‘Starky’s wife’s divorcing him,’ Reg, the tool-pusher, drawled from behind her.
‘And?’ Jo demanded, spinning around to glare at him.
‘And he didn’t like it.’ He shrugged. ‘Got pissed and took it out on the phone.’
‘Where is he?’ Jo growled. She could almost feel the steam whistling out of her ears.
‘No use. You’ll have to get in line if you want a piece of him.’ When she rounded on him, Reg held up his hands and backed up. ‘Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.’
‘Can’t. I don’t have a fucking gun,’ Jo snarled.
‘Oh shit, bro. Krakatoa’s workin’ up a head of steam,’ a burly Maori roughneck whispered loudly to his buddy from behind her, and she levelled a glare at them that said she’d happily rip off their heads if they said any more. The two of them backed off in a hurry.
Fifteen minutes later, all she had was a sore throat from holding back a scream and the information that the phone would be fixed within the next few days. Maybe.
‘Why don’t you just send an email?’ Hedgehog asked when she stormed into the sack room ready for work or murder, whichever came first.
For once she decided he wasn’t such a pain in the arse after all.
That was until she read Stephen’s email later that day. Skimming through the details, it wasn’t hard to see he was both worried and supremely pissed off over the abusive call Rachael had picked up.
Jo swore a blue streak. Just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse, it did.
What to do?
She held her head in her hands, debating for a while, then made a decision. There was no choice; she’d have to go with the same story she’d told him months before after Ken had called her back and verbally abused her in her bathroom. Feeling lower than a slug, she wrote Stephen back, lying through her teeth about the caller, telling him there was no way it could have any relation to the shooting on his farm because the fictitious colleague she made up lived overseas. She then shared the news about the broken phone. If luck was on her side, and there wasn’t a lot of that around of late, Stephen would still be talking to her by the time the phone was fixed, if it got fixed.
Stephen read through Jo’s email and then read it again as relief warred with disappointment. The relief was thanks to the news that the abusive arsehole crank caller was an old work colleague of Jo’s living in England, who couldn’t hurt her because he was already under investigation for other similar offences and likely to do time. The disappointment came from the news that followed it. His spirits sank as he reread the words and his mood darkened all over again.
Unreliable internet. Rig phone broken. Could be weeks until things get fixed. Will try to call as soon as I can . . .
No phone for weeks? Was there only one phone on the entire rig? And poor internet? How did they get anything done? Where the hell was she? That thought stopped him cold.
Where was she?
West Africa, yeah, but where the hell was Mauritania? Oil was found in some pretty shitty parts of the world, wasn’t it? This was embarrassing—worse than that, it was pretty unforgiveable. He had no idea where his new girlfriend worked for two months at a time, and the fact that she always tried to brush him off when he asked about how dangerous things were and if she stayed safe was no excuse.
Jo had always seemed both strangely surprised and pleased to share funny stories from her life in the oil industry whenever he’d brought it up. She’d even begun to open up about the day-to-day difficulties in her work, but he realised now that he hadn’t really asked the right questions. Not the important stuff, like ‘Just how safe are you?’ and ‘What are your chances of being attacked by terrorists?’ Jesus. He ran the palms of his hands over his eyes. Why hadn’t he pushed the issue?
Was Jo in danger? Was that why they paid her so much? A quick search of Mauritania on Google showed that it was prone to military coups. What if Jo got caught up in one of those? The thought left him feeling ill to his stomach.
He started to type an email back to her but didn’t send it. He was too worked up right now. Instead he picked up his phone. He needed more information and knew where to get it.
A few hours later Stephen reclined in a plush brown leather chair and let his eyes wander around the interior of Babyface, Amy’s barber shop. He’d always liked it here. The shop had only two chairs, set on black-and-white checked tiles, complemented by dark-wood furniture and olive-green walls. In the mirror in front of him, Stephen saw the reflected image of a naked Marilyn Monroe pin-up and next to that a large black-and-white poster of Rock Hudson circa the 1950s. All in all the effect was comfortable, masculine and accepting for any kind of man who walked through the door, straight or gay.
Stephen was the only guy in at this time of the morning, which was a relief. When he’d arrived he’d been breathing fire and brimstone, ready to demand answers, but it had been impossible to stay that way around Amy. It would be like getting angry at a cupcake.
‘You heard from Jo?’ Amy chirped, reading his mind when she returned from the beauty salon next door with a steaming jug of water and the various accoutrements for a cutthroat shave and a haircut.
‘Yeah. Yesterday on the phone, and she emailed this morning.’ Stephen frowned again at the memory.
‘And?’ Amy raised a brow at him in the mirror. ‘Out with it, mister. You’re on a mission. Don’t deny it. Why else would you want to come in for an emergency appointment when you were here only two weeks ago?’
He scowled at himself in the mirror. ‘Yeah, I am. The phone on the rig’s broken, and Jo doesn’t know when she can call again.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah. It sucks. Does it happen a lot?’
‘All the time. I’ll have to ask her who broke it this time and why. There’s always a good story.’ Amy thoughtfully inspected the back of his head before starting to snip away with the scissors.
‘This happens a lot?’ Stephen twisted around.
‘Stay still, precious, or we’ll be calling an ambulance.’ Amy put a palm on either side of his jaw and pointed his face forward. She sighed and shrugged. ‘As I said, it happens all the time. There’s always email.’
Stephen scowled. ‘Yeah, but it—’
‘It’s just how it is. Take it or leave it.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
She sighed again and resumed combing and trimming his hair. ‘It means that this is Jo’s life, m’love. It’s hard on her, and it’ll probably be tough on you too if you want to put in the effort to make it work. That’s if you do?’ She paused and looked at him with pursed cherry-red lips in the mirror.
‘Yeah,’ Stephen said, feeling mildly offended. ‘It’s not that. Although I’m pretty disappointed I can’t talk to her, it’s more the country she’s working in that’s worrying me. Mauritania. Is she even safe there?’
Amy bit her lip thoughtfully and shrugged. ‘Yeah. I think so. I won’t say I don’t worry, but it’s Jo’s life. She knows what she’s doing. Why don’t you ask her about this?’
‘I would, but—’
‘Email, toots.’ Amy tried for a stern expression but with her pocket-bombshell appearance it felt like being frowned at by a kitten. ‘Stuff like this is going to happen all the time. It sucks, and I think Jo’s looking for a new job closer to home, or even quitting, but for now you’ve gotta deal with it.’
Stephen’s eyes widened. When Jo had brought it up earlier, he’d just thought it had been her exhaustion speaking. ‘Really? She is?’
‘Yeah. Well. She’s been talking about it, but don’t say anything, okay? The last guy she was serious about started to push her to quit, and things did not go too well.’
‘Yeah, all right,’ Stephen grudgingly acquiesced, leaving it at that but not liking it.
‘That’s not all that’s bugging you, is it?’ Amy asked, tilting his head to one side and beginning to trim around his ear.
‘No.’ His entire body tensed at the
memory of coming home to find Rachael upset after being verbally abused by some fucking psycho who had it in for Jo. ‘I wanted to talk to you about a phone call Rachael picked up the other night at Jo’s place, and one Jo got months ago.’
‘What phone calls?’ Amy asked sharply, eyes meeting his in the mirror.
Stephen went on to explain, the whole time closely monitoring Amy’s facial expression. For a normally bubbly, expressive woman, she was now demonstrating she’d be a bloody good poker player.
‘So do you know what might be going on?’ Only the sound of her scissors at work and the women babbling in the beauty salon next door filled the air. ‘Amy?’
‘What did Jo say?’ she asked eventually in a slow and careful voice.
Stephen shared Jo’s emailed explanation, and Amy nodded, her expression blank. ‘Well, that’s good to hear, right?’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about Rachael, but at least this person isn’t going to be able to hurt anyone.’
‘Yeah.’ Stephen grunted. ‘But I don’t know. Rachael was worried the shooting and the calls are related, and even with the news the guy’s in another country, I’m still not happy about this.’ He swore. ‘It really sucks. I don’t even know if I should be worried, or if I shouldn’t, or what the hell is going on. And I’ve got to say I’m getting pretty pissed off with being the last person in the know.’
Amy met his eyes in the mirror, her expression sympathetic as she put down her scissors and began to massage his shoulders. ‘Stephen, a lot of stuff has happened these last few weeks, and it was all a bit weird, but you’re going to have to just look at it all as coincidence. Jo’s probably going psycho she can’t call you to explain everything, and she’d kill me if I let you get worked up about this while she’s away.’ She half smiled at Stephen’s doubtful expression. ‘She’s been happier in the last few weeks than I’ve seen her in years.’
‘Seriously?’ he asked eventually, doubt evident in his tone, and the memory of Jo getting injured on his family’s property because of his invitation to visit George Creek at the forefront of his mind.
‘Totally. I tell you what. Instead of brooding and being Mister Grumpy, which will only stress you both out more, why don’t you relax? Take a chill pill.’ She dug her thumbs into a few key pressure points on his back, sending relaxation washing down his spine to punctuate her words.
‘I’ll try.’
‘That’s more like it,’ Amy said with a satisfied smile. ‘Now, let me turn you around and I’ll just finish up the front.’
Stephen tried to take Amy’s advice, but other questions that he had about Jo and Amy’s past kept bobbing to the surface, and he decided to just get them all out in the open and be done with it. He waited until she was distracted and then threw them out there all at once.
‘So. What happened when you two left George Creek when you were kids? You guys stayed with your aunt to finish school, right? Is what happened back then the reason Jo and your dad don’t get on? She didn’t even want to see him after we brought her home from the hospital after the shooting. Want to tell me what the deal is?’ He deliberately kept his voice casual, tensing up in anticipation.
Stepping back from his chair, Amy put a hand on her hip and scowled at him.
‘That’—Amy wagged a finger at him and gave him a stern look—’is something else you’re going to have to ask Jo about. Now sit back, relax and close your mouth, or you’ll be eating shaving foam.’
Stephen raised an eyebrow at that but conceded, quashing his frustration. It was never wise to argue with a woman who was holding a razor at your throat. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t get answers. He’d just have to get them directly from Jo. There was no way in hell he’d let this slide if she was genuinely in danger.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the cabin and crew, we apologise for any discomfort experienced on takeoff . . .’ The pilot’s voice crackled through the dingy cabin of the too-old plane, and Jo grimaced as she inspected the tray of food in front of her. Obviously the salmonella special. She tried nibbling on a soggy chicken sandwich that was the best business class had to offer and threw it down in disgust. Enough was enough. The minute she got home, she was calling her boss and giving notice.
She’d actually made the decision weeks before when she’d learned that the public-use phone wasn’t going to get fixed any time during her stint and then encountered a dinner so vile it made her feel ill, complete with a rubber raspberry pudding so inedible that it had bounced off her plate. The good new chef had quit, and they were back to the old awful one again. She shuddered. This rig was the final straw. The living conditions, the isolation and above all the stress were too much. Enough was enough.
She’d barely slept for two months, worrying over what to do about her dad, her mum, and more importantly, Stephen. Hell, she didn’t even know if she and Stephen were still an item. Neither of them were good at emailing each other, so they’d been reduced to a few lines sent back and forth every few days. The last week she’d been so on edge with dread that she’d return home to find he had given up on the whole idea of being with her, she’d been getting stomach pains. She hoped to hell it wasn’t an ulcer. That’s all she needed.
Thirty hours later, tired and barely awake after a quick teeth brush and clean-up in an airport bathroom, she finally made it through Perth immigration sometime around midnight.
He was actually there.
Waiting for her. Looking happy to see her.
Jo felt her knees go weak.
She sniffed loudly, trying to stop her eyes from tearing as they voraciously ate him up. His mouth was curved into a wide smile that crinkled the corners of his clear-blue eyes, and his sun-bleached hair was tousled as if he’d been running his fingers through it. She couldn’t be sure, but his skin looked even more tanned against the light-blue Rip Curl shirt and tan shorts he was wearing. God, he was sexy.
Seeing him walking towards her, she met him halfway.
‘Hey.’ His deep voice washed luxuriously over every one of her frayed nerves.
‘Hey yourself,’ Jo replied with a wide, relieved smile, putting her hands on either side of his face and pulling him towards her for a deep and thoroughly lusty kiss. ‘I missed you,’ she whispered, choked up.
‘I like your way of showing it.’ He chuckled before looking down at the bag she’d dropped at her feet. ‘Want a hand with that?’
‘That’d be good.’ Jo ran her fingers down his arm, enjoying the feel of warm skin over toned muscle.
Stephen grabbed her by the hand. ‘We should get going.’
She followed as he pulled her along past the usual scene of friends meeting and families greeting each other that happens in airports the world over every day. The airport doors opened, and a familiar dry heat enveloped them. Jo pulled Stephen to a halt just outside the terminal. She breathed deeply and took it all in: the smell of warm asphalt, gum trees and stale cigarette smoke from the taxi drivers at the nearby cab rank having a quick puff before they had to get back on the job.
‘Smells like home?’
Jo turned on Stephen in wide-eyed surprise.
‘You said that the first time I picked you up, remember?’
‘Did I?’
‘Yep. You coming?’ He gave her hand a small tug.
‘Yeah.’ For once she didn’t feel exhausted after the long flight; seeing him here like this, smelling the warm night air, she felt as if she’d plugged herself into an electrical socket and was buzzing.
She followed him to where he’d parked his Lexus under a large gum tree that was doing a good job of blocking out the light from the nearest street lamp, and she leaned against the passenger-side door while he reached in his pocket for his keys, taking his time as he ran his eyes up and down over her plane-rumpled self.
‘You going to unlock the car?’ she asked, enjoying how he looked, how he moved. She breathed in his crisp aftershave and realised that his scent was becoming a part of the home smell for her too.
‘Not yet.’ He gripped her hips, pulling her against him with a grin. ‘I was planning on saying hello properly first.’
‘Were you?’ She smiled widely as his lips brushed hers. ‘That’s very polite of you.’
‘I’m always polite.’ He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a gentle nip.
‘Nice,’ she said softly before reaching up, gripping his hair between her fingers and sliding her tongue over his teeth. He pulled her harder against him with a soft groan. ‘This is really not smart.’
‘Nope.’ She began running a series of biting kisses down the side of his chin to his neck.
‘We should wait until we get home.’
She slid her hands up under his T-shirt, short nails digging into the muscles on his back. He sucked in a breath and rocked against her.
‘Yep.’ She chuckled. He was hard and she could feel an urgency in his movements that made her want to push him a little more. She moved her hands from his back around his sides to his flat, hard stomach, enjoying the feel of the muscles there jumping at her touch.
‘Oi! This isn’t a bloody hotel, right? Go home or get a room. I’ve got kids here.’ They both twisted around to see a solidly built middle-aged man with two small children and a trolley piled high with baggage a few cars down, glaring at them. His kids were staring at them with goggled eyes.
‘Busted,’ Stephen murmured against Jo’s hair.
‘Sorry, mate,’ Jo called out to the man, who shook his head disapprovingly.
When Stephen muttered, ‘No you’re not,’ she muffled a laugh.
‘No. Not really.’ She naughtily ran a hand over the bulge in his shorts.
‘I’ll get revenge for that. Payback’s a bitch,’ he said in a strained voice, twisting away and opening her door, giving her backside a sharp smack as she climbed in. More than a little bit turned on and thoroughly elated at being back home, Jo felt her face split into a wide grin that didn’t go away the entire drive back to the apartment.
The minute they got through the front door, Stephen dropped Jo’s bag and dragged her through to the bathroom before flicking on the taps for the shower.
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 18