Irrepressible You Read Online Free

genetics. The man didn’t have to try. She, on the other hand, had to use the threat of industrial machinery to get her shoulder-length hair to even listen to her, let alone behave.
    ‘How’s your head?’ she asked when he took a seat across from her, stretching out his legs to take up most of the kitchen.
    He winced. ‘Great, now I’ve downed a few aspirin. Not so great when I woke up. How much did we drink last night?’
    Amy shrugged and smiled perkily. ‘Three and a half bottles.’
    ‘Jesus.’ Scott ran his hand over his eyes, then looked at her incredulously. ‘You’ve gotta be the eighth wonder of the world. How is it that you’re half my size and you don’t get hangovers?’
    ‘I just don’t. You going to stick around this morning for some chocolate cake, or are you headed home?’
    ‘Home, babe. Jo’s dropping by for a late breakfast.’ He reached over and tugged at her sleeve. ‘Was last night just a bit of a vent or do I have to be worried?’
    Amy bit her lip, not meeting his eyes. ‘Just a vent, sweetie.’
    ‘You sure? Because it didn’t sound like it. I haven’t seen you cry like that for years. Not since Liam.’ His words hung in the air for a few awkward seconds.
    ‘Well, I was due then, eh?’ Amy slipped her foot out of her shoe and nudged him on the thigh with her toe.
    His brow wrinkled with worry. ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Yeah, sweetie. You don’t need to worry.’
    His eyes searched hers for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Alright. I’ll leave it then.’
    ‘Thanks.’ Amy gave him a relieved smile. Around about bottle number two, she and Scott had taken a taxi from the pub back to her little Fremantle house and she’d poured out her tale of woe, going through half a box of tissues in the process.
    The past week had been a slow-motion film of how sad and pathetic one woman’s life could be. Like all films of that nature, it had commenced on an absolutely peachy note. On Monday morning, Tom Draper, Perth’s most loved TV weather man, had given her a call at her barbershop and asked her out for a few drinks. Assuming her sparkling wit had worked its magic on him during his monthly visits to Babyface, she’d immediately said yes. She should have known better. Not once had she had success with a man who had a dry scalp, and Tom’s was drier than the Nairobi desert.
    Tom’s careless rejection had just amplified the ever-present aching sense of loneliness she liked to pretend didn’t exist. Once alcohol and Scott’s reassuring presence were added to the equation, it was inevitable that she’d find herself curled up, bawling buckets against his shoulder at two in the morning until he put her to bed and stumbled off to her spare room.
    ‘You want a ride to your place?’ she asked, derailing the train of self-pity before it could build up a full head of steam.
    ‘What? Yeah, actually, that would be great . . . you sure?’ Amy had a strong feeling he wasn’t just referring to the car ride.
    ‘Yeah,’ she said firmly. ‘Just let me get changed. I’ve got to do a bit of shopping anyway.’ What she didn’t tell him was that her shopping involved a trip to her local hardware store.
    Later that afternoon, buoyed by a break in the weather, Amy cheerfully clambered atop Harvey’s roof with a tube of silicon sealant in one hand, holding her rickety wooden ladder in place against his blue-painted stone walls with the other. Although it had stopped raining, the leaves and debris on the corrugated iron roof made it difficult to work out which of the rusty holes she was looking at was responsible for her cold shower that morning. She’d just located the most likely culprits when her sister’s loud, surprisingly husky voice startled her and nearly caused a fatal accident.
    ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Jo bellowed from the kitchen door before stomping out into the small jacaranda-lined courtyard. Just over six foot tall and strong from her former job as an engineer working on