
my
tears began to well in
my
eyes, threatening to spill
over
and
torment
me with their
victory.
I blinked them back, having become accustomed to doing
so.
They
weren’t
going to win.
No,
Stella, no tears. This is a fresh start; a new beginning. A life without pain. Estelle Munroe is no longer. She is gone. Dead.
You
are Stella Walker now.

Repeating the pep
talk
that had become
my
daily mantra, I noticed
my
reflection in the mirror. A lost woman stared back at me. A woman who was a soulless shell, a damaged, irreparable being who no longer had a plan
...
a purposeful life. A woman who barely survived each day; who barely breathed. What I found in the mirror was that all-too
painful
reminder.

I turned
away.
I
didn’t
want to reflect that image any
more.
That woman evoked pain, and I was
done
with pain.

*
 
*
 
*

After
drying
myself and changing
into
shorts and a t-shirt, I made
my
way to the kitchen where Meg was setting the table.
“Oh,
here
...
let me
help you
with
that,”
I offered, hurrying to
her
side.

Meg and I had sat
for
the better part of the afternoon
get
ting to know
one
another
over
a cup of coffee.
Well
...
to be completely honest, I got to know
her,
not
the other way around. What I chose to divulge about
my
past was limited,
but it
was enough to keep
her
inquisitiveness at
bay.

The family resemblance between Meg and Lawson was uncanny
now
that I was aware of it. Like
her
brother,
Meg had
blonde
hair,
blue
eyes and a warm aura.
She
was kind, candid and forthcoming. I liked
her,
and I could see why
Todd
did
as
well.

“Thanks,” she replied with
an
apologetic smile. “Listen, Stella, I
am
so
sorry
for
what happened with Lawson. I completely forgot
you
were in the
shower
and basically
sent
him straight in.
Hon
estly, it
wasn’t
his fault,
it
was
mine.”

My
cheeks instantly flushed at the memory of
my
embarrassing bathroom
encounter,
so I kept
my
head down and concentrated
on
the false intricacy of laying
out
knives and forks.
“Oh,
don’t
worry about
it,”
I said, dismissively.
“It
was a
simple
mistake.
He
just frightened me,
that’s
all.”

“Actually,
I think
you
frightened him
more
than
he did
you.”

Looking
up,
my
gaze
met hers.
She
bit
her
bottom
lip,
which made me laugh.
“Yeah,
I think
you
might be
right.”

“My
sister is always
right,”
Lawson declared
as
he
entered
the
room,
freshly
showered
and cleanly shaved. He’d
put
on
a pair of
khaki
cargo shorts and a plain white tee
,
which fitted snugly against his chest. His hair was once
again
pulled back in a ponytail.

I gave him a docile smile then returned
my
stare to the cutlery and placemats before me, which was when his freshly
showered
scent drifted
over
me
as
he walked
by.

“So what are
you
right about this time?” he asked Meg.

“Does
it
matter?
I’m
always
right.”

“No,
not
really.”
He continued toward the fridge and opened it. “Shit!
We’re
nearly
out of
beer.”

Meg glanced in his direction and sarcastically smiled.
“Don’t
worry,
Todd
will
be back any minute with
some
more.
You
won’t
die from withdrawal.”

Lawson sighed with relief and grabbed a
VB,
then turned in
my
direction, offering
it
to me. “Beer?”

I looked at the stubby
as
if
it
were about to have a discussion with me, knowing
full
well that beer did
not
talk.
“Um
...”

“Todd
is bringing back wine if
you’d
prefer
that,”
Meg offered, sensing
my
reluctance.

“Um ...
no,
beer is
fine.”

“You
don’t
sound so
sure,”
Lawson said, a smug
but
playful expression
on
his face
as
he unscrewed the cap and held
it out
to me,
as
if
trying
to
call
my
bluff.

Squaring
my
shoulders, I took
it
from him. “Thank you. And
for
your information, I
do
like
beer.
I just
don’t
drink
often.”

He
went
to grab
it
back.
“Hey,
you
don’t
have to drink it. I
didn’t
mean to pressure you, I —”

“You
didn’t
pressure
me,”
I countered calmly. “The beer is fine.
Thanks.”