by C. J. Duggan
I didn’t even try to hide my goofy smile as we edged closer to the private mooring that led out across from the decked platform. Sean secured the boat to the jetty with practised ease, and I could have appreciated the view as his muscles flexed and body arched, but my attention lay elsewhere, my gaze fixed firmly on the house.
I had never been this close before and I could hardly believe I was actually going inside for a sticky beak.
My mum would be so envious; she had often talked about what the inside might be like and I couldn’t wait to tell her what I found. And then, I wondered as to how I might explain that I was at Sean Murphy’s house in the middle of the day, on my own, for no good reason. Maybe I’d skip telling her about it at all.
Sean helped me onto the jetty and helped me gain my land legs. I dropped the blanket and took his hand as he steadied me onto the deck.
I squinted up at the house, frowning. Something had changed about it but I couldn’t quite put my finger on exactly what. I moved forward, my eyes feasting on the massive structure. Then it clicked and I spun around to face Sean.
“You’ve changed the windows!”
Sean was crouched near the deck, tying up his boat, his back muscles rippling under his smooth, tan skin. I was momentarily distracted from anything to do with windows before he answered.
“Indeed I have,” he said, straightening to his feet. He towered over me. I suddenly felt incredibly small and surprisingly uneasy as I tried not to look at the wall of flesh I was faced with.
Sean smirked, deliberately brushing against me as he passed. I rolled my eyes. The landing wasn’t that narrow; I was on to him. God, he was unreal.
I felt like an excited puppy, my six steps equal to Sean’s one long stride as I followed him up towards the house. A long trail of steps curved up and around the property leading into the established garden that momentarily shielded us from the open. My skin instantly cooled in the shade of the towering gums and bottlebrushes. Stepping up onto the final landing that led towards the windows, I looked back out over the lake and my breath hitched. It was one thing to look at the lake house from below in the water, but from here, looking out, it was another thing entirely: the long stretch of glimmering water met with the distant backdrop of lush, rolling ranges.
I felt the press of Sean next to me, following my line of vision.
“Not bad, huh?” he asked.
“It’s beautiful.” I turned to look towards the windows, and noticed on closer inspection that they weren’t actually windows. I stepped forward, touched the frames and examined them. My head snapped around to Sean who watched silently on with his arms crossed and a devilish glimmer in his eyes.
“These are doors. You put doors in?”
Sean said nothing. Instead, he bent down to the front doormat, flipped the edge up and retrieved a key. I arched my brow.
“That’s not very original,” I mused.
“And now you know my secret, so I may just have to kill you.”
“Well, can I look at your house first?”
“Is that your final request?” He slotted the key into the lock, a dimple forming in his cheek as he smiled. My heart spiked, but I quickly put it down to the excitement of being here at the lake house, definitely not down to Sean’s dimpled smile.
My focus snapped back to the doors. With great delight, Sean peeled back the wall of glass, pushing the doors sideways like a giant concertina, instantly exposing the inside to the out. What once had been aligned with large wooden latch windows had been replaced by large bi-folding doors. It had transformed the dated-looking lake house into a sleek, more modern home. I went to step inside but paused, casting my eyes down at my sodden clothes.
“Oh, um, I’m pretty wet,” I said. “I don’t want to make a mess.” I pulled at my soppy clothing.
“I’m sure the Murray pine floors can take it.”
“Holy crap, you have Murray pine flooring?” I charged inside, forgetting the wet footprints I left behind. I entered the massive open space, my eyes trailing upwards to the cathedral ceilings. I turned around in a daze as my bare feet padded on the cool, high gloss floorboards. The light that flooded through the now giant opening of the bi-folding doors shone on the flooring, making it look like glass. An imposing brick fireplace ran from ceiling to floor. I could only imagine how inviting the lake house would be in winter – hell, anytime of the year; it was simply amazing.
Sean stood casually to the side, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched me circle around like I was Charlie in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
I paused, unable to hide my confusion.
“Where’s your furniture?” The living area was massive all right, even more so with the lack of any semblance of someone living there … at all. Aside from several boxes that lay in the corner, there was nothing else. Nothing. The place was empty.
Sean shrugged. “I just had the floors re-polished.”
Okay, that made sense.
A faint breeze blew in off the lake. I instinctively wrapped my arms around my body.
“I think we best get you out of those clothes.”
“WHAT?” I said a little bit too loudly as I spun around to face Sean, who was wickedly grinning at me, holding up his hands.
“Hey, you need to get your mind out of the gutter; I just meant you’re wet. You’re going to get sick if you stay in those funky clothes.”
Ha! It was summer; they wouldn’t take long to dry. Seeing as the word ‘funky’ was in Sean’s vocabulary, I felt rather uneasy and wanted to secretly smell my sleeve.
Oh God, do I smell like funky lake water?
Sean disappeared for a moment and I took a chance to smell my hair and feel my arms. I had smelled better; only faint remnants of the morning’s conditioner remained.
Sean came back from the hall that led out into who knew where and flung me a towel much like he had the life jacket, both of which hit me in the face.
“You can use my en suite if you want. The main bathroom is out of action.”
“What’s this?” I juggled my towel under my arm as I held out another piece of material I hadn’t realised had been bundled with it. It was a black T-shirt with yellow piping and the emblem of a tiger on the back with ‘Murphy’ in block letters sprawled above it; it was an Onslow footy T.
“You can use my washer and dryer if you want. Thought you might want to be comfortable.”
I looked at him warily but he said it all so matter-of-factly, no hint of amusement. It was uncomfortable. Anything other than cocky sarcasm and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it.
“Thanks,” I managed.
He tilted his head behind me. “Last door at the end of the hall.”
I padded along the cool, gloss floors from the bright, open light of the living area to a dark, long hallway. I would have thought that the bedrooms would have been upstairs, which intrigued me even more as to what may be above. But as I continued along, I soon discovered that it wasn’t merely a hall towards a bedroom – it was like an entire wing that led off the main house. I made my way to the last door, a big, beautiful wooden door with antique brass handles. Everything in this house was grand. I tentatively opened it, expecting another empty space, so when I was met with a queen-size mattress lying on the floor, right in front of a wall of glass that looked out over the lake, I drew in a long breath. I could only imagine how wonderful it must be to wake up to such a view.
The bed covers, bottle-green sheets and burgundy and green plaid doona, were all askew and unmade. There was an indentation still visible on the pillow where Sean had slept. I wanted to reach out and touch it, but thought better of it. Aside from a lamp that rested on the floor next to the bed, the only other furniture was a rustic chair that sat in the corner piled high with clothes.
I shook my head. Such a boy!
I opened the only other door, which I assumed was the en suite.
Wow. Now this was grand! It would have been quite the luxurious bathroom suite back
in the seventies: gold tap fixtures, an avocado sink and retro-patterned, mission-brown tiles that covered the walls from floor to ceiling. It was an assault on the eyes. But it was large, with a his and hers sinks that gave me space to unload my cargo. A skylight prevented the dark colours from overpowering the space and provided enough natural light for me to take in my reflection.
I flinched back. Holy sweet Mary, Mother of God!
My hair had started to dry into a matted, dreadlocked mess and to say that my attire made me look like I had been dragged through a hedge backwards was a massive understatement. I couldn’t peel my clothes off quickly enough and hop into the shower. Scrubbing the grimy lake water off with a cake of Imperial Leather soap, I praised God that Sean had a stock of conditioner.
After running my fingers through the knotted tendrils of my hair and towelling it dry, I stood back to look at my new reflection. I was swamped by Sean’s massive T-shirt, which swam on me to the knees. If only my mother could see me now. I wrapped my towel and sodden clothes together and crept back into the living room. Sean was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to find out where the laundry was.
Where is he?
My eyes rested on Sean’s back through the opening of the doors. He was standing under a cascade of flowing water from an open shower on the deck. In a hypnotic, circular motion, he ran a cake of soap along his chest and pushed his head forward, letting the water fall across the back of his neck. His eyes were closed. I stood, frozen to the spot – my only movement was my teeth involuntarily digging into my bottom lip. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he moved his shoulder blades from side to side under the water. The shower sprayed a massaging cascade across his broad back, then turned into the stream above his head.
I swallowed deeply. Clasping my bundle tightly I was about to turn and look for the laundry by myself, but then Sean’s eyes flicked up and locked onto mine.
Sprung!
Chapter Forty-Two
“Laundry?” I all but screamed out in a high-pitched question.
Sean smiled, the big, broad, tooth-exposing kind.
So embarrassing.
He pointed to the opposite hall.
I all but ran toward the hall, scurrying through multiple doors that led to the wrong room. Seriously, how big is this freaking house?
I finally found the laundry room, which was ludicrously large for just washing clothes. It was long and narrow and also dated with sleek, seventies yellow tiles that had been ripped off the wall midway in what I could only guess was the beginning of Sean’s handiwork.
I unloaded my clothes into the washer and thanks to an easy-to-find bucket of laundry powder I had my sodden clothes flooded with cold water and churning in no time. I was lost, staring down at the hypnotic winding of the washing machine, when a pair of shorts sailed over my head and landed in the recess.
I dropped the lid and spun around to see Sean standing in the doorway with a white towel wrapped low around his waist. I swallowed deeply, squared my shoulders and acted as if I hadn’t been perving on him only moments before. I made a cool, confident line to brush past him and return to the main living area. He made no effort to move so my shoulder skimmed across his bare chest. I made a distinct effort not to look, but could only imagine his cocky grin broadening like the Cheshire cat.
Idiot!
***
My clothes finished their short cycle. I placed them in the dryer and Sean finally gave me the grand tour (after he had mercifully put some clothes on).
Making our way up to the last of the stairs, we reached a massive landing with a big arched window that looked out onto the lake.
“The rooms up here have the best views,” Sean said, remaining on the top step as I wandered into the room.
Like a bug to light I walked to the window and pressed my fingers to the cool glass, gazing out over the rippling lake that sparkled, sunrays bouncing off the water.
“I’ll say,” I said. A foggy mist formed against the glass as I pressed my face against it.
I turned to Sean who still hadn’t moved from the staircase.
Is he crazy?
“Why don’t you have your room up here?”
It then dawned on me, as it should have when we walked up the staircase: Sean walked with his shoulder pressed against the wall, the fabric of his shirt gliding against the surface. He didn’t even step onto the landing, which took me back to the Onslow balcony where he had been paralysed with fear.
“Let me guess. Heights?” I said.
“Let’s just say it’s not my favourite part of the house.” Sean crossed his arms and leaned heavily against the wall.
“Why did you buy a two-storey house, then?” I laughed.
“Because I wanted it,” he said in all seriousness.
“Really?” I asked. “And do you always get what you want?” I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance.
Sean’s lips curved into that infamous devilish grin. “Always.”
“Did you want Tammy to come with you on the boat instead of me?” The words had tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them, and this time I had nowhere to escape. I was pinned by his unwavering gaze; it was as if he was almost taken back by the question. He shifted uncomfortably, the usual confident, cocky facade melting away. My heart threatened to stop, too mortified to go on as I took his silence as a yes.
Instead, he looked back up at me. “We would be skiing at MacLean’s by now instead of doing laundry,” he said.
I inwardly cringed, breaking from his eyes. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
Sean smiled. “It wouldn’t be anywhere near as entertaining, though.”
His smart-arse confidence had returned.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “I’m a lunatic; tell me something I don’t know.” I turned back to the window. I couldn’t believe that I was standing in this grand lake house. Furthermore, it didn’t seem real that Sean was only in his mid-twenties and the owner of such prime real estate. It was amazing, but I would never tell him that – his head was big enough as it was.
Sean was self-made wealthy; I could respect that. I respected it more than my current situation. Deferred uni procrastinator living with Mummy and Daddy and still, at the age of nineteen, receiving a ludicrously generous allowance. Still sleeping in my childhood bedroom and keeping secrets from my parents so I wouldn’t get in trouble.
I was a real catch.
All of a sudden I didn’t feel the need to look over every aspect of the house anymore; if anything, looking around the house only made me more depressed. I wasn’t jealous of Sean – he deserved to enjoy the fruits of his labour; he worked hard and played hard. But me, I scrubbed down a cool room and I thought the world was against me? I needed to get a grip – if I wanted something to succeed I needed to stop bitching about it and just do it.
“What’s going on in that head of yours, Henderson?” Sean asked.
I broke away from looking out at the breathtaking views. Sean was missing out big time with his phobia.
I smiled at Sean, which seemed to make him warier, more guarded.
“I think a break away from the Onslow is just what I needed,” I said. “I’m going to go back with a clear head.”
“And clean clothes,” Sean added.
“A clean slate.”
“I think that dip in the Onslow knocked some sense into you.”
“Maybe,” I said with a smirk.
“That or the lack of oxygen.”
“I wasn’t under the water for that long.”
Sean half turned to walk down the stairs. “I didn’t mean the lake.”
I frowned at him, confused.
“I saw you watching me shower on the deck.” His grin was now cheesy, infuriating. “You practically stopped breathing.”
“Oh, pa-lease,” I scoffed, begging myself not to blush. “I was checking out the outdoor scenery. You were actually in my way, as usual.”
I overtook him on the stairs and flashed him an annoyed look as I w
ent by.
I was seriously over my stay at Chateau Murphy – clothes dry or not, I was out of here. I had a hotel to save.
“Do you always bite your lip when you admire nature?”
I went to retaliate but thought better of it. Christ! Had I been biting my lip? Frack it! Trust him to catch me – now I would never live it down.
“So how long will my clothes take?” I asked as we headed towards the laundry, side by side.
He tugged at my baggy Onslow footy T. “What do you want them for? I think this looks good on you.”
“Uh, yeah, I don’t think so.”
“You think it might raise some eyebrows if I were to drop you off in that?”
“Unless you have a serious death wish I think I’d better hang until my clothes are ready. Besides …” I smiled sweetly, “I support the Perry Panthers, not the Onslow Tigers.”
“Ouch! You mean to say you’re a Perry Penguin fan?” he teased. “That’s just wrong!”
“Oh, and you’re not biased or anything, are you, Sean Murphy?”
“I am, one hundred percent biased and you should be, too; you’re a born and bred Onslowian. Where’s the loyalty?” Sean seemed genuinely horrified about my betrayal of the Onslow Tigers.
I peered in at the laundry to find the dryer still rumbling, spinning the load. I propped myself on the bench to wait it out.
“What do you care? You don’t play for them anymore, anyway.”
Sean’s demeanour iced over – it seemed I’d hit a nerve.
I had a vague memory of overhearing conversations about Sean’s sudden end with football.
Before I could stop myself I asked, “Why did you stop playing?”
Sean’s expression became uncharacteristically sullen. He thought for a moment, as if searching for the right words. He reached for the hem of his shorts and lifted his knee up onto the counter next to me and pointed to a scar. “My war wound.”