Fall for You

by Angela Verdenius

  Ash hesitated. “Look, I know it was going to be just us three, but it’s kind of escalated into a BBQ instead with friends. You know them all anyway - Ryder, Dee, Del, the usual crew. Is that all right?”

  “Cool. Sounds like fun.” Molly nodded “What can I bring? Salad? Dessert? Meat? Drinks?”

  “Everyone is bringing something, so we’ll have heaps. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I have to do something or everyone will think I’m a bum.”

  “Molly, really-”

  “Ash, really.”

  Ash rolled her eyes.

  “That’s not going to work,” Molly said. “I’ll help set up, then.”

  “Nothing to set up. The BBQ is out the back, the wooden table and benches are there, and we have some fold-up chairs in the shed.”

  “I’ll help clean up then.”

  “You’re on.”

  “Wow, that didn’t take much convincing.”

  Ash grinned.

  They chatted for a few minutes longer then Ash drained the rest of her drink and stood up. “I have to go. Ben was kind enough to give me an extended smoko, but it’s time to get back.”

  “Thanks for dropping by.” Molly walked her to the door. “It was nice to meet you before tonight.”

  “Same here.” Ash bent down and stroked Oscar, who was sunning himself on the top step of the veranda. “How are you getting on with Henry?”

  “The foul-mouthed, feathered fiend?”

  “That’d be the one.”

  “I’ll have to teach him some new words, give him a wider vocabulary.”

  “It’d be an improvement on what Scott and his mob taught him.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Molly promised.

  She waved Ash off in what was obviously the work ute going by the ‘Ben’s Auto Repairs’ which was right across both sides. Taking a leisurely stretch, she heard the sounds of powerful motorbike engines and immediately ducked back into the house while cursing her cowardice. From the protection of the security screen, she watched as two big motorbikes passed along the roadway towards town, then relaxed, remembering that Kirk had been driving a ute.

  Okay, now there was a problem. He’d seen the marks on her back and had immediately come over all dominant male, refusing her protests, basically holding her prisoner in his arms while hoiking up her blouse to get a good eyeful. Then he’d proceeded to demand answers.

  Nope, that certainly didn’t endear Goldie to her. Not one iota. He was a dominant male who expected answers, and she had sworn off dominant males. Once was enough, she bore the marks of the encounter as a reminder.

  Speaking of encounters, that reminded her of the phone call. Maybe it was time to change her mobile number, give the new one only to trusted friends such as Sherry and Keith. They’d witnessed what had happened to her, had stood by her, and Keith had been one of those who had ‘dealt’ with the cause of her problem.

  Only now it looked like her problem was returning, or trying to, and no way on God’s green earth was she ever going to allow that bastard back into her life.

  Going back into the lounge, she couldn’t help but cross to the mirror, pull her blouse up and look over her shoulder at the wide, pink marks on her back. Yeah, four marks made by a belt, Goldie had got that right first pop. Four marks that not only marked her skin but had left her with a definite resolution to never let an assertive man try to take over her life ever again. And that included Goldie. Cop or no cop, he was a dominant male.

  Dropping her blouse, she picked up the mobile lying on the little coffee table and started texting, pressing the ‘send’ button and then she set about changing her mobile number.

  One jerk dealt with and the other dominant jerk, aka Goldie, she’d deal with if and when needed. Besides, once he had time to cool down he’d probably decide she wasn’t worth pursuing and leave her alone.

  Somehow, though, she doubted it.

  “Shit.” Rubbing her nape, she scowled, then her face lightened. Leaving the room, she went out to start Henry’s education by adding some new words to his impressive vocabulary.

  ~*~

  Standing in the hallway, Molly studied the list in her hands. There was a lot to do but she looked forward to it. Call her old-fashioned, but there was nothing more she liked than keeping a clean house, cooking, and basically being home. Born in the wrong era, Sherry always teased her, but so what? It didn’t worry Molly what anyone thought, she’d long ago decided to live life her own way.

  Donning an apron, she stripped everything out of the lounge cupboards and proceeded to push the cupboards away from the walls so she could vacuum. It was hard going, the furniture old and heavy, the carpet not making it easy to move, but she managed with a lot of swearing, cursing, and definitely unladylike language. When she had enough room, she vacuumed where the cupboards had stood then huffed and puffed and cursed them back into their previous places.

  By the time she’d shifted everything, vacuumed and put the furniture back, she was hot and sweaty. Polishing the furniture was easier, and after replacing all the books and knick-knacks back where they belonged, she stood back with an air of satisfaction. Everything looked sparkling clean.

  Climbing the little step ladder, she took down the curtains, putting the heavy curtains in a bundle for the dry cleaners, the net curtains for the washing machine. Now that she thought about it, she’d be better off to take a whole load to the dry cleaners in one go rather than some at a time.

  That made her check the big linen cupboards to ensure there were more curtains to replace the ones she’d taken down. Unsurprisingly, Aunt Julia had second sets for every room by the look of it, so that made life easier. She could clean room by room, taking down and replacing the curtains, and then take a whole big load to the drycleaners.

  Plan made, she set about completing the cleaning of the lounge room, washing the windows on the inside and replacing the curtains with fresh ones.

  By the time she’d finished it was getting late, but the lounge looked good. Furniture shiny, not a speck of dust on the shelves, fresh curtains, everything smelling of window cleaner and furniture polish.

  She was standing there, hands on hips and surveying it all, when Scott walked in. “Hey, Molly!”

  Turning, she smiled up at him. “Hey, Scott. Come to check that I haven’t destroyed the house?”

  “Actually, I came to pick you up.”

  “What for?”

  “BBQ? Remember?”

  “Of course I remember.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Oh, crap on a stick. Is it that time already?”

  He grinned.

  “Crap crap crap! I’ll have a shower and be ready in a tick.” Cursing, Molly ripped off the apron and slung it at him. He caught it, she whirled back around and snatched it out of his hands. “Laundry. Has to go in the laundry.”

  “I’ll feed Oscar, shall I?” He winked. “You do remember Oscar, right?”

  “If I had time I’d make rude gestures to you, but I don’t, so yes please, feed Oscar!”

  Within half an hour she was showered, hair shampooed and blow-dried, dressed and jumping into Scott’s car holding a plate of home-baked biscuits.

  Her cousin took a deep inhale of the aroma coming from the plate. “Okay, for the biccies alone I will forgive your lateness.”

  “Hey, I wasn’t procrastinating. I was working.”

  “Your dedication to the vacuum cleaner is a wonderful sight to behold, but your skill in the kitchen is a miracle.”

  “Glad I please Your Highness’s taste buds.”

  “Honey, you’ll please everyone’s taste buds.”

  “Suck up all you like, you’re still not getting one until we get there.”

  “You’re a harsh woman, Molly.”

  “Never said I wasn’t,” she replied cheerfully.

  Laughing, Scott drove them to his house, only to scowl as he pulled up behind two big, black motorbikes. One of them was parked directly in the middle of the driveway. “That
bastard has parked his bike right in my way.”

  Molly eyed the black and chrome motorbike. “Ryder?”

  “He’s such a prick. He could have parked to the side like Simon.” Sticking his head out the car window, Scott bellowed, “Hey, numb nuts!”

  “I’m so glad you live on several acres,” she said dryly. “Neighbours and all that.”

  Ryder sauntered around the corner of the house, a small, glass bottle of light beer in his hand. “You called, Sire?”

  “Shift your shit,” Scott ordered.

  “My shit?”

  “Parked in my driveway.”

  “You mean Esmeralda?”

  “I mean your shit.”

  “Esmeralda.”

  “What the hell…? I don’t care what you call her, shift her.”

  “Hmmm.” Leaning back against the veranda post, Ryder took a swig from the bottle. “She’s a lady.”

  “You ride them all the time.” Dee appeared right behind him. “Then you shift them off. Do the same with Esmeralda.”

  “Wow, that’s harsh.”

  “Truth hurts. Shift it.”

  Ryder looked her up and down, a smirk curling one corner of his mouth. “You look cute when you’re annoyed.”

  “And yet you ride the tarts of the town. Go figure.” She started for the motorbike. “I’ll shift it, Scott.”

  “Hey hey hey!” Straightening, Ryder strode after her, catching her shoulder in one big hand and shoving the bottle at her. “No one touches the bike, babe, and I’m sorry but that includes you.”

  “Yet you let me sit on the back of her.”

  “Privileged. You are privileged to sit on her back.”

  “Are the tarts of the town privileged when you -”

  He cast her a slightly narrow-eyed look as he kicked the stand up. “You don’t want to go there, Dee.”

  “Really?” Hand on hip, she took a swig from his bottle. “Maybe I do.”

  “You don’t. Trust me.”

  “And if I do?”

  His eyes got just a fraction flinty as he rolled the motorbike to the side of the driveway, kicking on the stand and settling it. “Maybe you won’t like what’ll happen.”

  One of her eyebrows arched up coolly, a definite spark in her eyes. “Really?”

  “Really.” Striding back across to her, he plucked the bottle from her fingers, but rather than just walk off, he hesitated, looking down at her for several seconds before he suddenly grinned crookedly, bent down and pressed his lips with light affection on her brow. “You are such a prickly sheila.”

  “And you’re such a dumb arse,” she returned swiftly, giving him a shove.

  Wrapping one arm around her neck, Ryder pulled her into his side, laughingly steering her back towards the corner of the house. “Come on, babe, let’s get some food, drink and cheer into you, make you smile.”

  Dee glanced back at Molly, a smile on her face but a surprising bleakness in her eyes.

  As they disappeared around the corner of the house, Molly looked at Scott. “So…?”

  He shook his head.

  “But-”

  “Trust me, no one knows.”

  “It’s odd.”

  “They’re both odd, you know that. They’ve just gotten odder with age.”

  “Okay.” Puzzled and curious, Molly got out of the car.

  The sounds of powerful motorbike engines cut through the air, drawing closer, and she turned to watch as two big, black motorbikes turned into Scott’s driveway, pulling neatly to the side to park on the flat, compacted earth.

  A slender woman dressed in jeans and t-shirt swung down from behind the first rider, pulling off her helmet and shaking her long, blonde hair free. Apart from their builds being very different the similarities between her and Dee were undeniable.

  “Del?” Molly grinned in delight.

  “Molly!” Del bounced forwards, grabbing her around the neck and hugging her close. “Hello!”

  Scott rescued the plate of biscuits from Molly before she dropped them, enabling her to hug Del back enthusiastically. Placing both hands on her shoulders, she eased Del back to study her. “Geez, apart from a few wrinkles you haven’t changed a bit.”

  “Bitch.” Del laughingly gave Molly’s hair a light tug. “Same can be said of you, old girl.”

  “Oohh,” said a cheerful voice behind them. “Are these fighting words? Are we going to see a lady fight?”

  “Idiot.” Del turned to the tall, redheaded man shrugging out of his leather jacket to sling it across one broad shoulder. “Ladies don’t fight.”

  “I’m crushed.” Grinning widely, the redhead stepped forward, hand extended. “I’m Simon. I work with Scott.”

  “You’re a fire fighter, too?” Molly’s hand was engulfed in his big hand and shaken gently.

  “Yep. But don’t let that dazzle you, I’m a simple man with simple needs.”

  “That’s our Simon,” Del agreed, giving him a light smack on the arm. “Simple.”

  Simon just grinned and released Molly’s hand, his every move easy-going and almost lazy, but she just bet he could move fast when he wanted. No man or woman worked for emergency services who couldn’t snap to full-on rescue mode in seconds.

  Feeling someone watching her, she switched her gaze to the second rider who was still sitting on his bike, his helmet resting on one muscular thigh evident even beneath the jeans he wore.

  Kirk regarded her expressionlessly as he listened to the by-play between them all. His eyes, so light a brown as to hold almost a hint of gold, slowly slid down her body and up, not lingering anywhere in particular, almost as though he was just scanning her and filing the details away in his cop brain in case it was needed later.

  She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved, then wondered why she would even care. But heck, she sure felt his gaze, impersonal or not, it kind of left a hot little trail in its wake…or maybe that was just her overactive imagination.

  Cripes, she might have sworn-off dominant males but she wasn’t dead. Kirk was a perfect example of an alpha male in his prime, all broad shoulders, muscles, and long, lithe length. She could still admire that as long as she ignored the little dip low in her belly when those all-seeing eyes locked onto hers, making her feel like prey caught in the unblinking gaze of a predator.

  Good grief, she had to get a grip on herself, she - “Ouch!”

  Del jumped, her hand leaving the back of Molly’s waist as though she’d been shot. “Holy crap, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” Relieved at breaking the entrapment of Kirk’s eyes, Molly stepped back and held up one hand. “It’s all right.”

  “Are you hurt?” Scott asked, concerned.

  “I’ve just got a bit of a bruise from where the window frame hit me.” She shrugged. “It’s okay.”

  “Let me see.” He stepped forward, handing the plate of biccies to Simon.

  “What? Oh no, no need.” Backing away, she shook her head. “It’s fine, really.”

  “I just want to check it. The window frame must have hit pretty hard.” He reached for her.

  Good grief. She retreated another step, slapping his hand away. “Get off! It’s fine, I tell you.”

  “Geez, girl. What’s your problem?” Eyebrows arched, Scott shook his hand.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to hit so hard.” Cripes, if she kept making a fuss he’d guess that something was up. Going by the way Simon was suddenly eyeing her with an alertness not previously evident, he was already wondering at her reaction. “Really, Scott, I checked it in a mirror. It’s a just a little bruising, that’s all. Now, are we going to eat or what?”

  “Besides, I checked it already,” Kirk stated quietly.

  At this, Scott and Simon looked up over her shoulder to Kirk behind her.

  Obviously close, too, because she could feel the heat of his body at her back, at once both reassuring and unnerving. Before she could take an involuntary step forward a big hand slid under her blouse, l
ong fingers hooking in the waistband of her slacks to hold her still.

  Holy crap, Goldie’s fingers were hooked into the back of her slacks, his fingers had actually slid under the waistband of her lace panties as well! Molly’s mouth went dry and she swallowed. Hard.

  That had Scott’s intense gaze immediately dropping to her face as he studied her anew.

  Shit, her cousin was too smart for his own good, no way was she going to add fuel to his curious fire by trying to tug away from Kirk. Instead, she smiled brightly. “See? He’d tell you if there was anything wrong, wouldn’t you, Goldie?”

  The fingers in the waistband of her slacks tightened fractionally, his deep voice calm. “I saw the bruise, Scott. It’ll fade, no harm done.”

  “Mmm.” Scott pursed his lips.

  “You should have told me.” Taking Molly’s upper arm, Del drew her forward. “Geez, woman.”

  Long fingers slid along her skin, sliding from her pants as she stepped forward, and it took all her control not to let her knees wobble. It was a miracle she was able to smile without, apparently, letting anyone know something had happened, because Del kept chattering.

  A glance to one side showed Scott looking at Kirk, a glance to the other side showed Simon holding the plate and eating one of her biscuits while also looking at Kirk, and a glance over her shoulder showed Kirk standing there, one big hand holding his leather jacket, the other hand at his waist, thumb tucked into the empty belt loop of his jeans, long fingers splayed loosely over the front of one lean hip.

  Her hips weren’t lean. They weren’t even just shapely. They were abundantly curved. The thought flashed fleetingly through her mind right before her eyes shifted a little to the left to where his zipper lay. Then all thoughts fled.

  “Jesus, Simon.” Del whipped the plate out of his hands, catching Molly’s attention. “I swear you have a tape worm.”

  “I wormed myself when I helped Scott wrestle Tilly to the floor for her worming tablet, so I’m good.” Simon flashed her a grin but his attention returned quickly to Kirk and Scott.

  Now Del was starting to look curious, her gaze following Simon’s. Molly, intercepting her look, moved quicker, practically dragging her around the corner of the house. “Come on, let’s see Ash or she’ll think we’re ignoring her.”