Ringer (14 page)

“Max is a dark horse, he never mentioned he
had a sister. I’m Sean.” He took my hand in a manly shake.

“He must be ashamed of me.” I smirked.

Sean grinned, stepping aside, as the other
moved forward to shake hands.

“Oh, I doubt that; I’m Stan.” A blue-eyed
boy with a beaming smile.

“Toby.” Tanned with striking dark eyes that
looked like they housed a million mysteries.

“Chris.” The more serious of the group, but
his smile was warm and sincere.

Silence swept across the kitchen that soon settled
into awkwardness as Sean coughed. “Um, I hope we aren’t intruding?”

“Oh no, of course not.” My mother waved off
his words, which amused me no end; she was so overly accommodating I wouldn’t
have been surprised if she shipped us all out to the shearers’ huts so they
could have the house.

“I hope you’re all hungry, we’re just about
to dish up some lunch.”

“Sounds great, Mrs Henry,” said Stan.

“Oh, please, call me Penny.”

Ugh, she was so embarrassing.

***

“Moira, stop staring,” I whispered.

“I am not.” She glowered.

I continued to wash the salad at the sink.
“Well, get a good look, because they won’t be here when you get back. Are you
all packed?”

“Nope.”

“What? Mum is going to kill you.”

Moira looked confused. “Why, we’re not
leaving till the morning.”

Wait. What?

I turned to Mum. “Are you leaving in the
morning?”

“Well, we can’t just leave Max’s friends
unattended,” she said quietly. “That would be a bit rude.”

No, of course not. We wouldn’t want to
abandon Max’s friends, but you were ready to abandon your daughter who had only
just returned back to the family home after four years. Not that I would
complain, the presence of Max’s friends and them staying for the night took the
pressure off what I would endure being faced with here, alone with Ringer.

The kitchen door opened and my heart
stopped. In walked my dad … alone.

My heart sunk with an edge of
disappointment; I wanted to ask but didn’t need to.

“Where’s Ringer? Lunch is ready,” she said,
carrying a casserole dish to the table where the boys sat.

“Ah, he’s just freshening up,” he said,
before making his way towards the table. “G’day, you must be Max’s mates,
welcome.” Dad beamed, shaking their hands and exchanging information on the
best fishing destination in Geraldine, and the grand tour he would give them
after lunch … and did they fancy a beer, blah, blah, blah. I smiled to myself,
setting down a basket of bread rolls. Dad was lost in the throes of man talk,
poor fella he was, absolutely starved of such conversation with a house full of
women; he was definitely making up for lost time. I moved to gather some
napkins from the buffet near the door. That’s when I heard it open and a figure
stood in my peripheral vision.

“Well, bloody hell. Look what the cat
dragged in,” said Sean, laughing.

My eyes lifted to see Ringer standing in
the doorway, shaking his head at his mates with an incredulous grin; it was the
kind that exposed his devilish dimple in his cheek.
Oh shit, that man is
delicious.

“There goes the neighbourhood.” He laughed,
flicking his gaze towards me.

I twisted a napkin in my hand, daring not
to move as his eyes locked with mine. Heated. His look pierced my heart which
pounded erratically, and I could barely think, paralysed by his presence. I
didn’t know if I should stay, go, smile, laugh, glare. But in one mere moment,
I didn’t need to do anything, because as he neared me, brushing past me, his
muscled chest grazing my shoulders at the buffet, I turned my head, lifting my
eyes to his to catch his warm smile that made me melt as he winked at me.

My lips tilted, and delight surged inside
me at such a simple gesture. It was such a Ringer thing to do, and the fact he
acknowledged me and wasn’t weird caused my entire inner turmoil to thaw.

It wasn’t a look filled with regret, it was
full of fire and cheek and I all but wanted to reach out, stop him, and tell
him I had no regrets either. Heat flooded my cheeks as I watched him round the
table, rubbing Stan’s hair and back-slapping his mates. It was like a fire had
been lit inside him, seeing his friends again. Watching their boyish exchange
and taunts caused strange stirrings in my stomach; it made him, dare I say,
more attractive to me, witnessing him in a more natural environment.

I was shunted from my thoughts by an elbow
to my side as Moira passed me. “Stop staring,” she said smugly, sticking out
her tongue.

Chapter Twenty-Five

RINGER

I desperately
wanted to talk to Miranda.

But with the change in circumstances, I
could see there was no way that was going to happen.

Sean sat next to me at the dining table,
piling a mass of potato salad on his plate.

Speaking lowly, he said, “So why didn’t you
tell us you were heading here?”

I shrugged. “It was just a
spur-of-the-moment decision.”

“Well, has being away knocked the chip off
your shoulder?” He looked at me poignantly.

I could have said what chip? But both he
and I knew exactly what he was talking about.

I worked on buttering my roll. “The change
has done me good,” I admitted.

I could tell Sean was eyeing me with
interest, the cogs turning in his big head. “Well, I have to admit,” he said,
“the view is pretty nice.”

My eyes instinctively flicked up to where
Miranda sat opposite, listening intently to Stan, who was no doubt boring her
to death with fishing stories going by his hand gestures. My mouth curved as I
refocused on my dinner roll.

Sean chuckled. “You old dog.” He broke into
his own roll, and buttered it violently, glancing up at Miranda. “Have you gone
there?”

It was a cryptic question, but one I
understood perfectly. “No,” I lied.

Sean just smirked, as if he wasn’t buying
it for a second.

“So did you catch up with Bluey last
night?” Steve addressed me from the head of the table.

“Ah, no, I didn’t run into him.” I
flinched.

But it wasn’t at the question, it was the
unexpected sensation of a foot sliding up my calf.

What the?

“Really? I doubt that you could have missed
his big ugly mug, the Commercial isn’t that big.” Steve laughed.

I smiled in good humour, shifting awkwardly
in my seat as the foot slid higher. I glanced across the table; Miranda was
nodding earnestly and hanging onto every one of Stan’s words. I had great
pleasure in casually flicking out my serviette and dropping it in my lap. I
watched the impressive lines of her poker face, until I grabbed her bare foot
with my hand. She never flinched. She was good, very good.

Until I ran my thumb tauntingly along the
pad of her foot, only then did I see her brows rise as she squirmed slightly in
her seat.

“Ringer?”

My head snapped around to Penny.

“Can you please pass the salt?” she said
with a smile.

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

I pulled Miranda’s foot into my groin,
clamping it in place with my thighs as I reached for the salt and passed it to
her mum. It’s where it stayed for the rest of the meal, until she announced to
the table that she had to be excused. And after a long moment, and then a
rather obvious look from her that as good as said ‘let’s go’, a slightly
flushed Miranda got up from the table and walked out of the room.

I took a moment to process what had just
happened. Seeing as last night ended with a murderous death stare and a door in
the face, the foot sliding up my leg as a peace offering was …
unexpected.
What was more unexpected was how my heart raced, and my dick hardened by such a
subtle touch, how I had … revelled in it.

Fuck,
I was
in trouble. It was more than what was in my pants telling me what I wanted; no,
this was far worse. It was what my head was telling me.

I had known it the moment she slammed the
door, the moment the panic surged inside me thinking about her leaving Moira.
It was more than just a midnight liaison I was interested in, and the moment
her dainty little foot slid slowly up my leg, I knew it. The relief of her not
being mad at me, not despising me was palpable. But I needed to know for
certain, make sure she wasn’t just fucking with me.

Amidst the chaos of the after-lunch clean
up where everyone chipped in to help clear the table, I took the opportunity to
break away and wander down the hall where Miranda had disappeared. I made it
halfway down the hall until the door at the left swung open and Miranda appeared,
stopping short in front of me. Gone was the calm poker face from the dinner
table; instead, her slightly pinked cheeks deepened and her eyes were wide.

“I see we’re not neighbours anymore.”

“No,” she said, glancing down.

“Was it because of last night?”

Her eyes flicked up, alarm creasing her
face. “No! No, I mean, I didn’t have a choice. Your friends are staying the
night and it was where Mum wanted to put them.”

A smile broke slowly, more in amusement at
myself for knowing that what I felt was a sense of relief. Relief that she
hadn’t left in her car, or moved away from me to avoid me, and most of all, I
was endlessly amused at what an absolute fucking goner I was when it came to
this girl. I wanted nothing more than to step forward, crush my mouth against
hers and never let her go. I felt the edge of disappointment flare that I
couldn’t do it. The fact that my mates were staying the night, and that her
family was leaving in the morning, because if I knew one thing for certain:
when I had a chance to get Miranda alone, there would be nothing cool, calm,
nor collected about it, and that scared the hell out of me as much as it
excited me. I didn’t want to need someone, to desire them, and when I was just
about to pull myself away, she stepped forward, closing the distance between
us.

“What are you thinking?”

My eyes bored into hers; I wanted her to
know that everything I said was what I meant. “That I am not a person who likes
to leave things unfinished.”

Her brow curved. “Oh?”

I nodded. “I’m very thorough like that.”

“Even with the likes of Bluey threatening
your nether regions?”

My mouth gaped.

How did she know about that?

I cleared my throat, shifting on my feet at
the memory of what he would do to me.

But as I looked at the bemused lines of her
innocent face I couldn’t help but break into a knowing grin.

“Some things are worth the risk.”

“Really?” she asked. I watched the delicate
movement of her tongue run along her bottom lip.

I swallowed. “Really. Whatever it takes to
get the job done.”

“Well, Moira Station is in good hands
then.” She laughed, sliding past me in the hall. I reached for her elbow,
stopping her in her tracks; all amusement drained from her façade and her eyes
flicked from her arm to my face.

“Your car’s fixed,” I said in all seriousness.

“I know.” She blinked, her thick lashes
framing the all-consuming depths of her eyes that flicked over my face.

I could feel my jaw clench; I couldn’t
force any light-hearted stance about the silence that settled over us. I was so
entranced by the intensity of our exchange, I didn’t realise I was circling a
slow, caressing motion into her skin until her hand moved over the top of mine,
tracing the back of my hand with her fingertips. I swallowed deeply, drumming
up enough nerve to work up the courage to say the one word that held more
weight than anything.

Stay.

And whether it was the silence, or my
touch, or the fact she may have somehow read my mind, Miranda broke into a
slow, beautiful smile.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Miranda

The house was
silent.

And my advantage was I knew every single
creak in the house, I had snuck out of it often enough. So the fact that I
found my way outside, creeping across the drive undetected at eleven o’clock at
night was no brilliant feat. The only unnerving thing about my movements was
the direction I was headed in. I skimmed my way against the side of the
building, slowly edging around. Grabbing the corner of the verandah post, I
swung around quickly, ready to catapult myself up the decked stairs until I
slammed into a chest, hard. My scream was quickly muffled by a hand, my heart
racing at a hundred miles an hour.

“Miranda?”

The hand slowly fell away allowing me to
step back before lashing out and whacking Ringer across the arm.

“What are you doing? You scared the crap
out of me,” I whispered angrily.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he
whispered back.

My mouth gaped, as I stumbled at the
question.

Sneaking into your room to jump your
bones.

No, I didn’t think voicing that would be
wise, and I don’t think I needed to. There was enough moonlight filtering down
from the sky that Ringer’s smug stance was not lost on me. He crossed his arms
across his chest and leant casually on the banister to the stairs.

“You were coming to see me,” he said cockily.

“Pfft, you are so full of yourself.”

“Deny it,” he said, stepping forward,
edging me back to where I had come from. I walked back until my back hit the
wall of the hut.

“Tell me you’re not here for me and I will
dissolve into the night,” he whispered against my temple.

I smiled, slow and wicked. “Admit that you
were sneaking out to see me, and I might just kiss you like there’s no
tomorrow.”

Ringer braced his hands against the wall on
either side of my face, caging me in with his biceps. “I admit nothing.”

My smile fell from my face. “Well, that’s a
shame then …”

“Because regardless of why I’m here, or
you’re here, it’s not going to stop me from wanting to kiss you,” he said,
running his thumb gently along my cheek, causing me to shiver at the sensation.

I lifted my eyes, looking beyond my lashes
at his heated stare.

“Go on, then,” I breathed.

And with no invitation beyond that needed,
he closed the distance and claimed my lips, slowly, deeply, thoroughly. My
hands fisted into the fabric of the back of his shirt, drawing him closer to
me, a sound of approval escaped my lips as he crushed me against the
weatherboard wall. He cupped my face, tilting my head gently to gain better
access to my mouth. This felt right: no guarded uncertainty or misunderstanding
that this was both what we wanted. Ringer’s hand skimmed down my neck and slid
down, cupping my breast; his touch burned through my top. I leaned into him,
encouraging him to touch me; I knew from last night what his clever hands were
capable of.

Hooking his thumb into the collar of my
shirt, he slowly peeled the fabric across, allowing access as his lips ghosted
across my collar bone.
“Is this what you want?” he whispered tauntingly into my skin, before pulling
away and looking down, fixing his heated eyes on me.

“Tell me what you want.”

I slid my hands over his shoulders and
linked my hands together around his neck. “You know what I want.”

He curved his brow in question.

I smiled. “You.”

Ringer’s face sobered into a serious, stony
façade. “In what way?”

I paused, considering the question.
Suddenly my answer held so much weight. What would he take from it? That I
wanted just sex, a boyfriend? I didn’t know how to voice it, so I went with
what came to mind, thinking he could take it any way he wanted.

I extended on my tippy-toes to whisper into
his ear, “In. Every. Way.”

I heard the groan of satisfaction as I
captured his lobe between my teeth. He ground into me against the hut, his
tongue gently delving into my mouth, coaxing me to open for him, in every way
it would seem, as his hand slid between my legs.

Okay, so he definitely took my answer as
sex; it was just sex he wanted … one night.

I was a fool to think of it as anything
else and for that I was suddenly glad I hadn’t been more specific, even though
I felt the pang of disappointment inside me; what had I honestly expected? That
he was going to get down on one knee and ask me to go steady?

Yeah, right!

I broke from his kiss, dazed, breathless
but still containing the edge of my frayed senses. “But I think you have
forgotten something,” I said, looking wickedly up at him, amusement lining my
face.

Ringer looked confused for a long moment,
but when I raised my brows it was like it was a trigger; I could see the light
bulb go off in his mind.

I giggled. Perhaps Ringer had forgotten
about the many packets of condoms he’s seen in my handbag.

“I guess I will have to go back and get
one,” I teased.

Ringer caught my arm, stopping me in my
tracks. “I've got one in my room.”

Oh.

Of course he would have one, didn't every
red-blooded male carry a condom? I didn't know whether to be relieved that I
didn't have to sneak all the way back into the house, but when Ringer leaned in
and pressed his lips against mine, it was like a long-lingering promise that
caused heat to brand my cheeks, and he pulled away looking particularly pleased
with himself.

‘Wait here,” he breathed against my mouth,
before slowly backing away and making his way around the corner and up the
stairs quietly to his room.I ran my fingers through my hair and straightened my
twisted clothes. I could still taste the tobacco and remnants of beer in my
mouth and strangely, it left me with the memory of him, causing butterflies to
stir in my tummy.I rubbed my upper arms and paced along the sidewall of the
shearers’ hut, rampant thoughts circling in my mind. This is happening, this is
really happening.

I had gone from despising Ringer to dry
humping him in the shadows. I had gone from wanting to run him over, to wanting
to run my fingers through his hair. I had gone from wanting to strangle him, to
wanting to wrap myself around him. Considering he had gone from someone I never
wanted to see again, to someone I never wanted to leave, all the emotions
confused me, but more than that, they excited me. My heart slammed against my
chest thinking about what was going to happen when he came back; would he take
me by the hand and lead me somewhere? Or press me up against the wall and take
me right there?
I really hope his mates are fast asleep.
Would he be hot
and demanding or gentle and slow, and Christ I was shaking. Overthinking
everything as I walked up and down, chewing my knuckle, my rampant thoughts
turning me into a bag of nerves. It was made even worse, not by Ringer’s return
but by the blinding beams of the outside light that now switched to life and
flooded the yard.

Someone
in
the house was coming
outside
.

I dove onto the ground, army crawling under
the steps of the shearers’ hut. There wasn’t much room but enough to shield
myself from view, at least I hoped there was. I spied through the gaps in the
slats of the stairs only to realise my worst fear. The screen door opened and
my dad walked out onto the verandah in his fetching blue dressing gown. He
stretched his arms to the sky before yawning and scratching his butt. I didn’t
know what was worse: this vision, which I would really have preferred not to
see, or the sound of an unknowing Ringer, whose footsteps were quickly closing
in. He would be expecting to be met with my open arms; instead, he was going to
be met with my dad.

Awesome.

There was no way of warning him; he would
be in direct sight of Dad opposite the drive and then it was too late: Ringer’s
foot appeared on the step, pausing as if he had just realised.

“Ringer?” Dad squinted. “Ha, can’t you
sleep either?”

“Oh … um, yeah.”

Ringer slowly descended the steps, his body
was rigid, guarded. He casually looked to his right, no doubt wondering where I
had managed to go. I would have found it rather comical, the look on Ringer’s
face, the strained surprise in his voice, oh yes, all really funny if I wasn’t
wedged under a staircase.

“I just can’t help thinking I’ve forgotten
something, ya know?” Dad said, tying the cord around his beer belly and making
his way off the verandah and, oh God. He was walking this way. I shrunk down a
little.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry, I think we have
everything covered.” Ringer coolly slid something into his back pocket, and I
knew exactly what it was he had in his hand; well, if this wasn’t a mood killer
I don’t know what was.

“Yeah, I suppose,” Dad said, thrusting his
hands into his pockets and looking up at the moon. Ringer took a moment to
glance around, trying to locate me; he flinched to full attention when Dad
neared, and then passed him?

“Ahhh.” Dad exhaled, perching himself on
the middle step to the shearers’ huts; the wood groaned under his weight, my
eyes widened, but that was nothing compared to Ringer’s reaction when he turned
to face Dad. His eyes flicked to under the stairs and quickly looked away
comically fast, so as not to give my hiding spot away.

“Ever been to Wahroo, Ringer?” my dad
asked. I inwardly groaned, lying on my back as Dad settled in to play questions
and answers.

“So, what’s your old man do for a living?”

“Does Onslow get hot in the summer?”

“What mile per gallon on the Ford do you
get?”

Oh God, I was going to be here for hours,
trapped in the dirt, awkwardly scrunched up. Of course Ringer wasn’t helping,
he had pulled up a step and sat next to Dad, politely answering his questions.

Bloody hell, now was not the time for
idle chit-chat.

I seriously had to resist the urge to poke
Ringer in the spine. And if something bites me in the arse while I am under
here, I will blame Ringer. Sexy man or not.

“Thanks for helping me with Miranda’s car
today, too, mate.”

My head snapped up.

Ringer helped him? Aww …

“That’s okay, it was nothing.”

“It’s something that shouldn’t have needed
to be done in the first place; by all rights, Miranda should have been on the
open road if she wanted to, it wasn’t anyone’s place to stop her.”

What?

Ringer visibly shifted in his seat.

“Don’t mention it.”

“Nah, I mean it, Ringer, what I did was
unforgiveable and if Penny found out, Christ …”

I shifted up onto my elbow, listening with
interest.

What was he talking about?

And just as that very thought ran through
my mind, the step creaked again, almost as loud as Dad’s pained groan as he
wearily moved to stand.

He slapped Ringer on the shoulder. “So, for
Christ’s sake, whatever you do, don’t tell the girls that the Mazda was
tampered with. We’ll never hear the end of it.”

WHAT?

Dad chuckled, amused by his own thoughts.
“Night, son, go get some sleep.”

If it weren’t the light of the porch
guiding Dad’s way back to the house, it would have been the laser beams of rage
protruding from my eyeballs.

The outside light flicked off, plunging us
both into darkness. I heard Ringer sigh, but I didn’t know whether it was in
relief or resignation; either way, I didn’t really care. All I wanted was to
crawl out from my cramped little hiding space. I edged out rather inelegantly;
it was a struggle to find purchase to stand since my right leg had gone to
sleep. Ringer moved to help me up, but I pushed him away.

“You tampered with my car?” I shouted.

Ringer winced, glancing back towards the
house. “Keep it down. No, I didn’t.”

“But you knew about it?”

“I only found out yesterday,” he said,
defending himself.

“That’s twenty-four hours’ plenty of chance
to tell me.”

“Well, we haven’t exactly been on friendly
terms.”

“You mean before or after you had your
hands down my pants last night?” I scoffed.

Ringer crossed his arms, “As far as I
recall you weren’t wearing any pants,” he said smugly.

My face blanched at the memory. I hated him
for reminding me of the fact, of my wanton walk into his room last night. It
made me feel stupid; it was a feeling that I really didn’t need to fuel my
rage. I breathed a calming, yet shuddery breath; I closed my eyes, feeling hot
tears pool behind my lids. I was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting, thankful
that we had been interrupted from making what I could now see would have been
such a colossal mistake.