The Lunchtime Special

Chapter 4 - Cake and Sass

"How about you start cutting in along the skirting boards and I'll finish the tops of the doors then do under the ceiling?" I suggest.

A slight frown appears on Mia's face. "I'm only a couple of inches shorter than you."

"Four at least," I correct her, "and an inch or two makes all the difference." I grin again, delighting in teasing her and watching a faint blush colour her cheeks. Her cheekbones are sprinkled with freckles and I long to reach out a finger to touch them. Easy Jake.

"I've got the stool," hands go on her hips, drawing my eyes downwards and I'm reminded of the sight of those long lightly-tanned legs in front of me just a few moments ago. The flash of bare thigh showing through the rip in her shorts catches my eye again, distracting me.

"Uh huh," I manage.

She makes an indeterminate sound somewhere between a snort and a swear word, then as I chuckle, pours paint from the tin into a tray and carries it over to the far side of the room, kneeling on the floor and doing as I suggested. When her firm, well-rounded arse sticks up in the air and my thoughts become X-rated, I quickly turn away. She wouldn't have to be able to read my face to know how my body's reacting to her. Picking up the paint tin and another brush, I get to work, throwing a metaphorical bucket of cold water on my heated brain at the same time.

We work in silence for ten minutes before I ask, "Have you always lived in the mountains?"

"Yes," she replies, "my grandparents came here after the war, bought some land, built a house and my family's been here ever since."

"What about when you went to uni?"

"I caught the train. I couldn't afford to live in Sydney – rents are expensive and I wanted to save all my money to start my business, so I stayed at home."

"That's got to be an hour and a half journey each way; it must have been tiring."

"I guess."

"Do your parents still live here?"

"They're just up the road. What about you?"

By the time I give her a brief rundown of my own uni days and how much I love living in the heart of Melbourne, we're ready to start with the paint roller. "Have you got two of these?" I ask; we'll get the work done a hell of a lot faster if we can both paint at the same time.

"No," she shakes her head regretfully.

"Hardware store nearby?"

"There's a Bunnings at Valley Heights." I pull my phone out of my pocket and call Laila, asking her to pick up what we need while she's out.

"Come on," I say to Mia's surprised face once I'm off the phone, "you can make me a cup of tea and persuade me to try some of that delicious smelling cake my mouth's been watering over since I arrived."

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After lunch I persuade Laila to go shopping with our mother while I help Mia paint, which isn't difficult, as my baby sister loves to shop. Mia and I get stuck in to the walls, she doing the lower half while I do the upper half, and while we work we talk. The more she reveals about herself, the more fascinated I become; I already had a great deal of admiration for her energy and hard work in making a success of her business in today's economic climate, but as we discuss music, books, plays and politics, I gain admiration for her mind as well.

It's my turn to make tea as we stop to give the first coat time to dry and Mia shows me out the back entrance to a small porch; relaxing in old armchairs, we put our feet up on the wooden railing and enjoy the warmth of the sun. The sight of a hole in the toe of her sneaker makes me smile.