He pulled back a little to look into her eyes. ‘We need to talk first.’
‘We do.’ Her hand crept up to where he’d removed his bow tie and his shirt lay open. Her fingertips traced the indent of his collarbone. ‘Tomorrow? When we can think clearly?’
He nodded. He could barely form a thought with Fliss touching him. If they tried to have a conversation later on tonight, talking would be the last thing on their minds.
She didn’t move away. Her fingers stilled on the pulse in his neck. Whatever answers she read from the frenzied thud of his heart made her lips tilt.
‘My place … early.’
‘I’ll be there, Dr Fliss.’
She slipped from his arms and disappeared into the crowd now jiving to an up-tempo number. Hewitt headed to his table. A beer already sat at his place.
Cressy pushed the glass towards him. ‘I thought you might need one. It’s okay, it’s a light beer. I know you’re driving.’
Hewitt took a long swallow. There was no point pretending Cressy hadn’t seen what had happened on the dance floor. ‘That sister of yours …’
‘I know, words can’t describe her sometimes. If it’s any consolation, you’re the only man who’s ever handled her.’ Cressy’s eyes searched his. ‘And you’re the only man she’s let get this close.’
Cressy didn’t have to say the words that in all the time she’d known him, Fliss was the only woman he too had let get close. ‘We’re going to talk tomorrow.’
‘Thank goodness, because if you don’t do something about what’s been going on since day one, these thunderstorms will have nothing on the electricity sparking between the two of you.’
Hewitt finished his beer while the girls went to dance. Tanner, Denham and Hewitt discussed the offset plough that had again broken before talk moved to the rodeo cattle and horses that would soon arrive at Claremont. Cressy returned to drag Denham back to the dance floor and every so often Ella and Taylor would sit out a song and rehydrate. Bethany had found a group of old Sydney school friends and now didn’t seem to be missing her city man.
Taylor’s ploy to take Rodger as her partner didn’t appear to have worked. Edna’s pride that her only son hadn’t apparently been good enough for Fliss continued to colour her attitude towards both women. Edna’s pursed lips whenever she glanced their way more than conveyed her disapproval about the altered seating arrangements.
Hewitt didn’t see Fliss again until the last song was announced. She came to sit in the seat beside him. Before he could lower his arm from the back of the chair, she yawned and leaned against him. With everyone making the most of the final song, or finishing their drinks, no one appeared to notice them. He settled his arm around her and curved his hand over the warmth of her bare shoulder.
She lay her head in the hollow of his neck. ‘I’m in trouble if I ever have to work another night shift. I’m out of practice even staying up late.’
His lips touched the silky darkness of her hair. ‘You can sleep on the way home.’
Once the music finished, dinner jackets and discarded bow ties were collected and weary guests returned to the car park. Headlights lit up the night as a convoy of vehicles left the cotton gin. Hewitt drove Meredith’s car with Fliss, Tanner, Denham and Cressy on board. Behind him Ella followed with Taylor. The vet would drive straight to Woodlea.
At Claremont, where Denham and Cressy were staying the night, Tanner repeated his offer for Fliss and Hewitt to also stay.
Fliss sent him a quick look before replying, ‘Thanks but we’ll head home. We’ve a busy morning planned.’
Hewitt helped a sleepy Fliss into his ute. After brushing her mouth over his, she snuggled into the seat and was soon asleep. The first of the lightning split through the night-blotted sky as he drove over Bundara’s cattle grid.
CHAPTER
17
The crack of thunder almost directly overhead resounded like a stock whip.
Fliss sat up in bed and rubbed her tight temple. No luminous light glowed from her bedside clock. There had to be a blackout. The ache behind her eyes told her it must have only been a few hours ago that she’d crawled into bed after Hewitt drove them home from the ball. She’d taken a quick shower and vaguely remembered the splatter of raindrops as she’d fallen asleep.
Rain suddenly assaulted the tin roof. The force was almost deafening. Not bothering to throw her rugby top on over her black pyjama shorts and tank top she felt her way down the pitch-dark hallway into the kitchen. The vibrations of the storm rippled through the floorboards. The puppies would have to be scared even though they’d be safe and snug in the garden shed with Molly. Max had taken up residence in his kennel on the side veranda and, unless the rain turned horizontal, he’d remain dry.
She opened the first kitchen cupboard and took out a torch. At least Hewitt had fixed the loose guttering and secured the tin roof of the water tank. With this wind and wild rain she could only hope other parts of the old homestead stayed intact. She turned on the torch and shone the beam through the kitchen window.
There was no night sky, no garden view, just a wall of water. Clunking sounded as marble-sized balls of hail bounced off the glass. Quashing her unease, she headed for the laundry door to check the side veranda. Nearby trees provided shelter from the worst of the storm. Rain doused her, coating her arms and legs as she stepped onto the cold and wet floorboards. She peered into the kennel illuminated by a flare of weak lightning.
‘How are you doing, Max?’
The border collie stretched and left his kennel to lick her hand. ‘Look at you. You’re not worried at all. You’ve seen this all before.’
Fliss bent to feel the blanket that hung over the lip of the kennel. It was damp. She turned the kennel around, making sure she angled it so Max would have room to get inside. He did so as soon as she stepped away.
A distorted light came from the direction of the shed. Hewitt would be checking on Molly and the puppies. A jagged lightning bolt hung suspended in the sky before a crack sounded. Fliss shivered. That was far too close.
She headed inside and along the hallway to the front door. Hewitt would come to check on her. Tonight there’d been a mutual acceptance, a recognition that they needed to stop resisting what was between them. And the knowledge brought with it both relief and peace.
The simple action of Hewitt holding her, of his lips touching her hair, didn’t just affect her physically but also emotionally. Hewitt made her feel safe, adored, understood. The part of her that she’d always held back was no longer content to remain in hiding. She wanted to invest all of herself. She wanted the whole deal: a home, kids … love.
Thunder clapped and she jumped. But that was a conversation for the morning. She had to be certain Hewitt shared her feelings and that he had worked through his grief and was ready for a relationship beyond friendship. There wasn’t yet a clear way forward for either of them. She needed to decide whether or not to return to medicine, and if she didn’t, what she’d do. Her savings wouldn’t last forever. As for Hewitt, he had his family duty to honour as well as his dreams to run his own place.
She opened the front screen door which the wind tried to wrestle from her hands. Light bobbed before Hewitt jogged out of the rain and up the veranda steps. He wore a long oilskin coat and a broad-brimmed hat, and his jeans were dark where the rain had soaked the denim. He didn’t try to speak. His gaze skimmed her face to check she was okay before he flicked off his torch. He set it beside the door and removed his hat to shake the water from the felt. Fliss moved aside to give him room to enter the house.
He stepped inside, the wind slamming the door behind him. It was impossible to speak over the noise so she shone the torchlight towards the hall rack where he could hang his hat and coat. But before Hewitt could shrug off the oilskin, lightning flashed with a simultaneous boom that reverberated like a gunshot. Fliss dropped the torch and grabbed the front of Hewitt’s coat. She breathed in the smell of rain and the earthy scent of the w
ax-covered cotton. His arm came around her waist to steady her.
‘It sounds worse than it is,’ he said against her ear. ‘The storm will pass soon.’
All she’d wanted was something to hold on to until her flight response settled. But when her knuckles felt the hot press of slick skin and she realised Hewitt wasn’t wearing a shirt, all she wanted was him. She released his coat and ran her hands over the wet ridges below. She couldn’t hear the intake of his breath, only feel the accelerated rise and fall of his chest. She hadn’t even pushed the oilskin to the point of his shoulders when his mouth claimed hers.
Just like in the creek, Hewitt’s kiss took her to a place where only heat and urgency existed. Never again would she think the whole physical chemistry thing was overrated. Wherever Hewitt kissed, nerve-endings flared into life and wherever he touched, her senses burned. But it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She’d waited a lifetime to find a man like him.
She pressed kisses along the strong column of his throat as she slid the oilskin coat free. It fell to the floor. As if in the distance, thunder rumbled, but as his mouth returned to hers, she forgot everything but the sensation of being pulled hard against him. He wanted her as much as she wanted him. His hands found the skin of her lower back and she shuddered as he traced the sensitive line of her spine.
Breathing ragged, she entwined her fingers with his to lead him along the hallway. The time for talking had passed. At the bedroom door he framed her face with his hands and kissed her. His kiss was so gentle and so tender it brought tears to her eyes. She knew what he asked. She took hold of his right hand and raised his palm to her lips. She had no fears or concerns about what was about to happen. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life. She needed the touch of the man before her as much as she needed her next breath.
She smiled, even though he wouldn’t be able to see her expression, before kissing him. She had his belt buckle undone even before they made it to her bed. No words were needed to communicate, no light needed to see. Their bodies had a language all of their own. It wouldn’t have mattered if the storm had blown the roof off from over her head, all she could focus on was Hewitt and the way only he could make her feel.
Fliss awoke to the demure patter of rain and the warm weight of Hewitt’s arm holding her close. The alarm clock blinked and light crept beneath the blind.
She hadn’t thought she’d done anything to indicate she was awake except open her eyes, but Hewitt had known. His hand brushed the hair off her face as he kissed the top of her head. She eased away so she could examine his expression. His eyes were a clear grey and the lines beside his mouth were relaxed. He looked … happy.
She still had to ask. ‘No regrets?’
His chuckle emerged husky and deep. ‘Only that we can’t spend the day in bed.’
She brought her mouth close to his to whisper, ‘We can’t?’
His hand caressed her jaw before his fingers slid into her hair. ‘No. Hear that?’
‘No.’ All she could hear was the pounding of her heart. Waking up beside Hewitt made her happy, too. Then she heard a puppy howling. ‘Someone’s in trouble.’
Hewitt stole a quick kiss before leaving the bed to pull on his clothes. ‘I’ll go to the rescue.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Fliss enjoyed the view as Hewitt left dressed in nothing but his jeans. She slipped on her clothes that were strewn across her room. Once in the kitchen she answered Cressy’s text asking if they were all right after the storm and busied herself making French toast.
Beyond the kitchen window leaves sparkled in the early morning sunshine and the trunks of trees glistened. But not all of the garden had appreciated the heavy rain and wind. Leaves and twigs littered the lawn and over near where they’d had the bonfire a larger branch had fallen.
Hewitt emerged from the stables wearing a grey T-shirt with his jeans. While he inspected the yard, the six puppies followed him. He disappeared from sight but soon the front door opened and closed. Fliss flipped the first piece of French toast as he entered the kitchen.
‘That smells good.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck.
She smiled as his stubble scraped her skin and goose bumps rippled over her arms. ‘That feels good.’
Hewitt stepped back. ‘That’s as good as it gets until we have our talk.’
Fliss spun around. ‘Isn’t it a little late for that?’
Hewitt moved to get two white plates from the hutch. ‘I told Cressy we were going to so we will.’ He looked to where Fliss’s top lowered at the front. ‘Because otherwise talking will be the last thing on our to-do list.’
After they’d eaten their French toast and Fliss lay curled up on his lap on the lounge, they made talking a priority.
Fliss went first. ‘I know you’ve always said you don’t want to hurt me but there’s never going to be a right time between us. There’s just now.’
Hewitt’s fingers traced patterns on her thigh. ‘True, but there can still be a wrong time. Is this … the right time?’
‘It is for me. How about you?’
‘I still miss Brody but I’m ready to live my life again.’
She touched her lips to his. ‘And that’s what it is, Hewitt, your life. I said earlier there will be a way to manage looking after your family and doing what you’ve dreamed of.’
When he stayed silent, she smoothed the stubbled line of his jaw. ‘It’s a little like my DNA search: the answer is in there somewhere, we just have to find it.’ She slipped her arms around his neck. ‘So until we do, how about we live in the moment? No pressure and no promises. When your shoulder’s healed and you’re right to return to Mayfield we can make decisions then about how we move forward.’
His eyes glinted as his mouth lowered to hers. ‘You have yourself a deal.’
For the next three days life settled into a comfortable rhythm. Hewitt moved into the main house and they spent as much time together as possible. Fliss didn’t know that such contentment was possible. She was such a slow learner. Having Hewitt by her side made her feel like she could do anything and that anything was possible. His laughter, companionship and the nights spent in his arms brought a joy and stability she hadn’t realised her life lacked.
The storms delivered the promised rain and more. Huge mushrooms sprouted in the back lawn and moss grew on the bricks around the overflow of the rainwater tank. Catchments were again saturated and the run-off caused creeks and rivers to rise. The white wooden bridge was close to going under as water surged impatiently below. They’d made a slippery trip to Woodlea to stock up on food in case the roads closed. On the way they’d passed a bogged tractor and ute at a front farm gate. On their return trip the vehicles hadn’t moved. It could be weeks before the farmer would be able to get them out.
Her DNA research continued and the Ryan list had been whittled down to five names. She’d found an online photo of a man with the Ryan surname who was still living in the beachside suburb where her mother had grown up. It might be wistful thinking, but there was something about the shape of his face that seemed familiar. He also was tall with tanned skin.
Hewitt’s father’s type 2 diabetes diagnosis had been confirmed and he’d surprised them all with his readiness to do what needed to be done. He was determined to get well so he could venture into the paddocks. She answered his text letting her know what day his meeting was with the dietitian and put her phone beside her computer. She’d run some more DNA segment comparisons before Hewitt returned from cleaning the quad bike after checking the calves. He’d sent the twins a photo and Quinn had been very impressed with how muddy Hewitt had made both himself and the four wheeler.
She’d just opened a file when her mobile rang. Cressy was calling from her landline.
‘Hi, sis,’ Fliss said.
‘Afternoon. You sound cheerful.’
‘You sound tired.’
‘I am. We had two State Emergency Service call-outs last
night. One because someone thought it was a sensible idea to drive through floodwater. The other one was to help move livestock.’
‘This rain has to stop sometime, right?’
‘Even if it does, it’s too late for the rodeo and campdraft. The committee’s cancelled this year’s event.’
‘That’s a shame. Now Denham’s not riding bulls, I was looking forward to sitting back, relaxing and enjoying the events.’
Cressy chuckled. ‘No, you weren’t. I bet life’s very dull now he doesn’t have any injuries for you to boss him around about.’
Fliss should have known better than to stay silent while she thought about how life definitely wasn’t dull with Hewitt no longer sleeping in the stables.
Cressy’s sharp intake of breath was audible. ‘Felicity Anne Knight, are you holding out on me?’
‘No, not on purpose. I have left you messages.’
‘Actually, you have. And I’ve tried to call. You’re forgiven. So I take it your talk with Hewitt went … well.’
‘Yes. We’re just taking things slow and will see where things go.’
‘I’m so pleased. Denham would be too. We knew you’d be good together.’ Cressy’s voice turned teasing. ‘See, Reggie knows what he’s doing. Hewitt and Denham are the only ones to have passed the carrot test.’
Fliss laughed. ‘I still can’t believe you set Hewitt up. Thanks for the photo. It helped put everything into perspective.’
‘I hoped it would.’ Cressy paused. ‘Fliss … I’d better go. Denham’s just texted. There’s been a two-vehicle crash on Tathra Road and it’s closed. I’ll get ready in case there’s an SES page.’
‘Okay. Talk soon. Be safe.’
Fliss ended the call and frowned at her phone. She hadn’t been mistaken. She’d felt a rush of adrenaline at the mention of the accident. But could she trust this as a sign that medicine still called her? She didn’t have faith her fears wouldn’t undermine her confidence if she returned to the career she’d loved.
The Red Dirt Road Page 24