‘I’ve missed you so much,’ Monty said, as if his thoughts matched hers. ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you for months. What have you been up to?
‘Well, yesterday I did two loads of washing, mopped the floor, made a lamb stew and—’
‘Very funny, Cinderella. I meant the important stuff
‘I’ll have you know, Dad thinks the world will end if I do anything with my life other than cooking and cleaning. If I dare to dream of being something other than a domestic slave.’
‘So things are still awkward between you and Frank?’
Faith made an unladylike noise to show exactly what she thought of that. ‘Awkward? He’s been downright horrible lately. The other day I thought he wanted to talk, but that was wishful thinking. He’s practically looking for excuses to yell at me now.’ She relayed the bizarre episode involving her mum’s car.
He listened, a thoughtful frown on his face. When she’d finished, he wiped a tear she hadn’t even realised she’d shed off her cheek and asked, ‘Is he okay with Ryan?’
‘He’s fine with Ryan, but ever since I told them I expected them to do their bit around the house and mentioned maybe looking for another job, finishing my degree, he’s been impossible. He was distant before then, but now he’s nasty. He’s like a different person.’
‘It’s weird all right. Frank’s always been a reasonable man. I wouldn’t have pegged him as a chauvinist. He and Ryan may have taken advantage of you a bit the last few years but that’s because you’ve looked after them so well. I never expected it to get ugly.’
‘Ryan’s been great,’ Faith rushed to stick up for her older brother. ‘But Dad…’ Her voice drifted off as she realised she didn’t want to talk about this right now. As much as she appreciated Monty’s support, she didn’t want anything ruining this perfect day. ‘Let’s just forget about him.’
At the same time Monty asked, ‘Do you think there might be something deeper going on? Something more than not wanting you to be involved in the farm.’
She frowned. ‘Like what?’
‘Maybe he’s depressed.’
‘Depressed. About what? He has it easy. Our farm’s doing fine and between the Men’s Shed, the Lion’s Club and golf, he’s got an all right social life. I’m the one who worries about whether he’s clothed and fed.’
‘I wish I knew. Maybe it has something to do with your mum.’
‘She’s been gone almost eight years. We all miss her, but life has to go on.’ Even as Faith said this, her brain started ticking. Did her dad need to talk about Cassie as much as she did? Was their mutual silence—avoiding the topic—slowly ruining them all?
Monty reached out and took her hand. ‘Do you want me to ask him? I hate seeing you so upset about it.’
‘No.’ The thought panicked her. She could just imagine how much worse her father would be if he thought she’d been talking about him. ‘I’m fine. It’ll be okay.’
‘Talk to him.’ Monty said. ‘Give him the chance to explain. And if he hasn’t got a reason, tell him you’re moving south with me.’
He tacked the last bit on as if he’d just said, ‘tell him you won’t put up with it anymore.’ Her heart jolted in her chest. She met his gaze. ‘What did you just say?’
He grinned. ‘I want you to come with me. Not straight away—I know you’ll need time to tie things up here, sort things out with Frank—but I’m serious about you. About us. I wouldn’t risk our friendship for a week of fun before I leave. You know that, right?’
She nodded and her eyes twitched with unshed tears. Happy ones. ‘I want to come with you, too,’ she said, her words choked with emotion. ‘I can’t imagine ever wanting anything more.’
‘Phew.’ He wiped a hand dramatically across his brow, leaned forward and kissed her again.
Warmth flooded down from her ears to her curling toes. He’d kissed her three times so far, four if she included that night in his tent, and each time it had been so unbelievably hot that she didn’t think it could get any better. Each time, she’d been wrong.
As his mouth flirted with hers, fireworks exploded all over her body. Feeling as if she might catch alight at any moment, she forced herself to pull back.
She took a breath, drawing much needed oxygen into lungs. ‘Now, you know that week of fun you mentioned? Can we start that soon?’
He linked his fingers with hers and leaned close again to whisper into her ear. ‘Just so I’m clear, you’re not talking about fishing, are you?’
‘Not. At. All.’ Right then she’d happily have tossed all their fishing tackle into the water. She’d never felt so wanton in her life.
Catching on quickly, Monty pushed himself up, offering her his hand. ‘Grab what you can,’ he said, stooping to gather their things.
As if a tsunami were about to hit the coast, they frantically packed up, leaving only a few bits of fruit for the seagulls. Charging back along the jetty, they grinned ridiculously at the people they passed, then threw the esky into the back of the ute with the fishing gear, not caring when it fell open and spilled bait and biscuits all over the tray. Monty drove like a maniac the short distance to his place, and Faith sent a quick prayer skywards that Constable Noble wasn’t out and about. In her state, the new cop might have had to arrest her for assaulting a police officer if he tried to slow them down.
And then they were there. Monty’s house. The place she’d stayed numerous times before … only this time he gripped her hand as he led her inside, and it wasn’t to the ratty single bed in the spare room. She scanned his bedroom: a double bed, a plain black doona, a milk crate with an Ikea lamp and an old wardrobe he’d bought from the op shop in town years ago. His floor was scattered with clothes he hadn’t got around to washing. Or packing.
Now his hands were on her waist, teasing the flesh beneath her jumper. But they could have been in a dumpsite in the dodgiest suburb in Australia and she’d have given herself willingly. This was what she’d been waiting for her whole life.
‘Are you okay?’ Monty’s hands stilled as he looked anxiously into her eyes. ‘Not having second thoughts?’
She put her hands on top of his and squeezed. ‘Not at all. I think I might just be a little shell-shocked. This has all happened so fast.’
‘Too fast?’ He pulled back, worry turning his smile lines upside down.
‘No.’ She shook her head. Unsure how to put her exact feelings into words, she kissed him instead. But where their earlier kisses were almost frantic, this one was hot and slow, full of promise and potential and the kind of chemistry that sent a rush of molten gold through her body. As if in one mind, they walked backwards towards his bed, collapsing silently on top of the mattress, his mouth not leaving hers for a moment.
This is my best friend, Faith thought. I’m about to sleep with my best friend and it is the most perfect, most natural thing in the world.
This time, they both knew exactly what they were doing.
While the bush telegraph raged with rumours of Faith and Monty’s kiss on the jetty that morning, the stars of the gossip barricaded themselves in Monty’s house. He needed to pack, and she had work to do for the Barking Ball, but nothing was more urgent than simply being together for a while.
Lying back in his bed, watching episodes of Top Gear and The Chaser on YouTube while munching Samboy chips, more Tim Tams and drinking Coke, Faith never wanted this day to end.
‘You really are the perfect girlfriend,’ Monty said, stroking her hair as she snuggled against his bare chest. ‘Most other women would want to watch Desperate Housewives or The X-Factor.’
She shuddered at the thought but beamed at his use of the word “girlfriend."
‘It doesn’t worry you that I’m not very feminine?’ she asked. She still couldn’t help comparing herself to Ruby, who was the epitome of femininity.
‘Faith,’ his tone was serious, ‘you may enjoy sport and being outdoors, you may be able to drink beer with the blokes and you may not be interested i
n fashion, but you are definitely all the woman I want.’
Sighing at his answer, she tried to push aside her feelings of anxiety. Monty liked her as she was. Nothing else mattered.
Mid-afternoon, Faith texted Ryan and begged him to milk Daisy that evening, then promptly forgot about the world outside. Every time a show finished, Monty would unceremoniously dump his laptop on the makeshift bedside table and turn his attentions back on her. No one had ever made her feel as utterly cherished as he did.
Each time they made love, she felt thoroughly spent, but all it took was a half-hour episode of one of their favourite shows and she was itching to get into his pants again—well, figuratively speaking, because neither of them had bothered putting their clothes back on after the first time.
As the credits rolled on the third episode of The Chaser they’d watched that day, Monty gathered Faith into his arms. ‘Do you want to know the bad news?’
Her heart thudded to a stop. ‘What?’
‘We’ve run out of chips and chocolate. We may have to get up and scavenge.’
She relaxed again, happy that the news wasn’t serious. They may have eaten nothing but junk since the fruit that morning, but she felt nourished beyond belief. ‘I can’t believe you’re still hungry after all that.’ She gestured to the empty wrappers littering the floor.
He patted his barely-there stomach. ‘What can I say? I like my food.’
‘Come on then.’ She peeled back the doona and climbed out of bed. ‘I’ll take a quick shower and then let’s see what I can throw together from the disaster that’s usually your kitchen cupboards.’
‘Did you mention shower?’ Monty grinned. ‘In the interest of water conservation, I insist we share.’
She couldn’t help but stare at the picture of perfection before her. Completely naked, Monty sat confidently in the middle of the bed as he waited for her answer. Her mind came alive with visions of them together in the confines of his tiny shower, hot water pouring over the two of them, soap suds, his muscles slippery beneath her touch. Her skin practically fried with anticipation. ‘Race you.’
‘I could get used to this,’ Monty said, sipping a beer as he leaned against the kitchen bench and watched Faith work her magic.
She glanced up from chopping onions and smiled. ‘Which part?’
‘You cooking in my kitchen, sleeping in my bed, sharing my shower.’
Her cheeks glowed the most beautiful crimson, but typical Faith, she made a joke. ‘I don’t think much sleeping occurred and I’ve always cooked for you anyway.’
‘Yeah, you have.’ And that’s why this is so perfect, he thought, taking another sip. They were so at ease in each other’s company already. The only thing different about their relationship now was the sex. That phrase ‘best friends with benefits’ came to mind and he silently thanked the man upstairs for showing him the light. ‘Will you stay the night? I promise not to get up to too much mischief but I don’t want to say goodbye yet. I want you to be the first thing I see tomorrow morning, just so I know I didn’t dream today.’
‘Who’d have thought you could be so romantic,’ she quipped, and although she turned her attentions back to the cooking, he saw a smile threaten to burst off her face. He had to admit, his sentiments surprised him also.
‘Complaining?’ he asked, before taking another sip of beer.
‘No.’ She dropped the knife on the bench and closed the small distance between them. She fell into his arms and hugged him with the kind of strength you didn’t expect from a woman. And it felt right. Her breasts squished against his chest, her head rested on his shoulder and her hair tickled the bare skin at the back of his neck. She smelled of his soap and his shampoo but they’d never smelled this good before.
Eventually she pulled back. ‘I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway,’ she said, with a wicked glint in her eyes.
He laughed, kissed her again and then let her concentrate on the omelette. As they sat down to eat, he told her what he’d always known, ‘No one cooks like you do, Forrester. Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t want you working on the farm—you’ll have less time to feed him.’
She didn’t get the chance to answer because his mobile started ringing. ‘Ignore it,’ he said, picking up his fork to take the first bite. He should have turned it off.
‘You know she’ll only ring back.’ Faith recognised the whale-song ringtone as his mum. She smiled as she looked at his phone, vibrating where he’d left it earlier on the kitchen table.
The phone went silent and then started moaning again seconds later. Right now he hated that whale music. Groaning, he dropped his fork and snatched up the phone.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Good evening, sweet pea,’ she chirped. ‘Have you had a good day?’
He glanced at Faith across the table. ‘Yes, actually. Best day ever. You?’
‘So, it’s true.’ Mum all but cackled down the phone line.
‘Uh, what’s true?’
‘That you and Faith are finally an item?’
He was gobsmacked. ‘How the hell did you find out?’
Faith laughed.
‘Bunyip Bay’s a small town, honey, and I’ve still got quite a few friends up there. Just because we don’t visit as much as we’d like, doesn’t mean I don’t keep in touch. I’d have called earlier, but the phone’s been running hot.’
‘Bunch of busybodies,’ he muttered, although he wasn’t really angry. ‘Are you surprised?’
‘Surprised?’ She laughed. ‘More like relieved that you finally got your act together. I can’t wait to see you both next weekend.’
‘Next weekend?’
‘The Barking Ball, honey.’ She laughed again. ‘Geez, you are totally lost in that bubble of love, aren’t you?’
Yes, he thought, but no way was he admitting that to his mother.
‘I was thinking we could have a barbecue at your place on Friday night and invite Pippa and her folks too.’
At the idea of a family get-together his chest tightened. ‘Who’s Pippa?’
‘Will’s girlfriend,’ said his mother and Faith at the same time. Faith knew a lot more about his family than he did, but he couldn’t really blame her; she was much better at keeping in touch.
‘I see. And Will’s okay with coming to the ball?’ He couldn’t imagine his brother—who found it difficult to even make eye contact with strangers—embracing the idea of a social event as big as the Barking Ball. If it were for any other cause, he was sure Will wouldn’t even contemplate it.
‘He’s very excited. Pippa and her parents are coming up for the weekend. They’re staying at the B&B. You’ll like Pippa’s parents; they’re very down to earth—not at all like me.’
‘I like you just the way you are, Mum.’
‘You’re too sweet, my darling. Anyway, I was thinking you could buy the meat in town and I could make the salads. I’ll have to…’
‘Slow down a minute.’ Monty was still coming to terms with the idea of Will having a girlfriend. He’d spent precious little time with his family the last few years—Christmas and Mother’s Day lunches and the odd weekend in Perth—and the brother he’d grown up with had struggled to make polite conversation with most people, never mind develop a bond strong enough to form a relationship. ‘Does Pippa have autism too? Is this thing serious?’
‘Yes. Like Will, Pippa has high-functioning autism. They met in a behavioural therapy group, and their tutor is so pleased with the connection they’ve made. It’s quite remarkable.’ Jenni sniffed as if choking back tears. ‘I’m so proud of him. I get tingles every time I think about them together. I can’t wait for you to meet her.’
‘Neither can I,’ Monty said, now genuinely curious to see how his brother interacted with a woman. They went briefly through the arrangements. Will, Jenni and Stuart were staying the Friday and Saturday nights of the ball. He’d let his parents have his double bed and give his brother the spare room. He’d take the couch. ‘What’s that fa
bric softener you wash Will’s sheets with? Is there anything else I need to organise?’
‘Not really…’ Jenni sounded as if she were thinking aloud. ‘We’ll bring our own food to cope with Will’s intolerance, and as for that other stuff, he’s moved on from most of that. He can even cope with the vacuum cleaner now.’
Monty’s mind flashed back to the times he’d had to take his brother out into the back yard to play so his mother could get the housework done. The vacuum cleaner wasn’t the only thing that could set him off; the sound of the broom swishing along the kitchen tiles had also been known to send Will into a meltdown. Monty yawned; whether it was the exertion of the day catching up with him or whether he was simply exhausted by the thought of all the hard work Will had been over the years, he couldn’t say.
He loved Will, he really did in his own strange way, but he’d been happy to distance himself when he left home. Every now and then he wondered what would happen when his folks eventually passed away. The thought of being Will’s next of kin terrified him. He’d not shouldered that sort of responsibility in a very long time.
His mum laughed, thankfully not privy to his thoughts. ‘I can see I’m boring you when you’d much rather get back to Faith. Tell her I’ll call during the week. I can’t wait to show her the gown I’ve bought for the ball. I wavered when I saw the price, but then I thought, what the hell, I deserve it.’
‘You do, Mum, you really do.’ Not once in his life had Monty heard his parents complain about their lot, but surely they must have felt some of the resentment he did.
‘Thanks, darling. Right, I’d better get dinner on for your father. I’ll call you on Friday morning just before we leave.’
‘All right Mum, see you soon.’
Faith had finished her omelette while he’d been speaking to his mum. His had gone cold but still tasted unbelievably delicious. No one else could make eggs, cheese, ham and a few onions taste this good. He ate the whole thing in about five mouthfuls, and then made Faith lean against the bench with a beer while he did the washing up. Finally, he led her back into his bedroom, where he could forget about family barbecues and concentrate on the only thing that mattered.
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