A Roast on Sunday

by Robinson, Tammy

  “Boo spoilsport,” she pouted. “I feel fine.”

  “Maybe you do right now,” he said, “but I guarantee tomorrow morning you won’t be feeling so crash hot.” In an aside to Jack he added, “or looking it, if past experience is anything to go by.”

  Jack smirked and for the first time Maggie noticed him.

  “You,” she said.

  “Yep, me,” he answered cheerfully.

  She turned to Harper. “It’s him,” she whispered loudly. “That Jack guy I told you about. I think he’s stalking me.”

  “You should call the police,” Harper whispered loudly back.

  “That’s a good idea.”

  Maggie turned to Wade and Jack. “Excuse me, but do either of you have a phone I could borrow? It’s a local call.”

  “Now Maggie you’re not going to go calling the police,” Wade sighed.

  “And why not?”

  “Because you’re talking all crazy. Honestly, who in their right mind would stalk you with all your baggage?”

  “Hey, I resent that,” Maggie protested.

  “Well it’s true. Get over yourself and give the guy a chance. I’m sure he has things he’d rather be doing than giving up his time to make sure you get home safely.”

  “I don’t need a ride home.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Ok maybe I do. But not from him.”

  “Fine by me,” Jack got up and headed towards the door.

  “Good one Maggie,” Wade said, “now what are you going to do, walk?”

  “You can give me a ride home.”

  “No I can’t. I have my hands full looking after this one,” Wade said, trying to prop up Harper.

  “Then I’ll sleep here.”

  Wade sighed. “Just accept his offer of a ride and get out of my bar Maggie. And you know I say that with love.”

  Feeling more sober, Maggie turned towards the door that had just shut behind Jack. She kissed both Harper and Wade on the cheek then ran outside. Jack was in the driver’s seat of his truck and just closing the door.

  “Wait,” she called.

  He shut the door, turned the key in the ignition and wound down the window. “Yes?”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  “Fine, you can take me home.”

  “Funny, I never heard the word please anywhere in that sentence.”

  She took a deep breath and counted to five before answering. “You want me to beg?”

  “No, I want you to use your manners.”

  “What am I, five?”

  “You tell me. You certainly act that age sometimes.”

  Outside the temperature had dropped, and Maggie was still dressed for the warm afternoon sun. Her bare shoulders shivered.

  “Please can you take me home,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “That’s better,” he grinned. “Hop on in.”

  In the truck he turned the heater on low and the warm air from the vents made her feel drowsy. She rested her head against the headrest and closed her eyes, lulled by the gentle sound of the tyres turning on the road.

  “Here,” he said.

  She opened her eyes, annoyed at the intrusion, and saw he was holding out an unopened bottle of water.

  “No thanks.”

  “You’ll feel better in the morning if you drink this now.”

  “I’m not drunk, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  “Would I dare?”

  “For your information, I nursed the same drink for the last two hours. It’s Harper you should be worried about. She’ll be suffering tomorrow for sure.”

  “Still, you might be parched from all that, singing.” He said it looking ahead with a straight face but still she thought she could hear the echo of laughter in his voice.

  “Are you making fun of me?” she asked.

  “Again, would I dare do that?”

  Now that he had bought it up all she could feel was a scratching in the back of her throat. She coughed and when that didn’t clear the itch she begrudgingly took the water.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “What were you doing at the bar this late anyway?” she asked after taking a long swig from the bottle. He was right; the water instantly revived her parched veins.

  “Your mother called and asked me to make sure you got home ok.”

  Maggie was mortified. “She did?” She leant back in her seat again and shook her head.

  “That interfering woman,” she said grumpily.

  “Come on, that’s a bit harsh,” Jack frowned. “She was worried about you. Said you’re not normally a big drinker.”

  “What else did she say?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you. Spill.”

  “She might have mentioned that you struggle a little bit this time of year.”

  Maggie was furious. “Oh yeah? And did she happen to mention why?” If her mother had told Jack about Jon she would kill her.

  “No she didn’t,” he took his eyes off the road for a second and looked at her. “I promise you that’s all she said.” But even though he sounded sincere she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him.

  “How could she?” she asked, more to herself than him.

  “She was just concerned for you. She is your mother after all, it’s her job. Tell me you wouldn’t be the same if it was Willow who needed help.”

  “I don’t need your help. I most certainly didn’t ask for it.”

  “So you would have been ok walking home in the dark this late by yourself?”

  “I would have found my own way home, yes.”

  “You want me to let you out here?” he slowed the car down slightly. She glared at him, aware that he held all the cards at that moment.

  “God you are so annoying,” she said. “How could she even think I’d be interested in you?”

  His eyebrows shot up.

  “You’re interested in me?”

  “No!”

  “But you just said -?”

  “That’s not what I said and you know it. I said my mother likes you.”

  “Your mother is interested in me?”

  “Stop it!”

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop misreading my words on purpose.”

  “Sorry,” he grinned again.

  He turned onto the road that led out of town and towards her house. She studied him sideways out of the corner of her eye without him knowing. She could only see a murky profile because of the darkness, but whether it was the absence of light, or the drinks she’d consumed, when she looked at him she suddenly wondered what it would be like to kiss his full lips. She traced the outline of them with her eyes and found herself biting down hard on her own lip as she imagined it.

  “Oh my god, snap out of it,” she told herself, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

  “Sorry?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Right. So is it your mother or you who is interested in me? I’m confused.”

  “Neither of us and you know it.”

  “I don’t know anything when it comes to you Maggie Tanner,” he took his eyes off the road again and studied her. “But I’d love the opportunity to find out.”

  For once she had no retort, so she leant her head back and closed her eyes again, pretending to doze off. When she knew his attention was back on the road she let her eyes open. She watched his hand as he expertly flicked through the gears. He had large hands, broad across the top and with long fingers. She remembered when those fingers had connected with hers and the jolt she’d felt. God why was she even thinking of things like this? She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head towards the window. It was all Harpers fault, with all her talk of sex and how long it had been.

  The sound underneath the tyres changed and she realised they had turned onto the gravel road. She felt disappointment that the ride was over so soon.

>   “We’re here,” he said softly, pulling up to the front of the house and turning off the engine.

  She pretended to wake from her snooze and yawned, stretching.

  “I suppose I should say thank you.”

  “That’s what normal people do, yes.”

  “Thanks.” She said the word reluctantly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She got out of the car and was two steps towards the house when she heard footsteps behind her. She whirled around and came smack up against his chest.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

  He sighed. “I was seeing you safely to your door. It’s what a gentleman does.”

  “As if you would know anything about gentlemanly behaviour.”

  “Now see, I resent that. You haven’t even given me a chance to show you any of my various charms.”

  The way he said it the words came out loaded like sexual innuendo bullets. He was standing so close she could feel his breath again, hot on her face. The smell of his cologne warmed by his body was enveloping her. She knew she couldn’t think straight when she was so close to him but still she didn’t step away. Instead she decided to play him at his own game and she stepped even closer, letting her own heady mix of sweet body smells mingle with his. Earthy Sandalwood and sweet vanilla combined together and created a haze that swirled around them.

  “You think you’re so irresistible, don’t you?” she whispered, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. She bit one corner of her lip seductively.

  He groaned gently. “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered.

  “And how am I doing that?”

  “You know exactly how,” he fired back, his eyes boring into hers. “You’ve woven some kind of spell on me and I can’t get you out of my head.”

  Maggie laughed softly, “I’ve done no such thing.”

  “Then why is your face the first thing I picture when I wake, and the last thing I think about when I try to go to sleep. Why do I lie there half the night, awake, tossing and turning and imagining what it would be like to kiss you, to touch you.”

  Maggie swallowed. This wasn’t a game anymore. His eyes were serious, and the way they searched probingly into hers made her body want to relax against him and let him soothe all her troubles away.

  “We can’t do this,” she said.

  “Do what?” he whispered, his face dipping towards hers, his lips gently brushing over her forehead then her cheeks, tantalising and teasing her skin and her senses. She could hold back no longer and she reached up with her hands and pulled his head down towards hers hungrily. They kissed long and hard, not a gentle movie star kiss, rather something primal, lots of gnashing teeth, tongues and bruised lips, as if they were trying to clamber as far inside each other as they could.

  Maggie had forgotten just how wonderful a really good kiss could be.

  Finally they were forced to break for breath, and with the inhale of cool air Maggie remembered where she was, and realised what she was doing and who she was doing it with. How could she want someone so much when he drove her insane almost every time she saw him?

  He reached for again but she pushed him away. “No, stop.”

  He paused. “What’s wrong?”

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?”

  And for the life of her she couldn’t think of a satisfactory answer for that question. So she gave in and let him pull her back in for more. Minutes later it was he who pulled away.

  “No,” he said, holding her out at arm’s length.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” She was angry he was throwing her words back at her when she had so successfully overcome them.

  “You’ve been drinking, I don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and think I took advantage.”

  She stamped a foot. “How many times must I tell you I’m not drunk.”

  He sighed and shuddered as longing ran its fingers lightly down his spine.

  “Still,” he said, “you have been drinking.”

  “I know how to prove it to you,” she declared. “Hold up one finger.”

  Amused, he did as she instructed.

  “Now,” she said. “Ask me how many fingers you’re holding up.”

  He laughed.

  “Go on, ask me,” she insisted.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” he asked, amused. He had become accustomed to her being so serious all the time, so to see this lighter side was refreshing.

  “One,” she declared triumphantly. “Just one. Now if I was drunk would I be able to see straight like that?”

  “I get the feeling you might have cheated,” he laughed again, pulling her back in against him, enjoying the way her body slotted in against his like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

  “Never,” she shook her head, “I’m as straight up as they come.”

  He stepped back slightly and looked her up and down.

  “Straight up? Looks to me like you go in and out in quite a few interesting places.”

  She groaned. “Don’t ruin this moment by saying corny crap like that.”

  “Corny? I’ll have you know my charms go down a treat with the ladies back in the big smoke.”

  “Well us country girls are a little more discerning.”

  He touched her bottom lip with his fingers, marvelling at the dark ruby colour his kiss had left it.

  “I thought you hated me,” he said.

  “Hate is a strong word.”

  “So you don’t hate me?” he bit her lip ever so gently.

  She moaned and pressed against him. God this felt insanely good, better than she’d ever remembered. She couldn’t stop now. Why not give in and let herself have one night of fun? Prove to Harper and the others that she wasn’t completely against letting loose once in awhile. Who would it hurt? Not a soul, that’s who. They were both consenting adults. Consenting, turned on adults. Why deprive themselves?

  “Come with me,” she told him, taking his hand and leading him up the steps.

  He pulled her hand and stopped her. She turned to him.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked, “completely, one hundred percent, not-going-to-regret-it in the morning sure?”

  She dropped his hands and peeled her top off over her head as an answer, dropping it to the deck beside her.

  “Just fun,” she breathed huskily. “No strings attached, right?”

  He gulped at the black lacy bra and expanse of skin now available for his viewing pleasure.

  “God you’re so beautiful,” he said, his voice hungry with desire.

  She was enjoying the feeling of power she had, the reckless abandon the night air and a few drinks had afforded her. She put her hands on her hips and pouted at him.

  “So are you coming inside or not?”

  He raised his eyebrows at her double entendre, whether it was intended or not.

  “Oh most definitely,” he said. “Lead the way gorgeous.”

  “Shhh,” Maggie whispered at the door, a finger to her lips. Then she giggled. She felt like she was fifteen and sneaking a boy home. Inside they crossed the living room swiftly, heading for Maggie’s room at the back of the house, their desire leaving a crimson streak of phosphorous air in their wake.

  In the kitchen, Dot stood frozen, melted into the shadows in the corner. She had been at the fridge looking for something to snack on when she’d heard their voices at the front door. Quickly shutting the fridge to cut the light, she’d stepped back into the corner so they wouldn’t see her. Not that she needed have bothered. She could have stood in a spotlight banging a drum and wearing a silver space suit for all the notice they gave their surroundings. She could feel the heat of their desire from over where she stood.

  “Phew-ey,” she said, fanning her face with one hand and grinning. Sometimes her meddling landed her in trouble. Sometimes, like tonight, it paid off. She waited until she heard M
aggie’s door close then she headed up the stairs to her own room, checking on Willow as she passed. Willow was sound asleep, hair splayed across her pillow, her mouth slightly open and air whistling softly between her teeth. Dot kissed her on the forehead and pulled her blanket back up over her shoulders.

  “Sleep tight, sweet girl. When you wake up your mother’s going to be a new woman.”

  She grinned again at the thought.

  Back in her own bed, she had just nestled down when there was a muffled thud and a crash like something had been smashed downstairs. Beside her Ray sat bolt upright in his bed.

  “What was that?” he growled, starting to throw back the covers and reaching under the bed where he kept a cricket bat.

  “Hush old man,” Dot reassured him, a hand on his shoulder to coax him back into bed. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, I promise. Go back to sleep.”

  Chapter thirteen

  “Mum, Gran wants to know if you’re planning on joining us for breakfast today.”

  Willow’s voice hollering through her closed door roused Maggie from the deep slumber she’d been happily dwelling in. She murmured and stretched, briefly wondering why her body felt like she’d just done three straight hours of yoga.

  “Morning sunshine,” a voice said softly into her air. It was a satisfied voice, practically purring.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Memories came flooding back.

  Oh god, she thought. What have I done?

  “I’ll be out in a minute baby, you start without me,” she called to Willow, squeezing her eyes shut and scrambling to cover herself with the top sheet. When she was happy that no parts of her were showing that shouldn’t be, she inched off the bed sideways and took a deep breath.

  “Are you decent?” she asked.

  “That depends what you mean by decent.”

  “Dammit Jack, you know exactly what I mean.”

  “Then yes. I am decent.”

  She opened her eyes. He was decent, but only just. Before she could stop them her eyes traced a line from his broad arms, currently crossed behind his head on the pillow, down his sinewy torso to where his stomach dipped into a concave and disappeared beneath the sheet.

  “Oh my god,” she said, covering her face with her hands then pulling them away again to yank up the sheet that had started to drop. “I can’t believe we…”