by Nina Levine
“Right,” she says suddenly, sliding off her stool and almost crashing into me. “I’m gonna go and leave you boys to catch up.” She snatches up her bag and looks at Paul. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“Oh, you’ll be sick of me soon,” he promises.
“Maybe,” she agrees. “But I’ll take a gamble on you.”
As we watch her walk away, Paul says, “You’re staring at her ass, aren’t you?”
It’s a great fucking ass. I continue staring at it. “No.”
“Oh, I see, you’re in denial too.”
I sit on the stool Scarlett vacated and look at him. “In denial over what?”
He reaches for his drink. “Scarlett told me you two have been working together for a while now. How come you’ve never mentioned her to me?”
My forehead pulls into a frown. “I don’t mention any of the staff I work with to you.”
“Right.”
I continue frowning at him. “Are you going anywhere with this?”
He sips his drink. “Not tonight.”
Fuck, he’s talking in riddles. Something he’s great at, and I’m not. “Can we discuss more important things then?”
“That depends on what those things are.”
I give him a look. He knows exactly what those things are. “Have you changed your mind about Dad’s birthday?”
He sighs like he’s bored. “No, and I won’t be. I’m not going.”
“It’s his sixtieth.”
“So?”
“So it’s a big one. And you haven’t been home in three years. They’re missing you.”
“They could come visit me.”
“You know that’s not gonna happen.”
“Yeah, because we have a father who thinks the world consists only of Mount fucking Isa and he refuses to leave it.”
He’s speaking the truth, but the truth isn’t always a useful thing. Not when we use it to hold onto old hurt. “Think about it some more. I want you there.”
Paul’s eyes fill with the pain that’s consumed him for eight long years. The pain I wish I could rip from his soul. He doesn’t agree to what I’ve asked him to do, and he doesn’t say anything more about the party our mother’s throwing for our father. Instead, he says, “Let’s talk about the fact you’re gonna come with me to the hardware store next week and show me what I need to buy to fix my walls.”
Taylor: Jedd took me to Mohawk last night. He knows how to stand up for a girl. And the food was amazing there. You missed out.
Fuck.
It’s Sunday. The day of rest and no bullshit. Not the day for this kind of crap.
Without bothering to reply, I finish washing my ute. I’ve got the day off and am catching up on stuff I’ve been putting off while work has consumed my time.
Paul and I hung out for an hour last night before he went home. I then headed over to Scott’s for poker with the boys. Exhausted after the week, I didn’t stay much past midnight. I still managed to win everyone’s cash, though.
I spend the morning on my ute and tidying the mess of my yard. Just after lunch, Mum calls.
“What’s up?” I answer as I drop down onto my couch and mindlessly flick the TV on to find some sport to watch.
“I was just going over the plans for your father’s birthday party and was wondering if you think Paul will come.”
“I’m hoping to change his mind, but at the moment, he’s adamant he’s not.” I hate giving her this answer. I know it’ll devastate her if Paul doesn’t go.
“Please keep working on him, Justin. Your father and I really want him there.”
“I know.”
“It’s been too long since we’ve all been together,” she says softly.
“Yeah.”
The line goes silent while we both avoid what we’re really thinking. Finally, Mum says, “Okay, I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
“You good, Mum?”
“Yes. Are you? Are you eating properly?”
I chuckle. She’s always on at me about cooking healthy meals. “I manage restaurants for a living. If I’m not eating properly, there’s something wrong.”
“I miss you.”
“Miss you too. I’ll let you know how I go with Paul.”
“Okay, darling. Bye.”
I stare at the TV for a long fucking time after our call ends, my thoughts all knotting together.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pushing up out of the couch a good hour later. Sitting here doing this isn’t a productive use of my time. Thinking about the shit going on with my family won’t solve anything. All it’ll do is give me a headache.
Changing into jeans and a T-shirt, I grab my jacket and keys and head to the clubhouse. Shooting the shit with the boys for the afternoon always clears my mind.
“Wilder,” Nash greets me as I enter the clubhouse bar. “You fuckin’ owe me a drink after winning all my cash last night, brother.”
I grin. “You win any after I left?”
“Fuck no. Colt took it all after you left.”
Colt joins us, eyeing me. “These city boys don’t know how the fuck to play poker.”
“You left Winton when you were ten or some shit. You’re just as much city as they are,” I say, taking the beer that J hands over when he steps next to me.
“I’ll always be a country boy at heart,” Colt says.
I suck back some beer. “Yeah.” I like living in Brisbane, but I miss the fuck out of the quiet of the country.
“You missed some fun yesterday,” J says. “We paid a visit to Ostelin’s crew.”
“And?” I ask.
“And they weren’t too fucking happy to see us.”
Nash grins. “Shit got fucked up, and let’s just say they won’t be so quick in future to get their fists out.”
“King brought his crazy,” J says. “A few of their guys are lucky to still be breathing.”
I down some more beer. “You figure out if they were responsible for the break-in?”
“Nah, wasn’t them,” Nash says. “And it wasn’t the Carlton boys either. We dropped in on them too.”
I catch sight of Scarlett in the hall as Nash delivers this information and am distracted for a moment. When I lose sight of her, I rejoin the conversation to discover Griff’s setting up extra surveillance around all the restaurants in case we’re hit again. Scott’s also asked his brother Blade to help figure out who the culprit is.
“J,” Madison says, coming over to us. “I need you to keep an eye on the girls while I help Harlow with the food.”
J nods, glancing at their daughter playing with Scott’s daughter in the corner. These two kids have far more energy than any of us in this room, but at the moment, they’re playing quietly with their dolls.
J smacks Madison’s ass and drops a kiss to her lips. “You making that cob loaf dip?”
“Only if you agree to put out tonight.”
“Baby, when do I not agree to that?”
“I’m talking about that thing I told you I wanted you to do this morning that you refused to do. You agree to put out that and I’ll make you cob loaf.”
“Fuck,” he mutters. “You drive a hard fucking bargain, woman.”
She shrugs. “I also make it worth your while.” She stands on her toes and brushes her lips over his. “Watch Willow and Aurora. Make sure they don’t put any small objects in their mouths.” She hits him with a look that says “don’t fuck this up” before turning and leaving us.
J throws some beer down his throat as he watches her go. “I swear she’s punishment for some shit I’ve done that I’ve forgotten about.”
“Seems like a logical conclusion,” I say. “Either that or punishment for your future sins.”
“Scarlett!” Chelsea calls out, dragging my attention away from J faster than seems appropriate. “Come and have a drink.”
At Chelsea’s beckoning, Scarlett has come to a halt in the hall on her way out of the clubhouse. I try not to chuckle at the
expression on her face but fail. Scarlett fucking hates being invited to anything by the girls. I’ve seen her flat out tell them no, and I’ve seen her flail around trying to figure out how to politely decline an invitation. It all depends on her mood of the day as to how she’ll respond. Today, she must be in a good mood because she looks like she wants to say no but can’t figure out how to do that.
I take pity on her.
Walking over to where she is, I say, “I can help you escape, but it’s gonna cost you.”
Her uncertainty disappears and she gives me her usual sass. “Anything you’re offering is far too expensive. I’ll take my chances.”
I smile. “What are you doing here?” It’s an unusual occurrence. She generally only comes here if I ask her to drop something off.
“Keaton has nappy rash. I blended some oils and made a cream for Harlow.” Scarlett’s often blending oils for people. It’s the one thing she happily does for others. Hell, she even brought me in some concoction a few months ago when I wasn’t well.
I finish my beer. “You want a drink?”
She glances around the room. “That would be a no. I’m escaping, remember?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Good luck with that since you didn’t take me up on my offer to help. You think those girls are gonna let you leave any time soon?”
“You think those girls have any hope of stopping me?”
A laugh barks out of me. It’s entertaining watching her try to dodge their friendship. Sure, it’s taking them some time to make it happen, but even I can see she’s on a downhill path to failure. I give her six months max before she’s part of their gang.
Leaning in close, I say, “Remind me again what you did yesterday. I seem to recall a haircut was involved. With those girls.”
She glares a little at me. It’s not the full experience I’m used to, but it’s close. “Are you on your man-period this week, Wilder?”
“The fuck is a man-period?”
“It’s that time of the month when a male purposely goes out of his way to annoy or frustrate the women around him.”
She’s telling me all this while glaring her annoyance at me, but there’s something else sitting between us today. Something that’s causing my gut to tighten and my skin to heat. Something I know I should walk away from but can’t quite manage to do.
“I thought I did that without even trying,” I say.
“So true. It’s exponentially worse, though, when on your period.”
“I’ll keep this in mind.”
“Please do. Please send me a warning when it’s that time of month for you.”
I smile because she’s fucking amusing today. “You know what I think?”
“Oh, please enlighten me as to the thoughts filling that mind of yours.”
“I think you could have been outside and in your car by now if you hadn’t stood here talking with me.” I glance over at Chelsea, who’s gone back to Gunnar rather than hounding Scarlett for that drink. “I think you don’t hate talking to me as much as you think you do.”
As these words leave my mouth, my eyes land on the bare skin of her chest that leads to cleavage only half covered by the flimsy white top she’s wearing. There’s no bra in sight today, only the thinnest straps of her top and a V neckline that fucking screams “here, go here.”
I try desperately to find her face again, and almost succeed, but her nipples pebble against her top, completely disorienting me.
I’m saved when Nash’s voice bursts through the room. “Listen up, you fuckers. Velvet and I have something to announce.”
Scarlett turns to look at them and I work like fuck to get a hold of myself.
The hell did I just say to her?
Something about her liking talking to me or some shit?
Fuck, it’s like my mouth has a mind of its own and spewed shit all over the place it shouldn’t have.
I stab my fingers through my hair, trying to decide if I should stay or if I should walk the fuck out and put as much distance between Scarlett and me as possible.
Our work relationship is already fucking precarious; whatever the hell has been going on between us recently needs to stop.
No fucking way can we proceed down this path we seem to be on.
Nash pulls his old lady close, arm around her shoulder, eyes on her, a proud-as-fuck grin on his face. “Velvet and I are having a baby.” His grin grows even though I didn’t think that possible. “There’s gonna be little Nashes running around this joint.”
Velvet returns his grin and shakes her head at him like he’s crazy. He fucking is. Crazy about her. She grips his face and plants a kiss on his lips before saying something that only he hears.
He then lifts his drink. “Drink up, motherfuckers. I know you’re all fuckin’ excited that there’ll be more of me in this world soon.”
Whistles and cheers fill the bar as drinks are downed and more are poured. We’re in for a long one today, and I am on fucking board with that. It seems Scarlett is too.
“I need a drink,” she mutters before taking off in the direction of the bar.
That makes two of us.
Christ, I need a lot of fucking drinks.
I also need to remove my goddamn eyes from Scarlett’s ass.
7
Scarlett
Holy fuck, I must stop drinking.
Famous last words of any good day out.
Also, famous last words before a girl says and does shit with a guy she shouldn’t say and do shit with.
I actually haven’t had that much to drink; I just haven’t eaten a lot today, so what I have drunk has gone straight to my head. No good decisions are ever made when alcohol has gone straight to your head.
This whole situation started when Wilder checked out my boobs after telling me he thinks I like talking to him. I don’t cope well when he checks out my breasts. That fact was established last night when he demanded I use the bathroom at work to get changed.
Since Nash announced he has sperm that do their job, we’ve avoided each other. We’ve spent those three hours drinking and talking to all the people. Well, I have; I don’t know how many people Wilder’s talked to.
That’s a flat-out lie.
He’s talked to sixteen people.
I’ve kept track of him.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, but I do know that I’ve lost my ability to function as an intelligent woman. If I hadn’t, I would have left hours ago.
“Scar, can you give me a hand clearing this food into the kitchen?” Harlow asks, sneaking up on me as I covertly watch Wilder talk to a couple I don’t know.
“Jesus, Harlow, don’t sneak up on a girl. I almost spilled my drink.”
She looks at my glass before giving me a pointed look. “Your glass is empty. I think we both know what you were doing.”
Fuck.
She’s right; it is empty.
“I think we both don’t,” I snap.
“You’ve talked to a few guys today, all of which tried to hit on you, but you didn’t even notice one of them because you’ve been a busy little bee watching someone else. And don’t try to tell me you haven’t been. You might be doing your best to hide your interest, but I’m a woman and I know how we operate. I know all the little manoeuvres we make in order to check someone out when we think they’re not watching. You can’t fool me, Scarlett McKenzie.”
“I’m sending you back and asking for a refund. You’re a faulty friend.”
“Can you do it after you help me clear this food?”
“Fine,” I mutter.
I help her pack the food up and carry it into the kitchen. Madison and Velvet are in there washing up, and I get caught in a conversation with them about the best brands of washing liquid for babies' clothes. Not a conversation I’m ever interested in because there aren’t any babies in my future. Somehow they keep me there for a good ten minutes as they morph into discussing pre
gnancy sex. Like, just put me out of my misery already.
I finally escape and make my way back to the bar. I’ve come to my senses. I’m going to guzzle some water and go home. And I’m going to attempt to put myself back together in a better order before I see Wilder at work tomorrow. A sensible order that’s capable of acting like a woman who doesn’t do crazy things like spend three hours stalking the hot guy she works for. The hot guy who annoys the hell out of her. Especially when he’s on his damn man-period.
“You left this on a chair earlier,” Wilder says, joining me at the bar and making me jump with surprise.
“Jesus.” I smack his chest before I even know what plans my hand has. “Don’t do that!”
He chuckles as he passes me my jacket. “I’m actually surprised that’s the first time you’ve gotten violent with me.”
“Trust me, that wasn’t violent. You’ll know when I’m being violent. There will be a lot of pain.”
He rests his hip against the bar like he’s settling in to have a conversation. “I don’t doubt it.” He pauses. “I wanted to say thank you for helping out last night.”
That’s unexpected.
And too nice for us.
I mean, any other time he wants to say thank you is fine, but right now, it only confuses my already confused thoughts.
I need to diffuse this situation, and I need to do that fast before things get even more out of hand between us.
“Even though you didn’t want me to help,” I throw out all snappy like.
“Yes, Scarlett, even though I didn’t want you to help.”
He’s not short with me like he usually is. It leaves me hanging. I have nothing to respond to. And while I am not the kind of girl who needs to fill silences, I need to do exactly that right now because he’s watching me intently, waiting for me to say something.
I go with “I really like your brother.”