Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2)

by Amy Andrews

  His brother chuckled. “So … what are you going to do about her being in town?”

  “Nothing.”

  Another chuckle. “Nothing? It’s over?”

  “Absolutely.” There was no point getting into all that again. Not even for a weekend. Selena, he’d learned to his detriment, was like his own personal crack.

  “Just like that?”

  Jarrod rolled his eyes. “Hardly. She’s been gone for fifteen years.”

  “Right, so you wouldn’t mind if I had a go then?”

  Jarrod’s blood pressure spiked into stroke range. “You lay one single finger on her and I will beat you to a fucking pulp.”

  Marcus threw back his head and laughed, clearly unperturbed by Jarrod’s threat of violence. “So … not over her then.”

  He was. He just didn’t want his brother touching her. Or anyone he knew, really. Anyone who lived in Jumbuck Springs. The entire fucking district, come to think of it. He especially didn’t want her boyfriend the producer touching her either.

  Crap.

  “Don’t you have work to be doing?” he snapped at Marcus, downing the rest of his beer before heading back to the fridge for another.

  “So the plan is just to sit and get pissed all day thinking about the one that got away?”

  “Fuck you,” Jarrod muttered, amusing Marcus even further.

  A particularly potent mix of ancient feelings and current frustrations brewed in his gut with the beer. It wasn’t good for rational thinking. It sure as shit wasn’t good for talking to his idiot, Casanova brother. He wouldn’t understand a long-term relationship if it bit him on the ass.

  He grabbed a beer and stormed out of the kitchen, the sound of Marcus’s laughter following him down the hallway.

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  Selena plonked herself down on an ancient leather recliner in the lounge room. Her recliner. It had belonged to her grandfather, who had died just before she was born, but it still worked as if it had been bought yesterday. When she’d come to live with her grandmother, newly orphaned at the age of three, she’d inherited it.

  Grandy had one too. They sat side by side facing the television with a little table separating them. Selena had many happy memories of them watching cartoons together on Saturday mornings back when her feet barely reached the end of the cushion. And eating tea from a tray every night while they’d watched the seven o’clock news.

  Her ambition to become a television news anchor had started right here in this very chair.

  “Has it started?”

  Selena smiled at her grandmother as she bustled in from the kitchen with two glasses of sweet sherry—her night-time ritual. Selena had been well and truly shooed out after they’d done the dishes. “You’re just in time,” she said, turning up the volume as the dramatic musical intro to the Channel Four news played.

  Grandy set their glasses down on the table between the recliners. The faces of Victoria Turner and Mike Stratton filled the screen.

  “That Victoria has gorgeous hair, doesn’t she?” her grandmother mused as she settled herself into her chair.

  Selena nodded. Victoria’s hair was a stunning Titian red. In fact everything was stunning about Victoria. Including her personality. She was just an all-round nice woman and an absolute professional.

  And Selena couldn’t see her vacating that chair any time soon. Which meant more time travelling around in the regional areas reporting the news instead of presenting it. Waiting for a lucky break.

  Or trying her hand at another station.

  But news anchor positions didn’t come around that often and were highly sought after. She’d be foolish to have to prove herself worthy all over again at another station when she’d been busting her ass to build a good rep at Channel Four.

  Grandy yawned as she sipped at her sherry. Selena knew exactly how she felt after a full day of being dragged around Jumbuck Springs “visiting” with all her grandmother’s friends. And her grandmother had fifty years on her.

  They watched the news together as they always had, commenting every now and then on the headlines, waiting until the ads to discuss anything more in depth. “Well, that’s me done,” Grandy said, flipping the lever to right the recliner as the news ended. “Shower and bed I think.”

  Selena looked at her, alarmed. Since when had Grandy been so early to bed? “It’s only seven-thirty.”

  “I’ll read for a while but I’m always up at sparrow’s fart, you know that. And it’ll be a late one tomorrow night with the dinner dance. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

  No, she wasn’t. Her wrinkles were deeper, her shoulders were rounder. But her step was still sprightly and that twinkle in her eyes was the same as always.

  An imperious voice played through her head. She’s been getting older for a while, Selena. A prickle lodged itself at the base of Selena’s spine.

  Damn Jarrod Weston to hell.

  “Are you … okay, Grandy?”

  Her grandmother looked at her. “Of course, darlin’” she said, patting Selena’s hand as she rose from the recliner and headed towards the kitchen with their glasses.

  She held herself a little stiffly, though, as she hobbled for a few seconds. Selena followed her into the kitchen and leaned in the doorway as her grandmother placed the glasses in the sink then fussed around putting some jam drops onto a plate.

  “Grandy.”

  Her grandmother turned and tsked at Selena’s frown. “My bones ache a little and I tire more easily, but I’m fine, darlin’.”

  Selena didn’t feel reassured. “There’s not something more? You’re not … sick and not telling me?”

  Her grandmother gave a hearty laugh. “Goodness, no.”

  “Maybe we should make an appointment with Doc Janson tomorrow morning. Maybe there’s something going on that you’re not aware of?”

  “I’m fit as a fiddle, darlin’, saw him last week for a full check-up.”

  Selena nodded but the question that had been fraying at the edges of her subconscious for the last few days reared its head. “Why did you ask me to come home?”

  Grandy had never asked her to come home. Was there bad news?

  “Selena Durrum,” her grandmother said in that voice she knew too well. The you’re-in-trouble voice. It didn’t sound any older.

  “This town, the town you were born in and grew up in, asked you to come home and be its special guest at the centenary celebrations of the school. To give a speech about the importance of roots. Now, you know I’ve supported your decision to move away like you did, and I’ve been proud of you, darlin’, you know that. But they asked you. It’s an honour and a privilege. It was just plain rude to turn them down, and I raised you better than that.”

  It had been a long time since Selena had been so succinctly smacked down. She should have known Grandy would be the one to dish out the ass kicking.

  “And besides,” Grandy continued, “you’ve got unfinished business here, darlin’, and you and I both know it. I know one day you’re going to be sitting in Victoria Turner’s chair because that’s what you want more than anything, but there’s a sadness in you, darlin’. It’s been there since you left, and I can still see it inside you today, and it’s going to keep eating you up. Sometimes you need to move back to go forward. And you can’t have a happy and successful future with your past weighing you down. Jarrod’s still in your system. You need to make it right with him.”

  Selena blinked. Wow. Grandy was really letting her have it tonight.

  Agatha Durrum always had called a spade a bloody spade.

  Selena opened her mouth to splutter a denial, to dispute what had been said, but Grandy was on a roll. “Now …” she said, picking up the plate of jam drops and smiling pleasantly at her granddaughter like she hadn’t just psychoanalysed her into the next century. “Be a dear and take these next door. Those Weston boys never refuse a homemade biscuit. They can cook a mean lamb roast, but they can’t bake to save t
heir lives.”

  Selena automatically took the plate as her grandmother handed it over. Jarrod didn’t look like he was suffering due to his lack of baking skills.

  Grandy smiled again. “I’m turning in for the night. I’ll see you in the morning.” She patted Selena’s cheek. “It’s so good to have you home, darlin’.”

  Then she brushed past, leaving a dumbstruck Selena standing in the kitchen holding a plate of jam drops.

  Selena shook her head. Make it right with Jarrod?

  Christ …

  Grandy was a smart woman, but on this one she was wrong. She’d come to terms with walking away from Jarrod a long time ago, and she hadn’t come back to Jumbuck Springs to make it right with him. She was here for three days. Catch up with her grandmother, give a speech, then get the hell out of Dodge.

  Jarrod and she were history. Finito. Water under the bridge. She wasn’t going back. She was going forwards.

  All the way to Victoria Turner’s chair.

  * * *

  “Hey, Selena!”

  “Hey Ethan,” Selena smiled as Jarrod’s oldest brother opened the door for her and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I heard you were back in town.”

  “Good to know the chief of police has his ear to the ground,” she teased.

  “Are you kidding, a TV star in our midst? The phones ran hot down at the station.”

  Selena laughed. “Jarrod told you, right?”

  “It was Marcus, actually.” He tipped his chin at the plate of biscuits. “Those for us?”

  “Yes. Grandy tells me you guys can’t bake for shit.”

  He stole one off the plate as he took it from her. “Your grandmother is right. And it’s good of her to spoil us,” he said, ushering her down the hallway.

  “Well, you know Grandy, always looking for someone to spoil.”

  “Who’s that?” a male voice called from the kitchen. It had to be Marcus because even after all this time, Selena knew Jarrod’s voice anywhere.

  “Ah,” Marcus said from near the sink, as Selena stepped into the kitchen at the end of the hallway, “the prodigal daughter returns.”

  Selena grinned. “Hi Marcus.”

  He strode forward, picked her up in a big bear hug and swung her around before setting her back on her feet. Selena shook her head as she looked at the middle Weston brother. The Weston men sure had put the good in good looking.

  Jarrod’s father, Don Weston, had been pretty hot for an older dude too.

  “It’s good to see you again. You shouldn’t stay away so long next time.”

  He was deliberately teasing her, Selena could tell. Marcus always had liked a bit of good-natured stirring, and she wasn’t going to rise to the bait.

  “I hear you’re giving a speech about rooting.”

  Selena swatted him playfully on the arm. “Roots. Not rooting. The importance of roots.”

  “Hey,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “You won’t get any argument from me about the importance of roots.”

  “God, you’re such a guy,” Selena said, rolling her eyes. “I see you haven’t grown up any.”

  “Oh come on, you gotta admit,” he cajoled. “It’s a little bit funny.”

  Selena laughed. She hadn’t really thought about its colloquial meaning. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to think about it any other way now. Thanks to Marcus she doubted she’d be able to keep a straight face while actually giving her speech. About roots.

  “You wanna beer?”

  Selena turned to Ethan who was still holding the biscuits in one hand as he pulled a beer out of the fridge with the other. “Ah …”

  She tried to be strict with her size-twelve figure. She tended to put on weight easily and the camera added ten pounds. God alone knew what she was going to weigh after three days of Grandy’s cooking.

  But hell, she’d already had a sherry tonight. “Sure. Thanks.”

  He cracked the lid and handed it to her, then tossed another one to Marcus. She noticed he grabbed some water for himself. “On call?”

  “When isn’t he on call?” Marcus snorted. “No downtime for the chief of police. Captain Serious must wear his cape at all times.”

  “Bite me,” Ethan said, flipping his brother the bird.

  “Daaaad, I’ve finished.”

  Ethan dropped his finger quickly as Selena turned to find a girl with a ponytail walking into the kitchen from the hallway, a book in her hand. She figured she was Ethan’s daughter who must be about thirteen. Although Selena had left Jumbuck Springs a couple of years before Delia had become pregnant, Grandy had kept her up to date on the gossip.

  Selena had been in Delia’s grade at school. She’d never much liked the other woman. In fact Delia had been a bitch from the second she grew a pair of breasts, but she and Ethan had sure as hell made a cute kid.

  “Hi,” Selena said. “You must be Connie.”

  The girl looked at her curiously as she grabbed a jam drop off the plate and stuffed it in her mouth. “Hi.”

  “This is Selena,” Ethan said. “Mrs D’s granddaughter.”

  Connie’s eyes visibly widened as she hastily swallowed. “You’re the one who—”

  “Okay,” Ethan said hurriedly, clamping his hand down on his daughter’s shoulder as Marcus almost spat a mouthful of his beer out as he started to laugh. “Time for bed now.”

  “Can I have another jam drop first?” she asked looking longingly at the plate.

  “One more.” Connie swiped it quickly as Ethan deposited the plate on the table. “Say goodnight, Missy.”

  “Night,” Connie mumbled around the biscuit as she followed her father out of the room.

  Selena cocked an eyebrow at Marcus who was still laughing. “I’m the one who …?”

  “Broke her uncle’s heart.”

  “Jarrod told his niece that I broke his heart?”

  “Hell no,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “I told her that.”

  Selena shook her head. “Gee, thanks.”

  “No worries,” Marcus grinned, completely unabashed. “Speaking of which. If you’re looking for grumpy bum he’s out back.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s kinda pissed off at the moment though.”

  Fabulous. “Why?”

  “Well, I’m no shrink, but I’m assuming it’s because of you.”

  “Me?” she squeaked. “I haven’t done anything other than show up.”

  Marcus waggled his eyebrows as he sucked on his beer. “Precisely.”

  Selena glanced at the door that lead to the back veranda. She didn’t have to see him tonight. She’d delivered the biscuits as asked.

  Marcus cocked an eyebrow then made chicken noises at her. “Bok-bok, bok-bok.”

  “Seriously?”

  He winked at her. “He’ll be even more pissed if you call in and don’t say hi.” He walked to the fridge and pulled out a beer. “Take this.” He handed it to her, then picked up the plate. “And this.” Selena took both beers in one hand as he shoved the biscuits into the other. “And for God’s sake, cheer him up a bit.”

  Selena’s brain flipped through a dozen ways she could cheer him up. All of them involving her wearing his tool belt. Marcus laughed again, reading the look on her face. “Yeah,” he said. “That’ll work,” as he gave her a light shove towards the door.

  * * *

  Old boards moved beneath Selena’s feet as she stepped out onto the enormous wraparound veranda, which was covered overhead by the pitched roof extending all the way out to the railing. Jarrod was sitting in the dark in a squatter’s chair, his legs up on the flat wooden planks that extended out from the frame for just that purpose.

  The bottles clinked as she approached and he turned his head to look at her. “It’s just me,” Selena said. “I come bearing gifts.” She held out a beer to him. He took it and cracked the lid, also relieving her of the plate. “Do you mind if I sit a while?”

  He shook his head and indicated the chair n
ext to him.

  Selena sat. They used to do this a lot, sit on the back veranda and just talk. Sometimes, when his mother wasn’t home they’d make out on these damn squatter’s chairs. How they both hadn’t ended up flat on their asses she had no idea.

  They didn’t say anything for long moments. Just sucked on their beers and looked out over a Jumbuck Springs night. The view from the veranda hadn’t changed in all these years and Selena’s gaze ate it up.

  Kilometres of low scrubby bush that looked brown and brittle even under the soft blanket of night. Stretching all the way to the foothills of the Great Dividing Range where the land gradually rose then buckled into the dark mountainous shapes that loomed in the distance. The occasional ghostly trunk of a giant gum tree broke up the eternal flatness of the landscape.

  The stars were out, bright pricks of light, far shinier here, away from the neon glow of the city. The cicadas were also out, trilling as one, setting the rhythm of the bush, almost deafening in the warm, still night.

  Selena took a deep breath, letting the aroma of earth and eucalyptus fill her up, take her back. No traffic. No people. No rush. No story to file. No mad dash to the next place.

  Just her and Jarrod alone again on his back veranda.

  “I can’t believe all three of you Weston boys are still living at home,” she said, breaking the silence as she stretched her legs out too.

  She was conscious of the brief flicker of his eyes as he checked out her legs before he turned his attention back to the view with a shrug. “We’ve come and gone a bit. Marcus was away for about eight years. But with the three of us here there’s always someone home with Connie.”

  “She’s a lucky girl.”

  Another shrug. “She’s a good kid.”

  “I don’t understand what Ethan ever saw in Delia.”

  Jarrod snorted. “Oh please. Delia was stacked, blonde and easy.”

  Selena almost choked on her mouthful of beer. “That’s not a very nice thing to imply about your chief of police.”

  A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “She adored him. She was pretty. She hung on his every word.” He took a draw of his beer. “Men are simple creatures, really.”