hit her and burst into a watery mess. High, low, middle. She had to admit, the Spartans were pretty well-coordinated little fighters, whereas her Celts missed more than they hit, then dashed off to pick up the unburst balloons and try again, giggling.
Hayden made much of his watery death, eventually falling flat in a blaze of glory on the suburban lawn. The Celts piled on, cheering. Then the Spartans piled on top.
‘Okay, warriors …’ Tim’s mum intervened loudly, plucking the first of the children off a beleaguered Hayden. ‘You have restored peace to this land and now a mighty feast awaits the victors in the kitchen.’
The boys and their bottomless energy fled into the house on a chorus of cheers.
Shirley plucked at her saturated bindings and dragged the wet fabric away from her legs. Her hair and the beaded Celtic inserts she’d woven in dripped more water onto her.
Hayden sauntered towards her, grinning. ‘Quite the battle.’
Her pulse sky-rocketed. ‘You were annihilated; dead men can’t speak,’ she puffed.
‘You took a few mortal wounds yourself, judging by all that blood.’
It wasn’t red but it dripped off her like the real thing. It dawned on her then that she hadn’t really thought through the rest of this day. Or brought a fresh change of clothes. She’d imagined she’d be getting back into her car in the same state she’d got out of it.
Spot the one with no experience with children!
‘They’re amazing. So much energy.’ She peeled her skirt from her thighs again but it returned, limpet-like, and so she gave up. ‘I need a rest.’
She crossed to the Spartan camp and flipped both chairs upright and then dragged one into the sun. Half-in, half-out. Hayden flopped down next to her and thrust a tube of wet wipes at her.
‘Here … Your face seems to have worn most of the carnage.’
Given how heavily tattooed it was with eyeliner, that didn’t surprise her. She pulled a couple of the wet wipes out and set to work erasing the evidence of her slaughter, while the rest of her body slow-dried in the afternoon sun. But wiping off the Celtic make-up also took her regular make-up with it.
Still, no real choice unless she wanted to sit here looking shambolic.
Hayden lay stretched out on his lawn chair in his full Spartan glory, practically glistening from the paraffin added to the water balloons to stop them from popping too easily. Shirley stole a couple of peeks as she methodically removed every trace of make-up from her face.
‘Leonidas suits you,’ she said absently. Golden. Lean. Strong. Not bad for a hermit. Or a CEO.
He tipped his head sideways. ‘I have to admit feeling very much like I could have been in his army a hundred lifetimes ago.’ He didn’t go back to studying the sky. ‘You missed a bit.’
He tapped his nose but that wasn’t terribly helpful without a mirror.
‘Here …’ He swung his legs over the edge of the lawn chair, plucked a fresh wipe from the container and slid his sunglasses up onto his head. ‘Sit still.’
The move brought him closer than he’d ever been. Breath-stealingly close. He methodically removed the last of her make-up, gently turning her face side to side to make sure he missed none. When he was done, his eyes came back to hers. Her chest squeezed.
‘And there she is …’ he murmured, a half-smile twisting his lips. ‘Nice to finally meet you, Shirley.’
The intensity of his gaze was infectious. Her breath struggled for function. ‘We’ve met, actually.’
The smile grew. ‘Not like this. Not formally.’
‘You don’t remember?’
He lowered his fingers, frowned. ‘At the funeral?’
She shook her head. ‘Before that. Long before that.’
He stared, his busy mind working furiously. ‘I don’t remember. I’m sorry.’
No. ‘I wouldn’t expect you to. It was nothing, from your point of view.’
But it had changed her life. She’d hit puberty on the spot. At eleven.
He sat back but didn’t lie down again. He held her trapped in his gaze. Silence fell between them.
‘Seriously, how long before your black hair comes back?’ he blurted.
She laughed. ‘For a man who’s only ever been photographed with blondes, you certainly have a fixation with my hair colour.’
‘I don’t hate the red but I really liked the black.’
That brought a very different colour to her cheeks and she knew that he’d clearly see it, sans make-up. ‘Actually it’s called “Raven”. The colour.’
He laughed. ‘Of course it is. Very Edgar Allan Poe.’
Luc emerged with two tall glasses of iced water and he passed them one each. ‘You guys should hire yourselves out as a double act,’ he said. ‘That was awesome.’ Then he reached out and passed something else to Shirley. ‘I got these from your bag for you, I hope you don’t mind. It’s bright out here.’
Sunglasses! As good as a face full of make-up when they were the size hers were. She slid them on. It was like sliding a mask back into place.
‘Thank you, Luc. And thanks again for the other week at the Concert Hall; it was so wonderful.’
His eyes dragged quickly over Shirley’s still drying, still snug form. She felt much more exposed when Luc looked at her than when Hayden had, but when Hayden looked she felt naked. In a good way. A dangerously good way.
Hayden glared pointedly at his friend.
‘No problem,’ Luc said, oblivious. ‘You more than paid it off today.’
‘I told you, it’s going to be hard to top,’ Hayden joked. ‘You haven’t forgotten that the next one is yours, have you, Shirley?’
She turned her focus more fully back to him, sitting perched on the chair still facing her. Seriously, had a man ever looked more ridiculous or more comfortable in a short skirt? Or more gorgeous?
‘Not only have I not forgotten, but it’s all arranged. I was going to tell you about it today.’
His eyes grew keen. Warmed with challenge. ‘How? You’ve either done everything else already or it’s overseas …’
She stared at him.
He frowned. ‘We’re going overseas? On no money?’
‘Okay, this one is on some money, but not much. About one hundred dollars each way.’
His eyebrows lifted.
‘And …’ she said, readying to deliver her coup de grâce ‘… we get to tick off two things from the list.’
‘For one hundred dollars?’ Disbelief saturated his voice.
She smiled and turned her un-made-up face to the sun for some rare vitamin D. ‘You’ll just have to trust me.’
‘Dangerous words, bro,’ Luc said, standing, and looking at Hayden. ‘Now, you need to throw some clothes on before all the mums start arriving and drive through my sister’s hedges in distraction,’ he said with a smile, then turned to her, ‘and you need to cover up before Hayden tips right off that lawn chair. I have the important job of distributing the party bags.’
She glanced at Hayden, who busied himself studying the underside of the eaves.
Luc sauntered back into the house and an awkward silence fell. Until that moment she’d really not been all that bothered by the suction of her clothes to her curves, but it