by Jennie Jones
He lunged at Josh.
Who sidestepped, grabbed Pete by his shirt collar, hauled him up and around and punched him in his ribs.
Gem yelled something about Dave on his left.
Josh spun, ducked to miss Dave’s jab, then used his momentum as he shouldered Dave, knocking him flying.
Jesus. This was hard work. He hadn’t brawled in years. He took a breath, then decided it might be best not to breathe too much. His ribs had taken a battering.
When they regained their feet, both men charged him. Josh steadied himself, body squared, weight balanced. For a split second when they hit him, he thought he’d been winded, but then his lungs filled and his blood pumped, hot and gushing.
‘Ooh, nasty!’ someone called.
Josh couldn’t have agreed more.
‘No need for that,’ someone else said. ‘You bozos should be trying to take him one at a time, not together!’
Josh took hold of both men by the collar and bumped their heads together. Not enough to knock either of them out, and nowhere near as hard as the head butt Dave had issued Josh, but maybe enough to whack some of the testosterone out of each of them.
‘Thirty-second breather!’ Dan called, hands in the air.
‘I don’t need a rest,’ Josh said, breathing hard, turning side-on to Dan and Ethan so he could tell them to butt out of this and also keep an eye on the bozos.
‘No,’ Ethan said, ‘but they do.’
Josh grinned. More adrenalin pumped through his body than when he’d done his first solo sail. The air in Kookaburra’s was balmy. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a few deep breaths as men in the crowd shuffled, uncrossed their arms, nodded and jabbed at the air as they discussed the fight.
‘Stop it now, Josh,’ Gem said as she stepped in front of him, looking at him with concern.
‘No way.’
‘There are two of them. It’s not going to end nicely.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Gem. Where’d he bite you?’ Josh asked, frowning as he ran an eye over her neck, her bared shoulder.
‘My hand.’ She held it up. ‘He didn’t draw blood though.’
‘Why the hell did he bite you?’
She shrugged. ‘Probably because I bit him first—in self-defence.’
Josh laughed, although it hurt his ribs a little to do so. ‘Jesus, Gem. You sure cause trouble by being so goddamned beautiful.’
She gasped, then she put a hand on his shoulder. ‘You don’t have to fight them any more. You’ve proved a point. You’re totally masculine and brave and all that, and every woman’s eye is on you, so you can quit.’
‘Not doing it for me.’
‘So who are you doing it for?’ she asked, eyes so blue and pretty in a face pale with fright.
‘You,’ he said and took hold of the back of her head, pulling her into him for a fast kiss on the mouth. He let her go. ‘And that’s not the kiss. That’s just me passing through. Warming up, so to speak.’
A whoop went up around the bar.
‘Best take your mind off that,’ Ethan said. ‘You haven’t finished yet.’
Josh gently pushed Gem out of the way. Dan took hold of her arm and pulled her into the crowd.
‘Not your fight, Gem,’ he heard Dan say, a laugh in his voice.
Dave was flagging, and the right jab coming at Josh’s head had nowhere near the power of earlier. He ducked it, grabbed Dave and held him in front of his body in a neck lock, Dave’s arm twisted behind his back. He checked for Pete. He was bent over, hands on knees, shaking his head. Probably trying to get the little sense he’d had to begin with to fall into place again.
‘I think we’re done, fellas,’ Josh said to both. He didn’t get a response. ‘Okay, I’m letting you go,’ he told Dave. ‘We’ve all had enough. One more move from you and I’ll put you on the floor in a manner that’ll have you seeing stars from a hospital bed for a fortnight. Got it?’
Dave grunted, the muscles in his body relaxing as Josh released him.
Lily’s husband, Nick, took hold of both bozos and led them to the table that had been overturned.
Dan stuck his hand out to Josh. ‘I imagine your hands are hurting like hell.’
Josh took the challenge and thrust his hand into Dan’s, wincing as pain from Dan’s firm handshake shot up his arm. ‘I’m fine,’ he said through gritted teeth.
Dan smiled. ‘Damn.’ He turned to Ethan. ‘Nothing like a bit of a scrap to get your blood running hot.’
‘Damn right,’ Ethan said, grinning at Josh.
A bit of a scrap?
‘Looks like you’re home, buddy.’ Dan turned to the customers. ‘Show’s over. We won.’
A cheer went up, followed by a round of applause.
‘Drinks on the house.’
‘No!’ Josh said, straightening his clothes. ‘On me.’ He looked down at his shirt. It was ripped at the collar and he’d lost all the buttons but his favourite white T-shirt beneath seemed to be intact. He tucked what remained of his shirt into his jeans.
Ethan took Dave by the arm. ‘You’ll be sleeping in your van tonight, fellas.’
‘And you won’t be visiting Swallow’s Fall again any time soon,’ Dan said as he manhandled Pete towards the door.
‘I’ll take the van keys off them,’ Nick said, joining Dan and Ethan as the troublemakers were marched out.
Josh checked the room for Gem. She was with Sammy, Charlotte, Lily and the twins. As he caught her eye, he grinned at her.
She joined him, her face still pale and her eyes wide. ‘Got enough money in your pockets to buy the entire bar a drink, huh?’ she asked.
‘Can I buy you one?’
‘I ought to buy you one.’ She grinned.
One helluva good-looking gal, his Gem. Worth fighting for. ‘Don’t sound so enthusiastic. I might get the wrong idea.’
‘Your eye is bleeding!’
Josh moved from the fingertip that touched his cheek. ‘No. Just a cut.’
She looked down at his hands. ‘Your knuckles are grazed pretty badly.’
‘Just a few more scratches to add the other calluses.’
She looked him in the eye. ‘Get tough on a boat, does it?’
‘Depends on the port.’
She contemplated him for a long time, then smiled and punched him on the arm—lightly. ‘I do boxing, you know. I might have taken them.’
The laugh erupting from his chest hurt like hell. Bruised ribs, maybe a broken one. ‘Perhaps one,’ he said, ‘but not two.’
‘You frightened the hell out of me, Josh,’ she said quietly.
‘Did I?’ He hooked his arm around Gem’s shoulders and pulled her into him. He looked down and into her eyes and saw all sorts of emotions, none of which he could read. But neither of those guys were likely to hurt her again, and that was all that mattered. ‘How about another kiss?’
‘Don’t push your luck.’
Ten
Sunday morning, Josh went out to the walkway and rested his hands on the railing, squinting at the white glare of Main Street. He’d intended going over to the park to watch Gem coach soccer, but it had been cancelled due to unusually heavy snowfall overnight although the plough had been out to clear the street. He was a bit sore due to last night’s fight, but not enough to worry him. He’d bought his date that glass of wine after all. She’d even let him walk her the short distance home. When they were close, looking at only each other, the pull of attraction blocked out everything else: the tension, the concern, the joking.
He’d taken another walk out of town last night after seeing Gem safely home. He hadn’t gone inside the farmhouse yet, though. He hadn’t been able to walk further down the quarter-kilometre driveway than just past the crab-apple trees. The place had a lost atmosphere about it and he hadn’t wanted to interfere. No wonder Gem called it the lonely homestead; for the life of him, he couldn’t envisage a way to banish the absentee feeling the place held, or a way to revive it. He wasn
’t even sure why he wanted to, unless it was due to the high regard and love he held for Grandy Morelly.
He moved from the railing and sat on Grandy’s bench, still outside the hardware store window. One thing was for sure—he had a lot on his plate. More than when he’d left: one house, one farmhouse and one shop. All being tended, in some way, by five-foot-six smoking-hot Gemma Munroe. He wouldn’t leave until he sorted everything out. It was only fair to all concerned.
So he’d better make plans. He was used to having to do so on the spur of the moment. Sailing alone took foresight. Get your lines all set, your fenders set. He could reef a sail or change one singlehanded. Winching a sail on a forty-two foot boat took both muscle power and stamina. Keeping that stamina going for eight or nine hours a day could be exhausting—was exhausting. Grabbing a slice of bread and a hunk of cheese for lunch, all the while watching, working. Operating with the motion. Exercising your brain and your nerve.
He didn’t make mistakes. Not enough to warrant fear—maybe a few prayers now and again and a request to providence to see him through. He didn’t work against the elements, he let them work for him. Can’t sail faster than the wind, he reminded himself. Gotta travel at an angle.
But given all angles and any plan he came up with—he still just wanted to kiss Gem.
He waved to Mrs Tam, who had stepped out of her shop across the road.
‘How are you feeling?’ she called.
‘Fine, Mrs Tam. Never better.’ He laughed as she shook her head and wagged her finger, but she was smiling.
His time in Swallow’s Fall was giving him a different perspective on life. Whatever happened next, wherever he found himself dropping the anchor, he’d at least have had this time to move his mindset from what was to whatever would be. A break. He hadn’t known how much he’d needed one.
Little Edie came to mind. He’d been hoping to see her again at the soccer this morning. Josh hadn’t left the confines of Main Street much over the last week. Perhaps he’d go take a look at the new horse the Grangers had bought.
The nip in the air warmed a little as he thought about the horses he used to tend for Ethan. Another job he’d taken on—one he’d loved.
‘Our job is done,’ Jillian said, pulling at the silk dupion she’d draped around Gem.
‘You haven’t got the dress made yet,’ Gem protested, sucking herself in as Jillian stuck another pin in the material at her waist. Not delicate with her pinning, Jillian.
‘Not the bridesmaid dress,’ Jess said, standing back and admiring her sister’s torture methods. ‘You and your date.’
‘How’d it go anyway?’ Jillian asked.
‘How did what go?’
‘Your date, dummy. Did you go to your place, or up to his hotel room?’
‘Her place. I saw them leave Kookaburra’s together.’
‘Please!’ Gem raised her arms as Jillian got stuck in with the pins on the other side of her waist. ‘One bar fight does not a marriage make.’
‘But you’re one kiss closer to the altar.’
‘That wasn’t a kiss, it was a peck.’ Gem blew out a breath. A quick peck of a kiss it might have been, but it had landed on her mouth and Gem could feel the sweet pressure of it even now. ‘Josh and I are no more than a couple of old compatriots recognising a youthful camaraderie and a love of scrapping.’ Apart from the fact that he’d said that quick kiss was just for starters.
‘Up on the chair, please,’ Jillian said.
Gem stepped onto the seat and Jillian got to work on the knee-length hemline of the bridesmaid dress she was fitting Gem for. ‘Those bozos won’t be back any time soon, which is good,’ Jillian said through a mouthful of pins.
‘You do realise that you can’t best a bloke, don’t you?’ Jess said, standing back and eyeing Gem.
Gem mentally ummed and ahhed, going through the drills she practised every week from her boxing DVD and the circuit class she ran in summer.
‘Psychologically, yes, you could,’ Jillian said.
‘Especially wearing enough colours to blind him,’ Jess added with a laugh. ‘But not in a fist fight.’
Gem saw Josh in her mind—a picture she hadn’t been able to shake all night. Tall enough to protect. Big enough to dominate both guys. Strong enough to have taken a beating and come out of it standing. She couldn’t have done that. ‘Yeah,’ she relented. ‘I know. Sucks.’
‘You look good together.’
‘You so blonde and him so dark.’
‘It’s his tan.’
‘And those dreamy, dark brown eyes—’
‘Next to your pale-skinned, white-blonde femininity,’ Jess said. ‘You know, that streak you sometimes let us all know you’ve got—you look fantastic together.’
Gem’s insides fizzled like lemonade as her stupid brain recalled Josh’s kiss ten years ago. She’d found, and lost, all in a moment. The culmination of a childhood crush and a raw sensuality creating the woman she was blossoming into—and an unlucky love she’d be carrying with her for the rest of her life. Damn it.
‘I heard he’s been sailing.’
‘Yeah,’ Gem said.
‘They earn a lot of money, those guys who sail yachts.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’
‘How’s the shop sale going?’ Jillian asked.
‘We’re getting there.’
‘Did he ask to come up,’ Jess asked, ‘last night when he walked you home?’
‘No,’ Gem said.
‘He didn’t come back to Kookaburra’s. We saw him walking out of town, southern end, when we left. Wonder why?’
‘He had just beaten up two guys,’ Gem said. ‘He was probably tired and wanted a good walk in the fresh air.’
‘He didn’t look tired.’
‘Wonder why he was heading out of town,’ Jillian said. ‘There are no street lamps once you get out of Main Street. He’d only have the moon to light his way.’
Gem’s stomach triple-flipped. Moonlight did weird things to people like her. People who were having a difficult time hiding their feelings for tall, well-muscled, broad-shouldered men who looked good in the moonlight. Plus, something inside her was trying to break out of her psyche. Something seriously unhappy. It would be her father, she presumed. The rejection and all that nonsense.
What would she do if she lost the shop? It was so hard not to cry some more, not to let the wash of emotions out and howl like a baby. Maybe one day she’d find a nice guy to settle down with. One who liked sav blanc and aging rabbits. One who liked a woman with messy blonde hair and mood swings.
‘So how does the dress feel?’ Jillian asked, standing back and admiring the folds of silk she’d draped on Gem. It was going to be a 1960s-themed wedding, the twins’ favourite era. Gem had seen her bridesmaid dress design: a strapless, knee-length bell-skirted affair with a big starched poufy bow at her waist. Wait until everybody saw her walking down the aisle in front of the twins in this ensemble! She felt like a woman in it. Most people still called her ‘young Gemma’, harking back to her youth, when she’d been the scraggly blonde kid who could never make up her mind if she wanted to play soccer for Australia, violin for the Sydney Symphony Orchestra—or go dabble with a pen or a brush in the artistic areas of Paris.
‘This’ll give Josh a laugh,’ she said. ‘Seeing me in a dress.’ He was bound to have something stupid to say about it.
Jess stilled. ‘Gem,’ she said softly. ‘Josh won’t be here for the wedding. He’s leaving at the end of this week.’
Shit, so he was. The light went out in Gem’s eyes as her heart quietly broke.
‘I have another apology to make,’ Josh called to Sammy as he walked around the side of the house on Burra Burra Lane and into her kitchen garden. He hadn’t got an answer from his calls through the open front door, but he’d remembered how much Sammy loved to work in her garden.
She smiled at him as she stood and brushed her hands on her track pants, earth, snow and frost clinging to the fabric. �
�Josh!’ She held her arms out for his hug then let him go and smiled up at him. ‘What are you sorry about?’
‘For not coming over again before now.’
Sammy shrugged his apology aside. ‘It’s been hectic. Ethan’s surgery takes up so much of his time. The kids want constant holiday entertainment, which mostly means I’m taxiing them to and from their friends’ places. How’re you feeling?’ She frowned as she glanced at the cut next to his eye, then dropped her gaze to his battered knuckles.
Josh shoved his hands in his pockets. ‘Fine.’
Sammy grinned at him.
‘Bit sore,’ he admitted. ‘Nothing too bad.’
‘I don’t think our men have enjoyed themselves so much since forever. Thanks for giving us all a bit of excitement.’
‘You’re welcome. Any time.’
‘Not too soon, Josh.’
‘Ethan at work?’
‘Not at the moment. He’s down at the stables with Edie. We’re all mucking in for the horses when we can.’
‘Have you still got the agistment and riding centre?’
Sammy led him over to the kitchen window where a thermos and a few plastic cups had been set out. ‘Coffee?’ she asked.
‘Thanks.’
‘We had to close the agistment and the riding centre. We’ve still got our rescue horses, and those keep coming. I doubt we’ll get back to agistment.’
Josh took the warm cup from Sammy and sipped his coffee. ‘How many horses?’ he asked.
‘Twenty-five.’
Josh whistled.
‘I know,’ Sammy said. ‘We employ kids and some of the mothers to muck out and feed, and most of the horses are retired, but we have six of our own stabled. How’s it going in town?’
‘Not bad.’
‘How’s it going with Gemma?’
‘The shop?’
Sammy smiled. ‘If you like.’
Sammy was a woman a man could talk to, always had been, but he wasn’t going to discuss Gem with her. ‘Getting there. I’ve got a lot to do. Keep meaning to go on up to my mother’s house but can’t bring myself to do it yet.’
‘It’s your house too.’
He nodded. ‘Do you think she’d mind that I’m selling it?’