“I know,” I say through gritted teeth, but then can’t help matching his smile. It’s okay that I’m still nervous, I feel like telling him. The fact that Pete Fairfield is causing my stomach to twinge, I’ll keep to myself.
A cry rings out from across the table, and the blanket which covers the pram jerks in all directions as it’s kicked from the inside, as if the baby is trying to escape.
“I told you Lila would make an appearance. Two months old and she wants to be the life of the party,” Susie says, looking at me. She pulls the blanket back over the top of the pram and with great care lifts out a little bundle wrapped in pink. Wild chocolate hair and pale fingers claw at Susie’s face as she pulls the baby into her chest. Lila has got to be the tiniest human being I have ever seen.
Susie reaches into the pram and then places a white dummy into the baby’s mouth. The dummy must be magic, because instantly the crying stops and turns into a combination of humming and sucking.
Susie gets up and walks around beside Quade, who has already pulled out his chair and has his arms open wide.
“I am your godfather,” Quade says in a deep voice akin to Darth Vader as he takes the bundle in his arms. “She’s grown.” He gently bounces her in his arms, supporting her with his left arm and patting underneath with his right hand. It’s like watching a duck take to water or something, as if he holds babies every day of the week. His eyes never leave Lila’s as she stares back at him as if she’s mesmerised. I take a good look at Quade. His attention is purely on her.
“She was tinier than this?” I squeak.
“What can I say? She loves the boob,” Susie says with a shrug as she takes her seat.
“Me too,” Jack boasts.
Susie slaps his shoulder. “Thanks for sharing, doofus.”
Quade turns his head to me, a smile beaming across his face. “You wanna hold her?”
What? I couldn’t. She’s so frickin’ tiny! “But … what if I drop her?” I whisper-growl.
He chuckles. “You won’t drop her.”
“Don’t worry. I freaked out too, Lacey,” Jack says. “Now she gets carried around everywhere like a rugby ball.”
“Um, I’ll just watch from here if that’s okay.” I place my hand on Quade’s shoulder and lean in to him, watching this tiny human take in her surroundings through beautiful hazel eyes.
“She’s like a doll. Beautiful,” I say, and look over at two very proud parents, both with their eyes focused on their daughter.
Little Lila spits the dummy out and it drops onto the floor. Her tiny chin quivers. She opens her small mouth and a loud high-pitched cry bursts from her, making me jolt in my seat. I can’t believe something so tiny could produce such a racket.
“Um,” Quade says, looking straight at Lila’s mother for help, I presume.
“That’s mum’s cue for ‘feed me now’,” Susie says. She pulls a bottle from a bag hanging from the back of the pram and makes her way to her baby. “We’ve got about eight seconds before the windows in the pub are shattered.”
Quade wastes no time getting up and returning the child to her mother. He walks back to our side of the table. Standing, he grabs my hand, pulling me from my seat. We walk over to the bar again, hand in hand.
“Godfather, huh?” I say, and pat him on the shoulder.
A proud smile appears on his face, and he puffs out his chest. “That’d be me. The christening was up in Port Stephens last month. Pretty stoked to be asked, really.”
“That’s cool.”
“Yeah, it is.” He sweeps a long length of hair from the side of my face and tucks it behind my ear. That simple act has goosebumps budding all over my skin.
As if he doesn’t notice my reaction, he turns to the bar and calls the attention of the bartender with an upward jerk of his strong chin. “Do you want another drink?” Quade asks.
“Nah, I’m good thanks.”
“Too much Coke, huh?”
“Yup. I’ll be bouncing off the walls ’til sunset.”
Quade orders a light beer, and the bartender pours his drink into a tall frosty glass.
“Just didn’t feel like a drink, or …” he says, his wide eyes prompting me to finish his sentence.
“Or I don’t drink alcohol anymore.”
He frowns. “Oh, okay. Cool. How come?”
Since I lost my best friend … then woke up with Jamie Fairfield and the mother of all moral hangovers.
“Lots of reasons, I guess,” I say with a shrug. No more stupid decisions under the influence.
The solemn look on his face accompanied by a slow nod tells me he gets my number-one reason. “My mother’s garden will be relieved you’ve given it up.”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
A pang of guilt hits me when I realise the last time I was near the garden. I’d love to see if the cubby is still standing, but given Mrs Kelly’s feelings towards me, I can’t see that happening.
He takes a sip of his beer, and then licks the white froth which clings to his top lip. It causes an ache in my lower belly. I wanna lick it off those lips, even though I hate beer.
“How about I finish this drink, we say our goodbyes and then head off?”
I clear my throat, shaking thoughts of licking him to within an inch of his life. Even though tonight has been lovely and the company has been nice, I’ve felt like all eyes have been on me, particularly where Mr Unreliable is concerned. “Um, sure. Sounds good.”
A short time later, Quade and I say our goodbyes. He slips his hand into mine once more. I could definitely get used to this hand-holding business.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“You tired?” Quade asks as we pull out of the car park.
“Nope. Too much Coke.”
“I’m taking you for a drive then.” The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I don’t like being in a car at night. I avoid it wherever possible. Do I make this a big deal or do I just swallow down my insecurities and see where it goes?
“Um, where?” My voice falters. “Is it far?”
He huffs and makes this tut noise with his tongue. “Do you have to know everything?”
Yes. “Of course. You should know this about me.”
A hearty chuckle rumbles up his throat. “Yeah, guess I should know better.”
The car makes a beeping sound and I look over, spying an orange fuel light.
“You need petrol?” The gauge is a bit too close to “E” for my liking.
“Nah. I’ll be good for another twenty Ks. I’ll get it in the morning. We’re not going far anyway.”
Phew.
Jack Johnson blares through the speakers, taking me back to high school. “Good People” is like my second all-time favourite song. Is this a coincidence? His small smile tells me it’s not.
“How did you …?” I mutter.
A sly grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I remember stuff.”
I melt back into the seat, resting my head against the seat as the dreamy tone to Jack Johnson’s voice teases at my ears.
That’s when I see her walking along the side of the road. Wild auburn hair flows behind her in the breeze, the street light overhead casting a beam of light over her. Was she always that tall?
A flood of emotions has my heart thrumming wildly. It’s her. She’s home.
“Lace?” Quade says, but I don’t answer him. I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s like seeing a ghost.
I point to her and gasp for breath. “Pull over,” I blurt out.
Quade parks beside the girl on the side of the road. She keeps walking. I reach over and beep the horn as I press the button to let my window down. “Mack!” I cry out.
“What the hell, Lace?” Quade says.
“It’s her … it’s really …” I mumble. The woman turns to face the car and walks towards us.
It’s not her. It’s not the face of my best friend who left town without a trace. “Dammit,” I curse under my breath. “Not her.”
When the ra
ndom girl reaches my window, I apologise for the mistaken identity and she continues with her walk down the street. I silently curse my heart for overreacting.
“Why would you be so crazy over seeing Mack?” Quade says, placing his hand on my upper arm.
“Because I haven’t seen her since the funeral.”
A deep V forms between his brows. “What? You haven’t?”
“No. She left straight after the wake. We haven’t spoken again. Not that I haven’t tried to.” Facebook was a dead end, her account seemingly deleted, and her phone was disconnected. It was as if she didn’t want to be found. I made contact with the uni, but they refused to give out personal information about their students … no matter how many times I asked.
“Shit, Lace. Sorry. I didn’t know that.”
I let out a long breath. “Okay, let’s get back to this drive, huh?” I give him a soft smile, my eyes pleading with him for us to move on. It’s not her. It never will be. I should resign myself to the fact that she’s not coming back.
A few minutes later, Quade turns down a side lane. Trees soon surround the car.
The crunching of gravel beneath the wheels turns into a squeaking noise. “We’re driving down to the beach?” I ask. The two tracks the wheels are centred in turn into deep ruts as we descend further into the trees. Quade gains speed, expertly steering the car along the winding road that grows narrower with each turn. If a car comes the other way there is nowhere to go but straight into each other. I grit my teeth and dig my nails into the seat.
Quade launches the vehicle over a sand dune, air beneath the wheels. He yahoos like he used to when he’d pull monos on his pushbike down the street.
“Shit!” I cry out and then giggle, but I’m sure it sounds more like I’m scared to death as I gasp as if oxygen is in short supply. The song changes to “Upside Down”. How ironic.
“Quade,” I yell out, as I’m thrust towards the window with a sharp turn and another bumpy landing.
He just chuckles. It’s deep, hearty and totally hot. “Embrace it, Lace,” he says. Try telling that to the stupid amount of adrenaline trying to pump its way around me, huh?
I laugh and “ooh” and “ahh” as each bump and quick turn has me jumping off my seat and gripping the handle above my window, my knuckles surely white from my deathly grip. “You haven’t grown up that much, have you?”
“Nope.”
“Oh my God. My cheeks are so sore,” I say as I laugh so hard that tears spring in my eyes. How long has it been since I’ve laughed like this?
Quade takes us over another jump. “What cheeks are we talking about?”
My butt lifts off the seat. “Both.”
“Ooh,” he says, with a jump of his eyebrows. “Might have to give you a massage later.”
Quade wants to massage my butt? Holy crap.
After a few minutes, the ride becomes smoother. For the first time since he turned onto this off-road path he looks at me, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“Ever since I got this baby, I’ve been dying to take it out on the sand.” He places his hand on mine, which clutches the side of my seat. The heat of his hand coaxes me to loosen my grip. “Been dying to take you out here for a lot longer.”
Say what? He has? I open my mouth to speak, but my brain is temporarily out of service.
When the crashing waves are in sight, Quade slows down and we approach the wet sand.
“Will you look at that view?” he says, edging closer. I take in the glorious sight of the moon peeking over the edge of the water, preparing to rise into the night’s sky. The sea hypnotically laps at the shore, the sounds of it crashing muffled somewhat by our closed windows.
“Beautiful,” I whisper, letting go of the passenger handle and melting back into my seat.
The steering wheel seems to jerk to one side, halting the car. Quade shifts the vehicle down to first gear. The engine whirrs but the car barely moves.
“Shit a brick,” Quade curses and turns to me, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong with the car?”
He turns the wheel and puts his foot down on the accelerator. The engine revs like crazy, but we don’t move.
He shuts off the car. “Bogged by the sound of it. I’ll take a look.”
As I open the door, a chorus of cicadas chirps in my ears. Quade and I squat beside each other for a good few minutes, staring at the wheel half buried in the sand. We both agree that we are well and truly bogged.
We dig out the wheel as much as we can, and after spending some time gathering leaves and bark, we pad down the wet sand.
“This oughtta do the trick,” Quade says, climbing back into the car, leaving the door open.
The engine kicks once and conks out a second later.
A half-hearted chuckle escapes his lips, which pull to one side in a wry smile. He tries the key again, but the engine just makes a clicking sound.
“Out of petrol,” he adds with a shrug.
I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.
“Don’t say it,” he says, as if the words I just thought were splashed across my forehead in neon lighting.
“Wasn’t gonna say a thing,” I say with a smirk.
“We can just walk back out, come get someone to tow your car tomorrow?”
“Those are some steep hills, babe. Besides, it’d take hours and there might not be much left of us by the time the mozzies are done eating.”
“Okay, so what now?”
“Um.” Quade opens the door, walks to the back of the ute and unclips the black tarp. He pulls out a small black jerry can and shakes it above his head. I’m guessing by the way he’s moving it around, there’s nothing in it. “Goddamn. I should have filled this up the other day.”
He takes a look down each side of the beach, his attention settling on a vehicle about a hundred metres in the distance. “I’ll go see if I can get some petrol from the people parked down there. In the meantime, my phone’s in the centre console. Maybe see if you can get a hold of Jack to come get us? Hopefully he hasn’t already gone to bed.”
“Sure thing. What’s your code?”
“It’s sexy,” he calls out a little farther down the beach.
Huh? “What’s sexy?” Besides you.
“My code. Converts to the numbers seven—three—nine—nine.”
Well of course it does.
I grab his phone from the front seat and type in the numbers. It unlocks like a charm. I hum impatiently as I wait for the bars in the corner to appear.
SOS only.
Why the hell wouldn’t there be service here when we have it only a few kilometres away?
A mozzie buzzes by my ear. Oh no. They’ve found me. I toss Quade’s phone back and pull my phone from my bag. Of course I’m met with the same level of mobile phone coverage. It’s a sign.
Is this an SOS situation? I’m stranded on a beach with Quade. Who is single. Who—his words—has been dying to take me here. Do I really want for us to be rescued?
Feeling helpless standing around, I march in Quade’s direction.
Quade gets within about twenty metres of the other car and then turns back, taking long strides. He’s panting by the time he reaches me.
“What are you doing?” I ask looking between him and the vehicle. “Why didn’t you talk to the people in the car?”
He continues walking in the direction of his stranded car, leaving my feet planted to the spot. I look between him and our possible saviours. Death by mozzie is not how I want to go.
“They’re not gonna help us,” he says, his tone carrying his frustration.
“Why not?” I snatch the jerry can from his hand and storm towards them. “Surely I can bribe them with free pizza for enough fuel to get us out of here?”
Quade catches up and grabs my hand and jerks me back.
“I don’t get it, Quade. Why are you afraid to ask?”
“Lace, there’s two guys having sex in that car.”
I swallow d
own the lump in my throat as I imagine two naked men, hot, of course, with perfect torsos glistening in a sheen of hard-earned sweat as they orgasm their night away. I read an M/M book once, and it was mad. Had my body humming in all the right places.
“Oh,” I say biting down on my lip.
“Yeah, oh. Nice little flush to your cheeks, by the way.”
“It’s dark, Quade. As if you could tell,” I say and huff.
“I know it’s there, though. I know you, Lace.”
Does he know I’m thinking about a steamy book? I seriously need another re-read, and a nice long bubble bath to work out my frustrations and the dull ache that hums between my legs. Which is all Quade’s fault.
Quade takes my hand and pulls me towards his car. He opens the door. A beam of light from the interior of the car illuminates us. Quade checks the display on his phone.
“Oh, there’s no service,” I inform him. He grumbles “SOS”, and tosses it back on the seat.
I look over at the other car again. “Really? Two guys?” Maybe they’re tourists, because there aren’t many outwardly gay people around town.
“Yes, Lace. Really, and judging by the familiar faces, they don’t want to be disturbed. In fact, just by knowing who’s in there and what they’re into, I wish I didn’t go near them in the first place.”
“Why?”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a homophobe, people can swing whichever way they want to if it makes them happy, but the guy in there taking it … you know … He’s married. Newly married.”
“Get out!” I say, with a shove to his shoulder. “Who?”
“I’m not into rumours, so sorry. Not spilling.”
“You can tell me?” I say and bat my lashes.
“I saw a sign on my way back, you know. Makes sense why they were parked there.”
A sign? What kind of sign would encourage shagging in cars? “What did it say?”
“Something about nude sunbathers. I didn’t realise we’d come out on Sanders Beach.”
“Oh my God, we’re stranded on a nudist beach?”
Quade swats my arm.
“What the hell? What was that for?”
He holds his palm to face me, which is spattered with blood at the centre. “We’d better get in the car. Someone other than me thinks you’re good enough to eat.”
Losing Faith (Surfers Way) Page 9