She couldn’t help it. Determination aside, she glanced back before the men disappeared from view, her gaze going unerringly to Kirk, only to have his attention in turn shift from his friends to lock onto her.
Like a predator eyeing off prey, although he did it so easily, so unerringly, his gaze meshing with her’s, trapping her, until with a last tug of Del’s hand on her arm she was propelled forward, the wooden wall of the house cutting his intense yet steady regard from view.
Thank God.
Chapter 3
Waiting, Kirk watched his friends.
“Weeeeelllll,” Simon drawled.
Yep, there it started.
“So, you had a look at Molly’s bruise, huh?”
“Yep.”
“And that’s all you did, right?” Scott asked.
Kirk cut him a look.
“Because, of course, you wouldn’t take advantage of a woman, right?”
Kirk raised one eyebrow slightly.
“Because she’s my cousin, right?”
“She’s also a nice looking sheila,” Simon added unhelpfully.
“But she’s my cousin,” Scott warned.
“Okay, she’s a nice looking cousin.”
Stance relaxed, Kirk adjusted his weight when Ryder came around the corner of the house with a cup of something hot steaming in his hand and a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Hey,” Ryder greeted him. “Heard you had your hand up Molly’s shirt.”
For a second Kirk thought he meant his grip on Molly’s slacks just minutes ago, but then he realised that Ryder hadn’t been there anyway. Shit, had Del suspected? His eyes narrowed a fraction. Nope, or she wouldn’t have taken Molly away, she’d have waited to see the fun. Scott would have flattened him if he’d even suspected where Kirk’s hand had been - and it had been in a damned tantalizing place.
“Did your hand by any chance happen to go down her - oops.” Ryder looked at Scott who was glaring at him. “Right. Cousin. Sorry.” Taking a sip of the fragrant smelling hot coffee, he smacked his lips. “So, hand up her shirt, huh? You dog. And to think you’re the quiet one of us.”
Scott folded his arms across his chest. “You’re the dog amongst us.”
“Never denied it. Not sure I’d be game to try anything with your cousin while you’re around, though.”
“Cop.” Simon jerked his thumb at Kirk. “Have to be a right nong to do that job anyway.”
“This is true.” Ryder grinned widely. “So, what’s cooking between you two?”
“Nothing,” Kirk replied calmly.
“But her shirt-”
“Will you stop pointing that out?” Scott demanded. “It’s my cousin, my cousin’s shirt, and my friend’s hand.”
“Hmmm.” Simon’s eyes were half closed as he thoughtfully stroked his jaw with one hand.
That was never a good sign. Going from the glint in his eyes it was, in fact, a bad sign. One never knew exactly what Simon was thinking, his easy-going façade hiding a lot of sharp thoughts.
Kirk looked at Scott. “Nothing happened between us, mate. Stop worrying.”
“I’m not worrying.” At Kirk’s raised eyebrows and Ryder’s snort, Scott amended, “Well, you know. Maybe a little.”
“Don’t want your cousin shagging your friend?” Ryder took another sip of coffee.
Waiting for Scott’s reply, Kirk watched the myriad of expressions cross his friend’s face. Distaste - no doubt at the thought of his cousin shagging anyone - concern, and when he looked at Kirk, a sudden blankness.
Interesting. Kirk studied him in turn. Did the thought of Kirk getting intimately close to Molly make Scott angry? He didn’t know why, he wasn’t a bad bloke and besides, it wasn’t as though he intended anything with Molly…did he? No, no he didn’t, geez, where had that thought come from? But it was an intriguing thought, because Molly was all lush curves and sweet smells, all soft and cute-
“Is there anything going on between you two?” Scott leaned forward.
“What? No, I just told you.”
“I mean in the present tense.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
That had Kirk blinking in surprise.
“Whoa,” Ryder whistled. “Bugger me dead, an actual expression on Goldie’s face.”
Kirk ignored him, his attention focussed on Scott who was regarding him curiously. “Want to repeat that?”
“Whoa,” Ryder whistled. “Bugger me-”
“Not you, dickhead. Scott.”
“Geez.” Ryder took a fortifying mouthful of coffee.
Hands on hips, head cocked slightly to one side, Scott arched one brow. “Why not?”
“Why not what?” Kirk was dumbfounded that his friend could even ask such a question.
Simon crunched on another biscuit he withdrew from his pocket. “Why isn’t there anything going on between you and Molly?”
“Jesus, Scott, I just met Molly-”
“And her cute arse,” Ryder pointed out.
“-last night,” Kirk continued, ignoring him “Besides, one second you’re ready to rip me a knew one from arse rim to back teeth at the thought of me doing anything with Molly, and now you want to know why I’m not doing anything? What is wrong with you?”
“You’re my friend.”
Was the man insane? Kirk stared at him.
“One of my best friends.”
“So?”
“So you’re a decent bloke, Molly’s a nice kid, I wouldn’t mind if there was something between you two.”
Where the hell had that come from? Speechless, Kirk rubbed the back of his head, his gaze sliding to Simon. “Help me out here.”
“It’s all perfectly obvious,” Simon replied, spraying a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. “Scott’s all lovey-dovey with Ash, and now he’s into matchmaking.”
“What?” It was Scott’s turn to stare at Simon.
“You know, you and Ash kissy-kissy, huggy-huggy-”
“Boinky-boinky,” Ryder added.
“Now you see one of your friends and your sweet little cousin eyeing off each other and you want to get a pot of love glue and stick them together.”
“Love glue?” Scott’s eyes actually got wider and Kirk was hard pressed not to laugh. “Love glue? Are you out of your mind?”
“Just stating the facts.” Simon stuffed another biscuit into his mouth.
“Well, you’re wrong.” Scott frowned. “Bloody match-making my arse. And how many of those bloody biscuits did you flog from that plate?”
“Trying to change the subject, huh?” Ryder nodded. “Had to do that a time or two myself.” He paused. “Mind you, that was around a sheila. Never really had to do it amongst mates. Still, there’s a first time for everything.” He practically beamed.
Ryder really was a bastard. Kirk grinned.
“You know,” Scott pointed at Ryder, “one day you’ll get yours.”
“Me? Mate, I’m a footloose, fancy-free bloke. No sheila is ever going to hang a ball and chain on me.”
“The sheila who would do that would be as thick as two bricks.” Dee stood at the corner of the house, a hand on one generously curved hip. “I thought you blokes were going to cook the snaggers and steaks and shit. Instead, you’re out here gabbing like a bunch of old men. Jesus, get a move on.”
Saved by the bell. More than glad of the diversion, Kirk followed his friends into the backyard.
It was a nice backyard, rather plain, mostly grass, clothesline towards the back, veggie patch that needed weeding to one side, and some rose bushes that were flourishing under Ash’s hands. He knew she had plans to plant some fruit trees and get the veggie patch going again, and he had no doubt she’d succeed.
Scott went up to her, sliding his arm around her waist and dropping a kiss on her upraised face, getting her smack on the lips and proceeding to dip her back, making her squeal and grab at him. While he had her dipped over his arm, he kissed her again, soundly this time, long and unashamedl
y enjoying it, swinging her back up to stand her again on her two feet, Ash’s cheeks bright red even as her eyes danced with laughter. The love between his friends was obvious and Kirk was glad for them, especially knowing Ash’s background, not that she knew he, Ryder and Simon were aware of it. If she did, she’d be mortified and no way would they ever subject her to that.
Which reminded him… Kirk looked at Molly sitting near the end of the table next to Del. She was laughing, a glass of what looked like orange juice in her hands, her forearms resting on the table. With her flowered blouse and pale blue slacks, the glorious mane of glossy brown hair shot through with bits of gold pulled back into a jaunty ponytail, face free of make-up, all pretty and fresh, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world.
But she had a background, something dark, the proof of it in the barely healed stripes on her back. Someone had beaten her, hurt her, made her wary. She was good at concealing, but what, exactly, was she hiding? And why?
Damned if he knew but he was determined to find out. No man should ever lay a hand on a woman in anger. That it had happened made him angry. That it had happened to Molly made him furious. Just the memory of the pink marks marring her white skin, the sheer misery in her eyes that he had no doubt she had no idea she’d revealed to him, had his hands fisting, an aching to find the bastard who’d caused her such pain and beat the living shit out of him. It made his arms ache to gather her close, to tuck her face into his neck, to bend down and shelter her.
He knew the instant she became aware of his presence. Her head lifted, her gaze locking onto him immediately. Her smile faltered, her laughter dying, but before anyone could even wonder the smile grew again, her attention returning to Del.
That falter, the shadows suddenly lurking in those beautiful green eyes, had him striding across the grass, snagging a tin of light beer on his way. Rounding the table, he swung his legs over the bench seat and dropped down directly beside Molly, his thigh brushing against her softer one.
Ryder took the seat opposite, Simon joining Scott at the BBQ as they got it fired up.
There was no doubt Molly knew he sat beside her, the slight stiffening of her thigh against his a dead giveaway, but when she shifted her leg he simply spread his thighs a little wider to keep contact with her.
As Dee asked Ryder something, Kirk took the opportunity to glance sideways at Molly.
She looked at him, a sweet smile on her face, her eyes slightly narrowed. Yeah, she was good at covering her feelings, but not good enough to fool him.
Turning his head, he smiled directly at her, a slow, slight, easy smile. Just read what you will into that, missy.
“Kirk,” she said softly so that no one would hear below the chatter around the table.
“Yeah?”
“Shift your leg.”
His smile grew broader. “Nope.” Turning his head back around, he took a swig of his light beer.
Simon sat down, looking from Kirk to Molly, his eyes twinkling. “Something wrong, Molly?”
“No, no. Nothing at all.” She practically beamed. “So, Simon, when did you come to Gully’s Fall? I never saw you here when I came on holidays as a kid.”
Oh yeah, she was good at covering things. In more ways than one. While she spoke one hand lifted to push a stray tendril back over her ear before seemingly dropping innocently into her lap. In fact, she gave Kirk’s thigh a small pinch, not hard enough to make him jump or yell, but enough to make him aware of her displeasure.
As Simon replied, Kirk slid his hand under the table and spread his palm firmly above Molly’s knee, testing the softness of her rounded thigh. Nice. Very nice.
Not having his composure, she jumped. He kept his hand in place.
When all eyes turned to her, Kirk’s mildly questioning, she cleared her throat. “Sorry. Thought there was something unsavoury on my leg.”
Ryder choked on his coffee - serve him right, the know-it-all bastard - and the girls looked puzzled.
Kirk’s hand was back on his own thigh before Dee could even look at Molly’s.
“Gone now,” Molly said. “Mongrel thing, whatever it was.”
“Jesus.” Ryder swiped at the spilled coffee on his t-shirt.
“Sorry, Ryder.” There was genuine concern on Molly’s face as she saw what had happened. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No worries, babe.”
It didn’t take long for everyone to start talking again, several different conversations going on at once.
Molly didn’t try anything with him this time, her position between him and Dee on the wooden bench making it impossible for her to shift away from the length of his thigh pressed against her’s without drawing attention, and she wasn’t a woman who welcomed attention.
Oh yeah, he had to admit, he did like having her at his mercy.
“Goldie?”
“Mmm?” He turned his head to look down at her.
Her smile was so sweet it could have been made with sugar, her voice so soft he had to bend down to hear her. “You’re an arsehole.”
He looked into her sweetly smiling face and nodded. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Glad we cleared that up.” Turning away from him, she joined in the conversation.
Grinning, he lifted the tin to his mouth, but he wasn’t left with his thoughts for long, his friends drawing him into the conversation, and then the BBQ was pronounced ready and he had to get up to start cooking the meat.
As the best BBQ cook amongst them all, his meat always tender even when cooked well done, Kirk was always the designated meat cook. It meant giving up his seat beside Molly but there was no help for it.
Tongs in hand, meat sizzling on the BBQ plate, the smell in the air, Kirk watched Tilly, Scott’s fat tabby, waddle out the back door. She sat on the top of the veranda looking around, her golden-eyed gaze taking in the scenery. Her gaze stopped on Kirk and she lifted her fat bum and proceeded to walk down the steps like a queen.
Talk about stalking the cook, her eyes never left him. Simon and Ash stepped aside for her as she walked straight across to him, Scott moving a chair so she wouldn’t have to walk around it. Her tail flicked from side to side and amused, he watched her progress across the lawn.
Finally she reached him, looking directly into his eyes as she plonked her fat little bottom on the ground right beside his feet.
“Hello, Your Majesty,” he said.
“She’ll have steak.” Scott walked up and stopped on Tilly’s other side so that the cat was between them. “Three seconds each side to get the BBQ flavour, then give it to me and I’ll cut it up for her.”
Tilly didn’t remove her gaze from Kirk, pinning him to the spot with a stare that basically demanded food. Now.
“I think I know how Tilly takes it by now.”
“Last time you did it for seven seconds each side and it took her a week to get over the horror of it.”
“Jesus.” Ryder stopped behind Tilly and they all looked down at her. “Is her arse getting wider?”
Scott punched him in the arm. “Watch what you say about my baby.”
Tilly’s attention didn’t veer from Kirk for even a split second. She simply stared at him. And stared and stared. Little front paws planted firmly in the grass, bum on the ground, tail curled around, eyes stuck on him. She meant business.
“Do you feel a bit unnerved?” Ryder asked him.
“I can live with it.” Kirk tossed a small piece of steak on the BBQ.
It sizzled, he counted to three and tossed it over, another three seconds and he forked it onto a plate Scott held at the ready.
Shaking his head, Ryder looked from the steak to Tilly. “What’s next? Champagne?”
“No, Daddy’s little girl has Whiskas milk.” Bending down, Scott scooped Tilly up into one arm and straightened.
“I heard you grunt,” Ryder said. “That was a definite grunt.”
“Shut your cakehole. Tilly has feelings, you know.”
“No, Ti
lly has a soft-hearted drongo wrapped around her paw.”
“Don’t listen to nasty Ryder, baby girl. Daddy’s got you.”
“He’s also got your steak,” Ryder informed her, tickling her under her chin.
Tilly’s gaze was now glued to the steak Scott held in his other hand.
“The steak’s also got all her attention,” Kirk pointed out, throwing more steak on the BBQ, sprinkling seasoning lightly over them as they sizzled.
Ryder watched Scott cart his cat back up the veranda and into the house. “Man, that cat has got it made.”
Kirk checked out the big bowl of raw onions. Nothing like the smell of frying onions.
“So, Goldie.”
Kirk cut a sideways glance at Ryder’s smirking face.
“Ohhh, look, he answered.” Simon appeared beside him. “I like the nickname, Goldie.”
“Care to share how you came upon the nickname…Goldie?” Ryder asked.
Kirk’s gaze slid to where Molly was laughing. Boy, did she owe him.
“Oh yeah, sweet little Molly.” Ryder fluttered his eyelashes. “What did you do to make her honour you with such a wonderful moniker?”
Shrugging, Kirk tossed the steaks.
“Did the big cop save her? Was that it?”
He prodded the steaks, shifted them on the hot plate.
“Did you by any chance show her your golden rod?”
Kirk flipped a steak and it slid onto the ground. “Sorry. That was your piece.”
“Don’t change the subject. And you can cook me another piece, you shifty-eyed bastard. Now, what did you do to make Molly hang a handle on you like ‘Goldie’? ‘Cause I’m telling you, that’s a sissy-arsed name.” He paused. “Goldie.”
“I have cuffs, Ryder, and I’m not afraid to use them. On you.”
“You kinky bastard. Is that what you did to Molly?”
Grinning, Simon slid his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his sneakered feet. “Or is she just fond of you?”
“I have no idea why she calls me ‘Goldie’.” He slid the steaks to the side and tonged chops and sausages onto the BBQ. “And Ryder?”
“Yeah?”
“You call me ‘Goldie’ once more and I’m going to fry your donger.”
Fall for You Page 7