Down Under With Dad’s Best Friend by Flora Ferrari
Chapter One
Sean
I check the map on my phone one last time, memorizing my route. It’s not something that is unfamiliar to me, having to navigate a new city. And Melbourne isn’t even all that new to me – I’ve been here a few times before.
Still, being away from home always means having to figure out how to get around. Which is why it’s great that I’ve become an expert on just about every transport system in the world by now. Going on all these international trips, I’ve really had to be.
I look up from my phone and head inside the transport hub I’m using this time: Flinders Street station, the easiest way to get anywhere in Melbourne. Or out of it, as it happens. A new train sets off in the direction I want to go pretty regularly, every five or ten minutes, so it’s not like I have to rush to get to the platform. I stroll towards the right part of the station, thinking about getting a coffee and a sandwich or something to eat on the journey.
A couple walking in front of me move aside, and when I look up, it’s like the crowd has parted to show me to her. Some kind of angel dressed all in white, a dress that hugs her every curve. I can only see her from behind, but the cascade of blonde hair down her back as she looks up at the departure boards catches my attention. The light is shining down from the windows of the station above the grand entrance, a ray hitting her just so. I feel like I’m in some kind of ridiculous romantic movie.
Even more so when she turns around, looking up in all directions as if in search of something, and I see her face.
She’s stunning. Young and innocent-looking, probably twenty years younger than me. But that doesn’t matter. She’s gorgeous, smooth, glowing skin, bright blue eyes that seem impossibly large in her face, pink lips that are just poised to kiss. And her body under that dress is a masterpiece – curves in all of the right places, the fabric flowing over every contour.
A visceral reaction stirs inside me. The second I see her properly, it hits me like a ton of bricks. I want to make her mine. I want to possess her, to own her. Not like an object, but like a wild animal that has to be tamed. Even the very thought of other men looking at her right now, the same way that I’m looking at her, makes some kind of jealous rage bubble up inside.
It makes me stop dead in my tracks, unable to move any further. I’ve never felt something like this before. There’s a reason that I’m almost forty years old and still unmarried – most women don’t provoke any reaction from me at all. Especially not the ones who try to throw themselves at me, which is a major turn-off. Doing the line of work that I do, that’s not an uncommon thing. It just makes me feel sick, the thought of being with a woman who is so desperate she would let any man put his hands on her.
But this girl – she’s so pure. So open. I can see it in her face, she isn’t like them. In fact, in my head, I feel like I’m looking at a kindred spirit. Someone who wouldn’t appreciate all the boys that no doubt try to hit on her on a regular basis.
What she needs isn’t a boy. She needs a man.
In all the time that I’m thinking this and watching her, it feels like hours pass. But it can only be a matter of seconds, because my feet have barely stopped moving, and she is still turning around, completing a circle where she stands. She tries to step forward but then shakes her head in a tiny movement and steps to the side instead.
And that’s when I see the man barreling straight for her with his head buried in his phone, paying no attention at all to the beautiful angel in his path.
