‘I usually don’t need them.Long as I don’t eat crustaceans, I’m fine…’ She went to move, but he grabbed her arm, lowering his head as his eyes dropped to her lips and neck, that were also lumpy.
She wanted to hide in her room, or dive into the pond to ease thethump, thump, thumpof her heated pulse wreaking havoc on her poor heart.Why did he have to see her at her ugliest?
Way to go, Romy.There’s no way he’d be interested in her now.
‘I did the damage.Now let me do the repairs.’Carefully, Stone dabbed the cream onto her lumpy arms, his fingers warm and steady as he made his way up to her neck.
She wrinkled her nose, eyeing him sceptically.‘Are you secretly judging the splotchfest I’ve got going on here?Or are you going to compare me to more fruit varieties?’
‘I was thinking of making a fruit salad later.’Stone kept dabbing the cooling ointment on her skin, his expression studious again.It was a good look on this guy, which wasn’t doing her any favours by creating another heated flush to rush across her skin.
‘But if you’re fishing for a compliment to boost your ego, how’s this… I think you look beautiful, hives and all.’He gently lifted her chin, meeting her gaze.
She was stunned to silence, even if the heat and the itch was horrific and the ointment potent, but cooling, on her hot, pulsing, lumpy skin.
‘Trust me, you’re in good hands, my little hive-ling.’He held out the tube of ointment.
‘If there was an award for the cheesiest comment of the day, that’d be it.’She stared at her arm where the ointment had cooled her skin, unsure what to do with the sudden relief—or the heat rushing to her cheeks.Still, she took the small tube, in case of any future flare-ups.‘Did you just give me a pet name like Bones and Finley.’Even though he’d said shortcake a lot, which she kinda liked—but there was no way she’d live with hive-ling.
‘What about Romy-berry?Splotch-berry?Berry Blush?’His chuckle was low, as if trying to hold back a full-blown laugh, while tucking the first-aid kit behind the bar.
‘That’s not fair.’She tried to stop giggling at the guy who was doing his best to make her feel comfortable.
‘Steaks are done.’With tongs, he slid the steaks onto a plate, turning off the barbecue.‘Are you still hungry?’
She winced.‘I think I lost my appetite.’
‘More for me then, Romy-berry.’Stone paused at the open doorway to the house all humour gone.‘I really am sorry.I didn’t think to ask if you had any allergies.’
‘Not your fault.’She followed him inside, feeling sorry for her host, who was doing so much for her.‘And I will have some steak.’
‘Great.Then we can try to work out a unique angle for your documentary.’
Her heart unexpectedly lurched with hope.‘Why do you want to help me?’
‘I have to do something to make up for giving you those hives.’He nodded at her skin, his eyes soft.
How could this guy be so silly one second, only to flip the switch to show another side?The layers on this guy were astounding.
Stone was unlike any man she’d ever met, and she’d met plenty of handsome men, who’d put on the charm just to get their faces in front of a camera.This guy was different because there was nothing he could possibly want from her, when he seemed so complete.The only logical explanation was that Stone cared.
And yet, he didn’t like anyone to see how much he cared about people, places, and the animals that made up his world.She’d seen his care through the camera lens a few times, but then she’d blink and he was back to playing the larrikin.
Why didn’t Stone, who was a prime catch, have a wife, or a full-time girlfriend in his house that had no family photos?Why did he prefer to entertain backpackers who’d have reasons to drift so quickly in and out of his life?
And another thing she’d noticed was that Stone easily shared the stories of every other creature that lived in this place, yet, somehow, he’d coyly deflected from sharing his own.With her curious nature, and need for details, it made her want to dig deeper into the mystery that was Stone.
Thirteen
Seated cross-legged on the bed in the spare room, with her computer resting on her lap, Romy inspected the previous day’s footage.Notepaper sat beside her, while sticky notes covered the wall, detailing her many ideas for her documentary.There were so many ideas, it was a struggle to squash the overwhelming feeling creeping up her spine, tightening across her shoulders.
This was a whole new world for her, a huge leap over the chasm of leaving her comfort zone, it squeezed her lungs with panic just at the idea of doing this project on her own.
Already the burden of carrying so much responsibility was starting to weigh her down.
What if she stuffed it up?Her name would no longer be hidden in the small print in the credits that no one read—except family, and those looking for skilled camera crews.
With no director or producer to hide behind, it was scary stuff going out on her own, especially when it came to working in such a niche world as documentary making.
