Page 36 of The Side Road (Love Chronicles #3)

COMPETITION

At first, Mia didn’t know what to think.

She told herself Oliver was offering this woman – his friend – shelter from the storm that was life.

Pregnant women needed to be cared for, especially when they were single and pregnant.

She admired his conviction. Out of all the people Cindy knew, she came to Oliver for help.

She chose him and that said something about the good-natured, kind-hearted person Oliver was. It was right that he should help her.

There were also a few unanswered questions.

What was Cindy like? Did she ride a bike?

Was that why Oliver liked her? She probably rode a serious motorbike.

Nothing like the scooter Mia had in the city or Leo’s old BMW.

Cindy would have a cool leather jacket and a wardrobe filled with undergarments for layering.

She would know not to wear tight knickers when she was riding her very fast ten-cylinder, ten-thousand-horsepower Ninja.

Cindy was a brunette. A smoking hot, motorbike-riding brunette with glossy dark hair and deep, penetrating eyes.

She was one of those women who was prettier without make-up.

She always wore jeans because she had an exceptional arse.

Mia didn’t voice any of these assumptions.

She reminded herself that she trusted Oliver.

But then again, when it came to lust, was anyone truly trustworthy?

Passion blinded people. Humans were programmed for copulation, and this was especially true of young, virile, attractive men and smoking hot brunettes with great arses.

She did trust Oliver. Cindy, however, was another matter.

After a few days of not seeing Oliver, an internal ache grew within Mia.

The pain came from a place behind her heart.

Deep inside her chest cavity, it grew. At night, it gnawed at her; the feeling that something wasn’t right.

That she couldn’t trust her judgement. She was a bad chooser.

It was an absurd coupling; she was too old for Oliver.

She was settling for the first tall, attractive man who rode into this small country town.

The following morning, a reality check followed.

Oliver hadn’t flirted with other women. He hadn’t told her she was overly sensitive.

When she challenged him, he didn’t tell her she was imagining things.

He wasn’t moody or difficult. He could take criticism.

He didn’t constantly say he would change, promise to do better, and then return to the same bad habits.

Oliver knew what the word love meant. He expressed it every day in his care for her and his love for Tash.

She reminded herself that the situation with Cindy was not some grand catastrophe. No one had died, and her life remained intact. Cindy’s arrival may have momentarily thrown her relationship with Oliver off track, but this was just a pothole in the road. She knew how to get through potholes .

However, with each passing day, her mood worsened.

Every sunrise seemed to deepen the shadows of doubt in her mind.

What started as a flicker of disillusionment soon burned brightly.

On Sunday, she should have been tending to her life admin.

Instead, she spent her time trapped in a repetitive cycle of negative thoughts.

Worst-case scenarios played out inside her head, chiselling away at the foundation of self-belief.

Would anyone else put up with this situation – her man living with his pregnant friend, who he had once slept with?

Was this a type of gaslighting? It didn’t feel like Oliver was controlling her, but perhaps he was trying to sabotage their relationship.

At midday, she realised how unreasonable her thoughts were. She collected her list and her dog; getting out of the house might clear her muddled brain. After climbing onto the BMW, she headed down the hill toward town and the local FoodWorks.

The most convenient parking space was outside the Produce and Rural Supply Store, but the life-sized model of the horse and cart on the footpath upset Snood.

Unable to distinguish the fake horse from a living creature, he reacted aggressively, barking and growling.

Not wanting to draw attention to herself, Mia continued down the road and pulled over outside The Globe Hotel.

On the opposite side of the road, she spied the Citroen.

Cindy, happily ensconced in the passenger seat, was scrolling through her phone.

Oliver was nowhere to be seen. Leaving Snood in the sidecar, Mia climbed off the bike and stepped closer to the car.

Cindy, a gorgeous, dark-eyed woman, had her hair tucked behind her ears. Moonstones and amethysts decorated her fingers. Leather bracelets and charms circled her wrists. She wore a snug-fitting black T-shirt. Her breasts were the size of melons .

Mia got straight back on the bike and drove home. Inside her house, she lay down on the bed.

An hour later, Holly returned from her shift at Hook she refused. She has an agenda.’

Mia took a breath to calm herself. Then she picked up her knitting and showed it to Holly. ‘Look at this. It’s my special qiviut project and I’m gaining stitches. My rectangle is a triangle.’

Holly frowned. ‘How is that possible?’

‘Oh, it’s possible. Sometimes the first stitch on the needle lies. If the yarn is twisted, it looks like two loops!’ Mia ran her hands through her hair. ‘If you knit into both, you add an extra stitch. This wool cost me a lot of money and I’ve ruined it.’

Taking a step back, Holly raised her eyebrows. ‘Okay. Right now, I need a coffee. You’ll have to buy it for me. We can deal with the qiviut project when we get back.’ She picked up Snood’s lead and they headed out the door.

In the parsonage kitchen, Oliver discovered Cindy standing on a chair while she cleaned the upper cabinets. Crockery and glasses covered the table and benches.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Cleaning. Thought I’d make myself useful.’

‘Get down,’ he said.

Cindy held out her hand.

As Oliver helped her down, she fell into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He stepped back and took the cloth out of her hand. ‘Please don’t clean.’

‘I like to clean. Honestly, I do. I’m one of those rare people who?—’

Oliver shook his head. ‘No. You’re a guest. It’s not your place to clean.’

‘But—’

‘Just go. I’ll put these away.’

She stormed out. A moment later, the bedroom door slammed.

Oliver sat down at the table and held his head in his hands. Cindy’s motives were not a secret; he knew exactly what she was doing and why she had come to Eagle Nest. He knew what she wanted. She was beautiful, but provocation did nothing for him.

Her courage impressed him, but their relationship had never been deep enough for her to love him.

What she loved was the idea of him. The things he offered as a partner and a father.

He had never loved her, and he never would.

But she was a single pregnant woman in a world that didn’t outwardly support or value her.

He was responsible for her care in the way that the universe was accountable for all humans.

The way governments were accountable to vulnerable individuals.

People needed to look after each other. And she had been a friend.

But there were other friends she could have called upon for help.

Family members who might support her. There was no doubt in his mind that Steve would look after her.

This situation was unfamiliar territory, and he wanted to do the right thing, but he wasn’t sure what that was.

Ten minutes later, Cindy returned to the kitchen. She had pulled back her hair and washed her face. After holding up her phone, she showed him a recipe. ‘Spag Bol,’ she said. ‘The least I can do is cook dinner. If you drive me to the shops, I’ll pick up the ingredients.’

Reluctantly, he collected his car keys; it seemed they were going to the shops again.

Outside the FoodWorks, Oliver looked up at the sky; this had all the makings of a disaster. Walking down the street toward him were Mia and Holly, with Snood on the lead.

Beside him, Cindy was telling him that the checkout boy, who looked twelve, had asked her about baby names. Oliver, half listening, stepped away, increasing the distance between them. His attention was solely on Mia.

The winter winds were causing Mia grief, blowing her hair across her face.

Lifting the edges of her coat. Ruffling her scarf.

It seemed the wind ignored everyone else and concentrated all its efforts on annoying Mia.

The desire to help her overwhelmed him. He could hold her coat down or her hair back.

Holly had the dog lead, so that was not an option .

When Mia saw him, a resolute, grave expression crossed her face. The wind wasn’t her only source of irritation. She looked confused. Her candid, reflective eyes were piecing something together. He had never seen her more fragile or sad. Holly, however, glared.

Approaching him, the women halted and looked expectantly at Oliver. He did the introductions.

Mia and Cindy stared at each other. When Cindy smiled, Mia tried to return the gesture. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

‘Better. Now that I’m settled. I’m cooking Spag Bol for dinner. Family recipe. I forgot the tomato paste. Tash has run back into the supermarket.’

‘Really? Spaghetti Bolognese,’ Holly said. ‘Mia makes a great Bolognese sauce.’

‘I put milk in mine – in the meat sauce,’ Cindy said.

‘Mia puts mushrooms in hers. Don’t you?’

Mia nodded. ‘Sometimes.’

‘That’s not traditional,’ Cindy said.

‘It depends on the region,’ Holly countered. ‘She makes her own pasta – from scratch.’

When Tash arrived with the tomato paste, Holly said, ‘Mia also makes her own tomato passata.’

‘I haven’t done that in a while,’ Mia said. She turned to Holly. ‘We should probably get going. The coffee shop closes in a few minutes.’

‘It was nice meeting you,’ Holly said. ‘I’m away for a few days, so I’ll probably never see you again. Good luck with the baby.’

Cindy’s carefully controlled demeanour collapsed and a black look crossed her face .

The Horse Trough Cafe had closed. Angus was still inside, cleaning the coffee machine.

Mia tapped on the glass and waved, but Angus shook his head and pointed to his watch.

They were five minutes too late; he wasn’t opening the door.

They turned around and walked back to the FoodWorks to buy coffee beans.

At home, while Holly packed for the wellness retreat, Mia composed a text message to send to Oliver.

Given the circumstances, she thought it best if they cancelled their Monday date this week.

It took several drafts before she was happy with the content and tone of the message, which included a long list of tasks that absolutely had to be completed before work on Tuesday.

Ending her message, she wished him well and smooth sailing with his prenatal responsibilities.