“No, you are a great big arse.”
Mitch just shrugged, making her shriek and grab the back of his tank top. He guffawed, his arm around the back of her thighs holding her securely in place.
Dropping the backpack onto the kitchen bench, Shane looked across at Danny. “You got anything to say about this moron dangling your sister over his shoulder?”
Absorbed in the book, Danny didn’t look up, just grunted.
“Okay, I’ll bite.” Shane gestured to Katie. “What’s going on?”
“My dickhead brother dared Mitch to cart me around.” Katie strained to see around Mitch’s arm.
Seeing as she was arse-up in the air with her legs securely held in place by one of Mitch’s arms, and Mitch was facing Shane, it mean that Shane was looking at her backside and Mitch’s grinning face.
“Not quite true,” Mitch said. “She reckoned no man could carry her, so I asked her if that was a dare-”
“And bloody Danny said it was before I could say no,” Katie interrupted.
“I proved you wrong,” Mitch said smugly.
“You’re just lucky the local quack is here, because you’re going to need him when your disc herniates.”
“Pfft.” Mitch flicked one hand, patted her on the bum again, and bent over to get the mugs out of the cupboard, making Katie shriek and scrabble for purchase. “Cripes, woman, I’m not going to drop you!”
“Stop bending over and shit! Stand still!”
“Look, I can toss you around like a rubber ball, okay? I’d make sure you were all right.” Mitch rolled his eyes at Shane. “Women.” Placing three mugs on the bench, he grabbed the container of tea bags and plopped them into the mugs. “So, whatcha doing here?”
“Visiting.” Shane glanced at Danny.
His friend dropped the book onto the table with a happy sigh. “Damn, that was a bloody good book.” Danny pointed to the backpack. “Got the chook in there?”
“Chook?” Katie and Mitch echoed.
“Yeah,” Danny replied before Shane could deny it. “He wants to know how to roast a chook.”
“Turn around, Mitch,” Katie demanded. “I want to see.”
As Shane sighed, wishing belatedly that he’d insisted on Danny coming to his house instead, Mitch shuffled around so he stood side-on, enabling Katie to lift her head and eye Shane curiously.
“Why do you need to know how to cook a chook?” she asked.
“I can’t keep nagging Mum for roast chook all the time. Thought it was time I learned how to do it.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Is that so?”
“Makes sense,” Mitch said cheerfully. “I’ll watch.”
Danny heaved himself out of the chair to pad across the lino bare-footed. “You wanting to do the whole thing?”
“Whole thing?” Shane echoed. “Well, I’m not going to cook just part of the chook. I intend to cook the whole thing.”
“I meant are you doing the whole roast dinner thing? Spuds, pumpkin, onions?”
Shane was pretty sure CK would not be interested in vegies. “No, just the chook.” Besides, doing a whole roast dinner was just begging the mob to sit down and devour it on him.
“What’s the reason for the cooking lesson?” Katie queried.
“What’s wrong with me wanting to learn?”
“How come you’re not asking your mum?”
“Yeah,” Mitch agreed. “Why don’t you ask Mrs A?”
Because she’d ask too many questions. “I want to show her that I can learn things without asking Mummy all the time.”
“Oohh.” Katie shoved a hank of hair out of her eyes - or tried to. She ended up holding it back with her fingers. “Got something to prove to mummy, have we?”
Not Mum. CK. And the gorgeous Emma. “You’re such a child,” Shane replied affectionately.
Her eyes gleamed knowingly. “I think you’re hiding something.”
“Suspicious little piece, aren’t you?” Mitch jiggled her playfully, making her squeal again while scrabbling for purchase at his waist.
Danny placed a baking tray on the sink. “My sister doesn’t have much rattling around inside her noggin already, Mitch. If you keep holding her upside down, whatever little brains she has left will leak out her ears.”
“Screw you,” Katie retorted.
Mitch chortled.
“Not to mention your face is going red as a beetroot,” Shane added. “You’d give Rudolph a run for his money.”
‘Screw you, too.”
“Aw, dookums.” In a swift move, Mitch bent and tossed Katie off his shoulder.
Shane would have freaked - Danny even more so - if they didn’t have total trust in their brawny friend. Their trust wasn’t broken. As Katie’s feet hit the floor and she arched backwards with her arms windmilling furiously in an attempt to regain balance, he wrapped his arms around her and hauled her up against him, snuggling her into him.
Katie leaned against him, clinging with both hands, using him unashamedly to keep her steady, trusting him even as she cursed him.
Ignoring them both, Danny gestured to the backpack. “You going to introduce me to your little feathered friend?”
“It’s not feathered.” Shane pulled the plastic bag out. “It’s dead, plucked, gutted, cleaned, wrapped in plastic and fresh from the shop’s ‘fridge.”
“How delightful.” Danny crooked a finger at him. “Wash your hands then come into my kitchen and help me play with the chook.”
“That sounds wrong on so many levels, I can’t even begin to think of a reply.” Shane strode to the bathroom, scrubbed his hands and returned to the kitchen to find Katie and Mitch sitting at the table swigging tea from their mugs. Mitch pointed from Shane to the remaining mug on the kitchen bench.
“Ta.” Shane took a sip while watching Danny.
“Yeah.” Danny stood with hands on hips. “Don’t think you’re just going to stand there looking like a dick while I’m cooking this thing for you. Get your arse over here.”
“You sweet talker, you.” Shane came around the bench to stand beside him.
“This is what you do.” Danny explained the steps while Shane followed his instructions.
Meanwhile, Katie and Mitch made rude comments and sly digs.
Shane didn’t care. As long as they never found out he was actually cooking the bloody chook to impress CK, thereby in turn finding favour with his pretty Emma, he didn’t give two hoots. Let them think he was trying to impress his mother, that suited him right to the ground.
Hells bells, if they ever found out he’d actually cooked a chook for a cat, he’d never hear the end of it.
By the time the chook was cooked, cooled down and being wrapped up for transport in his backpack, Daz had wandered into the house.
“Mate,” he said upon spying Shane, “you suave mutt.”
“Huh?”
“I saw you pulling the whole sliding-across-the-bonnet manoeuvre.”
Everyone stared at Shane.
“What?” He shrugged. “I do it all the time.”
“Only when you’re trying to impress a girl.” Mitch held up a finger. “Emma!”
Ah geez. “It was not-”
“You were trying to impress Emma.”
“Awww.” Elbow propped on the table, Katie rested her chin on her hand. “The lovely Em.”
“So I like Emma, that’s nothing to do with me being in a hurry not to be late for work.” Shane glared at Daz. “As you very well kn-”
“You were already late.”
“Yeah, but I was trying to be less late and-”
“You could have walked around the car.”
“I was in a hur-”
“Doing the whole smart-arse-look-at-me-I’m-so-suave move,” Mitch chimed in happily.
“I’m surprised you even know what suave means.” Shane dropped the wrapped chicken into the backpack.
Daz looked incredulously from him to the backpack and back again. “You’re not going to give her th
e chicken after carrying it in your backpack, are you?”
“The chicken is for me, drongo.”
“You cooked yourself a chicken?” Daz looked around. “Here?”
“Hey hey.” Danny scowled. “What’s wrong with my kitchen?”
“Nothing. But why didn’t he cook it at his house?”
“Because he wanted to learn how to roast a chook.”
“Why didn’t he ask his mum?”
“We’ve been through this,” Katie replied. “Let me recap - he wanted to surprise his mum so he asked Danny to show him how to roast a chook all by his liddle selfie-welfie.” She batted her eyelashes at Shane. “Isn’t that right, you big boy, you?”
Shane slung the straps of the backpack over his shoulders. “Yep.”
“But we know you cooked that chook to impress Emma.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“Would I seriously cook a chook then stick it in my backpack to give to Emma? Like you think dragging it out from my backpack would impress her?”
This had his friends thinking.
Shane tapped his forehead. “My brains for thinking.” He pointed around at them all. “Try it sometime, you might be impressed.”
“He’s right.” Mitch stroked his jaw. “You can’t impress a girl by pulling a cooked chook out from your backpack.”
“So he’ll just go home and put it on a plate,” Katie said. “Then he’ll present it to her.”
“Do you know how sick she could get?” Danny asked Shane.
“The chook is for me, numb nuts. How often do I have to tell you?”
Danny glanced at Daz. “Well…he’s got a point. He wouldn’t try to impress a girl by giving her salmonella or anything.”
“You’d hope not.” Opening the biccie jar, Daz studied the contents. “But blokes have done stranger things when in the throes of lustful passion.” He cut his eyes to Mitch sitting blissfully unaware. “Right, lunkhead?”
Mitch blinked. “What?”
“You cooked that meal for the lovely Wanda and managed to give her food poisoning.”
Katie and Danny smirked.
“Not one of my finer moments,” Mitch admitted.
“Making your date barf and crap herself never is.”
Shane started for the hallway. “Thanks for the lesson, Danny. Now I’m off home to cook some vegies to go with my chook.”
Danny looked up at the kitchen clock. “It’s only one in the arvo.”
“It’ll go in the ‘fridge and I’ll warm it up. Geez, what are you mob? The food police or something?”
“Or something,” Katie replied. “Hey, Shane?”
He was now in the hallway well on his way to escaping through the front door, so he yelled back, “What?”
“You better bike home fast with that chook, if it starts to go rancid all the neighbourhood dogs will beat Emma to it!”
“It’s not for - geez!” Shane shook his head as a burst of laughter greeted his exasperated reply. Teasing mob of yobbos.
Leaving the house, he jumped on his push bike and quickly peddled out of the driveway and down the street. Very conscious now that the day was quite hot and he had a cooked chook simmering in his backpack, he whizzed along the streets, thankful that Hope Bay wasn’t a huge town. He certainly didn’t want to make CK sick, but he was confident he could get the chook delivered within a safe time frame.
True to plan, minutes later he was turning into Emma’s street and finally into her driveway.
Well, hello. Pretty little Emma was dressed in flowing pink shorts that floated around her knees, a pair of white thongs on her feet, and a white sleeveless blouse. Hair up in a ponytail, she looked cute and fresh as she stretched to reach the middle of the car roof, wash cloth in one hand, hose in the other.
Washing the car, she didn’t notice Shane until after he’d swung off his bike, rested it against the side of the house and approached her from behind.
He tapped her on the shoulder. “Hi, Em. I’ve got a - argh!” Water gushed right in his face, obliterating both vision and speech in a cold drenching.
Didn’t stop his thoughts, though. Shit!
The water spray disappeared and he ran his hands over his face, pushing back his dripping hair, finally opening his eyes to see Emma standing before him with her mouth open in astonishment, hose in one hand, wash cloth in the other and - he blinked. Blinked again.
“Are you all right?” she asked, concerned. “I’m so sorry, you startled me.”
No, he wasn’t all right.
“Hang on.” Dropping the hose, she ran to the tap to turn it off.
Shane could only watch her the whole way, her delectable rear end jiggling a little as she hurried away from him, then her luscious bosom jiggling as she quickly returned.
“Shane.” She touched his arm, concern creasing her brow. “Shane?”
Oh God, he could see her bra. Her wet blouse was giving him an excellent view of the beige bra with a little pink bow right in the centre of the band. The material of her blouse was moulded to her breasts exactly the way Shane wanted his palms to be. And his fingers. And his thumbs.
And his mouth.
Especially his mouth. He could just imagine his lips closing on one of those nipples pressing so tantalizingly against her blouse, the warm breeze combined with the wet material revealing the budding peaks.
Oh God, especially his mouth.
His shaft started to stir, a dull throb deep in his loins.
“Shane!”
He snapped back to reality when she shook his shoulder. Focussing on her face, he watched her blow a puff of air out of the corner of her mouth in an attempt to blow a wayward curl out of her eye.
Cute. So damned cute.
“You’re a little glassy-eyed.” Emma frowned. “What’s wrong? Do you feel unwell?” Her cool palm pressed to his forehead. “You seem okay. Do you need me to ring Doc? Or Mrs A?”
That had the positive effect of really bring him around. “Hell no!”
Taken aback by his vigorous reply, her eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong?”
Oh boy, he needed to rein himself in before she thought he was as big of a duffer as he was acting. Where was his self control?
Apparently out the door as soon as he saw his little fantasy in wet, revealing clothes. Plus he’d have no chance of getting her out of any clothes and naked in his arms if he didn’t stop acting like a crazy man.
Shane smiled. “I’m fine. The water just kind of, you know, startled me.” Managing to dredge up a laugh, he held his arms out to the sides while looking down at his dripping shirt. “I wasn’t expecting a shower.”
“I’m so sorry.” Emma started for the house. “Come in. I’ll get you a towel.”
Pretty sure she wasn’t suggesting he strip down and walk around naked, Shane followed her up onto the veranda, toeing off his wet sneakers and discarding them beside her white thongs.
Following her down the hallway, he eyed the sway of her hips, the way the shorts fluttered around her knees, the jaunty bounce of that wavy ponytail around her neck.
“Here.” Stopping beside the bathroom door, she gestured. “Go in and get dry. If you take off your shirt, I’ll hang it in the sun.”
“Oh, there’s no need-”
“Sure there is.” She grinned. “I nearly drowned you, so it’s only fair I offer my clothesline. In this heat it’ll dry quick.” She stepped back to let him past. “I’ll go and change into some dry clothes as well, these are…” Her voice trailed away as she looked down and spotted the transparency of her blouse.
Red burned through her cheeks, her arms quickly snapping up to fold protectively across her chest while her mortified gaze lifted to his face.
Definitely not wanting her to feel uncomfortable in his presence - I mean, I am a doctor, for God’s sake! I’ve seen it all before! - Shane quickly slipped the backpack off his shoulders and sho
ved it at her. “Chicken. For CK.” With that very un-suave manoeuvre, he retreated into the bathroom.
Her footsteps quickly vanished down the hallway.
Bracing his hands on the wash basin, Shane eyed his reflection in the mirror. Yes, he had seen it all before, naked bodies of all shapes and sizes, and as a man he’d never been affected by any of them. They were patients needing treatment, needing to be fixed, made better. But one look at Emma’s body in the figure hugging wet material, just a hint of what was underneath, the sight of all those bodacious curves partially revealed, and he was panting like a dog.
Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths. If she had any idea how close he was to sporting a stiffy, she’d probably run a mile. No no no. Get your bloody donger under control! Impress her cat with the bloody chook, impress her with how you impress the cat, and try to be a gentleman.
After this pep talk he opened his eyes, squared his shoulders, whisked off the wet shirt, prudently left on the cargo shorts which hadn’t fared as badly, and dried his chest with a fluffy rose-shaded towel.
He wished it was her hands sliding across his chest.
Oops, there went his man nipples, going all pokey at the thought of her hands on them, and there went his donger again - No!
It actually took him several minutes to regain enough control to be able to walk out of the bathroom without sporting a stiffy.
Damn, being a gentleman right now sucked lemons.
Stopping in the hallway, he listened for any sound that would betray where his pretty Emma was currently situated. When silence was the only response, he scratched the side of his jaw thoughtfully. Should he look for her? That was a little creepy. Yell out? Might sound desperate. Maybe he should go and wait in the lounge. Presumptuous, perhaps? Kitchen. Yeah, the kitchen was a safe bet. Kitchens were safe.
Unless you had visions of a curvy woman bent over the table, a luscious creamy rear end up in the air and - crap, maybe he should go for the lounge. But his shorts were very damp in places, where could he sit? Maybe he should wait out on the front veranda. No, that wasn’t good, he wanted in her house, not out of it. Back veranda? That was better than the front veranda. Okay, he could probably go onto the back veranda and sit in one of the chairs out there.
Unless she thought he was a bit rude for walking right through the house and out the back without invitation.
Secrets (Hope Bay) Page 13