She glanced surreptitiously at Mike. He caught her glance and gave her a quick wink.
She bit her bottom lip. What must he think of her?
‘You must think I’m mad, or at least a little unhinged.’
He shook his head. ‘Not at all. I think you’re human.’
His words and gentle tone went a little way to comfort her. But nothing had changed. Would she ever feel at home? Would she ever fit in somewhere?
She looked out the window, surprised to see houses, and sat up. They were on the outskirts of Bourke and she couldn’t remember the trip going so fast.
‘Maybe I ask too many questions.’
He swung the car smoothly around the next corner. ‘Keep on asking, we’re at Brown’s, the largest bakery in Bourke.’
She sat frozen as they drew up outside Brown’s. The bakery took up one whole block.
Fear gripped her and she tried to get her head into gear, but it was fighting all her past history, moments she’d long forgotten. She was drowning with the urge to scream and shout to shrug off the past.
What is wrong with me?
Mike parked the car, climbed out, ran around the front and opened the door for her. He held out his hand and she grabbed it hard.
On the street she stared at the Brown’s building and leaned against Mike’s hard body as a clutch of cold fear again struck her. This first meeting was so important; she couldn’t afford to get it wrong.
‘Mike, I don’t know.’ The words tumbled out. If it was for a client she wouldn’t hesitate. Why the sudden fear? Was it because this was for family and not clients? Was that the difference? They meant so much to her she could see that now. She squeezed her eyes shut. She’d die if anything happened to any of them.
She closed her eyes. Oh god, she really did love them.
‘Rach, look at me.’
Her head swung up, shocked by the sharp tone in his voice. She swallowed hard. His face was inches from hers, his expression fearsome.
‘You know what I was feeling when you were telling me about your childhood?’
She instinctively shook her head as she stared in awe of this new side to Mike.
‘Anger, white-hot anger, and if I’m angry, so should you be. Now use it.’
Without another word his hands came up and rested on her waist. They were firm and warm. Her body sagged a little into him, and then he spun her around to face Brown’s.
Her jaw dropped, she hadn’t expected that. She wanted a kiss, a hug, a reassuring touch. He stood behind her, his breath hot against her neck. His hands slid up from her waist to rest on her shoulders. He squeezed them. She savoured his body’s heat as it seeped deep inside of her.
‘I’ll catch up with you at the council library at four. Good luck.’
Her body trembled as she stood by the side of the road and watched him drive away. What she wouldn’t give to be in his car with him. She’d faced many awkward situations in her life, but this time things were different. Never before had she felt so alone.
Good god, Rach, you’ve survived worse than this.
What was different? Mike. He’d listened without judgement. She should be grateful he’d given her back her spine so she could face her competitors. If he’d let her weaken, she’d be a blubbering mess. Never before had she told anyone about her childhood—not even Shar.
Her childhood was her Achilles heel. Anger? Heavens she had enough of that to sink a battleship.
Mike was right.
She straightened her back, fluffed her hair and strode towards Brown’s. There was only one thing that mattered: her family’s survival. She kept that thought uppermost as she stepped through the double glass doors of Brown’s.
Chapter 8
By late afternoon Oxley Street in Bourke was quiet. Rachael didn’t mind. She followed Mike around as he searched for odd little things in the only gift shop in town. Her mind centred on her meeting at Brown’s who had delivered some cold hard facts that needed serious consideration before she spoke to Shar and Bob. Her five grand investment was not going to go anywhere near the true cost of a proper refurbishment. Trouble was, there wasn’t anybody in Mindalby she could think of to ask for a small loan.
Later.
She was fast discovering Mike had a nice understated taste with a knack of putting pieces together she would never have considered. Her style was to rush and grab anything to save time.
Against her wishes to keep a distance from him, she was growing fond of this mischievous Irishman. He had a nice vibe.
Mike pulled a face as the rain teemed down Oxley Street. He grinned at her. ‘Stay there, I’ll put these in the car.’
She shook her head. ‘No way, I’m coming with you.’
With their packages in hand they ran across the rain-soaked street to Mike’s car. She stood beside him as he packed his shopping in the small space behind their seats.
The rain had reduced to a slight drizzle and they were fast getting wet. In the soft glow of the street light she noticed there weren’t many people in the street and only a few cars left in the carpark.
He clicked the door shut. ‘Come on, I know a great pub for dinner. A minute away, I promise.’
He took her hand and together they crossed Mitchell Street and turned down Stuart Street. The “Diggers on the Darling” sign lit up the night sky. It was bright and bold and she loved it.
Perfect.
Inside it was crowded and noisy. She wondered if a party was on as she followed Mike’s broad back as he navigated his way through the crowd and tables all the way to the bar. She joined him and he gave her a long hard stare.
‘Okay with this?’
She nodded.
‘Okay with a beer?’
She nodded.
‘Okay with steak and chips?’
She nodded.
In an instant his eyes sparkled.
Like an eager and naive pup she gazed up at him and waited. A smile whispered across his lips. He leaned down to her ear. ‘You’re easily pleased.’
She laughed. Her eyes roamed over his body, slow and deliberate. Her eyes locked on his. ‘You said it.’
A low laugh rumbled out of his huge chest. Her body glowed. He was one guy she’d be sorry to walk away from.
‘This a favourite haunt of yours?’
He handed her a cold beer. ‘Not a favourite, but I come here once a month to catch up with a few Irish itinerants like myself.’
She took a sip of the beer. It was icy cold and it slipped down her throat with ease. Despite its coldness she could feel herself relaxing.
After another few mouthfuls she decided to go with the flow, whatever that was. So what if she was in for another long night, she was here with Mike. By the cold stares of the women around her she was a pretty lucky bunny.
‘Come on, we’ve got a table.’
No sooner had they left the bar than Mike’s name was being called. He waved, nodded, and slapped others on the back. It was slow going, but she followed him into the main part of the pub where it seemed to be happening. She spotted a small stage and a DJ.
They passed the front door and people kept pouring in. She couldn’t understand it. What was going on for a country pub to be this busy mid-week?
He stopped at the longest table in front of the stage. There were about ten or more people already seated.
She followed Mike’s lead and they sat at the last two empty seats.
Mike chimed his keys against his glass of beer.
‘Everybody, meet Rachael Hammond, like me she’s a Mindalby local. Unfortunately for her, she is not Irish.’
He turned to her. ‘You’re not Irish, are you?’
She shook her head.
‘Any Irish blood?’
Another shake.
‘But you love the Irish, don’t you?’
She laughed.
‘I’m not falling for your Irish blarney anymore,’ she said as she gave a big wave to the smiling group who began to introduce themse
lves.
She took another sip of her beer. To meet a mass of strangers at once was not her idea of fun, but she was warming up to it.
‘Now don’t go and give Rach a sales pitch about yourselves, let your voices do the talking later.’
Voices? She frowned.
When the introductions were over she glanced across at Mike who was deep in conversation with the guy next to him. He’s found his tribe. It was a sobering thought. Out in the back of beyond, Mike had found other likeminded Irishmen.
During dinner Mike nudged her.
‘I forgot to tell you about tonight.’
‘Oh?’
His dark eyes grew serious as they met hers.
‘Tonight’s the last night for karaoke. The DJ’s leaving town.’ His eyes skimmed over her head. ‘And it looks like everybody in town’s turned up.’
Her heart missed a beat. No, no, no, no.
He shifted closer. ‘And we have to decide what we’re going to sing.’
She shook her head. ‘Mike, don’t worry. It’s not an issue. I don’t sing.’
Her breath stalled. Her whole body froze waiting for his answer. She wanted to support him, felt almost compelled to do so, but not singing. Anything, but singing.
‘You’ll sing with me. You wait, you’ll love it.’
Her appetite vanished and she put down her knife and fork. She didn’t want to let him down, but singing was not her gig.
‘Mike, you do this every month. I get that, but I don’t. I don’t even sing for me. I don’t have a voice. It’s not something I do.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s only once a month and tonight’s the last one for a while. Just read the words and sing along with me. We’ll do it together.’
She sat back and thought about that. Maybe she could get away with just mouthing the words. Was that possible? Could she really do that? No, it wouldn’t be right.
The DJ came up to their table and handed out pieces of paper.
‘Write down your song,’ he said, ‘and drop it off to me and when I call it out come on up. We’re starting in twenty minutes.’
‘What should we put down?’
Her throat was parched and her stomach churned.
‘You’re not going to let me sit this out, are you?’
He shook his head.
‘Not a chance. I do a minimum of three songs.’
‘Three songs!’ Her heart hammered hard in her chest like a furious bull charging to break free.
She’d braced herself to endure the chorus of one song, but three?
Mike handed her a piece of paper with three song titles. She looked down at the list. Her hand shook as she read the familiar titles. She could do this.
He was asking her to be part of his life. She could do this.
The first couple walked off the stage to deafening cheers. The couple at the top end of their table jumped up and waved to the crowd before they made their way on stage.
She bowed her head and stared at her trembling hands.
She couldn’t do this—it was one thing to speak to a group of people with notes on a lectern, it was quite another to sing and let go of a few inhibitions. Before every speech she’d spend a good hour or more rehearsing.
She tapped Mike on the knee. ‘Why three?’
He caught her hand and squeezed it.
‘The first’s a warm-up, the second I’m getting into my stride and the third is sheer indulgence on my part. I let it rip.’
She swallowed hard. Let rip? What could she let rip? On stage the couple stood by waiting to get started.
‘Why are you doing three? Everyone else is doing one.’
‘I asked and they haven’t run me off the stage yet.’
She thought about that. ‘You must be good.’
With his other arm he reached out and grabbed the back of her chair, pulling her towards him. His face softened. ‘You’ll be on top of the world on the third song. It’s not worth doing until the third song. Trust me.’
Both his tone and gaze steadied her.
She trusted him. He gave her chair a little shake and he mouthed ‘all good’.
Somewhere in his past he’d had a first time; well, this was hers. She sat up straight and fluffed her hair, then picked her bag up, swung it over her shoulder and waited. Tension weaved its way into her body and by the time their number was called her body was almost frozen solid.
‘That’s us.’
Mike grabbed her hand and gave it a firm squeeze. ‘Join in when you want, there’s no pressure.’
Her eyes never left Mike’s back as they made their way to the stage. She couldn’t hear a thing over the roar and noise of the crowd. Her eyes remained glued to Mike. She was not making a move without him. A slow handclap started and the floor beneath her vibrated.
Mike strode across to the DJ and returned, handing her a microphone. Her hand visibly trembled and she almost dropped it. She glanced across at Mike, aware that so many eyes were on them. He gave her a wink and then nodded in the direction of the crowd. She swallowed hard and turned to face the audience in the heat of the blazing stage lights. She was conscious of Mike standing beside her. The music started and her eyes flew to the small screen in front. She let out a shuddered sigh of relief when the familiar words ran across the screen.
The vibration from the floorboards grew stronger and shunted through her feet and into her body. Mike moved behind her, and his arms brushed against hers, reassuring. From the corner of her eye she saw him waving to the crowd. She settled a little and started to move in time to the music. Her movements were jerky and then Mike sang. His deep and rich voice filled the room and quieted the crowd. Before she knew it, the chorus came up and she joined in.
Her voice came out soft, tentative. Her eyes strayed a little from the small screen to Mike’s friends at the front table who kept nodding encouragement to her.
Before she could relax the second song started. It was one of her favourites. She smiled and there was a thumping of fists from the table in front. She moved a little away from Mike and swayed in time to the music. On the chorus she found her voice. This time it was much stronger. At the end she hit an odd note. She shrugged and the crowd in front clapped.
On the third song, Mike moved away and stood at the other side of the stage. The song title came up and her heart thumped hard. She knew this song. It had been a hit for months.
She wasn’t singing the chorus this time.
When the tune started her mind focused on the words running across the screen. Somehow the small screen anchored her, calming her, and the noise of the crowd faded away. She raised the microphone to her lips and started to sing. Her voice soared high as she tapped the side of her thigh.
Mike joined her and together they sang the chorus. She glanced up at Mike and his eyes meshed with hers, oozing confidence and happiness. As the music fell away, he took her hand. They handed in their mikes and a pang of sadness hit her. It was over. The suddenness shocked her.
Together they strode off the stage.
Her body buzzed. It was as though someone had cut her loose, like a ship that had broken free of its mooring. At the foot of the stage, he grabbed her hand and steered her past the moving mass of bodies still pouring into the pub. They kept going until they burst through the heavy wooden doors.
Outside it was damp with a light drizzle. Mike ran to the side of the building where it was dry and out of the wind. They were alone. Her heart thudded in her chest as Mike leaned against the brick wall. In the dim light she could see a light sheen of sweat forming on his forehead.
He ran his hands through his damp hair.
‘That was awesome. Bloody awesome,’ he said.
The raw energy in his voice surged inside her. She stood staring at the man who had talked her into singing in a pub. It was one of her pet hates; she couldn’t believe she wanted to do it all again.
‘That surprised me, it was fun,’ she happily admitted.
He gave her a strange lo
ok. ‘What do you do in your spare time?’
‘Work. I don’t have spare time.’ The words flew out, as if on autopilot.
He leaned closer, his face serious. His closeness set off a hot charge deep inside her chest.
‘We’ve established you don’t play sports, you bake a mean scone, you don’t sing—dance?’
Her eyes never left his face, she shook her head.
He threw his head back. ‘Darling, you need to get a life. What on earth do you do? Ever get drunk?’
She shook her head. He shifted and her nerve endings spiked, they were a jumble of … heat, lust, and longing.
‘Ever surprise yourself?’
His melodious voice swarmed about her, his accent intoxicating, and her breath hitched as she stared into his eyes. They were dripping with desire. Their intensity drew her in and, leaning towards him, and without another word she wrapped her arms about his waist. His body was scorching hot wherever they touched—at their thighs, stomach and chest. Her fingers grappled with the dampness of his shirt as she tugged at it, itching to touch his skin.
He dipped his head and she stood up on her toes to meet his lips. He kissed her thoroughly. An urgent basic need gripped her and she snaked her arms around his neck, not wanting to let go.
He pulled away. It was over almost as soon as it began.
He gently took her arms from his neck and stood before her, still holding her hands.
She whimpered. The strangled sound brought her back to reality. Confused, she searched his face. He’d pursed his lips and his eyes were dark and narrow, but apart from that he wasn’t giving away any other clues.
‘What?’ she asked. ‘What’s wrong?’ Her heart beat strong and hard in her chest. She tried to breathe again, to help stem her rising panic.
‘Sorry, Rach, it’s me. I’m being a dick.’
Something’s not right here.
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. ‘You’re allowed. I’m only here for two weeks, so I’m okay with casual if you are.’
The sound of her voice, raw and dripping with undisguised need, shocked her more than her words.
He closed his eyes and gently rocked to and fro in front of her.
A Reason To Stay Page 8