Our Kind of Love

by Victoria Purman

  He hesitated just a moment before pushing the front door open, checking his watch with a frustrated glance. How long before he could drag her out of the party and back to his place?

  ‘Hello fight fans.’ When he stepped inside the house, he found himself addressing an empty living room. Over in the kitchen, he spied a huddle of heads and he followed his nose. Damn, what was that incredible aroma?

  ‘What’s going on?’ His voice echoed across the cavernous space.

  Lizzie’s head was the first to pop out of the huddle. ‘Hey Stinkface. Come and check this out.’ She waved him over with a frantic wave and a beaming smile.

  When he rounded the marble breakfast bar, he found Lizzie, Dan, Ry and Julia standing in a row, peering into something on the stove. They all turned to him, smiled the biggest, cheesiest damn grins he’d ever seen outside of politics, and parted like the Red Sea.

  When Anna turned, Joe tried to find words but was struck silent. Her long, silky hair was pulled back from her face, and it swished in a high ponytail as she moved. Her caramel eyes sparkled and she was pulling her lips together in an attempt not to smile, but the emotion won and her mouth parted in a grin. Man. Not even the huge white cooking apron, which was wrapped around her and tied in the middle, could hide the body he was getting to know so well. Joe decided she looked better than Nigella. And he’d always had a thing for Nigella.

  ‘Hey Joe.’ Anna presented a wooden spoon dripping with tomato sauce, and cupped her hand under it to catch any drips. ‘Try this.’

  The loved-up couples took a step or two backwards and Joe moved closer to Anna. He didn’t want to taste her cooking. He wanted to taste her. He reached for her, pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers like he didn’t care who was watching. Anna trembled under his touch and that almost sent him wild.

  He reluctantly peeled his lips from hers. For a long moment, neither of them could seem to move, caught up in the moment and each other. Finally, she laughed and reached around to smack him on the butt with her free hand.

  ‘You’re lucky I didn’t use the spoon,’ Anna said.

  ‘Promises, promises,’ Joe grinned back. ‘So. You’re cooking?’

  ‘You’re not a reporter for nothing, are you?’

  ‘It smells incredible. What is it?’

  Anna dipped her little finger into the red puddle of sauce on the wooden spoon she was holding and held it in front of his mouth. He saw the challenge in her eyes and, oh boy, was he up for it. He held her hand, pulled it closer to him and then wrapped his lips around that pinkie and sucked it like it was her nipple.

  He enjoyed the flare in her eyes and the rising blush in her cheeks.

  ‘That is … I’ve never tasted anything like it.’ Joe shook his head in disbelief. A thick, half-drunk feeling flowed through his veins like honey.

  ‘It’s a real, authentic, pork ragu, the way my Nonna makes it.’

  Julia nudged past Joe and gave the bubbling sauce a closer inspection. ‘Anna promised to show me how to make it, seeing it was always my mum’s favourite pasta dish, but,’ Julia laughed and looked to the ceiling, ‘Forgive me, Mum, I don’t think yours ever tasted this good.’

  ‘Or smelled this good,’ Lizzie added and joined Julia, Joe and Anna at the stove.

  ‘We can’t stop staring at it,’ Julia added. ‘Look at those little shreds of basil.’

  ‘And the crunchy pancetta,’ Lizzie moaned. ‘It’s like bacon, only better.’

  ‘It’s the tomato sugo that makes it. It’s my Nonna’s recipe, bottled last summer in my parents’ kitchen. We had a big production line, the whole family, with kilos of tomatoes, olive oil, sea salt and basil, and rows and rows of those old brown beer bottles.’

  ‘Promise me I can come next year,’ Lizzie demanded.

  ‘Hey. You two,’ Joe said. ‘Why don’t you two go and do something useful?’ He slipped his arm around Lizzie and Julia’s shoulders and urged them towards the living room.

  ‘He’s so bossy,’ Julia announced to Lizzie with a wink.

  ‘Big brothers are such bullies,’ Lizzie added with a cheeky grin in his direction.

  ‘Go and join your men.’ Joe noticed that Ry and Dan, like smart blokes everywhere, had slipped away from the kitchen and were relaxing on the sofa with beers in their hands. ‘They’re looking lonely.’

  When Lizzie and Julia were safely out of earshot, Joe turned back to Anna. She was holding a glass of red wine to him. He took it and she watched him sip it. He slipped an arm around her waist.

  ‘I didn’t know you could cook.’

  Anna’s eyes shone and she gave him the kind of knowing gaze that said something along the lines of we haven’t done anything much other than dance, surf and fuck. ‘A little.’

  So she could cook, too? Joe realised he’d hit the trifecta. Brains, beauty and a chef all in one sweet package.

  He may just have to marry her.

  What the hell?

  Lizzie and Julia sat close on the sofa, whispering.

  ‘Did you see the way he kissed her?’ Julia asked.

  Lizzie grimaced. ‘Yes and as weird as it was to watch my brother kiss someone, I think he’s totally into her.

  ‘And did you see the way he licked her finger?’

  ‘No,’ Lizzie shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. ‘That jumped the shark for me. I had to look away.’

  ‘What are you two talking about?’ Ry shifted closer to the clandestine conversation and narrowed his eyes at his wife.

  ‘What do you think? We’re talking about Joe and Anna.’

  Dan sighed out loud. ‘Can’t you two stop? Leave them alone.’

  ‘No, as a matter of fact, I can’t stop,’ Julia whispered with a surreptitious glance towards the kitchen to make sure she wasn’t being heard. The way Joe and Anna were standing so close to each other, and in such deep conversation, Julia figured she could sing show tunes at the top of her lungs and they wouldn’t hear.

  ‘We are good at this, don’t you remember? Dan, if we hadn’t pushed, Ry and Julia wouldn’t be married now.’

  ‘That is bullshit,’ Ry said with a laugh.

  ‘It’s true,’ Julia nodded. ‘And Dan, if Ry and I hadn’t done the same for you, you might still be cooped up in your house like the wild man of Borneo.’

  Dan smiled at Lizzie and reached out for her hand.

  ‘So, we know what we’re doing here. We’ve added all the ingredients and now we’re watching and waiting for the magic to happen.’

  All four heads turned to the kitchen at the exact moment Joe pressed his palms to Anna’s cheeks, looked deep into her eyes, and kissed her.

  ‘I can’t watch that,’ Lizzie squirmed.

  Anna’s lips tasted like red wine and Italian food. Joe didn’t want to take his hands from her cheeks, so soft, and when he found her eyes, so focused on him, the drunk feeling only got stronger.

  ‘I think they’re all watching,’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t care. This is my no-bullshit policy remember? No lies. And why the hell would I want to hide you?’

  ‘Okay,’ she said and there was a sideways glance, just a slight one.

  He released her from his grasp and sidled up next to her. ‘You may well be the perfect woman.’ He peered over her shoulder into the burbling ragu.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re smart. Highly paid. Gorgeous. Drive a wicked car and you bang like a dunny door.’

  Anna snorted. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘The gorgeous thing?’

  ‘No, not the gorgeous thing. Or the smart thing or the highly paid or the car thing. The other one.’

  ‘Bang like a dunny door?’

  ‘That’s a disgusting expression.’

  ‘You’ve never heard it before? It’s a classic, isn’t it? Working at the pub the past few weeks has renewed my appreciation for those old Aussie expressions. Shorty came in yesterday and demanded a beer, saying he was “as dry as a lime-burner’s boot”.’<
br />
  Anna looked up at Joe with a furrowed brow. ‘I have no idea what that means.’

  ‘It means you’re thirsty. So,’ Joe reached around to run his fingers through her ponytail, ‘when I say you bang like a dunny door, what I mean is that you are incredible in the sack, and everywhere else, and that you go off like a rocket. Got it?’

  Anna laughed, pushed him away. ‘Thanks for the compliment. I think.’ She picked up her glass and took another sip of wine, then poured the rest of the liquid into the pot. The ragu slurped and bubbled and Anna stirred it slowly.

  Joe moved close behind her, pressing himself against Anna. He simply couldn’t stop himself.

  ‘What else do I love about you? Of yeah, that’s right. You can surf. And you can cook. You might just be the perfect woman.’

  There it was again. He hadn’t mistaken it the first time. Anna stiffened as if a cold wind had blown through the house and touched only her.

  ‘No one’s perfect,’ Anna said, talking to the bubbling sauce.

  ‘I used to think that, too,’ Joe said.

  Anna moved sideways and away from him. ‘I’d better get the pasta on.’

  After Anna successfully shooed Joe from the kitchen, she reached for another bottle of red and filled her glass. She needed some space. Had he downed a couple of drinks before he’d arrived? That would be the only excuse for all this talk, about how ‘perfect’ she was. Telling her what he loved about her? Loved. His word, not hers. Oh, she knew it was a figure of speech, from a man who played fast and loose with words. But it was out there now, floating around in the kitchen, and it couldn’t be unsaid. Why did she feel so tetchy and nervous about it?

  Anna wiped her hands on the apron and looked down to see splatters of tomato sauce all over it. ‘Who has a white apron?’ she muttered to herself. A quick glance around at the white house and she figured out why. Of course, it matched the colour scheme.

  There was laughter from the others and she looked over to the living room. Ry, Julia, Dan and Lizzie were watching Joe, who was standing in front of them like a stand-up comedian. He’d clearly hit the punch line, because all five of them burst into another round of laughter all at once.

  Did she deserve to be here, with them, like this? As … what the hell was she? Joe’s friend? Julia’s doctor? Dan’s ex? Maybe that’s why she was happy to hide in the kitchen with the pots and the boiling water. She didn’t quite know where she fit in. Back home it was easy. She had her family and her patients. It was clear; she was daughter and sister. And then she was Dr Morelli. There was one thing she’d hoped to be but it hadn’t happened. And that was mother.

  But here? In Middle Point? All of those labels – and none of them – seemed right.

  Joe turned and caught her eye. In the fleeting moment before she turned away, she registered his expression change in a blink from amused to confused.

  She lifted the lid from the pot of boiling water and dumped the pasta into it with a splash.

  ‘I think that may well be, hands down, the best pasta I’ve ever had,’ Ry declared as he threw his napkin on to the table. ‘And we’ve just come back from Italy.’

  ‘Damn right,’ Dan agreed and lifted his glass to Anna with a smile. He and Ry clinked glasses and suddenly everyone had lifted theirs to pay tribute to Anna’s culinary skills.

  ‘Why thank you.’ Anna lifted her glass and touched it to the others in turn, relieved that a swell of pride had replaced the skittishness she’d been feeling all night. Cooking? That had been the easy part. But being in the same room as Joe, kissing him, being claimed by him in front of these people? That was the hard part. Throughout the meal he’d watched her the whole time, studied her until she felt as if she might have dribbled a trail of pasta sauce on her chin. She was aware that the intensity of his gaze was something more than wanting to have sex with her.

  ‘Any chance we can steal the recipe for the pub?’ Lizzie asked with a hopeful look. ‘Pretty please, Anna?’

  Anna laughed. ‘Of course. I’m honestly glad you all loved it. It’s simple, but so tasty. And thanks you for letting me cook. I haven’t done it in so long, I’ve almost forgotten how much I love being in the kitchen.’

  Across the table Joe leaned towards her, his elbows leaning on the space between the dirty dishes and half empty glasses. ‘Why haven’t you done it in so long?’

  Dan smirked. Ry laughed and Julia and Lizzie groaned.

  ‘What’d I say?’ Joe asked in all innocence.

  ‘This isn’t a press conference, Stinkface,’ Lizzie said. ‘How about throwing her a compliment about the food. You haven’t even said if you liked it.’

  His eyes were on her again and damn it if she didn’t feel slightly sick.

  ‘It was perfect.’

  Lizzie harrumphed. ‘I can see why you got stuck covering politics and never made it to the food section. Now there’s a job. Food and wine reporter.’ Lizzie propped her chin in her hand and daydreamed. ‘Heaven.’

  ‘I was perfectly happy covering political intrigue, thank you very much. And I was damn good at it.’

  Anna needed her St Christopher’s medal and rubbed her thumb over its familiar smoothness. Joe was telling the truth. She may not have known Joe Blake or anything about his reputation a month ago, but she certainly did now, thanks to Google and the millisecond it took to find the 40,400,000 references to him on the search engine. It had been an uncharacteristically slow afternoon two days before and, in between patients and the latest articles in the online medical journal she liked to read, Anna let curiosity get the better of her and she typed his name into the search bar.

  Bing. She gave up after two pages of references to his newspaper, his awards, the two or three times he’d been hauled before the courts for protecting his sources, for the way he’d mounted campaigns on law reform and dodgy building companies. But the story that was number one on the search was a headline:

  ‘Leading Sydney Newsman Joe Blake Fallen Off The Map’

  Anna found herself slightly offended that her home state ranked of so little important to the Sydney paper that had run the story that his return here should be characterised as him falling off the map. But putting that aside, he really was one of Australia’s top reporters. Why on earth was be making do with a job as a bartender in Middle Point?

  ‘Don’t you miss it?’ Someone had asked the question and Anna pulled herself up when she realised it was her.

  Joe turned to her with curious eyes. ‘Yeah, I do.’

  ‘When are you heading back to the big smoke to find another job?’ Dan asked.

  Anna found herself intensely curious about the answer but she couldn’t look at him. Instead, she picked at the tomato sauce stain on the white tablecloth. Who has a white tablecloth?

  ‘I’ve got some feelers out,’ Joe said. ‘But I’m not sure if I …’ Joe stopped, stared intently at his glass of wine. ‘Anyway, enough about me. Julia, how’s the consulting business going?’

  Julia seemed befuddled that the conversation had swung around to her so quickly. ‘Huh? Don’t ask me anything. I’ve got baby brain and you’re all half-pissed and you won’t remember a thing I say anyway.’

  ‘Is everything on track with the baby?’ Joe looked as uncomfortable as he sounded.

  Julia and Ry turned to him with suspicious glances.

  ‘Yes, everything’s good isn’t it, Anna?’

  ‘Mum’s well. Baby is growing. Everyone is doing exactly what they should be.’

  ‘I didn’t know you cared, Joe,’ Ry said with a straight face. ‘And if you’re angling for godfather, forget it. That spot’s taken.’

  ‘You bet,’ Dan said. ‘I promise to teach Ry Junior all about cricket, women and pubs.’

  ‘You won’t get a fight from me on that one,’ Joe said. ‘The more distance there is between me and a rug rat, the better.’

  Anna’s fingers flew to St Christopher. She reached for her full glass of wine and tipped it down her throat.

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nbsp; CHAPTER

  37

  Anna was relieved to have been banished to the living room while everyone else cleaned up. It was their way of saying thanks to her for the meal and although she appreciated the kindness, being separated from them only made her feel more like an outsider. She could hear their jokes and laughter, all the other evidence of their comfortable familiarity. It was hard to listen to and she needed to escape, needed to have silence in her head, not their history and their banter. She rose slowly from the sofa and slipped out the front door.

  The air felt damp in the winter night yet it was strangely still. There was not even a breeze and above, the stars had put on a show to rival Broadway. Anna pushed herself up onto the bonnet of her car, drink in hand, and stared out in to the black ocean and the night sky. The evening hadn’t turned out as she’d planned. But what had she thought would happen? That she and Joe could just appear as the new couple and it would all be sweet? It had felt like pretend, instead of feeling good. Maybe this was all happening too fast. She’d only been separated for six months. What a New Year’s present that had been. And now, so soon, she seemed to be on the verge of diving into something else with Joe. For that’s what it felt like. Diving in. And now she was drowning.

  What was she doing? Once she’d read all about him online, seen for herself just how important and respected a journalist he really was, she realised there was no way he would stay. Knowing all that made it much easier to say what she needed to say to him. The truth was, she couldn’t dive into anything with anyone who wasn’t sure where they belonged. Who was in between things. Who didn’t want a future and a family and children.

  She’d heard his words. Had seen the look of truth on his face. It had been so hard to hear this lovely man saying he didn’t want children. But he was clearly telling the truth, living true to his credo of stripping away the bullshit.

  There were footsteps behind her. She knew they were Joe’s.

  ‘You all right, Anna?’ He pushed himself onto the bonnet next to her. He leaned back, one hand planted behind her, so she could have rested her head on his shoulder with the slightest of movements. His thigh touched hers and she resisted the urge to rest her hand there.