Fall for You

by Angela Verdenius

  “With the snaggers?” Simon hung his tongue out and gagged. “Not with the snaggers. Pease don’t do it with the snaggers.”

  Ryder sneered. “It wouldn’t fit on the barbie.”

  Smiling slightly, Kirk shifted the meat around, the scent of it filling the evening air.

  The backyard light flicked on, bathing the table and BBQ area in a soft glow. A warm breeze blew the scent of cooking food to the table, and he saw the inhabitants all inhale appreciatively. Wait until he tipped the onions on, that always had them salivating.

  Ryder wandered off, leaving Simon standing with Kirk.

  Kirk eyed him.

  Simon looked back at the table. “She’s a sweet thing.”

  “Yep.” No doubting that.

  “Wonder some bloke hasn’t snapped her up yet.”

  “No one good enough,” Kirk murmured.

  Simon looked at him. “Maybe someone here is.”

  That caught Kirk’s attention, his gaze sharpening. “You?”

  “Mate.” Simon grinned broadly. “Really?”

  As blokes went, Simon was a looker, at least according to the women in town. One of the three eligible bachelors in town, apparently. It never had sat well with Kirk that he was counted as one of the three - it had been four until Scott hooked up with Ash - because he didn’t chase women. He’d hooked up with several, had some short-lived relationships, but he wasn’t looking for a woman who simply considered him a prime catch. He wanted more than that in his life. He wanted a woman who loved him for himself, who would bypass his looks to see the man beneath.

  Turning the sausages and chops, he glanced back at the table. Molly happened to glance back at that precise moment, her gaze locking with his, direct, a little puzzled and definitely still a touch annoyed before she shifted her attention back to Ash.

  That made him grin. Obviously she was still annoyed that he deliberately sat close beside her. To be truthful, he didn’t even know why he’d done it. When a woman shifted away from him - not that it had ever actually happened - but he’d never have dreamed of shifting himself until their thighs touched again and then refused to move away.

  That had him frowning slightly. Why had he done it? Man, that wasn’t cool. It was almost juvenile, in fact, like he was trying to stamp his authority on her, his scent or something. He’d no right to do that, none at all.

  He really had to get a grip.

  “Troubling thoughts?” Simon enquired.

  Shifting the chops and sausages to the side, Kirk tipped the bowl of raw onions onto the BBQ plate, moving them around with the tongs. “Just thinking.”

  “About a certain pretty sheila?”

  “About everything I have to do tomorrow,” Kirk lied.

  “Ah yes, such as washing the cop car.”

  “I’m not working tomorrow.”

  Amusement simmered in Simon’s voice. “Mopping the floor, then?”

  Time to divert the conversation. “You want to tell Ash the meat is ready, the onions done in a few minutes?”

  Grinning, Simon clapped him on the shoulder and walked back to the table.

  Taking a deep breath, Kirk concentrated on the onions, pushing all thoughts from his mind. Shame he couldn’t stop himself from covertly watching as Molly helped Ash and Dee bring out the assorted salads and set them on the table. Those generous hips swayed, that voluptuous bottom going up the veranda steps making his palms itch to press against it.

  That made him think of the texture of her skin when he’d impulsively slid his hand beneath her blouse to hook his fingers in the waistband of her slacks. She’d made to step forward and he hadn’t wanted her to, had sought to keep her close. That skin, so silky smooth and warm on the backs of his fingers. It had made him want to yank her back against him, made him want to tangle his fingers in her hair and pull her head gently back so he could kiss her, long and deep and hot. Made him want to protect her from Scott’s insistence to check her. Made him want to yank her behind him and protect her from everyone.

  Jesus, what was the matter with him?

  Not used to troubling thoughts, not liking that he couldn’t sort out his own emotions, he moved with sudden impatience, piling the meat onto several big silver platters and putting the cooked onions into a bowl.

  Turning, he almost walked over Del who was right behind him.

  “Just came to give you a hand.” Taking one of the platters from him, she looked up and blinked. “Whoa. Are you all right?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your face looks like thunder.”

  Immediately he schooled his expression, only now it felt like he was donning a mask than what came naturally. “Sorry, just thinking about something at…work.” Yeah, blame work, that was always a good excuse. It also meant he didn’t need to explain anything because everyone knew he didn’t talk about his job much. When it came to confidentiality, Kirk was a walking testament.

  "Must be some problem.” Hooking her free hand into his elbow, Del urged him forward. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get some food into you, cheer you up through your belly.”

  “I thought that was winning a man over by feeding him?”

  “Is that what would win you?”

  “Nope. Take more than that to win me.” He cut his eyes to Molly and away again. “A lot more.”

  Putting the platters down in the middle of the table, Kirk resumed his seat beside Molly but this time he kept a slight distance between them, ensuring their thighs didn’t touch.

  He was a grown-up, damn it, and he didn’t miss the warm touch of her thigh or the beckoning warmth of her body beside him.

  Maybe he needed more sleep or something. Maybe he was coming down with something. Maybe he was just a dumb arse. The last one was the most likely, he thought, as he spooned potato salad onto his plate and plopped a chop, steak and two snaggers beside it, along with a pile of coleslaw. Not having anymore room on his plate for Dee’s noodle salad, he simply piled it on top of the coleslaw and proceeded to settle down and enjoy the meal.

  Relaxing, he took pleasure in the company of his friends. By the time they were halfway through tea he’d made arrangements to meet with Scott, Ryder and Simon the following morning to go on a ride out to the next town eighty kms away. One thing he loved was getting on his motorbike and just driving, enjoying the rush of the wind, the freedom of not being surrounded by metal, just the road, the wind, the power of the machine he sat on, the countryside and good friends. It was a simple freedom that he cherished, and seeing that not always did he and his friends have the same shifts off work, a time they all enjoyed.

  He wondered if Molly would enjoy riding on a motorbike.

  “So, Molly, what work did you do in the city?” Ash queried.

  Cutting into a sausage, Molly replied, “I worked in payroll at a trucking firm.”

  “That’s different.” Dee buttered a warm bread roll. “You must be a whiz with numbers.”

  “I’m no accountant,” Molly replied dryly. “Don’t try and get me to do your tax or anything.”

  “Aw, come on. I’m sure you’d do a better job than me.”

  “You do your own tax for your business?”

  “Took an accounting course so I could do it when it pleased me. I’m organised so it’s no real hardship.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed.”

  “Brains of the group,” Ryder said. “Woman has the mind of a steel trap.”

  Dee shrugged.

  “And a tongue like the snap of a whip.”

  “It’s the only tongue you’ll get from me.”

  “Baby, it’s the only tongue I get from you.”

  “Then we’re agreed.”

  Kirk watched Dee turn away to ask Molly another question, a slight shift of her position that placed her back ever so subtly to Ryder. His friend, drongo that he was, didn’t have a clue, happily munching on a tomato sauce slathered snagger wrapped in bread. Shaking his head, he caught Del’s roll of her eyes.

  Or at least he
thought Ryder was oblivious, but as he watched, Ryder shifted his elbow until it touched Dee’s every so slightly, a subtle move that he didn’t even know if Ryder was aware. Did he do it deliberately? Was it an accident?

  Whatever, Dee froze for a split second before she continued talking, but she didn’t move her elbow from his touch, seeming to relax a little, but when she glanced across the table at Kirk, laughter on her lips, there was a definite tinge of unhappiness in her normally sparkling eyes which was immediately covered at his sharp-eyed gaze.

  What the hell was going on between his friends? Kirk eyed them both but neither gave him a clue. No doubt about it, the pair were an enigma.

  “So why did you leave the city?” Dee queried.

  “Change of pace,” Molly replied.

  “But your job?”

  “Couldn’t bring it with me.”

  “Are you going back?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “To your job?”

  “No!”

  “Wow, that was straight.”

  Molly’s cheeks flushed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound abrupt. No, I won’t go back to the job.”

  “You didn’t like it?” Del asked.

  “The job was fine.” Molly played with the handle of the plastic fork, running a fingertip up and down it. “It was just…you know. Time for a change.”

  “Let me guess.” Del winked. “Man trouble?”

  Molly’s laugh may have sounded light but Kirk could see the tension in her body, the way her finger pressed harder on the fork handle. “Why would you say that?”

  “Men. They always seem to be found where there’re job issues.”

  “I object,” Scott said.

  “You always do.” Molly looked at him with something akin to relief. “You always object when you don’t like something.”

  “Don’t change the subject.” Del tapped the tabletop. “Did some man do you wrong?”

  “Jesus.” Ryder rolled his eyes. “I warned you about playing that country music, Scott.”

  Ignoring him, Del probed unashamedly. “So, I’m thinking it was a man.”

  “How can you tell?” Simon asked. “Maybe the boss was a woman and a real…you know.”

  “Bitch? Nah, a man made Molly leave.” When Simon stared at her, Del explained, “You’d never leave a job that was fine unless something nasty happened.” Her gaze speared Molly suddenly. “Right?”

  Everyone looked at Molly.

  Kirk waited with the rest, his gaze sliding down to her back, wondering if her boss - no, not her boss. No boss would risk an assault charge by beating a woman. Then again, there were some real bastards in the world, and if one had power and money and thought he could get away with it…

  Almost as though she could read his thoughts, she laughed and waved her hand. “Good grief, you mob are so starved for gossip! I went out with a couple of blokes, didn’t find one I wanted to keep. I decided I needed a change and left my job, taking the opportunity to come here and help Aunt Julia for a time. That’s all.” She pointed the fork at Del. “No more, no less.”

  “I still say it’s a man,” Del announced smugly. “A man did you wrong and you left. Broken heart?” She added swiftly.

  “More like a sore -” Caught off guard, Molly stumbled. “Head.”

  Kirk knew exactly what she’d almost said. Sore back. Cupping the hot mug of tea, he studied her profile, seeing the slight jump of a muscle near her eye, a tell-tale tic that she immediately hid by laughing.

  “Men gave me a headache so I left them all behind.” She playfully wagged the fork. “Now you’re giving me a headache, but if I hide from you, I’ll have no where left to go.”

  Hide. Interesting choice of word. Kirk’s mouth tightened. Was she hiding from someone? Was she in danger? Right, he had some poking around to do later, some questions to ask.

  When the conversation turned to other things he didn’t miss the way Molly relaxed, the way her death grip on the fork eased. Oh yeah, there was a story there, all right, but he’d promised her he wouldn’t tell anyone, so he’d bide his time.

  Once they’d finished eating, Simon, Dee, Ash and Molly cleared the table, Ryder put all the plastic knives, forks and paper plates into the bin, Kirk cleaned the BBQ and Scott brought out the CD player. Within minutes music filled the air, the songs a mixture of light pop and country.

  “Good grief,” Ryder complained. “What woman did wrong to that man now?”

  “Dunno.” Simon listened to the sad song. “You’d think he’d have learned from the last two hundred times.”

  “You two ingrates have no appreciation for good music,” Scott said. “This here is good music.”

  “This here is shit.” Ryder drummed his fingers on the table. “Don’t you have any Guns ’n’ Roses?”

  “We’re not at any of your heavy petting clubs,” Dee drawled.

  “They don’t play that at - what the hell is a ‘petting club’?”

  “Where you go to drool over women and neck in the back booths.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Ryder snorted. “There’s no such thing.”

  “Looked for it already, did you?”

  “Woman, you’ve got an attitude problem.”

  “Funny, I only seem to have it around you.”

  “Maybe someone needs to teach you to be sweet.”

  “Maybe someone doesn’t want to take his life into his own hands.”

  “Those are fighting words.”

  “Ready whenever you are.”

  Ryder stared at her for several seconds with a glint in his eyes, but then with a slight shake of his head, he laughed. “Maybe you should find a man to do it.”

  “Maybe I should.” Dee looked at Simon. “Come on, handsome, dance with me.”

  Kicked back in the chair, Ryder tipped the can of Coke to his mouth and took a deep drink, placing it back down on the table as he watched Simon happily twirling around the grass with a laughing Dee in his arms. “Man, that woman is a mystery.”

  “Maybe you should find out what makes her tick,” Scott suggested.

  “I try that and she’s going to explode. The woman is a walking stick of dynamite.” Ryder studied her. “Or a hand grenade.”

  Even Kirk winced at that.

  “Oh shit, guys, not that. I didn’t mean that.” Ryder scowled. “I didn’t mean she was round.”

  “What did you mean?” Del was ready to leap to the defence of her cousin.

  “I meant her temper. She goes off like a stick of dynamite lit up.”

  “So why the grenade jab?”

  “Jesus. I just meant she’s not stick thin. She’s…you know.” He made the shape of an overblown hourglass with the top a whole lot bigger than the bottom. It was a pretty good diagram. “There’s no explosive that shape so - look, why am I even bothering to try and explain to you mob of drongos?” Ryder looked at Molly. “Not you, babe. You haven’t been around this mob long enough to be twisted by their ideas.”

  She smiled slowly. “Thanks. I think.”

  Ryder dropped the can onto the table and stood. “Come on, have a round on the dance floor with me. Leave these jerks to find someone else to pick on.”

  Kirk looked up as Molly stood, her hip brushing his shoulder as she swung her leg over the bench, that magnificent bosom not far above his eyes as she swung her other leg over and laughingly walked around the table to take Ryder’s hand. She squealed when he twirled her on the spot and swung her out before reeling her back in, their combined laughter filling the air.

  Scott turned to Ash. “Come on, honey, let’s show them how its done.”

  “Oh Scott, I’m not a good dancer, I-”

  “Neither am I, but I’m sure between us we can come up with something vaguely resembling a dance of some kind.”

  “Some kind is right.” Taking his hand, she warned, “Just remember, you asked me to do it.”

  “Oh honey, I remember everything about you.” He gave her a smacking kis
s on her lips, a light smack on her ample bottom, and drew her into a boisterous step that somehow fitted with the music.

  Del looked at Kirk. He grinned back. Without a word they got up, Kirk took her hand and within seconds they were laughing and pivoting on the grass.

  He caught sight of Tilly sitting on the veranda eyeing them all off, a sausage hanging out of her mouth. The tabby studied Scott then took the sausage up onto the swing chair and proceeded to massacre it. Good old Tilly, nothing got between her and food. Precisely why he never brought Sparkles to visit, his little rat would end up in the cat’s belly.

  As the music changed, so did the partners, the air filled with music and merriment.

  But Kirk was aware of Molly, of her soft curves, the way she moved, her natural rhythm for music, and he bided his time, neatly inserting himself in front of her before Simon could reach her.

  Sliding his arm around her waist, he drew her close, capturing her other hand and moving her to the slow tune now filling the air.

  “Um…” Molly cleared her throat. “I think you cut in front of Simon.”

  “He’ll survive.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see Simon grinning widely, Del now in his arms.

  Ignoring them, he held Molly close, more than aware of the way her soft curves moulded to his harder frame, the scent of her hair, the enchanting bob of her ponytail as he looked down at her. Cripes, the top of her head only came to his shoulder. Wasn’t that just cute? And when she tipped her head back to look briefly up at him, the fleeting uncertainty in her eyes had him drawing her right up against him.

  Man, that ample bosom was pressed to his upper abdomen, he felt every curve clear down to his sneakers.

  A glance around showed Scott absorbed with Ash, Dee and Ryder moving in unaccustomed silence, and Simon and Del chatting as they moved to the music.

  “I think I’ve had enough.” Molly drew to a halt.

  Oh yeah, not happening, missy. Kirk just kept moving, his hold on her forcing her to either move with him or create a scene. She wasn’t a scene-creator so she moved with him, albeit a lot stiffer.

  Bending his head, Kirk spoke softly against her temple. “Relax, honey.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she shot back.

  “You call me Goldie.”