by Nina Levine
“Got it.”
“Good.” With that, she eyes Scarlett again and heads in her direction. “Scarlett, let me show you to your room.”
“Yes, absolutely,” Scarlett says, a little formal and a little gushy, and a whole lot unlike the woman I know.
Mum leads the way out of the living area into the hallway to the bedrooms. Once we’re alone, Paul comes to me, eyebrows arched, amusement written all over him. “I am so here for watching Scarlett with Mum.”
“Keep your shit together. I’m trying to make her feel comfortable here.”
“You are dreaming, big brother, if you think Susan Miller isn’t going to fawn all over her. Scarlett doesn’t know what she’s in for.”
“She mentioned something on the flight about you telling her Mum’s super casual.”
Paul shrugs, knowing full fucking well what I’m saying here: he shouldn’t have lied. “I was trying to convince her to come. How about the fact you told Mum to put you guys in separate rooms? What’s that about?”
I want Scarlett to have the option for space if she needs it. I also figure Paul might need me this weekend, so us sharing a room could be a good thing. That’s why I asked for separate rooms. Before I can answer, a text comes through, distracting me.
Scott: What time are you back on Monday?
Me: Back home Sunday night. 7pm.
Scott: Church at 8am Monday.
Me: Everything good?
Scott: Yeah, but I’ve got some concerns to go over. Zane’s beginning to think like you that the McConaughey brothers weren’t behind the Trilogy break-in. We’ll talk Monday.
I’ve been voicing my thoughts over this for the past week. Shit doesn’t add up. It’ll be interesting to see what Zane’s dug up.
“Justin.”
I glance up at Paul, who continues when he has my attention. “Is Don still in town?”
Fuck, every word he says blazes with anxiety.
“Yeah, he is. But he won’t show his face this weekend.” I’ve done everything I can to fucking make sure of it.
“You don’t know that.”
“I do. I also know that Brett won’t come near you this weekend.”
“You organised all this?”
I nod.
“Thank you.”
I haven’t seen my brother like this for years, and it fucking kills me to see it now. Paul is neither meek nor anxious; I hate that our brother and his friend still have the power, even from a fucking distance, to turn him into a person he’s not.
“You good?”
“I will be. I think I might go out and sit in the paddock for a bit.” The paddock is the backyard. My parents live in town, so it’s not like they have a paddock, but Paul always called it the paddock when we were kids. Sitting out there was always his go-to coping method when shit got hard for him. “You should probably go and save Scarlett.”
I grin. “I will soon. It won’t hurt her to spend a little time with Mum.”
He returns my grin. “I like how you think. I also like that you brought her home to meet the folks even though you’re telling yourself you brought her here so she wouldn’t have to be alone.”
“I’m not telling myself anything, little brother.”
He reads me perfectly, and his grin dies as his eyes widen a fraction. “Holy. Fuck,” he says slowly. “You brought her home to meet the folks.”
The front door bangs, snapping Paul’s eyes to the doorway our father will walk through any second now.
“Dad,” I greet him when he joins us.
His gaze comes to me first, and he nods. “Justin.” He then looks at Paul and says, “Paul,” and I’m reminded of how fucking formal he can be. I love my father, but fuck me, he’s the stiffest man I know.
“Good flight?” he asks, hanging his hat on the hat rack.
Noting that Paul seems stuck for words, I take charge of this conversation. “Yeah. No problems. You been over at John’s place?”
He nods. Then, glancing at Paul, he shocks the fuck outta me when he says, “It’s good to see you, Paul. I appreciate you coming home for this.”
By the looks of Paul’s expression, he’s shocked too. “It’s your 60th. I couldn’t let it pass without seeing you.”
Dad takes that in, quiet for a few moments. “It’s been too long, son.”
“Since I’ve been home or since you’ve visited me?” Paul says, cutting straight to one of his hurts where Dad’s concerned. While our mother occasionally leaves Mt Isa to visit us, our father has never left this town. Not once in his goddam life.
Dad’s lips flatten, but he doesn’t get the chance to respond to Paul because Mum enters the room and steals the moment.
“Darling.” She smiles at Dad before kissing his cheek. “You’re home earlier than I thought you would be.”
Dad’s arm goes around Mum’s waist to keep her against him long enough to press his lips to hers. I watch as my mother melts into him. Forty-one years together and she still melts. And there’s not one person alive who gets his attention the way she does. Dad might have his faults, but he knows how the fuck to love a woman.
“John had a headache,” Dad says. “Nelly cleared us all out so he could go and lie down.”
Mum smiles as he lets her go. “That woman knows her husband well. She told me that if they don’t catch his headaches fast, they quickly turn into a migraine.”
Scarlett joins us, and before she’s barely stepped foot in the room, Mum’s guiding her to stand next to her. “Scarlett, I’d like you to meet my husband, Douglas. He can be a grumbly old man, but he’s a good man like his son.” She blasts me a smile as she says that last bit.
“It’s good to meet you, Scarlett,” Dad says, extending his hand.
Scarlett shakes his hand and smiles as she says, “It’s lovely to meet you too, Douglas.”
“How did you meet my son?”
Scarlett eyes me. “He’s my boss.”
It’s Dad’s turn to look at me. Exactly as I knew he would. He has very set values that guide him. Sleeping with someone who works for you isn’t an action that fits those values, but hell, half the shit I do doesn’t fit his values.
He also has manners, so he doesn’t get into this with me in front of Scarlett. He only looks at me briefly before looking back at her and asking, “What’s he like to work for?”
“I’ve gotta be honest and tell you that he can be far too bossy most days, but that he’s also the best boss I’ve ever had. He’s fair. He works as hard as everyone else. Probably harder, actually. And he’s got the kind of principles that every man should have.” She looks at me and smiles before looking back at Dad. “You raised a good man there, Mr Miller.”
Fuck me.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Dad says. “But Mr Miller was my father. Please call me Douglas.”
Mum is fucking beaming next to Scarlett, and I know exactly what she’s thinking. My mother is standing there planning the grandbabies she thinks she’s gonna have one day. Probably coming up with names to suggest to Scarlett and figuring out how she’ll convince Scarlett to use the baby furniture that’s been in our family for generations that’s currently stored in the shed out the back.
Christ, but I saw this coming even as I told Scarlett to choose between squad time or Mt Isa this weekend. My mother can read me as well as I can read her. She only needed to spend five minutes in my presence today to know I’ve already fallen for Scarlett.
“Right,” Mum says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve got some nibbles and drinks for this afternoon. Justin, can you and Scarlett please help me bring them outside while Paul and your father catch up?”
I nod and turn to go into the kitchen.
Scarlett brushes against me a moment later as she comes to help. “So, separate rooms. That caught me by surprise. I kinda like that your mum is old fashioned like that. And now I know where your refusal to make sandwiches in a hurry comes from, country boy.”
Mum isn’t old fashione
d. Hell, she’d put us together in a fucking heartbeat if she thought it would move us faster towards marriage and babies. But I don’t correct Scarlett. I want her to have that space in case this weekend overwhelms her. “You’re good with being by yourself?”
“Well, I mean, a guy can always use those legs of his to sneak in during the night, right?”
I chuckle. “He can, but fuck, when his woman is as noisy as you and his parents’ room is next door, he might have to second-guess that decision.”
“Jesus, you’re a mama’s boy. How did I not see that coming?”
The smile doesn’t leave my lips. “Darlin’, trust me when I tell you that you don’t wanna give my mother anything to latch onto. You screaming my fuckin’ name in the middle of the night will give her a fuckload to latch onto.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Paul lied to me, didn’t he? Your mum’s not casual at all when it comes to you bringing girls home, is she?”
I kiss her. “The word casual isn’t one she knows. Premeditated on the other hand is.”
“Your brother is gonna catch my hands the next time I see him.”
I laugh. “Make sure I’m around when that happens.”
Mum hustles into the kitchen after finishing with Dad and Paul. She smiles at both of us before saying, “Scarlett, because I’m a woman who doesn’t beat around the bush, and also because I’m a woman who believes we should always lift other women, I want to tell you that I’ve never seen my son smile and laugh so much around another girl he’s brought home. It makes my heart so happy to see this.”
If Scarlett was still under any illusion that my mother has it in her to be casual, that’s all blown to shit now.
The thing that shocks the hell out of me?
That Scarlett’s beam fucking matches my mother’s.
The smile on my woman’s face is unlike any I’ve ever seen, and fuck if I don’t like it.
“I like a woman who doesn’t beat around the bush,” Scarlett says.
Mum nods once, like shit is settled, and says, “Good. Now, let’s get this food outside. I want us to sit down and start getting to know each other.”
37
Wilder
My hand finds Scarlett’s as we follow my family into The Buffs. The club is busy tonight, being a Friday. Noisy as hell too.
“Are you good?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“That true?” She’s got a lot on her mind with Bailey and Phoebe. Her sister let her know Bailey made it to Sydney on Wednesday, but she hasn’t heard from her since.
“You know I don’t lie to make others feel okay.”
I tighten my grip and slow her down so I can move us against the wall. “My mother likes you.”
She watches my family walk ahead before bringing her gaze to mine. I fucking wish I could read her mind. My protective streak has kicked the fuck in, and I want to know how she’s really doing. “What’s not to like?”
She’s giving me one of her sassy smiles and playing it cool, but she’s affected by what I just said. Not that she should be after my mother announced how much she likes seeing us together or after the long conversation they had over nibbles during which Mum fucking grilled her about everything from where she was born to where she went to school to whether she prefers Coles or Woolworths. Fucking supermarkets of all fucking things. I had to step in and take charge of the conversation at that point because I could see Scarlett drowning. However, it was clear to everyone watching—being my family—that Mum already adores Scarlett.
“There’s fuckin’ nothing not to like,” I say, “but you’re the first girl I’ve brought home in ten years that she’s actually liked.”
“How many girls have you brought home?”
“Enough for her to have found at least one to like, and yet she hasn’t. Not till you, Cherry Bomb.”
“Who did she like ten years ago?”
“Miranda John, my high school sweetheart.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how much did she like Miranda John?”
I fucking like how Miranda’s name rolls off her tongue, as if she dislikes the hell out of it simply because I liked Miranda at one time. I’ve never been into jealousy in the women I’ve dated, but I’m fucking into it with Scarlett.
“Are you asking how much my mother liked her or how much I liked her?” I tease, looking for more of her sexy sparks.
She glares at me. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
“Never thought I’d like a jealous woman. Turns out I was wrong.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not jealous. I’m just trying to get to know everything there is to know about you and your mum.”
I grin as I bend my face to hers and kiss her. She does her best not to kiss me back, but she can’t resist me.
When I’m finished with her lips, I say, “I liked her a fuckuva lot. Maybe at a level nine, but then again, I was seventeen and a virgin. My mother probably sat at a six on the scale, which was high for her. She doesn’t give her trust or her love very easily. She reminds me of another woman in my life.”
“You were still a virgin at seventeen?”
“That’s what you took from that?”
“It’s important.”
“It’s fuckin’ not. Not amongst everything else I just told you.”
“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”
“How old were you?”
“I asked first.”
“Seventeen.” When Scarlett doesn’t give me her number, I run my fingers over her lips and say, “You?”
She stares at me, and I realise she doesn’t want to tell me. I also realise from the look in her eyes that this is connected to one of those hurts she’s collected along the way, the hurts that are piled sky-fucking-high for her. So I say, “You don’t have to tell me,” before reaching for her hand to lead her inside.
I’ve taken one step away from her when she stops me, her eyes boring into mine. “Eleven.” She whispers her number so fucking softly that I barely hear it, but I sure as fuck hear every emotion she breathes into the world with it.
My eyes search hers as my chest squeezes. “You gave it willingly?”
Scarlett swallows hard, and I feel that deep in my soul too. I also fucking feel it in my chest. The cavity where my heart sits is a churning fucking mess of turmoil that only intensifies when she says, “Yes, but I wouldn’t have been so quick to give what I should have kept if I’d known how much it would hurt me.”
I know she’s not fucking referring to any physical pain she might have felt.
“Tell me it was with a kid.” It’s a demand, one I wish didn’t come out so forcefully, but I need to fucking know.
“Yes, that time was.” It’s another whisper.
Fuck.
Fucking hell.
Silence takes up residence between us for a long minute while I process what she’s told me. I have a million questions, but I won’t ask any of them now. Not here. However, I don’t want her to think this isn’t something I don’t want her to share with me.
I’m about to voice that when she says, “Let’s just go inside.”
“Scarlett,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, I shouldn’t have brought any of that up. I’m sorry.”
Fuck, she’s tripping over her words to get them out. Laying them all down between us like she thinks I don’t want to know any of what she just told me. And when she looks at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact, that fucking kills me.
I tip her chin back up to return her eyes to mine. “You think I don’t want to hear about this stuff, Scar?”
She takes her time before finally saying, “No one wants to hear about this stuff.”
“The guys you’ve dated in the past haven’t?”
“The guys I’ve dated have all told me one thing but meant something else. And then made promises all over the place with no intention of keeping them. None of those guys were interested in actually getting to know me
.”
“And you think I’m gonna do that?”
The silence between us is fucking deafening, but I don’t rush to fill it because I want to hear Scarlett’s answer to this question. However, when she struggles with that answer, I say, “Whatever you’re thinking right now is valid. I may not think it’s right, but it’s yours, and I’ll always respect what’s yours.” I pause. “Do you honestly believe I’m going to break my promises to you?”
“I believe you’re a good man, Wilder. However, I also know I’m fucked up with flawed thinking that makes me question all my thoughts even when I don’t want to. I wish I could give you more than that. I wish I wasn’t so messed up, because for the first time in a long time, I’ve found someone I actually fucking like and want in my life.”
“I don’t need more than that. I only ever need your honesty. Now it’s on me to show you I’m a man you can rely on, that I’m a man you never need to question, and that I’m a man who only ever makes promises he intends to keep and then goes to the ends of the fuckin’ earth to keep them.”
Scarlett lets my words sink in. I see her mind working and hope like fuck that she believes every one of those words I just said because not one of them was a lie. My father’s example of how to treat a woman has always guided me in my relationships, but I’ve never wanted to treat a woman as well as I want to treat Scarlett.
When she curves her hand around my neck and kisses me with more feeling than she ever has, I have my answer.
“You need to take me inside now,” she says after letting my lips go. “I’m ready to meet more of your people. And also, I better be at least a nine on your scale because if I meet Miranda John knowing she’s higher, I can’t be held accountable for my actions.”
“Trust me when I tell you this: you’re way past a fuckin’ nine.”
She smiles and it’s fucking everything.
God fucking help whoever stole her smiles before I came along. They’ll have to answer to me if I ever fucking find them.