Natural Attraction

by C L Green

  “The toilet is the second door on the left and the bathroom is the third,” Jax explains. “I usually wash my hands in the laundry first ‘cause they get so dirty with the horses so turn left at the first door.”

  I nod, still reeling at the thought of my foul mouthiness back in the dining room as I head into his laundry.

  The laundry itself is another work of room art. It also has polished marble benches that match the kitchen, a massive washing machine and dryer in one and a stunning stainless steel washbowl. The whole room shines brightly where it has recently been wiped down and I instantly decide I don’t want to wash my hands in here. There is no way that I am about to mess up his spotlessly clean laundry by washing my filthy hands in it.

  “Um Jax?” I turn back to face him. “This feels like I have just walked into a display home laundry and I don’t think I should wash my hands in here.”

  “Where else are you going to wash them?”

  His eyes sparkle with mischief as he spins me around to face the trough. I feel him capture my body in front of his as his hands came round either side of me to cage me in. He slams the flick mixer tap into action and starts washing his own hands.

  “Um, outside, under a garden tap?” I offer wondering how I am going to get out of this caged position to make it outside to a garden tap anyway.

  He ignores me, leans over me further to use a pump action soap dispenser sitting next to the sink and continues washing his hands. I notice that he is also, not so subtly, rubbing his hard chest across my shoulders setting my skin on fire.

  As I watch the dirt and filth spray off his hands and onto the now not so clean sink, I figure there is no choice but to join in him in the desecration of his spotlessly presented laundry trough. I then set about pumping a massive stream of soap into my own hands while I lean back, just a little bit. I have decided I may as well take the opportunity to enjoy the contact my shoulders are making with his hard chest.

  Obviously not as affected as me by all the physical contact, Jax finishes washing his hands and backs away from me. I lament the loss of contact as he dries his hands on a hand towel hanging on the wall. He then stands back and casually leans against the wall, waiting patiently for me to finish my hand washing too.

  I turn to use the hand-towel only to find myself hard up against Jax’s chest again as he holds it out for me with a small smile twitching at the edge of his lips.

  “Are your hands clean or do you think we should wash them again?”

  “Um, I think they’re clean but happy for you to rub against me again if you feel so inclined.”

  I make this offer looking up into his eyes. Eyes that are now at close range to mine.

  I think I see his lip twitch again slightly and then his eyes drill into mine as he leans forward, even closer again.

  “God your eyes are beautiful,” he says almost whispering. “I have never seen true green eyes like yours. They even have little flecks of yellow in them.”

  “Um, thanks? You have beautiful eyes too.” I feel like I am melting.

  When I say melting, I mean, really melting because I am starting to feel hot.

  Really hot.

  Flustered, hot and bothered hot. Maybe just a little bit cold too.

  I feel a shiver spiral down my spine and the hairs on the back of my neck rise off my skin. I feel Jax’s warmth breath gently play across my face as I have the urge to lean in closer. I see him lick his bottom lip slowly as he continues to bore his eyes into my soul.

  “Lunch is ready!”

  We both startle as we realize Ro is standing in the doorway looking curiously at us both.

  “Of course it is.” Jax says softly as he leans away from me and turns to fix an angry glare on his mother. Ro looks at her son for half a second, then she shrugs, grins and spins to head back towards the kitchen again.

  “Just saying. Don’t rush on my account.”

  I have barely finished rehanging the hand towel on it’s it hanger before Jax’s hand once again clasps mine and I am dragged back into the hallway.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom?” He asks.

  “Not yet, maybe later.”

  “Cool, let’s get this over with.”

  He continues to drag me back down the hallway and back into the dining room. I suddenly feel like he is rushing me. Dragging me around here and there and I don’t feel like being rushed.

  I snatch my hand out of his and put it near my side. Barely faltering, he swings his hand back, regrabs mine and keeps continuing on his way. I stop abruptly and yank my hand back.

  What is it with this guy?

  Can’t he let me walk along a hallway on my own?

  He swings back, throwing me an exasperated look and grabs my hand again.

  “Quit it will you, what’s fucking wrong?”

  “I don’t like being dragged.” I snap.

  “I’m not dragging you.”

  “It feels like you are, everywhere we go. You keep grabbing my hand and dragging me along. Does it have to be such a rush and do you have to hold my hand?”

  “Yep.”

  “Yes. What?”

  “Yes I am in a rush and yes I do have to hold your hand.”

  “Um… Why?”

  “’Cause firstly, I like holding your hand and second, I am in a rush. I’m in a rush to fit as much into today as we can. I’ve already had to wait nearly five weeks to spend a whole day with you and I don’t plan on wasting a second of it.”

  My breath catches in my chest and I feel my eyes bulge.

  He’s been waiting all this time to see me again?

  “Okay then.” I say smiling as I slide my hand back into his and we continue on our way to the dining room. “Holding hands and being dragged it is.”

  *****

  Ro is settling two bowls of steaming hot soup on the dining table as we arrive back at the kitchen.

  “Warm zucchini summer soup,” she announces as she heads back to the kitchen to grab two more steaming bowls.

  “There’s also a fresh herb bread twist to go with it in one of those tubs over there.”

  She nods to one of the Tupperware containers sitting on the bench. “I made it before I came so it’s probably still warm.”

  “You made it?” I ask, amazed that anyone would make a twist and not just go to the bakery and buy one.

  “Ma’s a MasterChef at heart Ash. She cooks everything we eat. Everything is made from scratch.” Jax explains. “I can’t remember every having a slice of shop bought bread in my life. The time she found frozen Four ‘n’ Twenty pies in my freezer, I reckon she nearly had a coronary.”

  “Yes, mum’s a MasterChef alright,” Teagan adds sliding into the seat opposite me with a bowl of soup in her hand.

  “We tried to get her to go on the TV show but she refused solely on the reason that if she was on a TV show she wouldn’t have time to cook for Jax and his Dad. Rebecca and I were both actually relieved to hear her reasoning. It made us both realize that she hadn’t used Luke and Ryan for her excuse about not being able to go. This told us that we had passed her cooking basics and she was happy to leave her other two sons to our unsupervised culinary ministrations.”

  “True story that.” Rebecca adds settling in the seat next to Teagan while giving me a confirming nod.

  Ro slides a bowl in front of Rebecca and settles herself to the right of Jax grinning. It is hard not to like this woman from the moment you meet her. How can you not like anyone who is flat-out grinning all the time?

  “They over exaggerate a lot these folks. I just love cooking and I love cars. Having been a kept woman my entire life I have always just had extra time on my hands to do home cooking. I don’t expect these women to uphold my level of cooking mania, they both have busier lives and their own children to care for. That said, I am glad they love cooking as much as I do.”

  Without blinking, and not exactly sure where it comes from, I blurt, “I can’t cook.”

  Why did I tell her
that?

  I’m not exactly auditioning here am I? Does it even matter?

  “Of course you can sweetie. Everyone can cook.” she states in a matter of fact manner while fixing me with one of her cheeky little grins.

  “Not me, I burn boiled eggs. Literally. I tried to make them one day and melted the pot I was boiling them in because I forgot to put water in it. Well actually, I didn’t forget. I didn’t realize you needed to put in water in the first place. My friend had told me to boil them on high for ten minutes. I spent the first five minutes watching the pot get hot until I thought I could hear what sounded like boiling sounds coming from the eggs. I then popped the lid on and set the timer for another ten minutes to let them finish cooking. I just assumed they boiled in their shells or something.”

  Silence descends on the room. Ominous silence, the sort where you think you can hear sound waves in the air. My head starts to hurt the silence is so loud.

  Rebecca and Teagan stare at me, their mouths open and spoons suspended in the air halfway between their bowls and mouths. Ro has even stopped grinning.

  I hear what sounds like a grunt come from Jax’s direction and I turn to face him. I do this just in time to see him drop his spoon in his bowl as he grabs wildly for a serviette to cover his nose. Knocking his cutlery flying he grabs one, holds it up to face and starts laughing so hard I see some soup come spurting out his nose.

  It is at this point that Ro’s grin returns in full megawatt style and I see her dimples depress as she started laughing too. She even throws her head back and bellows. This in turn sets Rebecca and Teagan off and I am left gob smacked at the cacophony of laughter belting through the room.

  “No shit, you tried to fry eggs in their shells?” Jax sputters as he tries to settle his laughter down.

  “True story that.”

  I look down at my bowl feeling like a freak show.

  Great way to make an impression.

  When will I learn to keep my mouth shut? I stir dejectedly at my soup as the laughter in the room abruptly halts and I feel the focus of four sets of eyes on the top of my head. Perhaps now would be a good time to use the bathroom. I need to get out of here.

  “Ashleigh, did no one ever teach you to cook sweetie?” I hear Ro ask softly.

  Now there’s a loaded question.

  How am I going to answer this one without looking like even more of a freak show?

  Why would I have needed to learn to cook when my parents had always done it? Then when I’d finally moved out of home at the tender age of twenty-four, I’d gone sick living on take-away for months. This had then meant that I gained weight, lots of it. Then I had had to lose it all again living on Weight Watchers meals.

  Now I simply either ate out at restaurants for my main meals with friends, or if home alone, I zapped a Weight Watchers meal in the microwave. Essentially, my life didn’t include a need to cook.

  “Um… No.” I squeak. “There has not seemed any point to it… At this stage.” I add quickly hoping not to offend the line-up of MasterChefs sitting around me.

  “I see,” Ro says studying me carefully and looking thoughtful. “What do you mean by no point to it?”

  “Well, I live on my own and it hardly seems worth cooking for one. That is until I change my living arrangements, for some reason… Or another.”

  I quickly glance in Jax’s direction to see him staring pointedly at me with a small grin on his face. The light shading of a dimple showing on one cheek.

  “Until then, I don’t need to cook.”

  “Well that seems like a good enough explanation for me!” Ro announces cheerfully, looking around the table with a look that suggests no one should mention that subject again.

  “Now let’s get a wriggle on eating this soup. The mains should be just about ready to come out of the oven any minute now.”

  “Mains?!” I squeal. “Isn’t this mains?”

  “Oh no my dear, this is just the appetizer, we always eat three courses,” Ro tells me with a serious look on her face.

  “Crikey, I’ll be eating Weight Watchers meals for a month.” I mutter under my breath as I start paying more attention to my soup. I also quickly transfer the large chunk of herb bread that Teagan has placed in front of me onto Jax’s plate.

  I look up again to see Rebecca now grinning at my food transfer tactic.

  “So Ash, tell us about you and your horse.”

  I relax a little realizing Rebecca is being kind and trying to steer the conversation into much safer waters.

  Thank you Rebecca.

  I send her an appreciative smile and launch into an explanation of all my activities with Maverick over the past weeks. I also explain that Jax is going to help me ride him as well.

  The conversation seems to be going along easily, with everyone asking me polite questions now and then. I cheerfully recount my many new experiences with Maverick until the point where I mention my accident. Once again silence descends on the room. I sense Jax stiffen beside me.

  This time I know it is not the same preraucous laughter type silence that I experienced before. This time the silence feels ominous, black and heavy.

  “Um, sorry, but what I did I say this time?” I ask cautiously, looking around the room.

  Teagan quickly looks down and Rebecca quickly swings her eyes to Ro. Ro in turn looks towards Jax who shrugs his shoulders at her with a blank look of indifference on his face.

  “She fell off and hurt herself, badly?” Ro is directing her question straight at Jax.

  “Yeah she did.” Jax replies, deadpanning.

  “And now you are helping her with her horse?” Ro rapid fires at Jax again.

  Her eyes shrink on her face as she pins him with a stern look that starts to make me nervous.

  “Yeah, I am.” Jax deadpans again.

  Ro swings her face back to Teagan, her face softening as she says, “Are you okay sweetheart?”

  It is then that I notice the pained look that is shadowing across Teagan’s face. Her eyes burn with a wildfire that scares me and I sense she is on the verge of tears.

  She looks towards me, then over to Jax and finally back to Ro.

  “I’m fine if he is.” She lifts her chin towards Jax. “We have to move on and we can’t keep living in the past.”

  “Agreed.” Jax whispers next to me.

  “I miss her,” Teagan mumbles as she carefully places her spoon in her now finished soup bowl.

  “So do I.” Jax whispers again looking at me carefully out the corner of his eye while keeping his face pointed towards Teagan.

  The room falls quiet again. The tension making the air thick and it’s getting hard for me to breath. Whatever I have said, or done, it has flipped the mood in the room to a subzero point.

  “You had a Camaro?”

  I try to change the conversation. This time I am on the receiving end of a ‘thank you for the changing the subject’ look from Teagan as Ro returns her attention to me.

  “I had two Camaro’s. Now I only have one. This is thanks to a dickhead truck driver squeezing one of them up against a guardrail in Melbourne last week.”

  I look into Ro’s eyes trying to work out if I should continue to pursue the conversation or not. I see a slight hint of hesitation fly across her face as she follows my lead on the topic change.

  “TWO Camaro’s!” I announce, surprised that anyone would have not one, but two.

  “Yes, I was very annoyed about the one that got written off. It wass a 1969 ZL-1 Camaro. There were only sixty-nine of them ever made and they are as rare as hen’s teeth. It is my own stupid fault for taking it out of the shed I suppose. I did love driving it though. I especially loved to see the looks that people flung my way when they realized an ‘old bag’ was driving it around. Priceless!”

  She chuckles and the cheeky grin returns to her face.

  “That’s terrible. It was insured I assume?” I ask trying to keep the conversation pleasant and safe.

  “Of cour
se. It is unlikely I will ever find another one however. People just don’t want to sell them. They never come up for sale.”

  “If anyone can find one, Ma will though.” Jax rejoins the conversation, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes softening.

  “She spends hours every day scouring the Internet for classic cars. I’ll bet money that it wasn’t our father who found that Gran Torino for sale was it Ma?”

  A huge smile spreads across Ro’s face as she beams at her son proudly.

  “Of course not son, you know me so well.”

  Rebecca and Teagan physically relax further and I see Rebecca start sliding her chair back.

  “Time for mains,” she announces cheerfully. “Lasagne all-round I presume?”

  She moves her gaze to me pinning me with a look that suggests there is no way I am going to be allowed to refuse.

  I feel my stomach do a high five at the thought of all those carbs and protein mixed into a cheesy, gooey mess. Then my head quickly calculates the kilometers I will need to run tonight to assuage the calorie onslaught I am about to receive.

  “Yes, please.” I announce plastering an eager look on my face as I concede defeat on the chances of getting out of eating ‘mains’.

  I wonder what third course is?

  As if reading my thoughts, Rebecca grins at me knowingly and says, “I’ll bet you can’t wait for the Lemon Tart chaser we have to go with that hey? Extra whipped cream for you by the looks of it. You look like you need fattening up.”

  “I’m dairy intolerant, no cream thanks.” I mumble as I add another three kilometers to my running calculations.

  “I’ll help serve up.” Ro announces sliding her chair back. “I need to check my chicken pies in the oven anyway.”

  I look to Jax who seems to sense my food distress as he rolls his eyes and gives me an ‘I told you so’ look.

  Food coma – here we come.

  I watch as the two women bustle into the kitchen and open the oven doors inspecting their handiwork.

  *****

  Apart from my horror at the sheer quantity of food piled onto my plate over the next three quarters of an hour, the rest of the meal flows well.