The Goodbye Girl

by Angela Verdenius

  She couldn’t even manage to get one word out.

  Nick lowered his head so that their faces were just mere centimetres apart. “Because I respect your decision.”

  Then he kissed her, hard and fast, tongue driving deep, just devouring her, taking her essence and engulfing her in fiery heat, licking deep, ruthless in his rapacity.

  When he lifted his head, she was gasping for air, eyes wide, hands fisted in his shirt. Wanting more.

  He evaded her, pushing upright. Every breath he took was hard, deep and harsh. Jaw clenched tight, lust burning in his eyes.

  “I’m going now,” he said from between clenched teeth. “Before I forget what you want and decide to change your mind and make you do what I want. I respect you that much.” Swinging on his heel, he strode across the veranda, one big step to the ground and across to the Landcruiser in long strides. Unlocking the door, he looked across the roof at her. “This changes nothing. I’m picking you up tomorrow night at 1800hrs for dinner at the pub. You got a problem with the timing, day or place, ring me, but not right now.” Getting in, he started the engine and drove off, sending her one searing look as he did so.

  Holy cow. Freakin’ heck. Hells bells! Bree’s knees gave out and she slid down the wall to sit on the veranda. The throbbing between her thighs was a true indication of just how Nick’s actions and words had affected her, not to mention that her nipples were poking at her bra.

  Sheba let out a nerve-shattering screech and came up onto the veranda, sitting and staring at her, opening her mouth to screech once more.

  “Respect,” Bree informed her with a dry mouth, “is really over-rated.”

  ~*~

  Cutting wood was a great stress reliever. Straightening, Nick wiped his brow. A pile of cut wood was neatly stacked against the shed and there was still more to cut. Good. It felt good to have an axe handle in his palms, a soothingness in the steady rhythm of swing, hit, split and repeat.

  Alex approached holding a mug of coffee. “Need a break?”

  “Thoughtful of you.”

  “Nah. Thoughtful of Harly. She saw you swinging away out here and felt sorry for you. I told her it was character-building and you don’t need coddling, but you know my wife, always feeling sorry for the strays.”

  “Thanks, man.” Nick grinned.

  Alex handed him the mug. “So, you’re going out tonight, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “With The Goodbye Girl.”

  “Yep.” The coffee was strong, hot, and he took an appreciative mouthful.

  “Pub dinner.”

  “You wangling for an invite?”

  “Nope. Any idea how long you’ll be out?”

  Nick eyed him over the rim of the mug. “When am I allowed back?”

  “I’m just pointing out that we’ll probably be in bed.”

  “Early night?”

  Alex leered. “If I have my way.”

  “I get it. What’s my curfew?”

  “I’m thinking you’re not going to be back until late anyway, so here.” Alex handed him a key.

  Surprised, Nick took it. “What’s this?”

  “It’s a key. It opens doors. See, you just stick this bit in the silver thingy on the door and-”

  “Arsehole.”

  Alex laughed. “It’s a spare house key. Harly and I might go out or stay in, so just in case we thought you better have a key to let yourself in. This way you won’t have to wait for the grown-ups to come home.”

  Nick slid it into his pocket. “Thanks, mate.”

  “No worries.” Alex looked at the wood. “I’m impressed. You made quite a dent in that pile.”

  The pile had greatly diminished, he couldn’t deny it. “Feels good, you know? Just to work around home. Your home.”

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Hands in his pockets, Alex rocked back and forth in his sneakers. “I promised Harly I’d paint the shed soon.”

  “What colour?”

  “Pink.”

  Nick paused. “That’s her choice, right?”

  “No. Mine. I thought a pretty pastel pink with blue trim.”

  “It’ll look great.”

  “Harly wanted dark blue, but I said, ‘Honey, you need something pretty.’”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s what you said. I can just see it.” Nick hefted another slab of wood onto the chopping block. “I think some hanging baskets with petunias in it would look lovely.”

  “Petunias? You think? Not violets?”

  “Definitely petunias. All those pretty colours.”

  “You might be onto something there.”

  Nick cast him a wry look. “Country air is doing things to you, man.”

  “Good things.” Alex’s grin widened. “Not good enough to make me paint the shed pastels, and sure as hell no hanging baskets on it.”

  “So you’re going with dark blue, huh?”

  “That’s the plan. Harly tells me what to do, and I do it.”

  “The little Captain.”

  “Yeah, but don’t let her hear you calling her that.” Alex picked up the empty mug. “I’m heading back. You okay out here?”

  “Yep.” Nick positioned the block of wood.

  “You know, your staying here doesn’t depend on you doing chores.”

  “I know. I just like to help out.”

  “I understand. Okay.” Alex started to walk away.

  Nick looked up. “Alex.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you and Harly ever want to have a quiet evening or something, you know, just tell me and I’ll make myself scarce.”

  Alex smiled. “No worries.”

  “I mean it. I’m not here to interfere in the time you two have together.”

  Turning back, Alex looked him in the eyes. “You’re our friend, Nick, and a damned good one. You’ve always ensured Harly and I have time together alone, don’t think we haven’t noticed. If I need time with Harley, I’ll let you know. But we’re not kicking you out, and you’re definitely not in the way. Okay?”

  A little tension eased from Nick. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” Alex strode away. “Keep swinging, princess, if you want to toast your toes by the fire tonight.”

  Nick grinned. “I’ve got a date, remember?”

  “Oh yeah.” Alex winked over his shoulder. “You’ll be making your own fire.”

  Nick wasn’t so sure about that. Well, he was sure he’d get toasted, he couldn’t help but stand next to Bree and start to feel the smoulder of rut. Yep, rut, because that’s what he felt like whenever she got all up-in-his face. He wanted to throw her down and have his wicked way with her, tame her only enough so that she knew who was boss, and then have all out hot sex.

  If she didn’t first knee him in the nuts for daring to try and show her who was boss.

  Laughing to himself, Nick swung the axe, the crack of it slicing completely through the block of wood satisfying.

  No one could tame Bree Ford. The woman was definitely an independent soul and he liked that, liked it a lot. It didn’t take a genius to see that she’d developed that independent streak because she’d had to, with a mother who was more interested in chasing UFOs, smoking marijuana, and letting her child roam around at night in the desert or mountains while she shagged another man in the camper van. No way should a child have to be brought up like that, but Bree had, and she’d survived to be a far better woman than her mother.

  The amusement faded as Nick struck another block of wood, splitting it neatly in half. Bree had virtually almost been alone most of her young life, and he understood that that was where she’d developed her backbone. No wonder she’d wanted to ream him a new one when he’d dared to stick up for her against Ted, but hell, he wasn’t the kind of man to let any woman face an annoyed man alone. Not while he was around, and definitely not Bree. Ted had started hinting at her being crazy and if Nick had of been a dog, he’d have had the ridge up on his back from neck to tail. Pulling Bree behind him while he faced Ted was instinc
t, one of protection, and whether she liked it or not, Nick protected his own.

  She just had to realise that she was his. Nick split another block, split it again, and tossed the quarters on the growing pile.

  Yep, The Goodbye Girl had been his in writing for the last nine months, but he wasn’t letting her go. She was his Goodbye Girl. She’d be his in body, mind and soul.

  The body part was tantalising. Heh heh. He stared into the distance, a small smile on his lips. Man, he’d seen the heat of desire in her eyes and those beguiling nipples pressing against her shirt yesterday when he’d told her exactly what he wanted to do to her. He’d gone home with a raging stiffy that only went down in a frigid shower. It didn’t go down easily, either, it was a bit of a fight. To be honest, he’d had to wrestle it into submission by, well, jerking off. Hadn’t had to do that in awhile.

  He couldn’t wait for the day he found his release deep inside that mouth-wateringly curvy body. Handfuls of lush hips, plump thighs soft against his hard ones, generous breasts to feast on…yep, he couldn’t wait.

  He also had the beginnings of another stiffy.

  With a sigh, Nick resumed swinging the axe.

  He just had to wait until Bree was ready. No way would he coerce her. Well, he wouldn’t dissuade her, either. Okay, he’d not be above encouraging her, but he wouldn’t force it or try to talk her into it before she was ready. She had to choose the time.

  He just hoped she’d do it before he wore his palms out.

  By the time he’d finished splitting and stacking all the wood, it was lunchtime. Harly had a stew simmering on the stove and home baked bread, and he could nothing but have a little R & R in the lounge, flopped on the sofa watching the footy with old Buffy at his feet and old Pepper curled up on his lap. Harly placed a mug of steaming chocolate on the little table by his the side of the sofa, ruffled his hair and crossed to Alex, who was flopped in an armchair with Chuckie along the back of it, the one-eyed cat’s tail flicking across his neck now and again. Alex got a mug of chocolate and a kiss on the forehead, and then Harly disappeared into the sewing room with Sunny and left them to it.

  It was a nice, cosy way to spend a chilly afternoon. It would have been nicer if Bree was snuggled up to him, but he’d take what he could get and this was as close to home as he’d been since his parents passed away.

  He wanted this kind of home, this warmth, a place to hang his hat and know was his. Going back to Army life…it was still under consideration. Working with Paul had reawakened his love of building things, something he’d forgotten since he rarely had the time or place to do it. But now…could he give up military life for civilian life?

  He still had time to think about it.

  Pushing it from his mind, he focussed on the football game and settled down for a lazy afternoon.

  ~*~

  Right on 1800hrs, Nick pulled the Landcruiser to a halt in front of Bree’s home and braked. Hopping out, he strode across the ground, noting the veranda light that shed a warm glow. Kind of like a welcome.

  Talk about being fanciful. Next thing he’d be doing embroidery and making daisy chains.

  Grinning, he knocked on the door.

  “It’s open!” a voice shouted from inside.

  Open? Yeah, it was. Closing the doors behind him, Nick frowned. “Why isn’t it locked?”

  Bree looked out from a side room. “Because I knew you were coming.”

  “It might not have been me.”

  “We have a date, right?”

  “Yes.” He walked down the hallway, stepping over Bast, who was lying right in the middle of the hallway runner clutching a feather duster she was kicking to death.

  “So why wouldn’t it have been you?” Her head disappeared from view.

  Turning into the lounge, Nick replied, “What if I’d been late?”

  “Let’s not play the ‘what if’ game, okay?” She gestured to him from where she sat at a little table against the window. “Check this out.”

  “We’re not playing ‘what if’. Keep your doors locked when you’re here by yourself.” Coming to a stop behind her, he tugged her ponytail gently. “Understood?”

  “Yes, Sir!” She snapped off a salute without looking at him, her attention on the open laptop.

  “How about a nicer greeting?” Using her ponytail to gently pull her head back so that she was looking up at him, Nick dropped a kiss on her surprised mouth.

  Man, he could have kissed her all night, licked her right out, but he was determined to go softly. Subtly. Ravaging her mouth wasn’t on the agenda right now.

  Damn shame, that.

  Lifting his head, he smiled down at her face. Yep, definitely a little dreamy looking now. “Hi, Bree.”

  “Hi, Nick.” A smile wreathed her lips - those rosy, kissable lips - stop it! - and a definite blush was in her cheeks.

  God, she was cute when flustered. Cute enough to - Jesus, get a grip!

  Controlling his libido which was threatening to go off in all lusty directions, Nick let her ponytail go, braced both hands on the back of the chair and looked over her head at the laptop. “Check what out?”

  “What?” She blinked, her head tipping forward as she cleared her throat. “Oh - ah. This. See this?”

  “Forest? Trees? Bushes? Am I looking for Sheba?”

  “Why would Sheba be in this photo?”

  “Then what am I looking for?”

  “What do you see?”

  He scrutinized the photo. Trees, bushes. “Nature?”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Okay. What about this?” A click of the mouse and another photo came up. Similar scenery. “See anything unusual;?”

  It dawned on him. “These are the scenes from Ted’s place?”

  “Yep. See anything unusual?”

  “To be honest, no.”

  “Exactly.” Half turning in the chair, she looked up at him triumphantly. “Nothing.”

  “And this is a good thing?” he asked slowly.

  “Depending on your point of view. Of course it’s disappointing that there’s no sign of UFOs, extraterrestrial activity, not even a tiny boot print. Just as it was disappointing not to pick up any fluctuations in the electromagnetic fields.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “However, we now know that it was most likely teenagers playing silly buggers out in the fields.”

  “Forest, actually. The field was empty.”

  “Whatever.” She beamed up at him.

  He studied her face. “You’re a strange woman, Bree Ford.”

  “Why?”

  “You seem happy, yet you found nothing.”

  “Hey, I’ve solved a mystery. That’s progress.”

  He couldn’t help but grin.

  Standing up, she moved past him. “So, we ready to go?”

  “I’m here waiting.”

  “And I’m ready. Man, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse.” She paused. “Not that I ever have.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to have.”

  “Just so you know, some countries eat horse meat.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “Yeah. This Friesian bloke I once knew ate horse meat in his country. Poor gee-gees.”

  Amused, Nick followed her to the lounge door. “Have you eaten ‘roo meat?”

  “A couple of times. Not really to my taste.” Pulling on her jacket, she wrinkled her nose. “Meat’s very strong.”

  “Low cholesterol.”

  “Poor Skippy.”

  “Do you eat steak?”

  “Yes.”

  “Poor moo-moo.”

  “Let’s not get childish about this, Nick.” Grinning, she darted into the kitchen. “I’ll just check where Sheba is and put some more biccies out for them. Just be a tick.”

  Leaning against the door frame, Nick gazed around the lounge. The furniture looked new, yet it had an old world air about it. Bree had obviously furnished the house to reflect the age of it, an
d done it nicely, everything comfortable and homey-looking. Soft colours, crocheted doilies on the back of the sofa and chairs, a lace tablecloth on the small table where the laptop sat, a vase of flowers on the sideboard. That was a bit dicey, considering Bast lurked around the house. Pictures on the wall, little ornaments in a glass case and on the mantelpiece and-

  Nick’s eyebrows shot up. Hello. There was a big poster on the far wall with a photo of a spaceship emitting a beam of light, underneath it a grey alien face with black eyes. Printed at the bottom were the words: ‘I Do Believe’.

  Amongst the ornaments, well, there was a little glass Buddha, a couple of porcelain Victorian ladies, a plaster horse and cart, a crystal church, a small, plastic, grey alien with big black eyes, a figurine of Chewbacca from Star Wars, a little spaceship on a stand, and pride of place, a complete boxed DVD set of The X-Files.

  He glanced towards the TV. Unable to clearly see the titles of the DVDs beneath, Nick crossed over and knelt down before the shelf. ‘Ghostbusters’, numerous episodes of ‘Battlestar Galactica’ and ‘Supernatural’, along with a smattering of horror DVDs. There were also some DVDs in plain covers, and when he drew one out, the title was written on the front in marking pen. ‘UFO Hunting Team: True UFO Sightings.’

  Placing the DVD back in its slot, he straightened and scratched his head. Huh.

  Hearing a noise behind him, he turned to see Bree standing with her hands in her jacket pockets, one eyebrow raised. “We still going out?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Thought maybe the DVD collection might put you off.”

  “I’m made of sterner stuff than that.” Grinning, he crossed to her, slipping one arm around her shoulders to steer her down the hallway. “I’m into weirdo UFO hunters myself.”

  “Not UFOs?”

  “Honey, let’s not go there.”

  “Honey, let’s do.”

  Picking up the scarf that was lying on the hall table, Nick wrapped it around her neck, keeping both ends in his hands to tug her gently forward while leaning down until they were nose to nose. “Let’s not.” He kissed her, soft and gentle, felt her sway in to him with a little moan. But he didn’t let it last, lifting his head to smile down at her. “Ready?”