Turn The Page (Kissed by A Muse Book 2) Read online

  He couldn’t be. He wasn’t. I was mistaken. I almost sexually assaulted a street performer, and ought to be grateful that I lost my passport to an Indian can driver, not the Niagara Falls PD!

  Once Leigh had seven hundred Canadian dollars back in her hand and directions to the nearest mall for the next morning, she surrendered her initial plans to explore in favour of convalescing in her suite. After all, the hot tub was huge with a huge window cut into the wall behind it which looked across her bed, and out to the falls, the bed was overladen with pillows, a bottle of free champagne was chilling in the ice bucket on her dining table, and the actual view of the falls through her picture window was breath-taking. She’d been scrimping and saving for a year to follow the path of her favourite novels, so now that she was finally there, living her dreams, who was she to wallow in self-pity because she’d had one bad day? She smirked to herself as she unpacked the gorgeous nightie she’d bought in Ontario earlier that morning, feeling the irony of the situation succinctly- she’d come to the falls to try and picture Ryan Weaver, but the sight of a Ryan Weaver’s mimesis had made her run! Her fans would have a field day- IF she told them- which she still wasn’t certain she wanted to do. She’d get a lot of hits too- but unfortunately, her ego would take more than the site.

  Besides, what would I even update my blog with? ‘Hey ladies- I’ve officially gone nuts, and it’s expensive here! Thought I saw Ryan and lost my s$%^. No seriously- I lost my s%$^. Everything of value I had, except my wallet- gone! Oh, and I’m typing this on an IMAGINARY iPad by the way!’

  No, even if she had net-access, she didn’t intend to write about her experiences in Niagara Falls until she had something awesome to throw in there and so, she turned her blog brain off and the spa on. While she waited for it to fill, she called her parents in Australia (collect to her chagrin) to let them know what had happened. Naturally they’d ‘oohed,’ and ‘ohhhed’ and immediately offered to see what they could do from their side of the Pacific, were the assistance required, and of course, her father had insisted that she use his credit card immediately, pointing out that he’d put one thousand extra dollars on it, just for her, and that he expected her to use it.

  Leigh had choked up, as she always did when her parents proved to be the most incredible people in the world, but she wanted to prove to them that she could survive abroad by herself for two weeks despite their years of coddling. To calm them down, Leigh had promised her dad that she’d use it if necessary, to replace the passport and whatnot if she got stuck, while insisting that the room downgrade would be enough to cover the iPad. And as she’d performed her second lot of fast-talking for the day, Leigh had silently thanked the heavens that he had no idea what hotel she was staying at, because her sweet father would probably have called in and paid for the upgrade himself if he had.

  Yes, that was just the kind of parents that they were; wonderful, perfect and understanding... with a side of overprotective, fretful and generous to their own detriment- and it drove Leigh batty! Leigh’s mother, Ashleigh, had pulled out of University when she’d found out that she was pregnant with Leigh, and had started working as a cashier to fund her unborn child’s private education while her father, Lee, had sold his mid-life crisis Porsche to buy Leigh her first car. So while they were the best parents that a girl could ask for most of the time, they did her head in on a daily basis and sometimes, Leigh couldn’t help but wonder how her mother had let go of her hand long enough to allow Leigh to take her first steps.

  And it didn’t matter how old she got or how far across town she had moved from them, her parents continued to hover like sand flies at sunset. Her father snuck into her house at night when he thought Leigh was asleep, to check her car and make sure that there was oil in it, or to check her kitchen to make sure that she’d turned the burners off, or to check her smoke detectors to make sure that they had working batteries, and her mother had shown up ‘accidentally’ on too many of Leigh’s dates for it to have ever been an accident. Everybody her parents knew, knew what Leigh was up to at all times- from whom she’d last been seen out with, to what promotion she’d gotten at whatever crappy job she’d bull-pooed her way into, and she got more Facebook ‘likes’ a day from her mother’s quilting bee than anyone, which was saying something because thanks to her blog, Leigh had over one thousand followers! And her mother didn’t even read, but left sweet little comments like: ‘Oh darling, you’re so knowledgeable!’ Or ‘Oh sweet pea, doesn’t that book have an R-rating? Are you sure you should be reading that kind of smut?’ While Ashleigh’s ninety year old friend Shirley threw in that gay-porn novels were better than the BDSM ones, and Leigh had to put the ‘offline’ up while she drank a corona with a shot of tequila and tried to convince herself that her normal fans logged in for her reviews and not the anecdotes from Shirley’s adventures.

  And as though Leigh hadn’t been eager enough to leave the country- and their arms- as it was, her father had mortified Leigh at the airport on the day she’d departed by explaining to the air hostess that this was their daughter’s first flight abroad, then asking if one of the stewards on board would be able to check on her from time to time! It had been humiliating, and Leigh had felt like a child of eight instead of a twenty-three year-old woman. So yes, though she appreciated her parents sympathy and concern on that particular afternoon, by the time she managed to get them off the line, she’d been ready to drown herself in her bath, not relax in it, which was liable to happen anyway given that it was so big, she feared she was going to need floaties anyway. Her father’s parting words had been: ‘If they don’t let you onto that plane home, I’ll call Obama, I will!’ (Not much use in Canada, but he could try to give her tomorrow’s blog entry) while her mother had chimed in with: ‘are you wearing socks all the time baby? I’ve had the weather report on Sky since you left, and it looks frightfully cold there!’

  It was ridiculous. Leigh had always known that her parents went above and beyond that of her friend’s folks’ but now that she was officially old enough to start looking into getting herself a husband and some kids of her own, she was beginning to see how insane her parents were, and was exhausted just thinking about how much energy they continued to waste on her, instead of living their own lives. She was grateful for them, and she knew that they, like so many other people felt some sort of strange urge to protect her given her exiguous build, but she knew that she’d never be able to mimic them when it came to rearing her own kids. Really, it was just one more thing that she had to feel guilty about. The idea of putting down a good book to call her daughter twice a day made Leigh want to curl up and have a nap!

  But she had a bath to look forward to and her parents were far, far away (she hoped- she’d called their home line a few times just to make sure that they weren’t hiding on the back of her tour bus) and so, Leigh set the handmade nightie aside, along with the real estate section she’d nabbed from a newspaper in the One Thousand Islands district for perusal later, and made a beeline for the bathroom the moment that the receiver was back in the phone’s cradle. She already regretted having told them what had happened, but resigned herself to the fact that they would have gotten it out of her any way, and worried just as much- even if she had been safely back on home soil and forty-five years old by the time she’d confessed how careless she had been with her belongings.

  This is good for them- and for me. I can take this passport and iPad nonsense, and turn it around- proving that I can handle myself just fine, especially in times of trial!

  Leigh stripped out of her clothes as she told herself this, and slipped into the huge bath, groaning and moaning in both pleasure and pain as the too-hot water burned the day off her skin and relaxed her tense muscles.

  Yes, this can be a good thing. I’m twenty-three, I’m responsible and I’m rational… when I’m not imagining men, that is! And once I get home, they’ll see that, won’t they? That I survived without them? Then maybe, maybe when I finally tell them that I plan on moving h
ere, they’ll let me go a little easier, right? Even though I’m their only child, right?

  Right?

  But not even Leigh’s optimism could bail her out of that conundrum. Using her heavy heart as a sinker, Leigh submerged beneath the maple syrup scented water and exhaled her woes in buttery-sweet bubbles.

  Two

  The bath was heavenly, and Dirty Dancing was playing on the flat screen above it and so Leigh had stayed in the spa for an hour, happy to have a love story to focus on that didn’t include a certain someone or dredge up a plethora of cringe-worthy memories. As she soaked, she drooled over the in-room dining menu and Patrick Swayze’s moves, wondering idly if she should take up ballroom dancing again to ‘get back out there’ as her mother so often prompted her to do.

  Leigh didn’t like being ‘out there,’ because the men out there had never compared to the men in her books, but she had tried her hand at many activities over the years in her lame attempts to meet someone who could live up to her romantic fantasies- and to shut her mother up. There had been a lot of bad moves made; joining a fire-twirling group had led to a rather drastic hair cut, and cricket had been so boring that she’d actually fallen asleep and knocked down the wickets... but her Latin dance classes were one of the few things that she actually regretted giving up after it had proved romantically pointless. She’d loved the dancing, and she’d really loved the idea of hooking up with a man who could actually move, but the same old regulars had come week in and week out, and none of them had been dateable. They’d either been gay and a waste of her time, or sleazy to the point where Leigh hadn’t been comfortable assuming a Tango hold with them, let alone anything they’d suggested and so, she’d switched to belly dancing classes. That phase had lasted a whole seven weeks, until her mother had learned of them and had started huffing that she’d only meet eligible lesbians there!

  Leigh had taken up tennis after that, at her mother’s insistence, and that was what she’d been doing when she’d decided to stop wasting money on stupid hobbies to meet man, and go overseas to find herself. Luckily, her mother had approved of the plan and Leigh just knew that the woman, who was every bit as romantic as she was, was counting on Leigh coming home with some gorgeous, NYC investment banker who’d been waiting his whole life to meet an Aussie waitress/blogger who had a mean backhand and more books than cents. Leigh didn’t think that was likely, but she was happy to give it a go if the journey towards her ever after involved bubble baths, squirrels and monstrous waterfalls!

  By the time she pulled herself out of the bath and shrugged into the complimentary robe slung over the door hook, Leigh was in a serene and optimistic state of mind once more- and crinklier than Greta had been. Feeling light-headed from the steamy bathroom, Leigh did the mambo all the way to the phone while humming ‘Love Is Strange,’ and dialled room service, ordering herself a bowl of pumpkin soup, a rack of crusty herb bread and a latte. It was probably twice as expensive as anything she could have gotten outside of the ritzy hotel, but Leigh didn’t care- she had the appetite of a ravenous wolf most of the time and that could get costly, but ravenous wolves could survive on McDeal’s for the rest of her trip, if it came to that.

  Tonight, I go all out! Best room, best food, best view, ooh la la! And tomorrow I’ll get my frugal on again, in case I end up having to hop a steam ship home…

  It was still freezing in the room, despite the fact that she had the heating on, and so Leigh blow-dried her hair in front of the mirror while she waited for her food, watching the movie in the reflection behind her and not needing to hear it over the whirr of the hair dryer, for she’d seen it so many times that she knew it off by heart. Just as the top layers of her hair had begun to lighten from their wet, fudge-colour to her actual, honey-blonde hue, there was a knock on the door, and she put the dryer down and skipped to answer it.

  ‘Bruce! Hey!’ she greeted the young concierge warmly, when he grinned at her over the stop-catch. She fussed with the latch and once she had it open, tried to return his broad smile without salivating on the silver-lidded plates balanced artfully on the tray before him. The scent of pumpkin and pine nuts felt like a welcome home in a strange land, as it was one of her mother’s ‘staple’ dishes from her real life. ‘Wow, the concierge delivers food too? Now that’s service!’

  ‘Not usually, Miss Dallas-Hone,’ Bruce said, stepping into her room while she darted off to her purse to grab a five dollar note. ‘I just happened to be in the kitchen when your order was put up, so I volunteered.’ He glanced at her over his shoulder, and Leigh took a moment to admire how his apple-red cheeks contrasted against his pale Canadian skin, making him look like he’d just come in from hunting, even though he was wearing a sharply cut suit. ‘Would you just like it on the table?’

  ‘Yes please,’ Leigh followed him, feeling that awkward ‘tip’ feeling coming over her. It should have been such an easy thing to do: give someone money, but she still hadn’t gotten used to it and fretted every time that she was either tipping too little or too much. Math had never been her friend, after all, not the way words had been, and most of the people she had to slide the tips to had been wearing suits, adding to the oddity of it all for her. She much preferred Australia’s custom, of simply overcharging for stuff so the employees could be compensated by their wages accordingly.

  ‘You seem to be in much better spirits,’ Bruce noted, without looking up at her. ‘That’s good to see.’

  ‘I am,’ Leigh admitted, ‘thanks to you. I mean- this room is wonderful! How can anybody sulk while there are racks heating their towels?’

  Bruce chuckled, brown eyes sparkling up at her before darting shyly away while he arranged her plates on the table. ‘Heated towel racks not much use down under, eh?’

  ‘I’d probably burn down my entire block of flats if I had one,’ Leigh agreed, and took the small plastic bill tray from him. She signed her name before passing it back with the five-dollar note on top. ‘But they’re lovely here, so thanks, again.’

  ‘For Canada’s deathly chill?’ Bruce joked, taking the tray back without even glancing at the tip. He had pale freckles across his nose, and Leigh was struck by how a few of the darker ones were positioned like the constellation Orion.

  ‘On top of everything else, sure.’ Leigh pressed her palms together and eyed the meal as Bruce began to remove the lids. ‘Oh wow, oh wow! That smells so good!’

  Bruce laughed again as he replaced the lids, keeping the warmth of the meals trapped. ‘You really are in a better mood. I’ll have to see what I can do about letting you keep this room, eh?’

  ‘Huh? Don’t be silly,’ Leigh moved to pull out her chair, but Bruce beat her to it. ‘This is a treat, but I’ll be just as happy in a room that I can afford.’

  ‘I’m sure you would be. But after having so many people check in to these rooms and look down their noses at them like they’re nothing special, your delight is a breath of fresh air.’ Bruce pushed her chair back in. ‘In fact, you’ve been a breath of fresh air since you walked in- tears and all. I can safely say that you’re the first guest to ever pound her head against the marble reception counter while calling herself a fail.’

  Leigh laughed. ‘Good to know that I’ve amused everyone so.’ There was a moment of silence while Leigh eyed her food hungrily and wondered what it was that had him dangling at her side, but before she could begin to worry that he’d not seen his tip and was lingering in want of it, she felt Bruce step away.

  ‘Well, um, enjoy your meal, Miss Dallas-Hone, and don’t hesitate to contact me, I mean, the concierge desk again if you find yourself in need of any further assistance.’

  ‘Sure thing!’ She looked over her shoulder and grinned at him as he backed away. ‘Thanks a bunch Bruce. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Oh, and you can call me Leigh- my last names are too much of a mouthful to say repeatedly, even for me.’

  The concierge smiled and said: ‘Leigh... that’s a lovely name.’

  But Leigh wrinkled h
er nose. ‘Nah, it’s a boy’s name. When I was fifteen, I petitioned to have it changed to Alexandra, but my parents shot me down so I had to make do.’ Thinking of that made her think of Anne Of Green Gables and her desire to be called Cordelia, and Leigh smiled to herself, staring out the window and temporarily losing herself in the moment, wondering how Anne Shirley would have reacted to the beauty of Niagara Falls and almost laughing out loud when she realised that her childhood heroine would have probably freaked out the way she had and broken something equally expensive, the way she’d broken her slate over Gilbert Blythe’s head.

  God, I’m really here! I’ve been here for over a week, but it still feels like some fantastic dream. How am I going to leave this week? How am I going to be able to stay away for as long as it’s gonna take for me to save enough money and get a green card?

  ‘Well, good night, Miss… Leigh.’

  ‘Good night Mr Bruce,’ Leigh teased. He grinned at her and then shut the door, and Leigh immediately dug into her food with one hand, while clicking the unfamiliar remote at the flat screen across from her bed with the other.

  He was nice. He lay on the staff flattery thing a bit thick though. I hope he’s not chasing huge tips but I can’t keep handing out fivers to everyone now...

  The soup was hot- too hot to be eaten straight away but Leigh gulped it down, enjoying the burn all the way down her throat and to the pit of her stomach, because it ate away at the discomfort she’d been storing there all afternoon. The spices filled her mouth and nose in the exact right way, and the lovely taste was exactly what she’d been craving. Leigh sighed happily with every mouthful, wondering if she could afford a second bowl. She did the math and surmised that she could- just not with a second five dollar tip, which the attentive young Concierge was likely to expect if he got the job of delivering it again. Opting to enjoy what she had rather than guts herself and blow her budget once again, Leigh began to eat more slowly, dunking the soup in torn pieces of bread and relaxing into her chair.