Here Comes the Bridesmaid

He looked down at her and she cleared her throat.

‘What?’ Leo asked, trying not to feel a sense of impending doom.

‘Just...something that’s going to have to start now, like right this second, if it’s going to be ready in two months.’

‘And are you going to share with me exactly what this all-important thing is?’

‘Promise you won’t get mad?’

‘No.’

‘It’s important.’

‘Waiting.’

‘I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t absolutely vital. It’s just...’ She stopped, ran her hand through her long hair, widened her eyes at him as though she were trying to impart something telepathically. Ran her hand through her hair again.

And he—

God! The eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed her eyes before?

She huffed out a breath and pursed her lips. Exasperated because he hadn’t read her chaotic mind, probably.

But all he could think about were her eyes.

‘Hair,’ she explained. ‘It only grows one-point-two-five centimetres a month. One-point-three if you’re lucky.’

‘So?’

‘You have to start growing your hair.’

He had no answer. Might well have been gaping like a hooked fish.

‘Sorry—but if I didn’t raise it now you might have shaved your head tonight and it would be a shame to lose those few millimetres.’

‘I don’t want to grow my hair,’ Leo said. Ultra-reasonable. The way you talked to a person who was certifiably insane.

‘But you will look so much better in the photos. And you have lovely hair.’

‘And you know this...how?’

‘I looked you up online and saw the photos from the launch of this place, when you had hair. Now, I’m not saying you’re not very good-looking even with the shaved head. Tall, but not in a carnival freaky way. Lean—which is amazing, for a chef, if you ask me. Wonderful sharp cheekbones, brilliant smile— All right, I’m guessing the smile bit, since I haven’t actually seen it, but I’m a good guesser. And really lovely eyes—amber is such an unusual colour, you know? Tigerish. But if you look quite delectable now, you will be absolutely, irresistibly gorgeous with hair.’

Leo stood there, gobsmacked. ‘I’ve got to get to work,’ he said when he could trust himself to speak.

‘But you’ll think about the hair, won’t you?’ she asked anxiously. ‘And while you’re thinking, maybe keep the razor off your scalp...just in case you do decide to look absolutely, irresistibly gorgeous at your brother’s wedding.’

He looked at her. Noted her eyes again. Really stunning eyes. She would look absolutely, irresistibly gorgeous herself if she—

Aha.

Leo could have crowed, he was so pleased with himself. ‘Let’s make a deal—you go into the bathroom and wash off that eye-goop right now, and I will not shave my head...unless I see that crap all over your eyes again. The minute I see it, I’m reaching for the razor.’

And, yes! He’d stumped her. She was the gaping fish now.

He watched as she processed what he’d said. She lifted her bag off the floor and rummaged inside, pulled out a compact. Flipped it open, looked in the mirror. Widened her eyes, then squinted. Turned her head to peer sideways, then switched sides and did it again. ‘You know that I have strange eyes, right?’ she asked.

‘Beautiful eyes.’

‘Evil eyes.’

‘Yeah, maybe lay off the sci-fi.’

‘Oh, it’s a real condition. It’s called heterochromia iridum, and there are various theories about how you get it. Genetics, melanin levels, trauma, chimerism—which is kind of creepy because it means another foetus has merged with you in the womb, which in my case would mean there were initially three of us, because— Well, anyway, I don’t like the idea of absorbing a sibling in the womb—hello, Dr Frankenstein!’ Pause for breath. ‘All that aside, I’m pretty sure they used to burn people like me at the stake as witches back in the day.’

‘Nobody is going to burn you at the stake in modern-day Australia for having one blue and one green eye.’

‘I’ve tried contact lenses, but there is nothing that makes you panic quite like a contact lens that’s slipped up under your eyelid and you think it’s going to be there for eternity unless you race off to the emergency room and have someone stick some implement in there against your poor squishy eyeball. Talk about bloodshot!’ She pursed her lips. ‘But I guess I could try them again—maybe some amber ones.’ She looked into his eyes, considering. ‘Because your eyes really are lovely, and I think I’d look kind of interesting with amber eyes.’

‘You do that and I’m shaving my head.’

Sunshine took another look in the mirror, then snapped the compact shut. ‘All right. Deal. I may need a little make-up on the actual day of the reception, just so I don’t look Plain Janerama, but no camouflage paint in the meantime. I’m keeping the lipstick, though—I can’t go completely naked. So! Where’s the bathroom?’

Plain Janerama? Leo, speechless, pointed.

Sunshine got to her feet. ‘No need to wait,’ she told him.

‘Oh, I’m waiting.’

She squared her shoulders. ‘This is going to be weird,’ she said, and tap-tapped away.

Leo checked that everything was in order in the kitchen, then returned to the table. He went through the checklist again. Swore under his breath. He suspected Sunshine Smart usually got her way in all things. Which meant she was in for a surprise, because just on principle he wasn’t going to let that happen. He hadn’t got where he was today by doing what people told him. His survival instinct told him always to go his own way, to get his own way.

He started jotting down menu ideas—appropriate for a dinner for twenty-five people—but hadn’t got far when he heard the tap-tap of Sunshine’s returning high heels.

She plonked herself into the chair opposite and did an over-the-top eyelash-bat at him.

Leo stared at her. He couldn’t help it. Without the exaggerated eye make-up she looked fresh and clean and sweet as suckable candy. Her dark chocolate hair against the ultra-white skin of her face seemed more dramatic. With the edge of her heavy fringe now damp and misplaced, he could see how fine and dark her eyebrows were, and that they arched intriguingly towards the outer edge. Her eyelashes were thick and black enough to form a fine line around her eyes. And her eyes were simply spectacular. Heavy-lidded, slightly tilted, the colour difference so dramatic without the dark shadow and over-clumped lashes that he couldn’t seem to stop looking at them.

‘Well?’ she asked, batting away.

‘Better,’ Leo said, with impressive understatement. He got to his feet. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then—an hour earlier, if you can make it. But you’ll have to come to Mainefare—it’s in the Pig and Poke pub. Do you know it?’

‘Yes, I know it—and, yes, that’s fine. But before you go can I ask just one more favour?’

Leo eyed her suspiciously.

‘I’m staying for dinner,’ she explained. ‘Don’t worry—I have a booking. It’s just that my date—Gary, his name is—is a massive foodie, and he’d really love to meet you. Perhaps you could just pop out and say hello...?’