A Reason To Stay

by Linda Charles

  ‘Oh dear. You know your problem, don’t you? You didn’t wait for it to cool before you put the chocolate in. You’re impatient, you’ve got to wait.’

  Shar high-fived Nancy. ‘I won the bet, I knew you’d know. You should be baking, not me.’

  The innocent words should have run away to nothing, but they didn’t, they struck a chord with her. Shar was right, Mike was right—she loved to bake. But the work had no substance, and the early mornings were a killer.

  She sat back. Am I a work snob? Is it the prestige I like rather than the job itself? Nothing gave her greater satisfaction than baking and seeing everybody enjoy it.

  She stood up and slapped her hands to get some attention. ‘Right then, let’s get started. Bob, are you sticking around for this?’

  ‘Not a chance.’

  ***

  Hours later, Rachael picked up their order list and counted out the individual orders. She ticked four dozen lemon meringue minis, six dozen chocolate fondues, and three dozen raspberry tarts. She closed the fridge door.

  She hesitated and swung it open again. Her heart swelled. Each mini glistened with perfection. Never before had she been more proud. The treats would be a hit. She had no doubt of that. They were new, fresh and delicious.

  So far her schedule was working. Bob would take them at five in the morning, they would be in Brown’s display case by seven ready for their opening at eight. Even though they’d baked for the past six hours, it had been worth it.

  She picked up a wet cloth and gave the bench a final wipe-down.

  In between baking she’d had two conference calls with Gordon. To her embarrassment he’d had to remind her on each occasion of the client’s proposal. She hated fumbling over the phone, faking and talking up things she wasn’t one hundred per cent behind.

  She gave the kitchen a final check before she dragged herself upstairs and went into the spare room. She switched on her laptop.

  In a few minutes she saw Gordon’s email and groaned at the number of documents he’d attached. Damn. Had he sent these through as punishment? Had he seen through her fluffing their last call? In the subject line he’d written ‘Prepare report for breakfast meeting’.

  Downstairs the grandfather clock chimed one. Nancy and Bob had gone to bed over three hours earlier leaving her and Shar to bake in peace.

  The house hadn’t yet settled. In the bathroom opposite Shar was taking a shower. She bit her bottom lip, wondering how she was going to summon the energy and the will to deal with Gordon’s request.

  With a sigh, she clicked and opened the first of the attachments.

  ‘Will this help?’ asked Shar.

  Shar stood in the doorway with a mini lemon meringue.

  She nodded. ‘Thank you.’

  Shar carefully plonked it right beside her keyboard.

  ‘I’m almost afraid to ask. How did you leave things with Mike? You came in looking pretty—’

  ‘Dishevelled,’ she cut in. She did not need reminding of her scramble to the bathroom.

  Shar shook her head. ‘No, wrong word. You glowed. Yes, you glowed.’

  She gave her sister a long hard stare. ‘We’re not sleeping together if that’s what you want to know.’

  Shar pulled a face and perched herself on the corner of her desk. ‘I’m sorry about that, but I don’t blame you. I couldn’t leave him either if I’d slept with him. You look busy. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  ‘You too.’

  She picked up the delicate bite-sized meringue and bit into it. It was perfect: there was enough bitter lemon cutting across that lovely soft buttery— Stop it. She forced herself to finish the rest of the meringue without the internal critique.

  Hell’s bells.

  Wrapping her dressing gown tight around her she tiptoed down to the fridge and helped herself to another two meringues.

  She deserved it after such a rough day. Rough day? It was one of the best. The Best.

  Switching off the kitchen light she made her way back upstairs. She grinned to herself when she passed Bob’s chair. All her life she’d glossed over whatever Bob had said, paid him lip service most of the time, but he’d been right about one thing. Cold showers did not work.

  Chapter 17

  On the following Sunday afternoon Rachael stood in Mike’s backyard as she followed his every move. With her open laptop in hand she kept him in focus, its camera filming him washing a very nervy and uncomfortable looking Molly. The tub was huge and Molly kept trying to escape. Mike ran from side to side trying to capture her, but Molly was having none of it. Water and suds sloshed up and splashed out all over Mike’s legs.

  They were acting as mad as hatters and things couldn’t have been better.

  ‘Do you need instructions?’ she laughed.

  Mike feigned a glare. ‘This should be a doddle, but I can’t get a proper grip.’

  ‘Keep talking like that and you’ll have all the neighbours popping their heads over the fence.’

  Suddenly there was a burst of giggles from her laptop. Delighted, she grinned at Mike, but his attention was aimed solely on his hapless dog. Giggles were a new phenomenon from Caitlyn.

  Each evening they had been working at different ways to engage the reluctant teenager, but somehow with Molly the laughter came.

  Rachael tried to steady her hands in order to keep the pair in the frame. Molly was struggling to get out of the tub; as Mike lunged to get a firm hold of her, the tub tipped a little, allowing Molly to get a better purchase of the edge of the tub.

  ‘Mike, watch her, she’s nearly over.’

  Molly bolted out of the tub and stood shivering on the other side. Rach stepped a little closer to her to capture Molly’s big brown eyes. Molly stared at her before she let loose. Her spray travelled far and wide.

  ‘Molly!’ she yelled.

  Mike grinned at the laptop. ‘Did you see any of that?’

  ‘Hey, Mike, watch out—she might do it again. Glad it’s you and not me,’ answered Caitlyn.

  Rachael shook her head. At every opportunity she reminded Caitlyn that Mike was her father. Mike had never said anything, but his face froze every time she called him Mike.

  Taking it slow and steady she swung the laptop to face the house. ‘Caitlyn, I’ll take you inside and show you your father’s latest handiwork in the kitchen. He’s managed to put up some cafe curtains.’

  ‘Oh, what’s that on the bench? They look delish.’

  ‘They are delish,’ burst in Mike as he rushed into the kitchen. ‘They’re a cherry and apple cake with a thick chocolate base. It’s Rach’s latest experiment.’

  ‘Looking forward to meeting you properly, Rach, and I want to put my order in for some of those cakes.’

  Rachael bit her bottom lip and her unease grew. She didn’t want to hurt either of them by reminding them she was heading back to Sydney.

  She bent her head so Caitlyn could catch her voice. ‘There’ll be some ready for you.’

  ‘When’s the bakery’s big re-opening party?’ asked Caitlyn. Mike gave a little jig in the lounge room. It thrilled him every time Caitlyn asked a question about their lives.

  ‘Tomorrow afternoon. We’re having a high tea out in the backyard. Should be good.’

  ‘Hey, Rach, do you need a taster?’

  The surprise request took her off guard. Mike’s face beamed. ‘I’m sure we can arrange something.’

  ‘See you tomorrow, Mike; you too, Rach.’

  ‘Bye, sweetheart.’

  The call disconnected and Rachael laid her laptop on the coffee table.

  ‘Progress?’ he asked. There was hope in his eyes and she couldn’t deny his pleasure.

  ‘I think she connected with Molly. It’s been strange. Football training didn’t work, she watched a bit of the match, but it didn’t really grab her. But Molly’s number one, she got a laugh.’

  Mike’s face grew serious. He sank into the lounge and dropped his head in his hands.

  �
��Oh god, Rach, sometimes I lay awake so scared and worried. I think what the hell am I doing bringing out a teenage girl to live with me? I don’t have any support. I’m on my own.’

  She eased herself into the well beside him on the lounge.

  ‘Hey, your family’s staying here for six weeks.’

  He groaned.

  She ruffled the hair on his head, anything to try and relax him.

  ‘It sounds a long time,’ she said, ‘but you’re all going to need it. It will really settle Caitlyn in.’

  ‘Now it’s so close, I’m bloody terrified.’

  ‘What? And let her miss out on living with you? And the constantly farting Molly? You’re going to deny her that joy?’

  He suddenly swung around, wrapping his long arms around her and crushing her to him. ‘I’m just having a moment.’

  She enjoyed being held so tight. Her face was inches from his and there was a sudden flicker in his eyes. She held her breath as something akin to tenderness came into his eyes.

  He feels that about me?

  She wriggled closer wanting to get inside him, to be with him. She didn’t fully understand her need. But an urgency, a bold need ripped into her.

  As gently as she could she ran her finger down the side of his face.

  He caught her hand and held it. ‘Hey, what is this? What’s got into you?’ he asked, the tenderness in his voice almost her undoing.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  He tweaked her nose. ‘Yes, you do. Tell me. You can tell me anything.’

  This is not the time.

  ‘Okay. Let me remind you we only have a few weeks left before everyone arrives.’ She jumped up. ‘Come on, we still have to paint the ceiling in your second bedroom.’

  He was seriously a good guy, a really decent guy. She laughed as she ran down the hall to the second bedroom.

  She looked back. He caught her gaze and flicked her a quick grin, the one she lived for, the one full of cheek and mischief. It was her barometer that told her everything was good in his world.

  It was enough for now.

  He caught up with her. ‘What’s the rush?’

  She tossed him the paint sheets. ‘Have you forgotten? It’s the girls’ night out. The Bush Babes are out to ruin me tonight … so says Shar.’

  ***

  Later that evening she studied herself in the mirror. For the life of her she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been fitter, sleeping better or looking as good. Gone were the bags under her eyes. Gone were her early morning headaches. Gone were the packets of Panadol.

  A minor miracle.

  She went downstairs to the lounge room. Shar, all glammed up for the girls’ night out, stood chatting to Bob and Nancy.

  Bob let out a wolf-whistle. ‘Here comes danger.’

  She grabbed Shar’s arm and together they paraded before him in the lounge room. ‘I’m glad you like, Bob.’

  He laughed. ‘Not me, love, every guy in town.’

  Shar playfully hit him over the head with her bag. ‘Black suits you, Rach.’

  Nancy clapped her hands. ‘You both look with it.’

  Rach had to agree. She was dressed in black from head to toe, the tightest black jeans she possessed, a little black top and six-inch stiletto boots. She wasn’t in the mood for prettiness, or sweetness, she wanted to let loose tonight and have some fun.

  Bob stood up and jingled his car keys. ‘Come on, I’ll run you down there.’

  As they drove up to The Ace in the Hole pub she spotted the rest of the Bush Babes waiting for them out front.

  ‘Call me if you need me,’ announced Bob as they climbed out of the car.

  All the girls locked arms and walked in together.

  The noise blasted them as soon as they opened the door. The place was rocking—not its usual atmosphere.

  Shar bought them all a drink. In one hit she downed her favourite drink—vodka with grapefruit juice. She liked it so much she ordered another one and downed it. After the second drink her mood changed. She rubbed her hands together, she was ready to party.

  She and Mike had had a few dinners at the Ace’s bistro over the past few weeks, but tonight it was different. The place was packed and the vibe was gritty. The crowd was younger and there was a DJ, headphones on, rocking in the corner. The usual tables had been cleared to make room for dancing.

  Shar slammed her empty glass on the table. ‘Ladies, let’s get started. Who wants a dance?’

  The Bush Babes didn’t hesitate; they rushed to the dance floor and formed a circle. Rachael could feel the beat through the floor boards. It started at the soles of her feet and then wound its way up into her body. It was good. She stood on the fringes and started to sway her body in time with the music. Despite her initial awkward and jerky movements, by the fourth song she fell into a nice rhythm. Soon she was covered in a light sweat.

  She closed her eyes, tapped her feet, and as the music grew more intense, her tapping shifted to stomping her feet onto the dance floor. In time she started to move her hips, her body, and her arms. She was happy to be one with the music, which never stopped. She kept pounding her feet and punching her fists into the air above her head. Her hips rolled, her shoulders swayed and she gave herself over as a convert to the music. Intoxicated by it she kept moving.

  She let fly.

  She twirled her hands above her head and kept her body moving in time with the music. She felt a touch, a movement close by, of someone behind her. A hand touched her waist and moved to her stomach, pulling her. She connected with a hard body, thighs, chest and a ginger citrus scent.

  Her eyes flew open.

  Mike.

  Her pulse skyrocketed. His touch set her on fire as he started to move behind her, his hips moving in sync with hers. His hands on her hips kept them steady and together. Their movements were instinctive, as one and she loved the ease of it and the heat of it.

  It was shocking.

  It was bold.

  It was good.

  His hand slid to her belly, pushing up her top, his hot hand on her skin branding her—she loved it. She was beyond caring. His movements were provocative and seductive and she wanted more.

  The crowd in front broke up and Mike spun her around. They were now face to face. Locked together, hip to hip, eye to eye, and she reached out to touch his chin. His hand slipped down to the small of her back, throwing her pelvis into his.

  Her blood roared in her head. A rush of excitement poured into her as she moved against his strong, hard body. He responded to her in subtle ways and she loved the way he took control and guided her around the floor. Never had her body moved in such a way, he had her completely at his mercy.

  The music changed. Raunchier. Sexier. Mike took her hips in his hands and once again pulled her to him. They were once more hip to hip, chest to chest and she loved the delicious glint in his eyes.

  Suggestively, she wound her arms about his neck. She needed him. God, how she needed him. She craved to get closer; her arms slid down his sides and to his back and tugged at his shirt. Her hands touched his back, his skin, his damp skin. He shifted. Her head flew back as adrenaline charged her veins.

  Her eyes shot to his.

  Mike took her hand and she followed him as he broke through the crush of people. Together they blasted through the doors and almost ran out of the Ace in the Hole.

  The air was cool and there were a few lingering couples standing at the entry.

  He took her to the side of the building and they stared at one another.

  Her eyes skimmed over his figure-hugging jeans and skin-tight t-shirt.

  She reached out to him. ‘A kiss.’

  He pressed her forward and her gaze fell to his lips. Her knees were melting as her body trembled. His hand slid to the back of her head, gently tilting it, and then his mouth was on hers, his tongue sliding against hers, taking over her mouth. The possessiveness of the kiss blew her away.

  This was Mike—her warm beautiful Irish
man.

  She draped her arms around him. ‘Can we do that again?’

  A growl, a deep raw sound, escaped from his throat and went to the very core of her. His eyes were heavy with lust.

  ‘Not here we don’t,’ he whispered—a deep dark whisper. She shivered.

  He took her hand and together they ran over the damp grass verge, past a few couples kissing under the street light and across the road to the only taxi in town waiting. He opened the door and bundled her inside.

  ‘We could have walked to your place.’ His response was to take her in his arms and kiss her.

  Chapter 18

  A phone buzzed. It sounded distant and the dull repeated irritant stirred her into action. Rach opened her eyes. Her bag, where was it? She’d dropped it somewhere in Mike’s place. She lifted her head and watched the early morning dappled light play across his chest. She sank back down into his warmth, and rested her head in the crook of his arm. It was all too hard. Her phone rang out.

  She lay there beside him, a useless puddle. He’d given her everything she’d asked for during the night, and then some, but it was over.

  A sense of foreboding hit her, akin to falling without a safety harness.

  The safe and carefree little bubble she’d lived in since arriving in Mindalby was coming to an end. As were the lovely afternoons decorating the bakery and the evenings spent painting Mike’s home. The many hours spent discussing the right shade of paint colour. Chilling out on Mike’s back verandah discussing anything and everything.

  The bakery’s opening was only a few hours away; it marked the end of her need to be in Mindalby. The bakery gave Bob and Shar the fresh start they needed. Nancy was now back home and working with a new exercise regime and diet. If things worked out well today with Brown’s, they could expect a steady flow of some seriously good orders coming through. All was well with her world—until last night.

  Until she let it all go, first on the dance floor and then in Mike’s arms.

  Then, why the unease?

  All that mattered to her—Nancy, Shar and the bakery—were okay. She had seen to that; she’d kept her promise to herself. To secure their future in some way had mattered the most to her. The seeds of that promise started over a decade earlier and now she was free to fully concentrate on her work. She’d worked hard to put herself in such a wonderful position.