A Bad Boy for Christmas by Kelly Hunter Page A

about.”
    “Are you worried?” she asked, as she took the top off the takeaway and poked around in it with the little plastic fork. “Because I can head back to Melbourne if you want. I don’t have to be here.” She offered up a small smile. “Life to live back there and all that.”
    “You’re ready to leave?”
    “Not what I said.”
    “You are, I can tell.”
    “Depends if I’m being of any use to you here or just getting in the way. I don’t want to be in the way, Nash. Ever. I just—I don’t know what I’m achieving here. If anything.”
    “Makes two of us,” he muttered.
    “Your father can always come to you, now that he knows you exist,” she offered tentatively.
    “Maybe.” Nash wasn’t always easy to read, but this time she could see the defeat in him. “So what’ve you been up to today?”
    He was changing the subject and she let him do it. “Well, this morning I hit the beach at six a.m. sharp to watch the surfers sit there and stare at the horizon. Usually I swim but today a pair of sharks swam by. They were baby bull-nosed sharks according to Maree who serves me coffee every morning at the café. Since then, I’ve made sandcastles, walked along the shore, and sold six beeswax candles and two seashell curtains.”
    “Have you been anywhere near a tattoo gun? And before you say yes, re-touching Beryl’s old ink doesn’t count.”
    “Does too. Beryl’s a treasure trove. That woman has work by Kasi on her back and I get to study it.”
    “Studying isn’t the same as doing. What about your waiting list back home? What’s happening with it?”
    “It’s still waiting,” she said. “And then there’s the gelato I had this afternoon and the vanilla slice I ate for breakfast.”
    “That’s boredom food.”
    “And the fish Caleb brings round. I won’t find fresher.”
    “I’m surprised you haven’t started catching the fish yourself.”
    “That’s next week’s treat. Got to pace myself.” Okay, maybe she was a bit bored. She did have a life back in Melbourne. One she was neglecting. A lively workplace and a waiting list for her services, all true. Friends to pass time with and a vibrant city on her doorstep.
    No water, though.
    Surprisingly, she was beginning to appreciate the moods of the ocean.
    “Did I tell you Bree and Zoey are trying to get me to pose for some fashion magazine while almost wearing one of the gowns Zoey’s making? That’ll be fun if I ever say yes. Not everyone’s avoiding me. I’m a busy woman.”
    That got a smile out of him.
    “I’ll be a catwalk model next.” May as well try and turn his smile into a grin.
    “Aren’t you too short for that?”
    “Or the face of fancy perfume.”
    “That I could believe. Want to come look at a 1952 FJ Holden with me this afternoon?” he said next.
    “Yes,” she said emphatically. “I love those cars.” Never mind that she only had a passing memory of what one looked like.
    “Pick you up at five. Be prepared to swing by the marina afterwards to pick up the carrier if I buy the car.”
    “Maybe you should drop me back here before you do that last bit.”
    “You’re avoiding the marina?”
    “You probably don’t need to know that I kissed Cutter while you were away and he’s been avoiding me ever since.”
    Nash stared at her in silence for a good long while before speaking. “You’re right, I don’t need to know that. Five sharp. Be ready. I’ll feed you pizza afterwards.”
    “You’re an entertainment hound .”
    “And you could be a little more grateful,” he said dryly, passing Beryl as he headed out the door.
    “What’d that one want?” Beryl asked.
    “Answers from a man who’s not here to give them.” Mia pushed back her hair and threw herself on Beryl’s mercy. “Can you think of anyone who might have known Liza Nash back when she was a girl? Someone who knew her well? What she was like. What made her the way she was.”
    “That’s what Nash wants? Information about his