Sand Jewels (The Wishes Series) (5 page)

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen one,” he replied. “Legend has it that they’re the most beautiful, bright jewels on earth, but they’re extraordinarily rare. Very few people have seen one.”

“You’re making this up,” I scoffed, still trembling.

“I’m not,” he insisted. “Tansi would spend months gathering sand and making it into jewels. Then she’d have to hide them.”

“Why?”

“Because sand jewels are the most precious gem on earth, and each one takes 709 years to make.”

I could overlook the very precise manufacturing time he’d given me. For some reason, I was more curious as to how they were made. He didn’t skip a beat when I asked him. It almost made me believe he wasn’t making it up as he went along.

“Tansi sources the finest sand and moulds it into the shape of the jewel. Then it has to cure.”

“For 709 years,” I said dryly.

I felt his smile against my bare shoulder. “Exactly. But she had a problem. Rhosyn was an evil thief. Every time Tansi hid the jewels in the bush to cure, Rhosyn would find them.”

“She should have hidden them better,” I muttered.

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” he replied. “When sand jewels are fully cured, they’re impossibly bright – and adding to her troubles was the fact that Rhosyn could fly. She used to fly high above, scanning the bush below. Once each jewel cured and started twinkling, Rhosyn would swipe it.”

“That’s horrible. Poor Tansi.”

“I know, right?” He laughed. “It was 709 years of hard work down the drain.”

“So what did she do?”

“Well, Rhosyn might have had the wings but Tansi had the magic. She came up with the idea of hiding them in the rivers,” he explained. “But there was a problem.”

“They shone through the water?”

“Yes they did, right up until she wove some magic and turned the water black. It hid them perfectly. Rhosyn used to fly overhead searching for the sand jewels, never having a clue that they were hidden under the blackened water the whole time.”

I twisted in his arms, suddenly desperate to see his eyes. “Whatever became of her? Rhosyn, I mean.”

“She still searches to this day. I’m sure you’ve seen her.”

“What does she look like?”

“Well, what do you think she’d look like?”

I thought hard, trying to picture a kleptomaniac fairy with wings.

“She’d probably have short hair. No girl likes the windswept look.”

Alex let out a low chuckle that sent nothing but pure desire coursing through my veins. “Can I tell you something else?” he whispered.

I nodded, keeping my focus on his hazel eyes.

He leaned down close to me, murmuring his words against my lips. “You’re swimming, Gabs.”

I gripped him tighter, digging my fingers into his skin while I jerked my head in every direction, quickly glancing around.

I’d been so caught up in his tale that I hadn’t noticed he’d been inching us further into the water the whole time. We were at least five metres from the safety of the bank. I tried to pull away from him and stand, then gripped him tighter when I realised I couldn’t.

My first inclination was to start screaming for help but I was somehow able to reason with myself. I didn’t need help. Alex had a good hold on me – the best ever – we were naked. And I hadn’t drowned, which probably meant I was going to live through it.

“Don’t let me go,” I warned.

Suddenly, the hold he had on me wasn’t so polite anymore. “I’m never going to let you go,” he whispered.

9. PERFECT MAN

I’ve kept a diary since I was fourteen years old. I now had a cupboard full of notebooks detailing every drama and hope I’d had since. Re-reading them was something I didn’t do often but for some reason, I’d spent the best part of the evening parked up on the couch with a glass of wine doing just that.

One particular entry made me giggle. When I was twenty, I made a list detailing the attributes of my perfect man.

1. Must be handsome.

2. College educated or higher.

3. Fantastic sense of style and dress sense.

4. Likes books.

At the time, it was perfect. Not long after writing the list, I thought I’d found him. I was living in Manhattan, working toward an art degree and trying to better my English skills by working part-time in a library.

I met James at a party. He was a twenty-seven year old stockbroker with a penchant for designer suits and life in the fast line.

It took nearly four years for me to realise that life in the fast lane was not for me. I slowed down and he kept going. Perhaps that explained why I was totally oblivious to the fact that he was bedding half the women in Manhattan.

I was utterly convinced that I loved him, and believing he loved me too, I forgave him. I’d taken him at his word when he’d tearfully promised it would never happen again. It didn’t take me long to realise I’d made a mistake. James mistook my kindness for weakness and continued breaking my heart on a daily basis.

I’m not a foolish girl. I’m not usually a vengeful girl either but there was something very therapeutic about emptying tubes of oil paint into every one of his shoes. I decided to get the hell out of Manhattan after that. I had my degree, plenty of money and no reason to stay.

A quick online search for an international teaching position took all of ten minutes. When I saw the advertisement seeking an art teacher in Tasmania, I jumped at the chance.

My mind conjured up all sorts of lovely images. I expected to spend the rest of my career teaching well-behaved children to paint in an open field under an oak tree – Little House On The Prairie style.

The reality didn’t quite match up. A month after I got here, the French teacher quit and cuts were made to the art program. I was shoved into the role of Mademoiselle Décarie, French teacher.

I didn’t even consider leaving. I’d found my pretty cottage by that stage and had fallen in love with the town. Pipers Cove was a fresh start and ten thousand miles from James and his oily shoes.

***

Alex Blake was nothing like the man on my list. The only pre-requisite he met was number one, and it certainly wasn’t because he had fantastic dress sense and style. I didn’t even consider jeans and button down shirts to be a style, but he was good and honest and nothing like the cad Sabine Daintree had accused him of being.

I no longer lived life in the fast lane. Life at Alex’s pace was slow and blissful, even with the complication of Charli.

Charli eventually managed to weather the storm that her one night of stupidity had brought on, but she hadn’t managed to escape unscathed. From what I could tell, she’d declared war on the Beautifuls. Despite the fact that it would probably be a long war, I got the impression she’d eventually be victorious, especially if it came down to a battle of wits.

Jasmine Tate was pure evil. She never missed an opportunity to remind Charli of her social faux pas, but her wrath wasn’t one-track. She seemed to reduce at least one girl to tears every day, and I found it very telling that they were always younger than her.

Her sister was a different kettle of fish. Lily didn’t seem to have two brain cells to rub together. She’d once asked me if
à la carte
referred to food that was served off a cart.

It wasn’t hard to see why Charli got the better of her but that didn’t mean I condoned it. When I followed Lily down the corridor on my way to the first class after lunch, I knew Charli had struck. There was a steady stream of water coming from the bottom of the bag on Lily’s back – at least I hoped it was water.

For a quick moment, I considered saying nothing and letting her go on her way, but unlike Charli Blake, I had a conscience.

“Lily,” I called.

She stopped walking and turned around. “Yeah?”

“Your bag is leaking,” I told her.

Lily let out a yelp, threw her bag to the ground and opened it. It was then that the true horror was revealed.

“Oh my god!” screamed Lily, reaching into the bag and dragging out a massive handful of something disgusting. “What is this?”

I had no intention of getting close enough to find out. I took a quick step back. “Ah, go,” I instructed. “Go and clean up.”

“Charli did this, Miss,” she declared. “I know she did.”

Lily waved a fistful of the muck at me, sending chunks falling to the floor.

“Okay,” I replied calmly. “I’ll deal with it.”

I had no choice but to. It was my job. Letting it slide and putting it down to a case of ‘girls being girls’ wasn’t an option. As far as I was concerned, the girls at Pipers Cove High didn’t behave like girls at all. They behaved like little animals.

Jasmine was a rabid dog. Lily was a turkey and Charli was the most venomous of spiders. Left alone, she was pretty to look at. When provoked, she became deadly.

We’d spent a lot of time together lately. Afternoon detention imprisoned both of us. We didn’t usually speak but that afternoon curiosity got the better of me. I sat at my desk, rolling my pen between my fingers while I stared at her. “Charli, what did you put in Lily’s bag?”

She leaned back in her chair, giving me the exact same look her brother did when he was about to say something cocky. “An open bottle of water and two loaves of bread,” she replied. “I even cut the crusts off them.”

“Don’t you get tired?” I asked curiously. “Doesn’t it wear you down?”

She shrugged. “I give as good as I get. If they ever decide to call a truce, I’ll be happy to leave them alone.”

I nodded, marginally placated. “Well, until then, you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

The prospect didn’t seem to faze her in the least. “There are worse ways to kill an afternoon.”

“You’re a constant source of worry for your brother. You know that, don’t you?”

Mentioning Alex wasn’t smart. It immediately got her back up.

“What would you know about it?” she snapped. “You have no idea what Alex thinks.”

I bit my tongue – very hard. I knew a lot of things about Alex, including what he thought of her continual need to rebel against the world.

“I’m merely pointing out that it can’t be easy on him,” I clarified. “You’re constantly in trouble.”

Charli glared at me for a painfully long time, probably waiting for me to back down and look away. I refused to so the stare-down continued.

“It’s four o’clock,” she said finally. “Can I go now?”

I nodded, still fighting the war of the cutting stares. “Yes. You may go.”

I wasn’t expecting to get the last word in so having her call out to me as she got to the door came as no surprise.

“Mademoiselle Décarie.”

I twisted in my chair to look at her. “Yes?”

“Just so you know,” she said, grinning slyly. “Alex gave me the bread.”

10. VENGEANCE

I had to wait two more days before quizzing Alex about his role in bread-gate. He turned up at my door just after seven for our usual Friday night secret date, looking as scruffy and handsome as always.

I made the first move by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and pulling him forward. My lips easily found his and we somehow managed to hold the position as he walked us all the way through the to kitchen. It only ended once he gripped his hands on my waist and lifted me onto the counter.

“You’re in a good mood,” he noted, pushing forward to wedge himself between my legs.

“You put me there,” I replied.

He leaned forward to whisper. “No, I put you on the kitchen bench.” My heart started racing. “Now I’m trying to work out what I’m going to do with you.”

“You’re going to free me,” I said putting my hand on his chest to keep him at bay.

“And why would I do that?” he asked tilting his head to the side. “I have you right where I want you.”

I dropped my hand, paving the way for him to make a move, which he did at warp speed. We were suddenly a tangle of hands and mouths.

“Stay with me tonight?” I whispered.

He buried his head in my neck, breathing a little hard. “I can’t,” he replied. “Not tonight.”

And therein lies the rub. Gorgeous, young Alex disappeared in an instant. Responsibility-laden Alex took his place. I pulled my shirt back in place and fussed with the buttons, trying to pull myself together.

Alex took a step back and ran his hands through his hair, doing nothing to tidy it up. He had bedroom hair. End of story.

“Don’t be mad,” he said quietly, following up with a too-sexy grin. “We were getting along so well.”

“I am not mad.”

I pushed him aside and jumped off the counter. Busying myself by checking the dinner in the oven was the only thing I could think of to hide the fact that I was hurt.

When I opened the oven and made a grab for the dish inside, Alex took the oven mitts from me and took over. He lifted the dish out and set it down on top of the stove. “Is there something going on here, Gabs?” he asked, turning back to face me.

“Of course not,” I huffed. “I enjoy nothing more than cooking a grand meal for my boyfriend that no one knows about.” I threw out my arms. “He’s gorgeous and smart and incredibly good in bed. You know how I know he’s good in bed?”