Outback Dreams (28 page)

‘The fishing's supposed to be brilliant today.'

She sighed. ‘I can see I'm going to have to work on my technique.'

At Faith's words he slammed his foot on the brakes and swerved the car over to the side of the road. He turned, leaned forward and grabbed her face between his hands, drawing her closer until his lips claimed hers. He slipped his hands up into her hair and they kissed like a pair of randy teenagers until his lungs begged for air.

‘You have nothing to worry about in terms of technique,' he promised. ‘The sparks I get when kissing you, I've never felt with anyone else.'

Her red, thoroughly kissed lips twisted up at the edges. ‘Sparks? I thought all that stuff was a load of mumbo-jumbo. Next thing you'll be getting your tea leaves read.'

‘Where kissing's concerned, I'm a mumbo-jumbo convert, but that doesn't mean I'll start believing in numerology and all that stuff mum wastes her time with.'

She grinned. ‘I wouldn't expect anything less.'

Somehow he forced himself to get them back on the road, to head towards the jetty instead of the nearest roadside parking bay hidden by trees and perfect for making more of those sparks. Even though it was winter, there were already walkers on the beach, fishermen on the jetty and a few hopeful surfers taking their chances with the waves. Monty parked and met Faith at the back of the ute to unload their gear. For years she'd kept her pink fishing rod—a joke present he'd given her one Christmas—at his place, because they only ever went fishing together. He couldn't think of a better activity for their first date.

Despite being laden with tackle, they managed to hold hands as they headed towards the jetty. ‘I'm going to miss all this,' Monty said, nodding ahead. ‘The jetty and the fish, the early morning swims…' In a few months time, the Bunyip Festival and Undies Run would be happening on the beach, and for the first time in years, he wouldn't be taking part in either.

‘But you'll have plenty of cows,' Faith replied, her voice light with amusement. ‘Trust me, they can be very good company.'

‘Is there anything you haven't thought of?' Faith asked as Monty laid a picnic rug down on a deserted section of the jetty and started to unpack the esky. When he'd said they were going fishing, she hadn't bargained on breakfast—especially not a breakfast as luscious as this—but when Monty did something, he did it well.

‘Nope. I think I've got everything covered.'

‘Of course you do.' Faith sat on the rug and let her legs dangle over the edge of the jetty as he poured orange juice into two plastic flutes. She'd remember this moment for the rest of her life.

‘Let's eat before we fish,' Monty suggested, as he peeled back the lid on a container of fresh fruit salad. There weren't the plethora of melons and grapes that were available in the hotter seasons, but he'd still managed an impressive selection.

Faith smiled her approval. In addition to the fruit, he'd brought Danish pastries and blueberry muffins. She suspected Mrs O'Neal might have had a hand in the latter, but she wasn't going to break the mood with too many questions. ‘Good idea. I'd hate to mix the fish food up with ours and get a mouthful of bait.'

Monty grimaced, then picked up a glass of orange juice and held it out to her. ‘I know you're not big on champagne, but I hoped we'd have something to celebrate this morning. Although if you'd turned me down, champagne would have been better to drown my sorrows.'

‘No sorrow drowning required.' She lifted her glass in the air, oblivious to the people strolling along the jetty behind them. ‘To us.'

‘Yes. To finally waking up to ourselves.' Monty clinked his glass with hers, then leaned in and stole another kiss. The brief brush of his mouth against hers held the promise of so much more.

When he pulled back, Faith licked her lips, wanting to hold onto the taste of him, and immediately wolf whistles and cheers erupted on either side of them. She looked left and right, blushing and smiling at the locals who were applauding their tame show.

‘About bloody time,' called a retired farmer who spent practically every daylight hour attached to a fishing rod.

‘Damn straight,' called another.

Within half an hour, everyone in Bunyip Bay would know that they were an item. But for once, Faith didn't mind the local gossip. Were they the only ones who hadn't been able to see that she and Monty were perfect for each other?

The locals soon left them alone, even going to the extent of moving along the jetty to give them privacy. Faith appreciated their efforts, but they could have been dancing naked right behind them and she wouldn't have noticed. Monty consumed her every thought. She'd missed him so much these past few weeks, and although being together like this was weird on one level, it felt so easy and right on all the others. With him, she didn't have to pretend to be someone she wasn't. She didn't have to second-guess her actions, wondering if she was being feminine enough. There was nothing they didn't know about each other, and no hidden traps that could pop up and derail their future.

‘I've missed you so much,' Monty said, as if his thoughts matched hers. ‘I feel like I haven't seen you for months. What have you been up to?

‘Well, yesterday I did two loads of washing, mopped the floor, made a lamb stew and—'

‘Very funny, Cinderella. I meant the important stuff

‘I'll have you know, Dad thinks the world will end if I do anything with my life other than cooking and cleaning. If I dare to dream of being something other than a domestic slave.'

‘So things are still awkward between you and Frank?'

Faith made an unladylike noise to show exactly what she thought of that. ‘Awkward? He's been downright horrible lately. The other day I thought he wanted to talk, but that was wishful thinking. He's practically looking for excuses to yell at me now.' She relayed the bizarre episode involving her mum's car.

He listened, a thoughtful frown on his face. When she'd finished, he wiped a tear she hadn't even realised she'd shed off her cheek and asked, ‘Is he okay with Ryan?'

‘He's fine with Ryan, but ever since I told them I expected them to do their bit around the house and mentioned maybe looking for another job, finishing my degree, he's been impossible. He was distant before then, but now he's nasty. He's like a different person.'

‘It's weird all right. Frank's always been a reasonable man. I wouldn't have pegged him as a chauvinist. He and Ryan may have taken advantage of you a bit the last few years but that's because you've looked after them so well. I never expected it to get ugly.'

‘Ryan's been great,' Faith rushed to stick up for her older brother. ‘But Dad…' Her voice drifted off as she realised she didn't want to talk about this right now. As much as she appreciated Monty's support, she didn't want anything ruining this perfect day. ‘Let's just forget about him.'

At the same time Monty asked, ‘Do you think there might be something deeper going on? Something more than not wanting you to be involved in the farm.'

She frowned. ‘Like what?'

‘Maybe he's depressed.'

‘Depressed. About what? He has it easy. Our farm's doing fine and between the Men's Shed, the Lion's Club and golf, he's got an all right social life. I'm the one who worries about whether he's clothed and fed.'

‘I wish I knew. Maybe it has something to do with your mum.'

‘She's been gone almost eight years. We all miss her, but life has to go on.' Even as Faith said this, her brain started ticking. Did her dad need to talk about Cassie as much as she did? Was their mutual silence—avoiding the topic—slowly ruining them all?

Monty reached out and took her hand. ‘Do you want me to ask him? I hate seeing you so upset about it.'

‘No.' The thought panicked her. She could just imagine how much worse her father would be if he thought she'd been talking about him. ‘I'm fine. It'll be okay.'

‘Talk to him.' Monty said. ‘Give him the chance to explain. And if he hasn't got a reason, tell him you're moving south with me.'

He tacked the last bit on as if he'd just said, ‘tell him you won't put up with it anymore.' Her heart jolted in her chest. She met his gaze. ‘What did you just say?'

He grinned. ‘I want you to come with me. Not straight away—I know you'll need time to tie things up here, sort things out with Frank—but I'm serious about you. About us. I wouldn't risk our friendship for a week of fun before I leave. You know that, right?'

She nodded and her eyes twitched with unshed tears. Happy ones. ‘I want to come with you, too,' she said, her words choked with emotion. ‘I can't imagine ever wanting anything more.'

‘Phew.' He wiped a hand dramatically across his brow, leaned forward and kissed her again.

Warmth flooded down from her ears to her curling toes. He'd kissed her three times so far, four if she included that night in his tent, and each time it had been so unbelievably hot that she didn't think it could get any better. Each time, she'd been wrong.

As his mouth flirted with hers, fireworks exploded all over her body. Feeling as if she might catch alight at any moment, she forced herself to pull back.

She took a breath, drawing much needed oxygen into lungs. ‘Now, you know that week of fun you mentioned? Can we start that soon?'

He linked his fingers with hers and leaned close again to whisper into her ear. ‘Just so I'm clear, you're not talking about fishing, are you?'

‘Not. At. All.' Right then she'd happily have tossed all their fishing tackle into the water. She'd never felt so wanton in her life.

Catching on quickly, Monty pushed himself up, offering her his hand. ‘Grab what you can,' he said, stooping to gather their things.

As if a tsunami were about to hit the coast, they frantically packed up, leaving only a few bits of fruit for the seagulls. Charging back along the jetty, they grinned ridiculously at the people they passed, then threw the esky into the back of the ute with the fishing gear, not caring when it fell open and spilled bait and biscuits all over the tray. Monty drove like a maniac the short distance to his place, and Faith sent a quick prayer skywards that Constable Noble wasn't out and about. In her state, the new cop might have had to arrest her for assaulting a police officer if he tried to slow them down.

And then they were there. Monty's house. The place she'd stayed numerous times before … only this time he gripped her hand as he led her inside, and it wasn't to the ratty single bed in the spare room. She scanned his bedroom: a double bed, a plain black doona, a milk crate with an Ikea lamp and an old wardrobe he'd bought from the op shop in town years ago. His floor was scattered with clothes he hadn't got around to washing. Or packing.

Now his hands were on her waist, teasing the flesh beneath her jumper. But they could have been in a dumpsite in the dodgiest suburb in Australia and she'd have given herself willingly. This was what she'd been waiting for her whole life.

‘Are you okay?' Monty's hands stilled as he looked anxiously into her eyes. ‘Not having second thoughts?'

She put her hands on top of his and squeezed. ‘Not at all. I think I might just be a little shell-shocked. This has all happened so fast.'

‘Too fast?' He pulled back, worry turning his smile lines upside down.

‘No.' She shook her head. Unsure how to put her exact feelings into words, she kissed him instead. But where their earlier kisses were almost frantic, this one was hot and slow, full of promise and potential and the kind of chemistry that sent a rush of molten gold through her body. As if in one mind, they walked backwards towards his bed, collapsing silently on top of the mattress, his mouth not leaving hers for a moment.

This is my best friend,
Faith thought.
I'm about to sleep with my best friend and it is the most perfect, most natural thing in the world.

This time, they both knew exactly what they were doing.

While the bush telegraph raged with rumours of Faith and Monty's kiss on the jetty that morning, the stars of the gossip barricaded themselves in Monty's house. He needed to pack, and she had work to do for the Barking Ball, but nothing was more urgent than simply being together for a while.

Lying back in his bed, watching episodes of
Top Gear
and
The Chaser
on YouTube while munching Samboy chips, more Tim Tams and drinking Coke, Faith never wanted this day to end.

‘You really are the perfect girlfriend,' Monty said, stroking her hair as she snuggled against his bare chest. ‘Most other women would want to watch
Desperate Housewives
or
The X-Factor
.'

She shuddered at the thought but beamed at his use of the word “girlfriend."

‘It doesn't worry you that I'm not very feminine?' she asked. She still couldn't help comparing herself to Ruby, who was the epitome of femininity.

‘Faith,' his tone was serious, ‘you may enjoy sport and being outdoors, you may be able to drink beer with the blokes and you may not be interested in fashion, but you are definitely all the woman I want.'

Sighing at his answer, she tried to push aside her feelings of anxiety. Monty liked her as she was. Nothing else mattered.

Mid-afternoon, Faith texted Ryan and begged him to milk Daisy that evening, then promptly forgot about the world outside. Every time a show finished, Monty would unceremoniously dump his laptop on the makeshift bedside table and turn his attentions back on her. No one had ever made her feel as utterly cherished as he did.

Each time they made love, she felt thoroughly spent, but all it took was a half-hour episode of one of their favourite shows and she was itching to get into his pants again—well, figuratively speaking, because neither of them had bothered putting their clothes back on after the first time.