‘Yeah, we’ve got much more privacy here.’
The dogs roused their heads from their beds again as he and Frankie stepped up onto the verandah, but one look from him and they stayed put.
‘Do you want me to take my boots off?’ Frankie asked as she glanced down at his bare feet.
He had visions of taking them off himself later, but he simply shook his head and said, ‘Nope, Angus doesn’t mind about stuff like that.’
He opened the door and held it as she stepped inside. She breathed in deeply and looked back at him. ‘Something smells good. And what cute décor you have. I wouldn’t really have picked it as your style, or Angus’s.’
He chuckled. ‘What? You don’t take us for vintage kind of guys?’
Her look said it all.
‘It’s Mum’s doing. Sarah, Angus’s ex, hated it—her style is more hippie chic.’
‘That’s a thing?’
He shrugged. ‘Who knows? But Dad didn’t want anything changed and then she got busy with the baby and it was always one of those things they were going to get around to doing. You know the rest.’
‘Where did you and your ex live when you guys were married?’ Frankie asked.
‘We were in Perth—both at uni, but we spent a lot of time up here. Anyway, let’s go put your bag down and I’d just better check on dinner.’
He led her into the kitchen, dumped her bag by the door and crossed to the stove to check that his ragu hadn’t burned while he’d been busy outside. That would be embarrassing.
‘That smells amazing. Duck ragu?’ she guessed.
‘You are a pro,’ he said, turning off the stove. ‘I’m almost ready. Just need to have a quick shower and change, then I’ll cook the pasta.’ He gestured to his jeans, which were covered in flour and other ingredients.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Bit of a messy cooker, are ya?’ Before he could reply, she stepped close to him and placed her hand against his chest as she looked into his eyes. ‘Would you like some company?’
It took him a second to realise what she meant. And then he almost choked, not because he didn’t like the idea but because he liked it very much. ‘You sure?’
She walked her fingers up his chest and then touched one to his lips. ‘Never been surer of anything. And I am feeling a little … dirty.’
That was all the assurance he needed. He picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and relished the sound of her squeals as he carried her down the hallway and into the bathroom, where he gently deposited her on the vanity bench. It was not the way he’d envisaged the weekend; he’d planned a very civilised romantic dinner in the dining room and was hoping things would lead to the bedroom later, but he hadn’t presumed. He’d told Frankie there was a guest room if she wanted it. Still, he couldn’t be happier with the way things were progressing.
Frankie reached down to her boots, but he stilled her hands and shook his head.
‘You’re my guest, so let me assist you.’
She licked her lips and nodded as he lifted one of her incredibly sexy pins and slid the zipper down on the first boot. He sucked in a breath as he tugged it off and ran his hand down her silky smooth calf.
‘It’s hot in here,’ she said, her tone breathy as he started on the other boot.
‘Damn right it is.’ When she was bootless, he stood between her legs, her little skirt ruching up along her thighs. He put his hands on them and she whimpered as he stroked his thumbs against her skin.
‘Oh Logan,’ she whispered, leaning back against the wall. He knew exactly what she meant because he felt it too.
‘Come on,’ he said, lifting her off the bench. ‘Let’s get the rest of our gear off.’
She smiled and reached out to touch the hem of his T-shirt. ‘I may be the guest, but I like to do my bit.’
And with those words, she yanked his shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. He dropped his arms and took care of her skirt. Then she made short work of the buckle on his jeans. As he shucked them and his jocks down his legs and discarded them along with his shirt, Frankie ripped off her top, leaving her standing before him in nothing but a black cotton bra and panties. They may not have been Victoria’s Secret but on Frankie they were the sexiest things he’d ever seen.
It seemed a shame not to spend a little time admiring them, but he didn’t know how much longer he could hold out.
‘Are you gonna turn on the water?’ she asked.
‘Are you gonna take off your underwear?’ he retorted.
She cocked her head to one side. ‘I thought … since I was the guest … that was your job.’
Logan didn’t needed to be asked twice.
* * *
‘Mum! Mum!’
Simone blinked herself awake and looked up to see Grace peering down at her. It took her a few seconds to orientate herself and then she realised she was lying on the couch. Again. ‘What time is it?’
‘Five-thirty. And I’m starving. What’s for dinner? How come you’re so sleepy all of a sudden? This is the third time in the last few weeks you’ve napped and you never nap. I thought you hated naps.’
Grace’s babbling was making Simone’s skull pound. She sat up, but Grace didn’t stop, frowning at her like she was an alien.
‘Are you sick or something? Please tell me you’re not dying of cancer.’
Oh God. Telling Frankie and Angus was going to be hard, but what about the girls? Harriet especially would think her a hypocrite. She’d told her daughter to practise safe sex—preferably abstinence—and then gone and done the exact opposite. With life-altering consequences.
‘I’m fine,’ she said very matter-of-factly, reaching out to squeeze Grace’s shoulder as she stood. ‘Now, I brought some leftovers home from the café. Can I interest you in some quiche or maybe some lasagne?’
‘Or both?’ Grace asked hopefully.
Simone raised an eyebrow and shook her head, gazing at her daughter who seemed to have the appetite of a horse lately. ‘You must have hollow legs. Now, go get your sister and tell her we’re having dinner now and her presence is required whether she likes it or not.’
She turned towards the kitchen, thinking that Grace might have more luck luring Harriet out of her room than she would. She’d come home from school in a right strop, looking as if she’d been crying. Thankfully her blue hair was already fading. When Simone had asked her what was wrong, she screamed: ‘Leave me alone! As if you give a damn about my feelings.’
So many responses had jumped into Simone’s head at this accusation, but Harriet was in no mood to be reasoned with and quite frankly, Simone wasn’t in the mood to bang her head against a brick wall. Instead, she’d thrown her hands up in the air as she listened to Harriet’s bedroom door slam shut, and then gone to lie on the couch. Right now, she had enough problems of her own to deal with.
In the kitchen she opened the fridge and was retrieving the plastic containers she’d brought home from the café when Grace rushed in waving a small piece of paper in front of her.
‘She’s gone, Mum. She’s gone!’
‘What?’ Simone’s hands froze around the containers as she stared at Grace. ‘Is this a joke? What do you mean she’s gone?’
‘It’s all here. In her letter.’
Dumping the food on the bench, Simone crossed the kitchen and snatched the paper out of Grace’s hand. She stared down at it, the words jumbling in front of her eyes.
Hate it here. Life sucks. Going away for a while. Not that you’ll care.
When Harriet had shouted these words earlier it had been like water off a duck’s back, but now they felt like a knife twisting in Simone’s heart. She clutched the note to her chest, her heart thumping. ‘What do you think this means?’
Grace shrugged, looking like she was about to burst into tears.
‘You don’t think …’ Simone didn’t finish her sentence, not wanting to alarm Grace. She bit her thumbnail and thought hard.
‘Should we call her f
riends? And check if she’s with any of them?’
‘Yes. Good idea. Thanks, sweetheart. Can you go grab the phone?’
As Grace rushed off to get it, Simone took a deep breath and did something she very rarely did. ‘Please, God,’ she whispered, ‘don’t let anything happen to my baby. Don’t let her do something stupid.’
‘Here, Mum.’ Grace returned, thrust the phone at her and Simone immediately dialled Harriet’s mobile. It was a long shot and she wasn’t surprised when it rang out.
She grabbed the local Bunyip Bay directory out of the top kitchen drawer. ‘I’ll start with Alyssa,’ she told Grace. ‘Can you write a list of any other girls you can think of?’
‘Yep. And shouldn’t you ring Jaxon’s house too?’
Simone nodded as she punched in the number of Alyssa’s house. Thank God one of them was thinking straight.
Alyssa’s home phone rang out as well and Simone started down the list. As there was no high school in Bunyip Bay and most of the teenagers went to Geraldton or away to boarding school in Perth, Harriet didn’t have loads of local friends.
‘Hello?’ answered Jaxon’s mum after a few rings.
‘Oh, hi, Julie,’ Simone said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. ‘It’s Simone here. I’m just wondering if Harriet is over there.’
‘She better not be,’ Julie replied. ‘Jaxon is in his room and I’ve told him he’s not allowed to take her in there, but I’ll go check for you. Just one minute.’
It felt like Julie was gone for ages.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she finally returned. ‘Jaxon says he and Harriet broke up last weekend.’
Simone frowned, her heart turning to ice. Harriet had been home all weekend, except when they’d gone to visit Esther. The rest of the time Simone had kept a beady eye on her so she hadn’t been able to sneak out. It didn’t make sense. ‘All right, never mind, thanks, Julie,’ she said and then disconnected, her palms now sweaty and her heart still beating so loudly she could hardly think.
She took a quick breath. ‘Grace, do you know anything about Harriet and Jaxon splitting up?’
Grace shrugged one shoulder. ‘She hasn’t said anything to me but I saw Jaxon kissing this other girl on the oval yesterday at lunchtime.’
Oh, fuck! Poor Harriet. Poor darling girl. Simone’s heart felt as if it were breaking for her daughter. Young love could be bitterly cruel and when it went wrong you honestly felt like the world was ending. She should have been there for Harriet, holding her close, wiping her tears away and spoon-feeding her ice-cream but she’d been too consumed with her thoughts of Angus to notice that behind Harriet’s anger was a whole load of sadness.
What a poor excuse for a mother. She pressed her hand against her stomach, thinking of the tiny life growing there. Another life for her to stuff up.
‘Do you think we should call the police?’ Grace asked, interrupting Simone’s self-deprecation.
‘Yes.’ She could barely say the world. Involving the police made it all too real, all too scary. ‘And can you use my mobile and ring Aunty Eff? I think it’s next to the couch.’
Grace nodded and went to get it from the lounge room. Simone’s hands shook as she called Drew.
‘Hey Simmo. How are you on this fine Friday evening?’
Ignoring his chipper tone, she rushed to explain. ‘Harriet’s gone. I don’t know where to look or how long she’s been gone. Well, can’t be more than an hour because she came home from the bus. Oh God, Drew, I’m scared she’s going to harm herself.’
‘Simone! Calm down. Take a breath. What do you mean she’s gone?’
Tears started down her cheeks but she swiped them away as she tried to speak clearly. ‘She left a note. It says she’s had enough of everything and is going away for a while.’ She paused a moment. ‘Hang on, “a while” means she’s planning on coming back, right? So she’s not going to kill herself?’
‘I doubt that,’ Drew said. ‘She’s probably just letting off steam. Mike and I will have a drive around town and see if we can see her. Any ideas where she might go?’
‘No. And I’ve called all her friends. Except I couldn’t get through to Alyssa’s house.’
‘I’ll check there first. Don’t panic. And you stay at home in case she comes back. We’ll keep in touch.’ With this promise, he hung up.
Don’t panic?! Drew didn’t have kids so he didn’t know he was asking the impossible of her. If anything happened to Harriet she would never forgive herself.
‘She’s not answering, Mum,’ Grace said as she returned to the kitchen. ‘Shall we send her a text message?’
Simone blinked. ‘Who?’
‘Aunty Eff.’
‘Oh. No.’ She shook her head, feeling marginally better now that Drew was on the case. ‘We’ll call her later.’ Hopefully Harriet will be home again by then, she added silently as she started pacing the kitchen.
* * *
‘You hungry?’
Frankie smiled up at Logan from where she was lying naked in his arms, in his bed, after what was without a doubt the best sex of her life. Right now, she couldn’t have cared less if she never ate again, but she’d seen and smelt all the trouble he’d gone to and for him she’d make the effort. ‘A little,’ she said, ‘and we really should keep our strength up.’
His fingers playing with her hair, he kissed her forehead. ‘I like your thinking.’ And then he untangled himself from her and climbed out of bed.
She bit her lip to stop from moaning at the sight of him buck-naked, standing before her unashamed as he grabbed some clean clothes from his drawer. God, he was gorgeous. Tall and tanned and muscular in all the right places. Her fingers tingled from the memory of their acquaintance and itched to trail themselves all over him again. She couldn’t help but notice that he pulled on jeans but didn’t bother with underwear. This made her smile and he turned around and caught her perving.
‘What are you looking at?’ he asked, his lips turning up at the edges.
She gave him her best innocent expression. ‘Not my fault if you have the cutest butt I’ve ever had the pleasure of looking at.’
He snorted. ‘Yours isn’t so bad either.’
With a contented sigh, she rolled over, surprisingly unselfconscious at the thought of having to dress in front of him, until she realised her old clothes were in the bathroom and her clean ones in her backpack in the kitchen. ‘Um … do you mind going and getting my bag from the kitchen?’ she asked. Dressing in front of the man who’d now seen every intimate part of her body was one thing, but walking through the house naked was another. She wasn’t that confident in her skin.
Logan folded his perfectly masculine arms over his perfectly masculine chest and slowly shook his head. ‘Actually I do.’
She frowned. ‘You do mind? You won’t go and get my clothes?’
‘Nope. I’ve decided I like seeing you in my bed too much.’ He smiled and a hot flush rushed through her, both from his words and his irresistible grin. How could she argue with that?
‘Then what about dinner?’
‘I’m going to bring it to you in bed. You stay right there and relax.’ With that he turned and swaggered out of the room like a man who’d just gotten laid and planned on a re-enactment very, very soon.
No arguments here.
Frankie relaxed into the pillows, quite happy to stay here all weekend if that was what he so desired. The bed smelt like him—a manly aroma that turned her on something chronic. She brought the doona up to her nose and inhaled deeply at the exact moment he returned to the bedroom.
‘That was quick,’ she said, sitting up and dropping the doona like it was on fire.
He held up her mobile, which she must have left in his kitchen when they’d retreated to the bathroom, and her backpack. ‘Since I’m not sure I’m going to let you out of my bed all weekend, thought you might need these.’
She laughed as he dumped them on the bed. ‘Thanks.’
He leaned ov
er and kissed her on the lips. And, man, each time was better than the last. ‘Back soon.’
Not wanting to be caught sniffing his blankets again, Frankie grabbed her phone—she could check Facebook or something while she waited for the return of her new sex slave. Or was she the slave, because she was forbidden to leave the bed? Not that he’d tied her to the bedposts or anything—though that thought turned her on more than she wanted to admit. Either way, she had no plans for escape.
She swiped her finger across the screen to wake the phone and saw she had a missed call from Simone. Her insides twisted but this time it felt different from the way they did whenever Logan touched or even looked at her. This time it was the undeniable, horrid feeling of guilt. Her finger hovered over the return call option but she couldn’t bring herself to press it. Simone was probably ringing to sound off about another fight with Harriet, but what if it was something else? What if something had gone wrong at the café this arvo?
Her head ached—a war going on inside it about whether or not to call back. And then she had a brilliant idea. She could text Stacey to check on the café. After shooting off the quick message, she put her phone on Logan’s bedside table and tried to distract her thoughts by taking a proper look around the room. She’d taken little in when they’d stumbled into it, still wet from the shower. It was neat and tidy but manly. The bed itself was solid wood and the doona cover blue stripes. There was a desk in one corner with a funky black lamp and a laptop set up on it and a whole row of bookshelves, spilling over with books. Other items in the room included a tennis racket, a stereo, some prints of old Holdens hanging on the walls—it seemed Logan inherited the passion from his dad—and a couple of photo frames on an old chest of drawers.
Her curiosity piqued, she snuck out of bed, wrapped herself in the stripy doona and tiptoed across the room for a stickybeak. There were pictures of a couple she guessed were his parents, looking very happy with each other. She sighed with the knowledge of the tragedy that had befallen them and moved on to look at the next photo. Two lanky teenage boys—one blond haired, one brown—with a cute little toddler standing between them. It had to be Olivia and she was blonde like Logan. The graduation class photo next to it made her frown.
Outback Sisters Page 27