Discovering Stella

by K. M. Golland

  Lawson glanced over at me and furrowed his brow. “You don’t have a book.”

  “My books are on my phone. They’re e-books.”

  “Books are not on phones. Books have physical pages that you turn,” he replied categorically.

  This time I laughed harder. “You are so old-fashioned.”

  “It’s got nothing to do with being old-fashioned. A book was made to be held, to be smelled.”

  I raised my eyebrow at him and tried not to laugh any harder. “You smell books?”

  “Shit yeah, you know ... those scratch and sniff ones,” he implied, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Lawson!” I tossed one of my grapes at his head. “That’s disgusting.”

  The deep chuckle that left his mouth filled me with joy. He was such a laid-back, happy guy, and being around him really was effortless.

  “What?” he asked, continuing to laugh, “Don’t tell me you’ve never given it a go.”

  “I haven’t. Those porno books have never done anything for me.”

  He pulled into the driveway of Knight Repairs, cut the engine and opened the truck door. “Come on, prude, you can’t sit in here. I like eating your pie, but I don’t want it baked to a crisp. My office has air conditioning, you can relax in there.”

  My jaw dropped at his ‘prude’ and ‘pie’ stab. “Fine! And I’m not a prude,” I protested, climbing out of the truck and following quickly behind him. “Anyway, it’s my berry, not a pie,” I murmured quietly, not really needing him to hear the last bit.

  He stopped and turned to face me, causing my collision into his chest. “Your what? Say that again.”

  I blushed as he held me at an arm’s length. “What?”

  “You know what. What was it you just called your pie?”

  “It’s not a pie,” I said with frustration. “It’s my berry.”

  He burst into laughter and displayed an expression of delighted realisation. “Oh, this is perfect. I’ll be eating my share of berries before this day is over. And so will you.”

  “Wha—”

  He cut off my questioning of his weird statement by wrapping his arms around my butt and hauling me into the air and over his shoulder.

  I squealed and lightly pounded on his back with my fists. “Put me down, you barbarian.”

  He ignored me, therefore all the while being carried upside-down through the workshop having my protests disregarded, I focussed on his butt, sliding my hands beneath his waistband and briefs and feeling the muscles of his arse flex and relax with each step that he took. Mmm ... this man is fine!

  Without even realising, because I’d become arse-stracted, we’d stopped. “Want to move those hands around to the front of my body?” he asked.

  Sure, why not?I gave him a playful squeeze. “Will it prove that I’m not a prude?”

  “It will definitely help.” His voice sounded strained when my right hand crept around his hip and dipped into the front of his pants.

  “Well, for the sole purpose of proving you wrong ...” I moved my hand seductively up his growing length.

  A low growl resonated from within his throat. It made me smile.

  “You know, I’d have a much better angle if you put me down,” I suggested.

  Lawson moved his hands from the backs of my legs and placed them on my hips in order to gently guide my body down the front of his until my feet were placed firmly on the ground. The look in his eyes as he stared into mine had turned somewhat intense, the playfulness he’d displayed moments ago now set aside and replaced with what seemed to be appreciation.

  “You’re beautiful, Stella,” he said sincerely, dragging his finger down the side of my face and watching its descent as if he were taking note of where it had travelled. “And not just where I can see and touch.”

  Tears welled in my eyes at the gentle and kind manner he always seemed to have around me, but I blinked them back, and rose to stand on the tips of my toes and place a soft kiss on his lips. His large strong hands found the sides of my face and held my head in the perfect position while we savoured one another’s mouths. Oh my, this man is incredible. And he was incredible in every way. Well ... in all the ways I had discovered so far in the short time we’d known each other.

  Sliding my hand back into the front of his pants, I was just about to pop the button on his jeans when the phone rang. Crap! I slowly began to retract my hand, but he stopped me. “Don’t worry about it. The answering machine will get it.”

  I raised my eyebrow and coupled it with an amused expression while sliding my hand back down to grasp his hard length. “But it might be important.”

  “Princess, your hand around my cock is more important.”

  My grip tightened and my eyes fluttered when his lips met mine once more, the irrelevant ringing of the phone cut short when Lawson’s voice sounded from the answering machine. He groaned into my mouth as his hands cupped my face.

  “Drake!” an angry man wailed through the speaker of the machine. “Pick up. We got a problem with the last parts shipment.”

  “Fuck,” Lawson groaned yet again, except this time his tone wasn’t one of lust. “Shit! I gotta get this.”

  I released my hand and held both up in the air in a show of surrender. “Told you.”

  “This,” he said, pointing from him to me as he walked backward toward the workshop, “will resume as soon as I get back.”

  I smiled and turned on my heel. “Sure it will.”

  * * *

  What felt like an hour later, but was probably a lot less than that, Lawson still hadn’t returned from the workshop. I’d been immersed in my book about an office romance and felt it was time to get up and stretch. I also wanted to see what was keeping him from ‘resuming’ what we’d started.

  As I made my way out of the office, past the supply room and into the workshop, I couldn’t see him anywhere. I could, however, hear muffled talking coming from outside and behind the building. Curious, I quietly continued in that direction only to recognise the muffled voices to be those of Lawson and Vicky, their angry tones leaving no doubt that they were having an argument. I paused, unsure whether or not to take a few steps closer so that I could eavesdrop, and perhaps get a sneak peek, or whether to go back to the office and run awful scenarios around in my head. As much as option two was probably the right thing to do, I couldn’t do it. I was only human after all and, sad to say, I was also my own worst enemy and highly inquisitive.

  Stepping up to the tin shed door that led out to the yard, I peered through the crack, careful to keep myself hidden. Lawson was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, his demeanour annoyed and unrelenting. Vicky was leaning against the shed wall with one leg bent and resting against it. She was fidgeting with her fingers, agitated.

  “Lawson, please! Just give me another chance. I’ve changed. I’m not doin’ ice anymore. I’m clean. I’m not even smoking pot,” she said, timidly.

  My stomach churned with dread at the thought of him leaving me, wanting to give her another chance. They had history ... memories.

  He appeared to deliberately avoid eye contact with her, his determined stance unwavering. “I don’t believe you.”

  Vicky pushed off the wall, stepped up to him and grabbed his face. “Look at me, damn it. Why won’t you look at me?”

  His eyes met hers and glared. They showed what I thought to be anger, hurt and disappointment. “I don’t want to look at you.”

  She started to cry and clenched her fingers into his jaw before letting go and taking a few steps back. “Why? Why is it so hard to look at me? It was a mistake. I said I was sorry.”

  “I know you did and I believe you, but it doesn’t change anything between us. This,” he said, sizing her up with his hand, “this is not the Vicky I know. Not the Vicky I once loved. If you really have stopped trying to kill yourself, then I’m glad. Real fucking glad, but it’s not going to mean you and I pick up where we left off. We are done, Vic.”

  I let o
ut a breath, my heart rate slowly settling to an even beat.

  Vicky approached Lawson yet again, grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and cried harder. “Please, Law. I need you. I miss you. I love you. It’s always been you.”

  “No, it hasn’t. You seem to forget that,” he said, his determination wavering just slightly as he gently pried her hands loose and kept a hold of them in front of him. “Look, you and I were over before you slept with Leigh. I know it; you know it. We are different people. I moved on. You need to do the same.”

  “She can’t make you happy like I can,” Vicky implored, yanking her hands free and wiping the tears from her face. “She can’t!”

  “She can and she does. More so. I’m sorry, Vic. You need to accept that we are no more. If you did that, then perhaps we could be friends. Until then, I can’t do this with you. Stella is in my office, waiting for me. I shouldn’t be out here discussing this with you. I should be in there with her. You need to leave,” he advised, empathetically.

  I didn’t need to hear anymore. I’d heard more than what I rightfully should’ve, so I quickly made my way back to the office and tried my hardest to pretend I was oblivious to what had just transpired.

  Moments later, Lawson came into the office. His posture was slumped and his eyes lacked the enthusiastic glint they’d sported prior to him leaving — he looked defeated. Had I no prior knowledge of his altercation with Vicky, I’d say he was just downhearted from his initial, draining phone call. But I knew better.

  “Sorry, Princess. I got tied up with some shit,” he half-confessed, sitting his arse on the edge of his desk. “You ready to go?”

  I nodded and stood up. “Sure,” I said as enthusiastically as I could, which now, after the argument I’d secretly witnessed, was much easier said than done.

  * * *

  The drive was a little quiet. It was also strange. The kind of strange where two people have a silent discussion over not having a discussion in the first place. It was also obvious, due to the lack of conversation and avoidance of eye contact, that he knew I was aware of what had delayed his return back to the office. Either that, or I was terribly paranoid. Yet neither of us could break the ice and just get it out in the open. It really was silly but I guess, for me, it was the guilt over my eavesdropping that kept me quiet. I really didn’t want to admit that mistake to him, even though I thought he already knew. I felt bad enough as it was.

  “You heard us, didn’t you,” Lawson said, his question more of a statement. “Sorry if it has upset you. But unfortunately, Vicky is a part of my past, and until she realises that, she will pop up here and there. It’s in her nature. She doesn’t give in. So I’m sorry. I just hope you can trust me where she is concerned. That’s all I can say.”

  I turned to face him and took in his honest, but defeated, posture. He didn’t deserve the stress and pressure Vicky was placing upon him. Therefore, I sucked down my pride and fear and placed my hand on his leg. “Okay. I trust you.”

  T W E N T Y

  Berry picking is berry fun

  Hearing Stella say that she trusted me was pretty fucking awesome. Not that I was untrustworthy or anything, because I was ... trustworthy. It was more that she was showing me how invested in the two of us she really was — her trust showed me she was committed. I nodded and dropped my hand from the steering wheel, covering hers. “Good, “cause you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Do you think she was telling the truth about being clean?” Stella asked, a little hesitantly, sounding uncertain as to whether or not to talk to me about Vicky. If that was the case she needn’t worry. Talking about my ex didn’t really bother me. Vicky was water under the bridge. Old news ... a used condom. Fuck! That was a little too harsh. I take that back.

  Despite Vic now being in my past, I didn’t like seeing her so miserable and fucked up. I wasn’t a heartless bastard and, in fact, at the beginning of Vicky’s downward spiral, I had tried to help her, but got absolutely nowhere. She was, and always would be, her own stubborn-as-fuck person, and she wasn’t my responsibility anymore. But I did worry about her state of mind, because as much as the two of us were over, I didn’t want to see her harmed in any way.

  “Yeah, I think she’s off the drugs, but I’m not convinced it has been for very long. Her idea of being clean is more like not touching the stuff in under twenty-four hours.”

  “Huh,” Stella replied, then looked out of the window.

  “Why? What do you think? You’re a nurse, do you think she’s clean?”

  “Correction — was a nurse. And no, I don’t think she’s been off them for long at all,” Stella admitted, honestly. “You do realise she won’t be able to do it on her own. She’ll need help. Does she have family?”

  I nodded. “She lives with her younger sister in their grandparents’ house, just out of town. And her parents live on a property roughly fifteen kilometres up the road from there.”

  “Do they know about her drug problem?”

  I moved my hand from its position on top of hers and placed it on the steering wheel in order to manoeuvre my car into the driveway of Pittstown Strawberry Farm. “Her sister knows and I think her parents suspect the drug use, too. But as far as I know, no one has ever said anything. It’s as if she’s too much of an inconvenience to deal with.” I stole a quick glance at Stella, her pensive stare out the window not conveying her deep thoughts. “But anyway, enough of Vicky, she’s not my concern. You are, and I want this day to be about us,” I said, smiling boldly at her, my plans for the day ahead exciting me.

  She laughed, furrowed her brow suspiciously, and then looked everywhere through the Ute’s windows. “Okay, but I don’t think I’ve seen you this excited since we met. And we’re at a strawberry farm, soooo ...”

  My smile widened. “That’s because you haven’t seen me this excited. And yes, Princess, I give you my favourite place in the whole wide world.” I gestured to our surroundings before parking and turning off the motor. Removing my seatbelt, I hopped out and jogged around to Stella’s door, opening it for her like the perfect gentleman. “I hope you like strawberries, but if you don’t, I hope you like picking them, ‘cause Todd and Meg have put in their order.”

  Stella took my hand and climbed out of the Ute. “We’re picking strawberries?” she asked with a curious smile.

  “Yep!”

  I eagerly took hold of her hand and led her to the farm’s reception office, opening the door and directing her to enter.

  Judy, the strawberry farm owner, looked up from her position behind the cash register. “Hello, can I help — Lawson!” she remarked happily when she spotted that her customer was, in fact, me. “I swear you are going to eat me out of my entire crop this season.”

  “Then plant more crops,” I advised, like the smartarse that I was.

  Judy shook her head, then directed her attention to Stella. “And who do we have here?” she asked in a happy but curious tone.

  “This is Stella, my girlfriend.”

  Stella’s grip tightened around my hand at the same time as Judy’s eyebrows nearly hit the roof. What? Is it so hard to believe I have a beautiful girlfriend?

  Lifting our entwined fingers to my lips, I kissed Princess’s knuckles while winking at her, taking note of her beautifully flushed cheeks. Someone is a little embarrassed.

  “Why, hello, Stella.” Judy beamed. “Such a pleasure to meet you.” To say that Judy was overdoing the fucking sweet-as-pie routine was an understatement. The fact I’d brought my girlfriend with me certainly wasn’t lost on her, judging by her pleased-as-punch expression and singsong tone of voice.

  Letting go of my hand, Stella held hers out to Judy. “Likewise. Pleased to meet you. This is a lovely place you have here,” she said as she twisted around, craning her neck and spying all the painted cartoon characters of strawberries that spanned the roof and walls.

  “Thank you, we strawdo love our strawberries,” Judy explained comically, laughing at her own stupid joke.
“Berry much, in fact.”

  Stella laughed along with her, which made me roll my eyes at the two of them.

  “Oh, come on, Toad, don’t be a sourpuss. It’s berryrude!” Stella added with a giggle, nudging me on the arm.

  I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress a laugh. Bringing Stella here was a big deal for me. I’d never brought anyone to the strawberry farm before, only ever having come here with two other people: Mum and Meg. Let’s just say that Pittstown Strawberry Farm was Meg’s, Mum’s and my special place. It held nothing but joy and fond memories, and I wanted to add some more memories — memories with Stella.

  “If the two of you have finished being berryidiots, we can actually go and pick some, yeah?” I suggested playfully. “But before we head out into the field, Princess, you may want a toilet stop.” I nodded my head toward the restrooms, hoping she’d do as I suggested. Apart from wanting her to piss now as opposed to when we were in the middle of strawberry picking, I also wanted a moment alone with Judy.

  Stella looked toward where I’d indicated and handed me her phone and purse. “Good idea, thanks.”

  As she disappeared behind the swinging door, I turned to face Judy. “I want the works! Strawberry pancakes with strawberry sauce. Strawberries for dipping and your most aged bottle of strawberry wine. I want strawberry overload,” I said quickly in a hushed voice. “I’m going to take her out into the field, then bring her to the gazebo down the back when we’re done. Can you please have it set up for me?” I knew what her answer would be. Judy loved the romantic shit involved with strawberries and was always going on about how much of an aphrodisiac they were. Not that I’d ever given two hoots about that fact in the past.

  Clapping her hands excitedly, she then rubbed them together. “Leave it with me. I have just the plan,” she said greedily. Jude then squatted down to retrieve her notepad while adding, “But thank the high heavens, I thought I’d never see this day come.”