The Goodbye Girl

by Angela Verdenius

  “I’d be your boyfriend,” Smithy told Mack.

  “Not friggin’ likely.”

  “Not liking the direction this is going.” Paul took a sip of coffee. “Damn, Maryanne can make a beaut coffee. So anyway, at the hairdressers this morning the fairer sex was talking about taking it up the backdoor.”

  Nick choked on his Tim Tam, the crumbs spraying out as he tried to cough it up out of his bronchial tubes. By the time he caught his breath and the blokes had stopped laughing, he glared at Paul. “Jesus, man, give some warning!”

  “Hey, that’s what I told Becky when I ducked home to get that folder I’d forgotten. I nearly choked to death.”

  Shaking his head, Nick wiped his mouth along the sleeve of his flannel shirt.

  “Never mind the dying shit, tell us about this backdoor stuff,” Mack demanded.

  “I thought you’d tried everything.” Paul widened his eyes in mock shock. “Oh, dearie me, has Mackie never knocked on the backdoor?”

  “Hey, I’ve done that plenty of times. I’m just wanting to know what the women are on about.”

  “Scared you scarred your previous lovers for life?” Smithy yawned. “Don’t sweat it. Your wanger's so small I doubt it’d have even dented the door frame.”

  Nick and Alex grinned while Mack flipped Smithy the bird.

  “Ladies, please.” Paul took a dainty bite of Tim Tam, his little finger artfully crooked. “I’m trying to impart knowledge.”

  “Gossip, you mean.” Nick snorted. “You gossip like an old man.”

  “Knowledge. I impart knowledge.” Paul paused. “Becky thinks I gossip.” He looked at Alex. “Do you think I gossip?”

  “Never.” Alex’s face was perfectly serious. “Now tell us what you heard on the grapevine.”

  “I think you’re mocking me.”

  “I’d never do that.” Alex looked at Nick. “Would I do that?”

  “Not to his face.”

  “See? Nothing to worry about, Paul.”

  “Bastards.” Paul waved around his biscuit. “Now, the women were talking about backdoor jobs. Seriously, who does - oh yeah, Mack. Okay, skipping over that stomach-churning image of Mack knocking on anyone’s backdoor, what do you all think?”

  Nick raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Seriously. What do you think?”

  “You want to know if I do it?”

  “No, dummy. Shit, no.” Paul made a gagging motion. “Hearing Mack’s confession was bad enough.”

  “Then what are you asking? ‘Cause I have to say, I’m getting a little confused.”

  “I’m asking what you think.”

  “Of anal sex?”

  “Am I surrounded by morons?” Paul flung up his hands, paused, thought about it. “Oh, wait…dumb question.” He sighed deeply. “What do you think of the women talking about it? Man, it’s like pulling teeth.”

  Nick couldn’t help it. “Is that your experience of anal sex? Sounds painful.”

  “I have a nail gun, Nick. Now that can be painful.”

  Nick laughed.

  “Come on, you mugs. What do you think about the women talking about backdoor jobs?”

  Alex shrugged. “Never thought about it.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m asking!” Exasperated, Paul rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t care,” Smithy replied. “I mean about the women. They can say what they want, think what they want.”

  “Oh, woman hater on the left. I forgot about your divorce.”

  Smithy just eyed him sourly.

  Paul looked at Alex. “What do you think?”

  “Doesn’t bother me.”

  Nick nodded, but he had to admit the thought of Bree discussing it was intriguing. What had she said?

  “Huh.” Paul looked thoughtful. “Then they started talking about sex positions. Their favourites.”

  Mack took a mouthful of coffee. “And they say all men can think about is sex.”

  “Yeah.” Paul scratched his head thoughtfully. “Apparently doggie style got a good vote.”

  Nick’s eyebrows rose. Really? He wondered what Bree had added to that conversation. She’d told him she’d not slept with anyone, so…vibrator? He’d heard some women used those things, the old fake dick with or without batteries. Had she?

  Not that she could use it while contorting herself in different positions. He guessed. He’d never really studied a vibrator, but she had to hold it, so that would have to take some of the fun out of it. Not being able to let herself go… Maybe he’d ask her.

  He grinned widely. Yeah, he could just imagine her face if he asked that, she’d go all pink. He loved it when she got flustered but tried to hide it.

  “Missionary position was also popular.” Paul interrupted his thoughts. “Because of all that closeness stuff.”

  “Closeness,” Mack echoed.

  “Looking into each other’s eyes, that kind of stuff. You know, romantic shit.”

  Mack shook his head in disgust. “Romantic shit’s right. That’s exactly what it is. You shag a sheila, it’s not romantic.”

  Definitely not in agreement, Nick glanced at Alex. Yep, his friend’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts, but Nick could read him. Alex didn’t agree, either. No way would Alex just shag Harly, he’d be all sweetness and gentle or attentive or something. All he knew was that what Alex and Harly had between them was special, he’d glimpsed the dreamy eyes on Harly when she’d drifted into the kitchen one morning, the hot look that crossed Alex’s face when she’d smiled at him Yeah, no simple shagging going on there and - shit, was he really doing this?

  Nick shook his head, dragged his thoughts from his friends having sex. Jesus, Paul was warping his mind. One did not think about one’s friends having sex.

  “When two people really love each other, it’s not shagging,” Alex said quietly, surprising even Nick by opening up. “It’s special.”

  Mack’s jaw dropped while Smithy rolled his eyes.

  “Just saying.” Alex calmly took a bite of Tim Tam, chewed and swallowed.

  Paul nodded slowly, an unaccustomed seriousness appearing on his face. “Yeah. Special.”

  Mack looked at Nick. “You hearing this shit?”

  Yeah, he was, but it wasn’t shit. Far from it.

  “Tell me I’m not the only man apart from the woman-hater here, who has a brain in his head,” Mack pleaded.

  “When you find someone special, you’ll know what we mean,” Nick said, meaning it.

  “Jesus, you too?”

  Nick shrugged. “Just my opinion.”

  Mack turned to Smithy. “Looks like its just you and me, mate. Just you and me.”

  Smithy just looked at him and drained the coffee from his mug.

  “Or maybe I’m flying solo on this.”

  Silence descended on the group of men as each got lost in his own thoughts.

  Nick looked unseeingly at the coffee in the go-to cup around which he had his hands cupped. No saint, he’d enjoyed sex with women, mostly faceless now, a couple he probably didn’t even remember. He hadn’t been chaste during his life that was for sure. But the truth was, he’d never looked forward to sex with any woman as much as he did with Bree. With her, he just knew it would be special, not just sex. It didn’t matter what position, it would be special. Because it was Bree.

  And he wanted it to be special for her first time, and hell, every time there after. Every time with Bree would be special, he’d see to that.

  Mack broke the silence. “If anyone here breaks out in a sloppy bloody love song, I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

  “You couldn’t sing to save your life,” Paul retorted. “And if anyone has the rest of the day off, it’s me. I’m the boss.”

  “Are we building this bloody room or swapping love stories?” Smithy tossed his to-go cup back in the box.

  Paul checked his watch. “Jesus, am I paying you bastards to sit around and gossip? Get to work!”

  “You�
��re not technically paying me and Nick,” Alex reminded him.

  “What’s your point?”

  ~*~

  Driving towards Bree’s house, Nick glanced at the morning sky. Sun shining, forecast of a clear day. Chilly but no need to rug up in heavy clothes. Everything green and fresh. A weekend with his honey. What more could he wish for?

  He’d agreed to help Bree do some repair work on the house and shed, though he wondered why she didn’t just ask her landlord. That was surely his responsibility, but still it was her call, not his. He was just happy to spend time with her with the added bonus of repair work. He was definitely rediscovering his talent for that.

  Turning into the driveway, he drove down the track and pulled up under the tree not far from the house. At the sight that met his eyes, he scowled, opening the door quickly while snapping his seat belt off.

  “Damn, it, Bree!” He strode over the grass.

  She didn’t hear him. What a surprise. Leona Lewis was belting out ‘Unlove Me’ from the CD player on the veranda, while Sheba was shrieking a running commentary to Bree from where the little cat sat on the step.

  Combined, it was enough to send any man deaf.

  It didn’t cool his annoyance one iota, however. Coming to a stop below where a long plank was propped between two ladders, he looked up at the generous bottom swaying to the music.

  Bree was standing on a freakin’ plank suspended above the ground between two stepladders while she painted the top of the window frame. Even as he watched, she rocked one heel and waved her arm around to the music as she belted out a couple of words.

  The drops of paint just missed him.

  Damn it, the woman could fall off and break a leg. Definitely had no business being on a plank like that, jigging around to bloody music did not make for safety.

  Then she almost gave him a heart attack as she shimmied a little on the plank.

  That was the last straw.

  Crossing to the CD player, Nick switched it off. Sheba stopped caterwauling almost immediately. Maybe she was singing to the music in her own way. Who knew?

  “Hey!” Bree turned her head, a welcoming smile crossing her face. “Nick. You’re here.”

  “Are you insane?” Striding back to the ladder, he tapped it with one finger. “Get down now.”

  “In a minute, I’m painting this windowsill.”

  “Now.”

  Surprise crossed her face. “You all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. Neither will you be in a minute if you don’t get down off there right now.”

  Surprise was replaced by annoyance. “What got up your bum?”

  “Come down and you won’t get smacked on yours.”

  She pointed the paintbrush at him. “You might want to take that remark back, Nick.” Deliberately, she bounced a little on the plank. “What’s your problem?”

  His heart nearly leapt out of his throat. “Shit!” He hurried to brace one hand on the back of her thigh.

  “Cripes, what is wrong with you?” She scowled down at him.

  “You balancing on that plank is not safe, Bree. Now get down.”

  “I’m perfectly safe.” She did another little bounce. “See?”

  “It is not safe. Now for the last time, get down.”

  “Nick-”

  “Or I’m taking you down.”

  She laughed in his face. Actually had the gall to laugh. “You and what crane?”

  Oh boy, she hadn’t just said that, had she? “Seriously, Bree? You want to go there?”

  For several seconds her face was puzzled, then awareness dawned. And damned if she didn’t toss her head, that jaunty pony tail bouncing cheekily. “Don’t presume to tell me what to-”

  “Five.”

  “I’m not going to-”

  “Four.”

  “Shit, Nick.”

  “Three.”

  “I am not a child!”

  “Two.” He readjusted his hand, sliding it further up that rounded thigh, thumb and fingers curving to hold securely. Angry or not, if she fell off and got hurt he’d never forgive himself.

  “You can’t just-”

  “One.”

  “I’m coming down!” Bree stepped sideways quickly, almost giving him another heart attack as the plank wobbled a little.

  All he could do was brace himself for when she fell off, but she didn’t, instead sliding sideways like a pro tightrope walker until she got to the ladder, then, still clutching the paintbrush in one hand, she swung herself around and climbed down.

  Nick kept his hands on her the whole way, his hold going from her thigh to clasping her hips with both hands, sliding up to her waist and then under her arms as she stepped to the ground.

  Swinging around, she held up the paintbrush warningly. “Lay one hand on me and I’ll whack you.”

  “One whack and you won’t sit for a week.”

  “You’ve already threatened me.”

  “We had an agreement.”

  “It was your dumb idea. I didn’t agree.”

  Grasping her shoulders, he yanked her closer. Looking down at her, deliberately towering over her, Nick spoke between clenched teeth. “You did two things wrong. One, you degraded yourself again-”

  “It was a joke!”

  “Two, you put yourself in danger.”

  “Danger?” She glared at him. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “That plank is not sturdy.”

  “Are you saying I’m too heavy for it?”

  “I’m saying it’s a narrow plank and unstable between the ladders.”

  “I’ve done this heaps of times, Nick. I’m not an idiot. The ground is firm beneath the ladders, the plank is strong enough. You’re overreacting.”

  “I am not-”

  “You are.” Seemingly oblivious to the paintbrush which dripped white paint down her pants leg, she shoved her fists onto her hips. “How do you think I survived before you came along? By learning how to do things myself, that’s how.”

  “I’m here now, there’s no need to take these risks.” Nick shoved a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve seen men fall off. You weren’t even concentrating on staying on the plank.”

  “I was so.”

  “You were dancing around to the music!”

  “Nick.” She prodded him in the chest with one white-spattered finger. “I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.”

  Bullshit. “By falling off a plank?’

  “I didn’t fall off.”

  “And if you had?”

  “I’d get some bruises.”

  “You might have broken something, then what?”

  Exasperated, she replied, “I’m not indestructible, Nick, but you can’t wrap me in cotton wool.”

  “Bloody oath I can.”

  “You jerk.”

  “I don’t care what you call me, I’ll protect you as much as I can and if that means stopping you doing something that could hurt you, I will.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?”

  Yeah, he was, and it made perfect sense. Why she couldn’t see it was beyond him.

  “Nick, what happens when you go back to Iraq or Afghanistan, or even Perth or Melbourne or somewhere? How are you going to protect me from way over there?”

  “You will get a tradesman in to do these kinds of jobs.”

  She shook her head. “Not going to happen.”

  The stubborn woman could make a saint swear. “Don’t you understand how I’m trying to stop you from getting hurt?”

  “That’s sweet and I appreciate it.”

  She could have fooled him. Nick exhaled loudly.

  “Don’t get all huffy, soldier boy. You can’t be around me twenty four seven, even if you lived here in Whicha. And I couldn’t stand being hovered over like a baby chick new to the world.”

  Damn it. She had a point, he could see that but…“Bree-”

  “Five.”

  He blinked.

  “Four.”

/>   What the hell?

  “Three.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

  “Making a point.”

  “That’s not a point.”

  “Yeah, it is. When I do something you don’t like, you get all huffy and start that stupid countdown. So you know what? I don’t like what you’re doing, so I’m doing the countdown. Two.”

  Bree could tie him in knots like no other woman. One minute he was fully ready to tan her hide, the next she had his sense of the ridiculous coming to the fore.

  Nick shook his head. “Oh, honey.”

  “What?” Suspiciously, she looked up at him.

  “A couple of things. One - that countdown is not in the agreement.”

  “Hey, if you can add things to that stupid punishment list, so can I!”

  “That’s my prerogative.” At her outraged gasp, he couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips.

  She obviously struggled with that little claim for several seconds, her mouth opening and shutting. First time he’d ever seen her lost for words. It still didn’t alter the fact that he was angry. Maybe not as angry, but still angry.

  “That’s not fair,” she finally protested.

  “What’s not fair is putting yourself in danger.”

  “No, Nick. What’s not fair is you wanting me to change.”

  That took him aback. “What?”

  “You heard.”

  “I don’t want you to change.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Puzzlement now warred with anger. “What are you on about?”

  “This is me, Nick. This is what I do.” She pointed at the ladders and plank. “I can’t change who I am or what I do because you might get angry and start that countdown. This is what I was talking about at the pub the other night.”

  Frustrated, he leaned down to eye her on a more level field. “Look, Bree, I don’t want to change you. Firstly, that countdown wasn’t anything to do with the fact that you wouldn’t get down immediately, or that you did it in the first place. It was for the crack about the crane.”

  “What crane?”

  “When I said I’d get you down if you didn’t come down.”

  “I didn’t think when I said it.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “I don’t see why it worries you so much. It’s my big bum I was cracking on about and- oh shit.” Now she looked both annoyed and nervous. “Your pupils just dilated.”