She was supposed to have stopped making reckless decisions. She was supposed to have stopped making stupid decisions. And yet, here she is, fishing her bra out from underneath a stranger's bed and praying Mike Flynn doesn't wake up. And what does it matter that his house is clean and neat? That's not the mark of a good man. In fact, it could be the mark of a married man.
Didn't think that one through, did you Kate? She shudders, and scoops up her jeans, trying to turn them back in the right way as silently as she can. He definitely didn't have a ring; she would have noticed that. But not all men wore rings now anyway. And he has a daughter, she thinks. That means there was a woman, at least somewhere along the line.
She's half-way through pulling her jeans back on when Mike opens his eyes, and she freezes, torn between guilt that he's caught her trying to sneak out, and a defiant internal justification that she doesn't owe him anything. In truth, part of her is already furious at him, as if it had already been confirmed that he was all of those worst nightmare things - a married sociopathic kleptomaniac with a foot fetish. For his part, he doesn't look hurt, or upset that he's just busted her in the act of her escape. If anything, he looks annoyingly amused at her apparent unease, rolling over and smiling lazily. "Sneaking out?" He accuses, a smile twisting his lips.
Mike's amusement puts her at ease though, and she rolls her eyes, part of her pleased to find that at least he was a bit of a jerk. The knowledge stems her guilt, but she says nothing, simply turning away from him and pulling on her shirt. It's only when she's dressed that she faces him once more, and suddenly finds herself saying, "I... I don't normally do this."
Immediately, she regrets it. She hates sounding weak. "Do what?" Mike presses. He stretches lightly. Kate forces herself to keep her gaze off his chest. "Have sex? Run out before they wake? Get dressed at five in the morning?"
"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?" She deadpans. It's not that she wants to be rude. But the unapologetic humour in him is rubbing her the wrong way. "Glad to see you're enjoying this."
"Hey, you seemed to be enjoying yourself last night." He muses, ducking as she lobs a balled-up pair of boxers at his head.
"Just... can you get dressed or something?" She's finding his chest distracting, not to mention the first hand knowledge that he is naked under the sheet that just seems to be hanging in there...
"You know this is my house, right?" He presses. She only raises an eyebrow in response, and he sighs in a long-suffering sort of way, but thankfully begins to dress.
She waits until he's at least somewhat decent before clearing her throat and blurting out the question that's been pressing in on her since she realised what she'd done. "Are you married?"
"What?" It's obviously not the question he's expecting. It seems to stem the stubborn smirk in any case.
"Well, you've got a kid. It's not that big of a stretch. And this place..." She waves a hand around, indicating the quilt that matches just a little too well with the rest of the furniture. It's not just that, or the cleanliness of the environment, but the simple evidence of history. She's always had terrible taste in guys.
"I'm a widower." He says simply, and Kate finds herself mixed with a cocktail of guilt and relief. She wonders how many times he's said it before, whether he has in fact ever said it, because the words sound foreign in his voice.
"Sorry." She realises just how hollow the condolence sounds, but she can't not say anything. "Oh, God." She rakes a hand through her hair, muttering to herself. "This is beyond unprofessional and kind of frowned upon-"
"I want it known I did just want to buy you all a drink, you know." Mike supplies, holding his hands up in apparent surrender. "To say thanks. I didn't mean for... this... to happen." He gestures towards his bed, the bedclothes scattered across the room, in clear indication of what this entails. His movement sends two empty foil packets fluttering to the ground. For a moment they both stare at them, before Kate turns away.
It's all too much. She feels distinctly claustrophobic, trapped in a closed room with a man she barely knows. And knows too well, she adds silently. "I... look, can we talk later? I need to get to work." It's a lie; she's not rostered on for another 36 hours, but she needs to get out of there.
"Yep. Traffic could be bad." Mike muses drily, peering pointedly through the blinds at the spot where the firehouse is visible. He cups his hands around his eyes like binoculars, before giving a low whistle. "Looks like it'll take you a good thirty seconds, at least. You'd better head out now before the conditions get worse."
"Are you always this much of a smartarse?" Kate snaps, scooping up her bag.
"Are you always this snappy?" He counters. "Because you haven't exactly been a ray of sunshine this morning."
"I... I was going to leave my number." She mutters.
Mike glances around at the surfaces in the room. "Well, I don't see it."
She hesitates for a moment longer, before slipping her hand into her pocket and pulling out the piece of paper. "I'm not looking for a relationship." She adds, almost as a warning.
"Neither am I." Mike counters. For a moment they stare at each other. Then Kate shoulders her bag.
"See you around." She mutters, before darting out into the morning sun.
"Ooh, and here we have our lovely Katie McGregor sporting yesterday's clothes for the Walk of Shame!" Cal grins, accompanying Kate's entrance with jazz hands and a wide smirk.
Kate groans. She'd been hoping that Cal would be asleep, as she usually is at five-thirty am on a Sunday morning, but as she catches the grin on Cal's face, she knows that her sister had been waiting for this, for the game of twenty questions that was sure to come. "Can you... shhh! I don't want Bridie to hear!" Kate pushes her bag against the wall and moves into the kitchen, setting about making herself a coffee.
Of course, she's not naive enough to believe that this simple movement will be enough to rid herself of her younger sister, but the sight of Cal sitting herself on the kitchen bench and smiling a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat, Kate groans. "So... who's the guy?" Cal draws out her words, so that she sounds like a toddler on a playground. "Do I know him?"
"No!" Kate shakes her head. "It was... no one."
Cal rolls her eyes, leaning forwards. "Oh, come on, Katie, come on! My love life is pathetic. Can I at least live through you?"
"Oh yeah, because my love life is fantastic." Kate mutters sarcastically, peering critically at Cal's face. "Did you get another piercing?" In response, Callista simply waggles a pierced eyebrow and grins. Kate rolls her eyes, turning back to her coffee. "So how are your assessments going?"
"No, Kate!" Cal drags a hand over her ears. "I have three more days of uni break! Let me procrastinate in peace! And stop changing the subject!"
"Okay! But you need to-"
"Focus on my studies." Cal finishes. "Yeah, I know." She slides across a piece of toast. "And before you ask, no, Bridie did not notice you weren't in bed when we got home."
"Cheers." Kate takes a gulp of the coffee, sighing as the liquid warms her throat.
"So, are you going to see him again?" Kate doesn't answer immediately, finding herself thinking about the days of yesteryear. Cal leans forward and, as though she knows exactly what Kate is worrying about, claps a hand to her shoulder. "Katie, one of these days you're going to find a man who's worth meeting your daughter."
"But I haven't yet." Kate finishes. "And he is not it. Bet you ten bucks he doesn't even call."
But of course he does call, and it's so bloody infuriating hearing his voice, even if it is just a voicemail. He sounds every bit as cocky and teasing as he had that morning. She doesn't finish the messages, finds herself stabbing the delete button out of pure irritation, unable to believe that she could have been so stupid.
"Sister trouble again?" Dutchy enquires goodnaturedly, as he catches her dropping her phone into her bag once more.
Kate hums in a noncommittal fashion and locks away her bag. "Better get to it. The boss'll kill me if I'm late again."
She bypasses irritation and heads straight to fury as she turns around, waiting for the school bell to ring, and spies Mike standing ten metres away from her, leaning against a tree. So she knew she probably should have called him back, strictly speaking. But he was just so smug and persistent and maddening that, seeing him now, she knows it was the right call. If he'd follow her here after one night, what wouldn't he do for more?
She storms up to him, angrily kicking a small rock, and jabs him in the chest. "So you're following me now? Is that it?" She demands, scanning his face for any sort of reaction.
He raises an eyebrow coolly, smiling softly. "Hey, I'm just going about my business here. No stalking intended. But if you ask me, it seems you're the one that's following me. I mean, I was here first." He shrugs lightly.
Kate scoffs and rolls her eyes, not believing a word. "Oh, come on! You expect me to believe you just ended up here on some leisurely stroll?"
"Well, no." He gestures towards the school, where the bell is now ringing. "I'm actually here to pick up Rose. You know? My daughter? See... this is her school." He leans closer, pointing up the hill, and adopts a look of enthusiasm worthy of a children's television presenter. "And if you squint just a little, that is her classroom."
Oh.
Rose.
Of course.
"The real question is, why are you here?" He presses, folding his arms. "Unless of course, it's you that's stalking me?" He tips her an enormous wink. Maybe he does think she's followed him.
"I..." To tell him about Bridie is too much information. But he's standing here, and what other possible reason can she have for standing outside a school? Before she's made the decision either way, however, she spots Bridie dashing down the hill towards her.
"Mum!" Bridie calls out, giving her a quick hug, just as Rose crashes into Mike. She doesn't look at him. She doesn't want to see the look on his face, whatever it might be. Because there's no good emotion. Either fear, or shock, or interest, or amusement. And none of those are what she wants. But Bridie is pulling away, moving towards Mike and Rose, and Kate has to fight the urge to pull her back, as though Mike is a crocodile about to snap. "Mum, this is my friend Rosie!" Bridie grins. "Can she come over one afternoon? I mean, if it's okay with her Dad?"
She delays for five long seconds, before she realises that she has no choice but to look at him and take in his amused smile. "So..." He gives another low whistle. "Your daughter is the famous Bridie McGregor."