The Goodbye Girl

by Angela Verdenius

  Was it any wonder? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, another, centred his thoughts. Hell, he’d fought in battles, led men through enemy territory, been under enemy fire, faced the enemy and obnoxious fellow soldiers, dealt with the snot-nosed young soldiers who came into the unit thinking they were hot-shit and prepared to push the seemingly easy-going Sarge a little. He’d dealt with them all with quiet, calm efficiency, keeping a cool head all the way through.

  Then along came a luscious woman with laughing eyes and a smart mouth, and he lost his cool. This one curvy woman could tie him in knots like no other person had ever been able to.

  Because he cared.

  And if he wasn’t careful, his caring was going to drive her away. At the thought, his hands tightened almost convulsively on her upper arms.

  Nick?” Now she sounded worried.

  Opening his eyes, he saw that he was correct. Bree was gazing worriedly up at him. “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry I made you mad.” The apology was unexpected.

  So was the unfairness. It really wasn’t her fault. With a sigh, Nick straightened, drawing her against him with one hand cupping her head, the other between her shoulder blades. “I’m sorry, too, honey. I’m not like this normally, I…”

  The paint brush was tossed aside to fall in the dirt. Her arms slid around his waist and she rested her head against his chest. “Are you all right?”

  The unexpected concern was totally expected from this woman. She had the power to bring him to his knees, though she had no idea of it. “Bree, you’re right, I over reacted. Your apology isn’t necessary.”

  “Yeah, it is.” She sighed in turn. “You were concerned and I didn’t listen to you.”

  “I don’t want you to change.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, a couple of silken strands tickling his nose. “I never want you to change. I love you just the way you are.”

  “Sweetie, that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She squeezed her arms around his waist.

  “I mean it.” He nuzzled his nose in the fragrant hair before dropping another kiss on it and leaning down a little to rest his chin on top of her head. “It’s been so long - no, let me start again. I have been concerned about people, I’ve cared about them. I’ve done everything in my power to protect them.”

  “Your mates and your soldier buddies.”

  “Yeah. But you, you’re different.”

  “I choose to take that as a compliment.” He heard the smile in her voice, felt her relax against him.

  God, he loved that. Loved how her soft body leaned into him so trustingly.

  “It is.” He slid his palm down to the small of her back. “I don’t think I can change, either.”

  “I never asked you to.”

  “I mean about my reactions to your actions.”

  “I am so surprised,” she said dryly.

  Cheeky chit. Nick smiled wryly. “You’re independent and you can take care of yourself. I know that, I respect it. But I’ll still go all gonzo on you when I see something you do that I think is dangerous.”

  “Huh.”

  “I promise to try and tone down my reactions. I just can’t promise to not care or try to protect you.”

  “I have a feeling that’s a big compromise for you.” Pulling back just a little, she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Her eyes were warm, a smile curving her lips.

  Relief spilled through him. He hadn’t buggered it all up as he’d feared, hadn’t driven her away. “Yeah, it is.” Reaching up, he tugged gently on her ponytail. “Don’t take advantage of it.”

  She still smiled, but her gaze turned serious. “I think that calls for some compromising on my part.”

  Interesting. Waiting to hear what she’d say, Nick played with her ponytail.

  “In turn, I will try not to react to your reactions. And I’ll listen to your concerns without going all gonzo on you. Okay?”

  “Okay.” He paused. “Are you going to promise to follow my suggestions?”

  “Nick, sweetie.” Patiently, she patted his chest with one hand. “You don’t make suggestions, you bark orders.”

  Catching her hand, he brought it up to his mouth to drop a kiss on her knuckles. Her hand smelled like paint, but he couldn’t care less if it was covered in diesel. “I don’t have a problem with it. It’s my job to bark orders.”

  “You are such a dill.” She laughed.

  Unable to help himself, Nick ducked down and caught her lips, swallowing her laugh, covering her mouth in a kiss that started off as an impulsive gesture but went a whole lot further really fast.

  One taste of her and he was lost. One press of her full breasts against his chest and he was swept away in a tide of pleasure that quickly turned carnal. She was so soft against him, so responsive, kissing him back enthusiastically, her mouth eating at him as much as he feasted on her’s.

  Wanting her closer, needing her closer, Nick’s hands swept lower, cupping that generous bottom and hauling her up against him. In response, her arms went around his neck and pulled him closer.

  The kiss grew hotter, longer, and a damn sight more lustful. By the time they broke apart, Nick was more than ready to drag her inside and get a hell of a lot closer. And naked. Yeah, he really wanted her naked and beneath him.

  Panting, Bree looked up at him. “Wow.”

  He couldn’t answer, not when those lush lips were moving right before him, giving him tantalizing peeks of that honeyed mouth that he knew the taste of and wanted more. So much more.

  So instead of answering, he kissed her again. He didn’t even realise he’d backed her up to the house until his knuckles hit the brick. Good. It meant she couldn’t retreat further and he had her trapped.

  Dropping one hand to her waist where it indented sweetly between her lush hips and breasts, Nick braced his other hand on the wall and pinned her there, holding her immobile as he kissed her, licking deep, wanting her essence as he always did when he tasted her.

  Drinking from her, tracing her lips with his tongue, nipping at her mouth before crushing it beneath his fiercely, taking over the kiss, mastering her, controlling it.

  His hand under her jumper, slipping beneath her shirt, finding all that smooth, warm, silky skin, fingers sliding upward to edge beneath the under wire of her bra and touch the bare under swell of one heavy breast.

  Oh God, he wanted that heavy globe in his palm, filling it, overflowing. Wanted to find that beguiling nipple that was pebbling in desire even now, pushing at his chest through their clothes. Find that nipple and engulf it in his mouth, suck on it and draw keening cries from Bree.

  His shaft was so stiff, so hungry, pressing urgently at the zipper on his jeans as it painfully demanded release.

  Lifting his head, he took a step back, bringing Bree along with him by the simple task of hooking his fingers in the bottom of her bra and drawing her forward.

  She followed him trustingly, the desire flushing her cheeks, her eyes bright with heat.

  Trustingly.

  She trusted him.

  Nick blinked, shook his head as the thought, both welcome and unwelcome, went through him.

  Welcome because he wanted her trust.

  Unwelcome because if he took her inside now in her aroused state and made love to her, would not that be a form of coercement? He’d promised her he’d never coerce her, he’d wait until she was ready.

  Damn his sense of honour.

  With a groan, he released her. “Bree, we can’t.”

  “Hmmm?” Dreamily, she looked up at him.

  Manfully, he tugged her shirt straight, then her jumper, securing it over her hips. “We have to stop.” Man, he needed a bloody medal.

  “Why?”

  Seeing her kiss-swollen lips, he groaned. “Jesus, I’m either a saint or an idiot.” One step back that took him a lot of effort. “Don’t take offence, honey, but I’m going out back. Don’t follow me.”

  He left her standing, staring after him in
a haze of bewildered lust.

  Leaving her to retreat around to the back of the house to regain control of his rampaging lust was a feat that beat any heroism he could think of. Nothing had been harder to do in his entire life, and that included walking across enemy territory in the dark, hoping he didn’t step on a bomb. He’d done some nerve-wracking things in his life that had earned him a couple of medals, but leaving Bree when it would have been so easy to lead her inside and have her naked beneath him within minutes was the hardest.

  The ever-loving, bloody, freakin’ hardest.

  No medal could make up for that.

  Sheba screeched at his feet, the unholy sound sending a couple of birds shooting out of a nearby tree and into the sky. The sound could make the nails pop out of the old barn walls.

  Fighting his raging hard-on, Nick sighed. Obviously, karma was a bitch.

  It was awhile before he could walk back around to the front of the house without doing it gingerly. His hair was wet from the cold water he’d pumped over it in the laundry, the chilling rivulets running down his neck and into his shirt helping to clear his senses.

  Wondering what Bree would say when he reappeared, he found her sitting on the top veranda step. She watched him silently, her cheeks pink, her eyes steady, her lips still swollen from his kiss.

  God, the woman could kiss back, too.

  Without saying a word, Nick settled down beside her, bumping her gently with his shoulder when she didn’t say anything. “All right, honey?”

  “Why did you stop?” she asked bluntly.

  “Because you’re not ready.”

  Half expecting her to argue, call him a jerk, something, he was surprised when instead she stood, ruffled his hair with her hand and moved down the steps to delve into a box sitting on the ground. Taking out a new paint brush, she moved back to the ladder, casting him a look as she put one foot on the bottom rung.

  Nick sighed but didn’t say anything, even though he really wanted to walk over, yank her into his arms, make hard love to her, then paint the bloody windowsill himself so she wouldn’t be at risk of falling. Instead, honourable drongo that he was, he stood and crossed to the ladder, holding it steady while she started climbing.

  That generous backside was on eye level and he couldn’t help it. If he couldn’t hold it while plunging into her, then he could give it the other thing it deserved. Reaching up, he gave it a light whack.

  “Hey!” Looking over her shoulder, she stared down at him. “What the hell?”

  “Five second rule, remember?” He arched an eyebrow at her.

  “You’re such a control freak.”

  “That’s right. Control.”

  “And a caveman. I can’t believe you whacked me.”

  “Remember the deal.” He grinned. “You were overdue for it.”

  “Jerk.” Placing one foot on the plank, she started sidling sideways across it. Casting him a slanting look when she stopped near the tin of paint, she smirked suddenly. “Didn’t feel it anyway through these pants.”

  “I went light for the first time.” God, he loved her sassiness, and yep, there went the toss of the head and the swing of a jaunty ponytail. “And short.”

  “Take your kinkiness out the back and fix my shed. That should take the lead out of your pencil.”

  The woman had a mouth on her, no doubt about it. Laughing, relieved he hadn’t upset or offended her, he started towards the back of the house. “The tools and everything are in the shed?”

  “Yep. You remember the problem areas?”

  “Honey, I saw them on Thursday when I came across, remember?”

  “Forgot.”

  He’d just gotten to the corner of the house when she yelled out, “And who said I wasn’t ready?”

  Nick tripped over his own feet and nearly hit the wall. Untangling his feet, he swung around to stare at her in disbelief. “What?”

  “Too late now, sweetie.” Cheerfully, she started painting the windowsill. “Not in the mood.”

  She’d be the death of him. “You mean you were?”

  “Before you go out the back, please turn on the CD player. I need to get my painting mojo back.”

  Painting mojo? He couldn’t stop wondering just how close he’d gotten, just what he might have missed out on.

  Eyeing her, he switched on the CD player and music blared out. Bree got her shimmy going, feet sure on the plank, the ladders steady as a rock.

  “If you fall,” he yelled above the music, “your arse is mine!”

  Grinning, she flipped him the bird and kept painting.

  Shaking his head, Nick walked around to the back of the house.

  Bast tore past him into the open doorway of the shed, stopping in the opening to wait for him impatiently. Going by her big blue eyes and bristling whiskers, she was excited at the thought of hanging around to see what he was doing. He’d have to watch that he didn’t step on her, or trip on her and kiss the dust himself.

  Maybe there was something to this karma thing after all, he thought, when Sheba appeared in the doorway to scream her excitement at him. Blue balls and a pair of miscreants intent on causing havoc while he worked. He was being punished. Which was a bitch in itself, seeing as how he’d done the noble thing.

  Not all good boys got rewarded, it seemed. Looked like karma was a woman after all.

  Chapter 8

  Standing beside the Ford transit van, Bree smiled at Frank. “Thanks for replacing the door.” She swung it backward and forward. “Good as new.”

  “Not easy finding doors for this model van.” Frank patted the snubby nose of the Ford. “Lucky to get that one.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe you should look at upgrading.”

  “Sell the van?” She was horrified. “My van?”

  “It’s an old model, very old. You could get one of them cheap little imports, one of those-”

  “Sell my van? Are you insane?” Bree hooked her arm through the open car door window.

  Frank paused. “Apparently I am.”

  “This is a classic. This I can drive, sleep in, live in if there’s a disaster.”

  “Disaster?”

  “Bushfire, flood, alien invasion.”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “This van, Frank, was built to withstand anything. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

  “I was talking about alien invasions. You’re joking, right?”

  “Why would I be joking?”

  Frank shook his head. “Never mind.”

  “One must always be prepared.” Bree laughed silently when the panel beater eyed her more warily. “If you need any survival tips, come to me.”

  “I don’t think tin foil on the head will work.”

  “You’ve watched ‘Signs’ starring Mel Gibson. I’m impressed.”

  “My kids watched it. I was just sitting in the lounge with nothing to do that day.”

  Bree patted him on the shoulder. “You keep telling yourself that, Frank.” Getting into the van, she shut the door and started the engine. “What did you think of Star Wars?”

  “Of what?”

  She winked at him and drove away, letting a gurgle of amusement pass her lips when she glanced in the rear-view mirror to see Frank scratching his head. Made her day.

  Whistling cheerfully, she drove through town, pulling up at the café to buy a couple of iced chocolates, the kind with ice cream in and cream on top. Placing the decadent treats in the tray on the floor of the van, she made her way carefully to the outskirts of Whicha, continuing onwards until she reached Harly’s driveway. Pulling up in the drive, she got out, retrieved the tray with the two tall, plastic cups with their dome-covered lids, and went up the veranda to knock on the door. “Open up, Harly! I’m holding two iced chocolates hostage!”

  Harly appeared. “What’s the ransom?”

  “Sisterly advice.”

  “Really?” Harly opened the door.

  “Confidential, sisterly adv
ice.”

  “I can do that. Come in.”

  Bree hesitated in the hallway. “Where to?”

  “I’m making a stew for dinner, so if you don’t mind, the kitchen.”

  “Not at all.”

  Entering the kitchen which smelled heavenly of cooking meat and herbs, Bree placed the tray of iced chocolates on the kitchen bench near where Harly had been cutting vegetables on a cutting board. Hopping up on one of the stools, she took a iced chocolate from the tray and took several long sips. “Ahhh, that hits the spot.”

  Swallowing a mouthful of iced chocolate, Harly sighed blissfully. “Wow, I haven’t had one of these in weeks.”

  “Kind of one of those celebratory drinks,” Bree agreed.

  “Or comfort drink.” Harly studied her. “What’s up?”

  She looked down at her drink. Hmmm. Somehow she thought this’d be easier.

  “Confidential,” her friend reminded her. “Non-judgemental.”

  “I know that. I trust you. That’s why I came here.”

  “Well, then…”

  Bree took another fortifying sip. “I’m not used to asking opinions, you know?”

  “No, I didn’t.” Harly’s expression was calm, patient

  “Well, I didn’t really have any confidents. To confide in.”

  “Okay.”

  “Growing up, I kinda did it all myself, worked things out for myself. You know?”

  “I hear you.”

  Bree fell silent.

  After several seconds had passed, Harly picked up a carrot and started peeling it. “The boys haven’t gotten home yet. I’m not expecting them back for several hours.”

  “Where’ve they gone?” Bree leaned her chin on one hand, glad for a brief respite from her own thoughts.

  “Paul’s ute broke down. He refuses to get his mechanics to fix it, reckons he can do it himself.” Harly smiled. “Jack and Will, his mechanics, have a bet going with him that he’ll come crawling back to them for help. Alex and Nick took pity on him and have gone across to see if they can help him get the ute going again.”

  “Isn’t that cheating?”

  “Yes. Yes, it is.” Picking up another carrot, Harly continued peeling.