Wild Irish: Outback Wild (KW)

by Lexxie Couper

  His eyebrows knotted. “And you know me, you know my issues, after just one night of bonking, do you?”

  She sighed. “You made fun of yourself and your AWOL parents in our first conversation—deprecating humor to be sure, but still there—and you stumbled over talk of your uncle. I’m a journalism intern, Baz. I read people. I do a good job of it. And I read you in a heartbeat. A guy with a wounded soul and a good heart. I was totally and utterly okay with spending the next four days and nights with that guy. Having fun. Exploring…a possibility. But that guy turned out to be a chicken who ran away. Not sure I like that guy. Even if he did give me the most amazing sex of my life.”

  He stared at her. On the table, his knuckles turned white. “Hayley, you don’t—”

  “I’m a girl who got dumped for being too fat, Baz.” She let out a shaky laugh. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? To look at yourself every day and think, I’m not good enough? Of course you don’t. I mean, for Pete’s sake, look at you. No one is ever going to dump you because of the way you look.”

  “Hayley,” he said again, his voice almost a croak.

  “What I’m saying, Bartholomew Kerrigan, is if you left my apartment today because you’re not interested, because you had your fun and you’re ready to move on, then sure, that’s fine. Tell me that. But if you really are running away because you think whatever this thing is will end up hurting you…” She sighed again, and slumped back against the bench. “If that’s it. Don’t do that. Don’t be that guy.”

  “What guy?”

  Hayley snapped her stare up to Natalie, standing at the end of the booth’s table, smiling at them both.

  “Nat…” Holy crap, how much had she heard? And did her timing suck or what?

  “Natalie Miller?”

  Baz’s question jerked her stare back to him. Her heart smashed hard in her throat. Whoa, what had she just been doing? Where had that…that…frustration come from? Surely not just because he’d denied her three more nights of sublime sex?

  You know where it came from. You weren’t talking clichés when you used the term connection. You know it, and so does Baz.

  Biting back a ragged breath, she watched Baz half rise from the bench and hold out his hand to Natalie.

  Natalie’s smile stretched wide as she took it. “Baz?”

  “Yep.”

  “So nice to meet you. Sorry, Ewan and I were waiting for you in Sunday’s Side. My mistake for not being more specific. We Collinses forget not everyone in the world knows what we’re talking about when it comes to the pub.”

  Baz let out a chuckle, shaking his head as he sat back down again. “No worries at all. I don’t think anyone outside of my hometown would know what Grub Corner is when talking about the pub at home.”

  “Oh, I do.” Natalie preened. Not something Hayley saw her cousin do often. “Grub Corner is the restaurant area of Lacky’s pub.”

  Approval filled Baz’s face. “You and Lacky know each other well, ’eh.”

  Natalie nodded. “We do. I spent a long afternoon with him in Washington many years ago, when I was doing a photo shoot on international Vietnam vets. He talked a lot about his pub. And you, although you were only a teenager back then. Mischievous and stubborn and far too reckless, according to Lacky. And angry and sad, deep down inside. I hope the years have eased those last two for you.”

  Baz’s Adam’s apple jerked up and down in his throat. Hayley wanted nothing more—right at that moment—than to move to his bench, smooth her arms around him and hold him.

  Hell, she really was gone. Hook, line and sinker.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” He shrugged, his eyes flicking to Hayley for a heartbeat. “Not so angry anymore. Probably more stubborn than I should be though.”

  Hayley tried to bite back her snort. Tried and failed.

  “So this is the camera.” Baz slid the camera case over the bench toward Natalie. “Lacky said the first photo you needed to take with it was of horse sh—poo. I’m guessing that’s a private joke?”

  Natalie burst out laughing, scooping up the case as it if were made of the most delicate china. “It is. One of these days I need to get to Australia so I can give him a hug.”

  Hayley didn’t miss the shadow falling over Baz’s face. “He’d like that.”

  Smiling at Baz again, Natalie hugged the case. “I’ll do that. Ewan owes me a honeymoon. Australia it is.”

  Baz’s jaw bunched. Hayley frowned. An unsettled knot twisted in her stomach.

  “Speaking of Ewan,” Natalie beamed at them both again, “he’s waiting for us on Sunday’s Side. Lunch is my treat, remember.”

  With a raise of his hand, Baz straightened to his feet and shuffled out of the booth. “Unfortunately, I’ve got to go. Me and my mates need to hit the road ASAP. Now that I’ve given you Lacky’s gift, I’m outta here. It was lovely to meet you, Natalie.”

  “Baz…” Hayley whispered.

  He turned to her, his expression unreadable. “And you, gorgeous. Remember what I wrote on that note. It’s true.”

  And before either Hayley or Natalie could say another word, he strode out of Pat’s Pub.

  Gone.

  Chapter Five

  Fuck a duck, what was he doing?

  Striding away from the pub, Baz ground his teeth. Balled his fists.

  Fuck.

  “Fuck fuck fuck,” he muttered, scrunching up his face and shaking his head.

  “So, is this how you do things in Australia?” Hayley asked at his side. “Or is it just a Baz Kerrigan thing?”

  Heart banging against his chest, he turned.

  She cocked an eyebrow at him, expression the very definition of sardonic. “Well?”

  He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her. Made love to her mouth, worshipped it with his tongue and lips and teeth.

  More than one passing pedestrian grumbled and protested. More than one told them to get a room.

  He kissed her deeper. Branded the sweetness of her taste, the soft warmth of her lips, and the fierce hunger of her tongue on his mind. On his soul.

  She moaned, her palms smoothing up his back, his neck.

  Head spinning, he pulled away, extracting himself from her arms. “See you later, gorgeous.”

  She didn’t move when he turned and continued walking.

  If she had, if she’d stilled him with a gentle hand…

  Gutless wonder. That’s what you are, Kerrigan. A chicken-shit, gutless bloody wonder.

  He waved down a passing taxi, climbed into it, gave the driver the hostel’s address and slammed the door shut.

  And opened it again, climbing out.

  Fuck. He wasn’t walking away from this. It was too perfect. Too—

  Hayley was gone. No sign of her.

  He’d either burned the bridge, or she’d had a gutful of him.

  Clearly Life is telling you to get your arse going.

  He sucked in a shaky breath. “Alright. Done. Get back home. Now.”

  He climbed back into the taxi. “Let’s go.”

  He didn’t look back at the spot Hayley had been standing. He wanted to. Fair dinkum, did he want to. But he didn’t.

  Instead, he pulled his phone from his pocket, checked what time it was in the Outback and ran his uncle.

  “G’day, Uncle Lack,” he said when Lacky answered. “Howya goin’?”

  “What the bloody hell you doing ringin’? It’ll cost you a bloody fortune.”

  Baz chuckled. “Yeah yeah. Consider yourself lucky I even remember you exist, you old bastard.”

  Lacky laughed. “Who are you again? Barry? Brian?”

  A wave of warmth washed over Baz. Lacky was a typical Outback bloke: he didn’t do open displays of affection, he didn’t do sloppy sentiment, he didn’t do compliments.

  “How are you going, Lack?” he asked, a band tightening around his chest.

  “Alright. Still got all my hair.”

  Lacky had, as long as Baz could remember, been as bald
as a cue ball.

  “I’ve just delivered the last of your items. The camera belonging to Ansel Adams is now with Natalie Miller.”

  “Bewdy.” Happiness threaded through the single word. “What’s your movements next? Where you headed?”

  “Thought I might come home.”

  Silence greeted his answer.

  “Lack? Uncle Lacky?”

  “Think you should hang around over there for a while. Enjoy the sights, the people.”

  “The sights have got nothing on the Outback. Too many people. And there’s no Vegemite over here. Should’ve brought me own.”

  “I’ll send you some.”

  Baz laughed, even as the band wrapped tighter around his chest. Something was up with his uncle. “Nah, I’m good,” he said. “I’ll jump on the first flight I can find heading to Australia and—”

  “Don’t be a bloody dickhead, son.”

  Baz blinked. “A what?”

  “Charlie tells me you’re having a great time over there.”

  “How the hell does Charlie Baynard know what I’m doing in the US? He’s still in the Outback, isn’t he?”

  Lacky chuckled. “He is. Having a beer with the rest of the Fly-boys back home as we speak, in fact. But Baynard hasn’t always been just a cop in the Outback, son. To quote one of your favorite movies, he has a particular set of skills.”

  Baz’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t know what that means, and I’m almost too scared to ask.”

  “Scared?” Lacky grunted. “The only bloody thing you’re scared of is being abandoned by the people you love, and seeing as you don’t let yourself love anyone—with the exception of yours truly—you’ve lived a pretty safe life.”

  “Bloody hell, mate. Don’t worry about hurting my feelings there, eh?”

  Lacky laughed—his typical dry bark that spoke volumes. “Baz, I worry about your feelings every bloody day. Have done since you were born and my bastard brother and his wife took off and left you. How your heart’s doin’ has been my focus for longer than you could know. Why do you think I sent you on this adventure? I saw you emotionally shut down when we found out I had cancer. I saw the life leave you.”

  A hot ball rolled in Baz’s gut. “So you sent me away?”

  “Bloody oath I did. And I’m glad. I saw more life in your face, heard it in your voice, when you were with Natalie Miller’s cousin than there’s been for a long bloody time.”

  “Hayley?” The hot ball rolled again. “What…what do you know about Hayley? How do you know about Hayley?”

  Lacky snorted. “I love you, son. Y’think I’m sending you off into the world without keeping track of you?”

  “Wait wait wait.” Baz shook his head, frowning. “Define were with.”

  “Talking, doing shots at the bar—I’m gonna give you an ear-bashing over that when you get home, by the way—kissing on the footpath outside Pat’s Pub.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “Told you; Baynard hasn’t always just been a cop. I like Hayley. And she likes you. Now stop being a gutless bloody wonder and tell that taxi you’re in to turn around and take you back to the pub.”

  Scrubbing at the back of his neck, Baz closed his eyes. “While I appreciate the…unnerving gesture, Lack, I’m coming home. I’m not leaving you while you’re fighting cancer. I can’t do that to you, mate. Hayley and I had…had an amazing night. And if I had time, I think we could have more…an amazing relationship. But I don’t have time. You don’t have time. So I’m coming—”

  “I got the all-clear from the specialist the other day, Baz.”

  “What?” Baz straightened in the cab’s seat. The gentle happiness in Lacky’s voice stirred something deep inside him. “What do you mean, the all-clear?”

  “The doc in Sydney—the oncologist—cleared me. I’m in remission. No cancer. It’s gone.”

  “No cancer?”

  Lacky chuckled. “No cancer.”

  “Fuck a bloody duck, Lacky.” Baz fisted his hand in his hair. “You didn’t think to lead with this?”

  Lacky laughed. “And miss this convo? No bloody way.”

  Baz shook his head, a ragged chuckle scraping at his throat. “You bloody bastard.”

  “Yep. Talk to you later.”

  And with that, Lacky ended the call.

  “Bastard,” Baz muttered.

  “Everything okay?”

  He looked up, finding the taxi driver’s frowning reflection in the rearview mirror. “All good.” Hell, could the bloke hear his heart thumping? “Listen, could you chuck a yewie and take me back to where you picked me up?”

  A roaring pressure filled his head. A thrumming urgency.

  He jiggled his legs, watching the world outside as the driver headed back in the direction they’d come from.

  Would Hayley still be at Pat’s Pub? Would she still want to talk to him—fuck, have anything to do with him after his chicken-shit act?

  His gut clenched. Guess he was about to find out?

  The cab had barely pulled to a halt outside the pub when Baz gave the driver some notes—more than the fare required, judging by the happy grin on the man’s face—and hurried from the backseat. He ran for the door, yanked it opened and damn near threw himself over the threshold.

  Where was she?

  He scanned the muted interior, the smells and sounds of the place stirring a familiar sense of home in him. Pubs the world over smelled the same; sounded the same. It was only the program playing on the television, or the music on the jukebox that really differed.

  No sign of her.

  Food. Natalie… What had she said? Something about Sunday…

  Searching for the entry into the restaurant side of the pub, he swiped at his mouth with his hand.

  Bloody hell, when had he ever felt so nervous?

  “Ah.” Pulse quickening, he strode across the pub’s floor and into Sunday’s Side.

  His eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. His chest tightened at the sight of Natalie and Ewan sitting at a table together.

  Just Natalie and Ewan. No Hayley.

  “Fuck.”

  Balling his fists, he walked over to them.

  “G’day, Nat.” He smiled at Natalie and then at her husband. “Ewan. Any chance you could tell me where Hayley is?”

  “She went back to her apartment to do some work,” Natalie answered with her own smile. At the exact same time Ewan said, “Why do you want to know?” with a frown.

  Her apartment. Bewdy. He knew where that was.

  “Ta, love.” Grinning, he cupped Natalie’s face in his hands and smacked a kiss on the top of her head. “Onya.”

  “Hey,” Ewan burst out, even as Natalie started to laugh.

  Skipping backward, Baz grinned wider and pointed at Ewan. “I’m a nice bloke. You’ll grow to like me. Promise.”

  “What the—” Ewan began to straighten to his feet.

  Baz didn’t wait to see if he finished the motion. Heart hammering in his chest, he turned and damn near bolted from the restaurant. Through the pub. Out onto the footpath.

  He ran. Ignoring the curious looks from the people around him, he ran. Towards Hayley’s apartment.

  Time to stop being scared.

  Time to live.

  Lifting her stare from the tub of butter pecan Häagen-Dazs in her hand, Hayley frowned at her door buzzer.

  Whoever was pressing it downstairs could just take a hike. She wasn’t in the mood to be social. Or cordial. Or human.

  Or, to be honest, an adult.

  “Nope.” She stabbed her spoon into the melting ice cream. “I’m done with being an adult today. Being an adult sucks. I’m going to be a sulky child for the rest of the—”

  Her buzzer cut the thought short.

  Letting out a shaky sigh, she unfurled from her armchair and stomped across to her door. It was probably Natalie. Her cousin had wanted her to stay for lunch. Had frowned with confusion when she’d mumbled out a lame apology for not stayin
g.

  Her buzzer sounded again.

  “Yeah yeah,” she muttered. “Give me a chance.”

  She pressed the intercom button. “What?”

  “Hey, gorgeous.”

  An inferno crashed over her at Baz Kerrigan’s voice.

  She swallowed, releasing the com to press her free hand to her lips.

  Here. He was here.

  Just after she’d spent the last few minutes telling herself it was good that he’d left. An intelligent girl never fell for her rebound. Especially a rebound she’d only just met, who lived on the other side of the world. That was lunacy. And she didn’t do lunacy.

  So press the button and tell him to go away.

  Lips tingling, throat tight, she pressed her finger to the intercom button. “What do you want?”

  No, that’s not what you were meant to—

  “You.”

  A soft groan fell from her, and she closed her eyes. No no no.

  “And to say I’m sorry for being a wanker.”

  She shook her head, her finger aching.

  If she didn’t ease off on the button, her knuckle would snap.

  “Come up,” she croaked, mouth dry.

  “Okay,” he answered.

  Head spinning, she released the button. God, what was she doing? What did she do?

  She dropped her stare to the ice cream in her hand.

  Put it away.

  Yeah. That was a good idea. Put it away. That was a start.

  She hurried to the kitchen, yanked open the freezer, shoved the ice cream container in, and slammed the door shut. Then yanked the freezer back open, pulled out the ice cream, searched for its lid, ran into the living room, snatched up the lid and—after shoving the ice cream-coated spoon into her mouth—put the lid on the container and ran back to the kitchen.

  What are you doing?

  “Losing it,” she chuckled around the spoon as she returned the ice cream to the freezer again.

  A knock sounded on her door.

  Her heart crashed up into her throat. She swallowed, stare locked on the closed door.

  Oh god.

  Cool. Be cool. Be calm and indifferent and dismissive and—

  She ran for the door and flung it open.

  “Hi.” The spoon fell from her mouth and struck her bare foot, right on her big toe. Grimacing, she grabbed at her toe, wobbling on one foot. “Goddamn it.”