Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2)

by Amy Andrews

  “I have to. It might be Grandy.”

  Or work. She was used to phone calls at all hours of the night from her boss. News was a twenty-four-hour cycle and if something broke in the middle of the night, then journos were woken up.

  She plucked it off the bedside table. “It’s work,” she said as the word Phil flashed onto the screen and she swiped across it to answer. Jarrod didn’t say anything. He put his mouth to better use by applying it to the rise of her breast.

  “Hey,” she said to her boss as Jarrod’s mouth closed over her nipple and she shut her eyes in appreciation.

  “We need you back here by morning for the anchor job.”

  Selena’s eyes flashed open. That was Phil. No cheery greeting. No preamble. But … the anchor job? “What?” She’d have asked him if he was joking except Phil never joked. “What are you talking about?”

  “Victoria’s father has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and given three months to live. She’s taken four months leave, but it could be longer. She’d getting the first flight to the UK in the morning. We want you to stand in while she’s gone.”

  Jarrod’s tongue swiped back and forth but the unexpected news was like a bucket of ice water. “Oh God, that’s terrible,” she said, sitting up, displacing him.

  “What’s wrong?” Jarrod whispered from behind her, his palm sliding up her back to rest between her shoulder blades.

  Selena ignored him as Phil said, “Yes, it is. It’s absolute shit, but her bad luck is your opportunity.” It was said in Phil’s usual matter-of-fact manner. He wasn’t heartless, he just played the hand he was dealt and left the gnashing of teeth up to others. “I know you’ve wanted this for a long time. You up for it?”

  Chapter Nine

  ‡

  Up for it? Selena’s pulse whooshed through her ears, magnifying the silence in the Weston house. She’d been up for it from her first day at the studio as a production assistant.

  She didn’t hesitate for a second. “I’ll be there at eight.”

  There was a grunt and then a, “See you tomorrow,” and Phil was gone.

  Jarrod’s fingers drew warm patterns between her shoulder blades as she threw the phone on the mattress in front of her. “Everything okay?”

  Everything was better than okay. Everything was falling into place. She’d have never wished what Victoria was going through right now on her worst enemy, but Phil was right—it was an incredible opportunity.

  “Victoria Turner’s father has been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She’s taking four months off.”

  “Oh God,” he said and she could hear the frown in his voice. The concern. “That’s awful.”

  “Yes.” She looked over her shoulder at him. The sheet was hitched to his waist, moonlight slicing in through the window shining a celestial spotlight on his belly, leaving everything else in shadow. “I’ve just been offered her anchor job.”

  His fingers stopped their caress. “And you took it?”

  His expression was hard to define with the night hooding his eyes.

  She nodded. “Of course.”

  “Congratulations,” he said after a beat or two, and he smiled. But it didn’t exactly blaze out like a beacon in the dark. “You finally cracked it.”

  “You don’t seem that enthused.”

  “I guess I’m wondering what that means for us, now.”

  Selena blinked. “Us?” she echoed. She’d barely wrapped her head around the enormity of this. It had been a night of surprises.

  His hand slid from her back. “Yes, you know, that thing we were discussing before your phone rang.”

  “Right. Sorry.” She shook her head, trying to order her thoughts.

  “You didn’t even think about it, did you?”

  “I …” Shit. “I’m sorry. The offer came out of the blue. It kinda blindsided me.”

  “So you just said yes.”

  “Well … yeah.” Selena frowned. He more than anyone had to know what this offer meant to her. “Hang on … you’re pissed at me?”

  “You said yes without giving us a second thought. Without even talking to me.”

  Selena’s pulse spiked as her temper flared. She rose from the bed and threw on the T-shirt and underwear she’d dragged off the bathroom floor earlier. They smelled like smoke. But what didn’t? It’d probably take a week to get the smell out of her nostrils.

  She turned to glare at him. “Without talking to you?” She shoved her hands on her hips. “I wasn’t aware that I needed your permission, Jarrod. This job, news anchor, is what I’ve been working towards since I was seventeen.”

  If she didn’t take it up now then her leaving here and the emotional havoc she’d wreaked all those years ago would be for naught. It would have meant nothing.

  “Of course you don’t need my permission,” he snapped, sitting up in bed, his torso bathed in moonlight now, his face out of the shadows, his green eyes blazing. “I just thought you might want to have a conversation with me about it. So we could talk about what it might mean for us. That’s what couples do. Couples talk things over. They don’t make unilateral decisions.”

  Couples.

  Was that what they were now?

  Apart from the first time around with Jarrod, Selena hadn’t ever really had a couple kind of relationship. The guys she’d been with had been from the same industry. They understood that the job came first. That the news came first.

  Maybe she was just too used to being on her own. Too set in her ways. Not cut out for coupledom.

  Her eyes roamed over the planes of his face, beautifully delineated by the moonlight. In fact all of him was—the width of his shoulders, the broadness of his chest, the flatness of his abdomen—his pale skin almost alabaster in the splash of light from the window.

  “It wasn’t the kind of phone call where you said, hang on let me just consult with the naked guy in my bed first.”

  He slowly nodded his head. His hair more a washed-out rust than red-gold. “So … that’s all I am. Some naked guy in your bed?”

  Selena shut her eyes. “No. Of course not.” Her eyelids flicked open and her gaze locked with his as her heart crashed in her chest. He was pissed at her and she was … what?

  Torn.

  “I love you, Jarrod.”

  “But? Sounds like there’s a but coming.”

  “No.” Because what kind of person would that make her? What kind of woman? Wasn’t she supposed to swoon at his feet and beg him to be with her? Didn’t love mean wanting to be with him absolutely?

  “I’m just … trying to process this whole thing. I don’t really need to tell you that this job offer is a really big deal for me.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “And I want to take it, Jarrod.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t.”

  “No. But it seems a lot like you’re asking me to choose between you and it.”

  Even beneath the layers of his whiskers, Selena could see his jaw clench. “Don’t put words in my mouth,” he said as he threw off the sheet and climbed out of the bed, his buttocks an alabaster flash before disappearing into shadow. He stalked to the cupboard, pulled out some boxer briefs, and stepped into them before facing her.

  “I just thought I might factor into your decision somewhere, but apparently not.”

  “Jarrod …” Selena’s head spun. How had this changed so quickly? Ten minutes ago they were talking love and tentative futures and now they were glaring at each other across his bedroom. “I’ve been single for a long time. I’m not used to factoring in other people. So no … I’m sorry, I didn’t think about you or us when Phil offered me the job.”

  He shoved his hands on his hips. “And now?”

  Now? Now she wished she wasn’t having this conversation with both of them pissed off and neither of them fully dressed. She didn’t want to have to choose between her career and Jarrod again. She’d already done that once before.

  Why couldn’t she have both?


  Weren’t women supposed to be able to have it all these days?

  “Come and live in Brisbane with me. The anchor job is based there so I’ll be around twenty-four seven now. No travelling. No snatching time to be with each other.”

  It was a much more compelling proposition now than the one she’d made earlier, but the same hesitation she’d seen then flashed through his eyes again.

  “I know it’s a lot to ask,” she said, jumping in, desperation taking over. She wanted him to say yes. She wanted him.

  But she wanted this opportunity as well.

  “Leaving your job and your family and your home town. I understand that. Believe me, I do. But I think it could work. Like you said earlier, we’re two smart people, right?”

  He nodded. “I just wish it didn’t feel like such a … afterthought.”

  A cramping pain took up residence in Selena’s chest. God—how did this all go so wrong? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Phil’s phone call threw me. I wasn’t planning on it. I wasn’t planning on tonight being the night I was offered the one thing I’ve wanted for fifteen years.”

  His snort tore through her like a bullet. “And here I was thinking maybe tonight I was the thing you’d wanted for fifteen years.”

  Bitterness coloured his words and there was defeat in the way he raked his hand though his hair. But he wasn’t being fair. He was already living the life he’d always wanted.

  “I’m not talking personally.”

  “That’s the difference between us, Selena. I am. You think your job can bring you personal fulfilment? You’re wrong. It can’t cuddle you in bed at night. It can’t fuck you in a shower. And it won’t be there when you’re fifty and some other younger, perkier blonde is waiting for a family tragedy to take your place.”

  Selena gasped, recoiling at the implication, emotion thickening her throat and jabbing her straight in the solar plexus. As a blow it hit pretty hard. She’d have never thought Jarrod capable. Which just went to show how much she didn’t know about this very adult Jarrod.

  Maybe she deserved it after all the pain she’d inflicted on him over the years, but it didn’t hurt any less.

  “Shit,” he swore, pushing a hand through his hair, instantly contrite. “I’m sorry. That was a crappy thing to say. I didn’t mean it.”

  Maybe he didn’t. Maybe it had been a heat of the moment thing. But it had obviously come from somewhere and maybe it was best that it came out now. “Okay.” Selena held onto her temper and the hard ball of hurt inside her. “Maybe we need to cool down and have a think about this? Talk about us and the future later?”

  “Later?”

  “After … When my stint as news anchor is up.” The way things were between them right now they’d probably need that kind of distance.

  He gaped at her. “In four months?” Clearly he didn’t think they needed that much distance. “And what do we do in the meantime?”

  Selena shrugged. She had to admit, it was a long time and no matter how pissed she was at him now, she couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. Not anymore. But maybe they needed to take it slow? Get to know each other again.

  “We can still see each other. We’re two hours away. We can make it happen.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t just want bits of you, Selena. The parts left over. The pieces you can spare. I’ve been without you for fifteen years, and they were long and hard and I hated every one of them.”

  He moved, coming to a halt in front of her, sliding his hands onto her upper arms, his eyes searching hers. “I walked around in a permanent state of … less and I didn’t even realise it until you waltzed back into town a few weeks ago and lit me up again. Now I’ve found you again I want all of you. Everything.”

  The raw need in Jarrod’s voice shocked her. Everything? He wanted too much. She loved him, but Grandy had brought her up to need more in her life, and she didn’t want to be smothered by his love. To grow to resent it like her mother had grown to resent her father. She didn’t want to be bound by it. To have only it in her life. She needed more.

  And right there in this moment she knew she had to make a clean break again. No matter how much she wanted to fold herself in his arms and beg him to come with her. Or tell him she’d stay.

  She didn’t want to spend the next however many years with Jarrod arguing about the clash of her career and his vision of their all-or-nothing life together. She might be looking at an extended time in the anchor chair, an extended time in one place for a change, but there were still going to be a lot of demands on her time.

  It wasn’t just a couple of hours of hair and make-up and talking into a camera. As the face of the channel there’d be studio commitments. Extra-curricular stuff. It was better to cut her losses and run before they ended up hating each other.

  She didn’t want him hating her again.

  “This isn’t going to work,” she said, gathering every ounce of strength to pull out of his hold. She turned her back on him, walking over to her jeans and stepping into them, the noise of the zipper covering up the sound of her breaking heart.

  “That’s bullshit,” he said and when she turned to face him, his arms were crossed and he was glowering.

  Selena shook her head. “I can’t give you everything. It’s the job. It may be a desk thing but it … consumes you. There are still long hours and then schmoozing and media and studio and charity commitments and weekend things … Then there’s Twitter and Facebook and the whole gamut of social media. It’s never ending really. I’d be in early and working back. There’d be phone calls in the middle of the night. I’d be out a lot. You’d get … resentful.”

  He glowered some more. “Don’t tell me what I’d get. I’m not some child trying to keep a toy all to himself. I understand you’d have commitments.”

  “Do you know the separation and divorce rate in the industry, Jarrod? It’s high. It’s insanely high. Higher than the average. I’d rather end this now before it even began than watch your love die. It would kill me to see you like me less and less. Kill me to see you continually sacrificing what you want for what I want and watching you slowly wither from it. You belong here, Jarrod.”

  “I think I can decide that. I’m a big boy.”

  Yes. He was. But she couldn’t put either of them through it. Not again. She was used to being the one that walked way. She could do it again. She picked up her bag, her gut hardening into a ball. “It’s not your choice.”

  “So you’re going to leave again. Like last time?” he demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “We can work it out, Selena. We just have to want it bad enough.”

  Selena shook her head, gathering herself to be cruel. She had to be cruel to be kind. For both of them. “I don’t want it bad enough.”

  His flinch was visible even in the shadows and from a couple of metres away.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to hurt you again, believe me I don’t, but a relationship is not my priority at the moment. I have to give this job my everything. I won’t have time to invest in …” us “… something we shouldn’t have rekindled in the first place.”

  “I see.” The angles of his jaw tightened. “You want wings and I’m roots.”

  Oh the irony of that damn speech coming back to bite her on the ass. Selena swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Well then, go,” he said, his voice tight, his eyes bleak. “Go fly away. Be free.”

  His gaze dared her to leave as if, deep down, he thought she’d stay. But Selena knew she couldn’t. No matter how her heart crumbled and her body screamed at her to stop. No matter how much she loved him she had to do this.

  She had to be strong. She would regret it forever if she wasn’t and that would destroy them quicker than anything else.

  “Goodbye,” she murmured, her heart mapping his face one last, lingering time before turning on her heel and flying away.

  * * *

  Two weeks later Jarrod st
ood shoulder to shoulder with Marcus and Ethan in a crowd of people outside Jumbuck Springs’ oldest church. It was Friday and it seemed the whole town had turned out for the triple funeral of the Wyndham family. The whole country actually, with the Prime Minister and the Opposition Leader also in attendance along with several local and state dignitaries.

  The entire nation had been shocked at the ravenous appetite of the bushfires and touched by the tragic deaths of the Wyndhams.

  The funeral had been delayed due to the nature of their deaths and the subsequent investigations, but now it was here Jumbuck Springs was farewelling the newcomers to their midst as if they’d lived in the area for generations.

  Reggie’s under-twelve football team, dressed in their green and red uniforms, their green socks pulled right up to their bony knees, their recent medals around their necks, formed a guard of honour as the three coffins were loaded into the hearses. Reggie’s medal sat atop of his.

  Marcus cleared his throat, shifting from foot to foot and pulling at his collar. All three of them wore their formal emergency services uniforms, complete with jackets and ties, and they were bloody hot under the blazing midday sun.

  The crowd watched in silence as the cars pulled away for their journey to the cemetery. Ethan glanced at Marcus then pointedly at Jarrod as Marcus cleared his throat again and fiddled with the knot of his tie.

  “Are you okay?” Jarrod asked.

  Marcus had never been comfortable in a suit jacket, but Jarrod didn’t think for a moment that was the cause of his brother’s unease today.

  “Yes.”

  Jarrod exchanged glances again with Ethan. They’d been worried about Marcus. He hadn’t been the same since the day they’d discovered the Wyndham’s burnt-out car. He was irritable and short-tempered at home and trying too hard to be his old larrikin self when he was out. He’d thrown himself into his work, refusing to talk to anyone or take some time off. And when he wasn’t at work he was at the pub or drinking on the back veranda.

  His act seemed to be fooling everyone except the two people who knew him best.

  “Marcus …” Ethan murmured, putting his hand on his brother’s arm. “It’s okay to—”