She pulled out a magazine from the bag she always carried about and began to read.
He exhaled for calm. “What are you reading?”
“It’s a survey.” White teeth scraped over her lower lip. “It’s about relationships. You wouldn’t be interested.”
Miller’s teeth clenched. “Try me.”
“Some of the questions are personal.” Kaycee glanced down at the page. “I remember you didn’t want us to exchange any information. At least, not anything important.”
Clearly that’d been one of his few dumbarse moments. Bloody hell. “Come on, Kaycee, it’s a long flight.” Come on, luv.
“Okay.” She sighed. “Okay, fine. This quiz is for prospective marriage partners.”
He grunted. The subject caught him off-guard. Not something he’d discussed before. Hell not even engaged to Denae had he discussed the ins and outs of marriage.
She adjusted her headset, and picked the magazine up. “First question. If your mother becomes terminally ill, who’d care for her?”
“I would. Mum’s my responsibility.” She’d been under his protection for as long as he could remember. Since he’d been old enough to get in the way when his dad turned mean.
“Yeah? Me too.” She sighed. “Okay, second question. How many times a week would you expect marital sex?”
His breath hitched as his blood rushed south.
Oh fuck. His prick bulged in his pants, causing him to shift in his chair. Marital sex? How many times was humanly possible? Basing it on the past days he’d spent fucking with her… “Thirty times.”
“A week?” She gasped from behind the magazine.
“Eh.” He didn’t take his eyes off her. She wouldn’t look his way, so he enjoyed the flush that brightened her face. His balls drew up when she crossed her legs. “What about you? How many times would you want your husband to fuck you?”
On a gasp, her breath quickened.
His prick pulsed, he bit back a groan. “How many times, Kaycee?” Like she’d done to him in the bath he let his words pour over her. “How many times a week would you want your husband to fuck you?”
His prick thickened further. Sweat coated his hands.
“As many times as my husband wanted me.” Her chest heaved. “I’d want to make my husband happy.”
He had to look away. Had too. I’d want to make my husband happy. The Yank would kill him with talk like that.
“Okay, well. Let’s see.” She ran her finger down the page. “Third question is: How many children do you want?”
Oh, Christ. Now this was dangerous territory for him. If there was one thing he’d always wanted, it’d been children. Eh. He’d never mentioned the desire to another. But when Cohen had started having his girls, it’d been rough. And then Ethan had discovered he was a father…
How many children were humanly possible for a woman to have? Calculating from his age now until he was fifty… “A dozen.”
“Holy snap, Miller.” With wide-eyes she stared. “A dozen?”
“Eh.” He nodded.
“You do realize childbearing is hard on…” Another flush stained her cheeks. “Um, womanly parts.”
Unsure on how to respond to that, Miller glanced back at the sky. No, he hadn’t known. Not really. Hadn’t ever thought about it. Hayleigh had had four ankle-biters. Cohen wouldn’t want more if she was in any kind of danger. He hadn’t heard either of them say they were done growing their family. “Five.”
When she didn’t respond, he looked her way. She’d put the magazine away and now had her head back on the headrest.
His chest grew uncomfortable. His guts knotted up.
Something new had upset her.
She looked sad as hell. He hated to see her face pinched up. Was it the talk of children? Maybe she didn’t want any at all. “I was joshin’ about the dozen ankle-biters.”
“I know.” She tried for a smile but didn’t open her eyes. “I think I’ll try to nap.”
But she didn’t nap, only twisted in her chair so she faced away from him completely.
Bugger me. What was wrong with her? What the fuck was he supposed to say?
On another glance in her direction, he saw her hand go up to wipe her face. His hand trembled when he reached out to her. He grasped her shoulder and massaged, petting her, much like he would a mare in trouble. “Kaycee.” It’d never been this difficult to speak before. “You all right?”
“Yes, yes, I am.” She twisted around, and swallowed. “I’m just having a bad day. I’m sure you’ve had at least one yourself.”
“Plenty.” A bad day he knew all about. He relaxed some. For a minute there he’d been worried it’d been something deeper bothering her. Something out of his element. He continued to rub her shoulder. “I don’t cry about them.”
She gasped. “I’m not crying.”
“No. No, luv.” Instantly, he wanted to call his words back. “You weren’t.”
“That’s right.” Her lower lip trembled. “I wasn’t.”
“You want to talk about what…” he searched for a word, “…upset you?”
“No, I don’t.” She removed his hand and placed it on his chair arm. “I’m fine now.”
Blowing out a breath, he took the controls in both hands. “Good deal.”
Bugger me.
He was trying to communicate and falling flat on his arse.
Suddenly, the engine coughed, sputtering out.
“Miller!”
The birdie dropped thirty feet while he struggled to keep her nose up. “Come on, sheila!” Again, the birdie dropped in altitude. “Fuck, come on, sheila.” Sweat coated his skin.
“Miller!” Kaycee screamed again, rattling his ears.
Muscles in his arms and back strained as he fought to keep the nose up.
“Miller!”
Another cough sounded as he worked, getting the engine to catch again. The birdie soared when the engine cleared the dirt clogging it.
A relieved breath rushed through his lungs. “That’s my sheila.” He relaxed in the chair as his heart rate calmed.
Christ, he hated when that happened.
“Holy shit, what just happened?”
He rolled his head to meet her frightened gaze. “It’s all right, luv.” His chest constricted, and he took her shaking hand in his. “It’s all right. Dirt was in the petro and clogged up the engine for a minute.”
“That’s happened before?”
“Eh, a time or two.”
Her breasts rose and fell in rapid pants. “What’d have happened if…if…”
“I’d have made a rough landing.”
She moaned, clutching at his hand.
“It’s all right, luv.” The endearment came purposely from him this time. His brothers had called sheilas by endearments since they’d realized they’d had pricks. So why couldn’t he use one for Kaycee? He squeezed her fingers. “I’m a bloody good pilot.”
Dimples appeared. Her thick lashes lowered. “Well, I’m glad you’re confident in your skill.” When she shuffled away from him in the chair, he released her hand and grasped the controls.
At least she’d given him a smile.
Kaycee stared. What else could she do? Behind her, Miller worked to tie down the bush plane. Ahead of her stood what he’d called a hotel.
Her mouth pursed.
It was no hotel. Not even close. It was a single-structure building. If it did have rooms, there couldn’t be many.
Out front, three cars were parked haphazardly. Another sat along the side of the building. It was strange how he’d pulled his plane up like it was a car.
He’d explained they needed to stop because his eyes were gritty from tiredness. That, she could understand. Neither of them had gotten a whole lot of sleep over the past few days.
But still, jitters danced in her stomach. She wanted to get to Brady’s so she could get away from him. She’d been trying to make nothing out of their reunion but was failing miserably. How cou
ld fate be so cruel? Another goodbye would be torturous.
Miller swept by her, heading to the hotel.
“Come on, luv.”
The butterflies in her stomach had taken to flip-flopping at his use of that word. With his accent, it made her go all gooey. That had to be the reason. Nothing else it could be. If only he hadn’t started calling her that.
Given their situation, it only confused her more.
“Wait.”
“Eh?”
God, he made her nervous, unsure now. Before, she’d known how to act. Now she had no clue. Just how was she supposed to act around someone she’d had sex with? Her heart sped up under her breasts. “I’ve said this before, but I mean it. Don’t pay for anything else for me.” They’d had a one-night stand that’d turned into the affair of her lifetime. But it was over now. Time to get started on life beyond him.
His jaw clenched.
“Nothing. I’ve my own money. I won’t let you treat me like…” The right word didn’t come. But it unnerved her the way he covered everything for her. “I…I…I just don’t like feeling as if I’ve been paid for.” Yes, that was it. She felt bought. And didn’t like it at all. He’d left her. And that had hurt.
“I’ve not treated you like a whore.” His voice was rough and tight.
She gasped. “No. No. Of course not.” He’d been nothing but good to her until it’d ended. Better than good. He’d been amazing. “It…” Wildly, she shook her head. She needed the right words to explain. “No, it’s been more like a mistress.” She nodded. “One you barely said goodbye to.” She straightened to her full height. “Now, I’m paying my own way from here on out. I can even purchase fuel for the…”
“I buy the petro for my birdies.” Abruptly, he gave her his back and headed inside. “Let’s get out of the sun.”
Oh, she was tempted to shake him. Though she knew that’d never work considering their sizes.
No other choice at hand, she followed him into the dimly lit interior. As expected, the place was small. A bar with stools and some scattered tables. A pub, as Australians liked to call them.
Four older men in the corner sat playing cards. They all greeted them. Three lifted their hats. The other nodded.
Likewise, Miller did the same, removing his hat in greeting. She’d noted the Native rarely took his hat off outside in the fierce sun.
The man behind the counter drifted around the end. A grin spread across his beefy face. “G’day to you, mate.” He extended his hand to Miller, clasping his shoulder while they greeted one another.
“Same here, mate.” Miller stepped back.
“You heading home?”
“Eh, was hoping you had a room to spare.”
“For you?” The man smiled again. “Always. Come on over and take a load off.” He went back to his post behind the bar.
When Miller took a seat on a stool, she sat beside him.
“Ben, this here’s Kaycee Hollenbeck.” Miller introduced them. “Kaycee, Ben Hall.”
The man winked. “A pleasure, luv.” The use of the endearment from Ben weighed on her shoulders. Of course Miller hadn’t meant anything by his use of it. If only he hadn’t waited days to start calling her by the term. Well, now she knew. No more false hope for her.
“Nice to meet you.” She smiled, tried to relax.
“You two hungry?” Ben didn’t give either of them time to answer. “I’ll throw a couple steaks on the barbie.”
“Thanks a heap, mate.”
Quietly, the barkeep headed through a door.
“How’s the weather down your way, mate?” the oldest of the card players called to Miller.
He half turned. “Dry as hell.”
“Damn shame about that,” another added, before turning back to the game.
He grunted, then removed his hat and placed it on his knee. She put her purse on the stool beside her. He raked his hand through his hair.
She moistened her lips. She loved his thick hair. It was so blond. So soft. She longed to run her fingers through it, to straighten the wayward strands. To help fight temptation, she folded her arms.
Ben joined them to pass them two pints of amber fluid.
Miller saluted him, before draining nearly all the beer.
Her nose curled, but she forced herself to swallow some of the drink. She sighed and set the glass down. She hadn’t even shuddered. That was making progress. She’d hated the stuff—piss, as they tended to call beer—until recently.
“Oh.” Remembering, she reached for her bag. “How much do I owe you for the beer and meal?”
The man shook his head. “You walked in with the mate here, so it’s on the house.”
Unsure, she glanced, at Miller.
“Sheila, leave it alone.” He lifted his pint. “Drink up.”
Oh, no. The man was no longer going to pay her way on anything else. “Mr. Hall, I insist on covering my…”
The barkeep leaned over the counter with a grin. He braced his hefty arms on the wood. “Let me tell you a story.”
Miller murmured something under his breath she couldn’t understand. For the first time, he appeared to be uncomfortable.
“See, about seven years back…”
“Eight,” one of the men behind them corrected.
“That’s right. Eight years back. I was coming home from my son’s wedding on the coast. And the plane I was in dropped from the sky.”
She didn’t take her focus from Ben.
“Just fucking dropped out of the sky. The pilot died. And I was stuck in the middle of snake and croc country. I knew I was going to be kissing God’s feet by nightfall.”
“More likely kissing the Devil’s arse,” one of the old men called out.
“I like to think the man upstairs forgives us fools.” Ben’s eyes cast toward the card table, to Miller, then back to her. “A day and a half later, the mate here arrived. He carried my fat arse out of that hole.” He straightened up to his full height. “I owe him. So when he stops by here a time or two a year, he’s family.” He winked again. “Now, put your money away and drink up. Plenty where that came from.” He set Miller down another pint.
Shakily, she put her purse back down and picked up her glass to sip again. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
“You’ll find several of us natives who owe the mate.” He smiled. “Foreigners too. Gotta check on the steaks.”
Until that moment, she hadn’t fully realized what Miller did as a bush pilot. What search and rescue was all about. Miller was a hero in many peoples’ eyes. And maybe since meeting him on the flight from Sydney, he’d been a bit of a hero in her eyes too. But for a wholly different reason. He’d replaced many of the ugly memories Doug had left her with. And he’d unknowingly helped her recover a part of herself.
During those days they’d spent together, he’d made her feel special. Wanted. Cherished. Her stomach knotted with doubt. He probably got around more than she’d ever guessed. Yes, the way he zipped from place to place….how comfortable he was in his own skin…
Clearly he was out of her league.
Her shoulders slumped. There’d be no hope of taking up where they’d left off now.
Chapter Seven
Kaycee sat Indian style on the end of the bed and hit send on her e-mail. Though she hadn’t been thrilled when Ben had shown them to a single room, she’d perked right up when he’d told her the room had an Internet hookup.
Miller had come in about an hour ago and shooed her from the couch. Well, she’d felt obligated to move once he’d sat beside her. She’d been so afraid she’d respond to his nearness. She still worried she would. The attraction she felt for him kept her hot and achy. Though she needn’t be concerned, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the television, which she’d seen, because from time to time she’d checked on him.
It was difficult to think of him as a friend. Very difficult.
The couch was too small for him. Still he’d stretched out a bit. One arm lay behin
d his head. His other hand was shoved into his front pocket. He had one leg mostly on the couch. The other foot rested on the floor.
Almost immediately, a ding sounded. A response to her e-mail had arrived. She glanced over at Miller after reading. “Dr. Giese says G’day.”
“What?” Miller turned his head.
“Dr. Giese, apparently he knows you. I e-mailed him to let him know I’d made it to Australia. I told him I was traveling with you.”
“You know Connor?”
“Yes. I met him last year on an Australian message board.” She shrugged. “I’ll be doing some work for him.”
“What?” He pushed to sit up. His jaw had clenched.
She frowned at the look. “He’s offered me a position.” She watched his fingers curl around the end of the arm of the couch.
“Exactly what is this position?”
Her eyes narrowed at the heavy tone of his voice. “As his nurse, I’ll be doing some work with him. There may even be trips into the bush to help…”
“You don’t belong in the bush.” A tic beat in his cheek, but she ignored it.
“I’m a registered nurse.” Her back straightened. She’d saved up for this adventure. “Dr. Giese feels I’m qualified. He wouldn’t have invited me over otherwise. He also made arrangements for me to work at Brady’s to supplement my income.” She understood some of the work would earn her little money. Still, she wanted to help others. She wanted this opportunity. And Miller wasn’t going to stop her.
He had no right to say where she did and didn’t belong.
“Miller.” She swallowed. “I just need you to drop me off.”
Shifting on the couch, he turned away from her.
Though relief lightened the weight in her shoulders, she wasn’t happy. He’d wanted to say something—she’d seen it in his gaze—but he didn’t. Instead, he went back to watching the television.
Clearly the man had closed up.
No. She’d have preferred communication. As friends, the least they should be able to do was talk. Regrettably she pondered the silent treatment she’d given him earlier.
Staring at his profile, tension grew in her stomach. “Well, I’ll tell him you send your regards.”
True Blue Love: The Thorns, Book 3 Page 9