Safe in His Arms (23 page)

“He’s a chubby-bubby?”

“A what? Jeez, Tash. What are you? Fifteen? But no. I don’t mean big as in overweight. I mean big as in he spends all his free time at the gym, and his thigh muscles are bigger than your waist.”

“You’re kidding? Man. So when do I get to meet this specimen of manhood?”

Casey’s smile fell again. “Four weeks. Twenty-eight days. Six hundred and seventy-two hours.”

Natasha hugged him awkwardly with one arm, then bent to grab the last couple of pots. “Oh, sweetie. Never mind. I’m sure he loves you and will be back before you know it.”

“How do you know?” Casey asked. “You’ve never met him. How do you know he loves me?”

Natasha shoved him aside, grabbed the handle of the flat-bed trolley, and heaved to get it moving. Casey gave a little push to help her, then trailed behind as she wheeled the plants to the front of the nursery where they would unload them. “I know he loves you because you’re too cute not to love. That and the fact that you’ve been walking funny for two days. Now that I know you’re gay, I understand the reason for it. The day before my bastard ex would leave for his overseas work trips would be fuck-fest days. I swear I ended up with a urinary tract infection every single damn time because he was so horny. Man, I miss that.”

Casey was too busy choking to reply. He didn’t know if it was the embarrassment that Natasha had caught the odd way he’d had to move to keep his arse from twinging, or the information overload about her personal life. All he knew was that he’d found a friend.

And not just one.

Paul called around regularly “just for a chat,” which would usually end up being a couple of hours and another installment in the saga of Andrew and his bitch-wife. Casey thought Paul might be a little biased about the wife, but he kept that to himself. Paul was extremely grumpy and downright pissed at anything that got in the way of his being with Andrew.

Devon and Ash dragged him out as well. University was still out for the summer break, and they had a lot of time on their hands to yank him out of any blue funk he started to fall into while Lon was still ages away from getting home.

The second Saturday after Lon left, Casey gathered his stuff to head to the beach with Devon and Ash. Devon was picking him up. He declared that there was not enough male flesh to perv on at the little beach near the caravan park, so he needed to go to Cottesloe Beach, where there would be more. This sounded great—apart from the fact it was Australia Day, and every man and his dog would be at the beach. Australia Day usually meant lots of sausages on the barbeque, lots of clothing sporting the Australian flag, and lots of illegal street drinking. Casey snagged the free temporary tattoo from his Grandma’s daily newspaper and plastered it across his cheek to show his pride in being Aussie. Devon bought him a dark blue tank top with the red Union Jack on the front and five stars representing the Southern Cross on the back, just for today’s outing.

He was gathering his towel and a couple of frozen drinks when a female voice called out from the annex door.

“Hello? Umm, is anyone home?”

Casey frowned. Because it was an annex, it was a little hard to actually “knock” at the door, so visitors frequently called out. But he didn’t usually have guests, and if he did, they were of the male variety. He quickly stepped over, lifted the flap, and slipped outside.

There was a woman there he’d never seen before. She was in her late twenties with pale hair scraped back in an untidy ponytail, well-worn clothes, and leather sandals on her dusty feet. Her bright blue eyes were darting nervously to the side, which made her seem untrustworthy, but her enormous pregnant belly kept Casey from being alarmed. She seemed gaunt, which was silly considering her girth, and that starved look sometimes indicated substance abuse. But since she was heavily pregnant and not a physical danger to him, Casey smiled and asked politely, “Hi, there. Can I help you?”

“Oh. Umm.” She swallowed and glanced around again. “Sorry. I’m looking for someone. They told me he was at bay one oh six.”

That made Casey smile wider. “Well, this is one oh six, but it’s obviously not me you’re looking for. So what’s this person’s name? I may be able to show you the right van.”

“Lon Taylor.”

Well, this was going to be awkward. “Okay, then. I have good news and I have bad news for you.” Casey bravely smiled and went on. “You’ve found Lon’s van, but not Lon. He’s away working at the moment. In Newman.”

The woman in front of him deflated, but he couldn’t work out if it was disappointment or relief. “Oh. When will he be back?”

“Not until the twelfth.”

“Oh.” The woman rubbed her brow tiredly. There was something about her that made Casey want to pick her up and solve all her problems. Maybe it was the pregnancy thing. He truly hoped it wasn’t a straight-for-you thing, because he’d never wanted a woman before.

“Are you okay? Is there something I can do to help? Lon won’t be off shift until about eight o’clock tonight, so I can’t ring him now, but do you need to get him a message?”

She smiled wanly at him. “No. Don’t bother him. I was just coming to say hello. Just a friendly visit.”

She was definitely lying about something, but he couldn’t work out what. Was she a con artist who was checking out which vans were occupied? “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” She made to turn away, but stopped and gave him a searching look. “Are you Lon’s… ahh…?” She flushed slightly, clearly unsure of the word she should use.

Casey smiled, relieved that this woman obviously knew Lon. “Yes. I’m Casey Douglas.” He stuck out his hand, and they timidly shook. “What’s your name?”

“Olivia.”

“Pleased to meet you, Olivia. Are you sure I can’t give Lon a message for you?”

“No. It’s alright. I was going to ask a quick favor, but if he’s in Newman, he can’t do it for me. Thank you, anyway. It was nice to meet you, Casey. I’m glad Lon has someone.” She smiled tiredly and took a couple of steps away.

There was something that was urging Casey not to let this go. He called out, “Wait. Does Lon have your phone number? Perhaps he can call you?”

Casey could see her weighing up the options, running scenarios through her head. Finally she nodded. “I’ll leave my number for him. Can you pass it on when he gets home? Don’t bother him while he’s working and can’t help. Just tell him I’ll be expecting his call on the thirteenth, okay?”

There was something a little fishy about it to Casey, but he led her inside the annex and found some a pen and paper to write on. She scrawled her name—simply “Olivia”—and a number. Obviously Lon would know which Olivia this was straightaway.

“Thank you, Casey,” she murmured as she handed the pen back. She glanced around the annex once, taking in the dozens of plants that had now found themselves a home with Casey, and by extension Lon. “Do you live here?”

Casey was surprised at the personal question, but he had nothing to hide. “Yes. It’s Lon’s van, but as you can see, I’ve made it my own personal jungle. Lon’s going to spit when he sees how they’ve multiplied by the time he gets home. He tries to be tough, but how can I be afraid of someone who’s so squishy inside? Besides, I think I have the key to lessening his anger.”

Olivia startled him with a cheeky grin that made her look years younger. “What? Sex?”

Casey laughed. “Yeah—maybe that too. But I was thinking more about bacon. That man loves his bacon.”

The woman joined in the laughter and said, “That’s true. He obviously hasn’t changed. What about strawberry ice cream?”

“Huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, poor Lon. He’s obviously been denying himself if you haven’t figured that one out yet. He loves strawberry ice cream, but he avoids eating it, especially in public, because it’s pink. He doesn’t want to look too gay. Like anyone sees Lon eating pink ice cream immediately labels him gay.” She gave another eye roll, this time accompanied by a slight shake of her head.

They both snorted and Casey descended into giggles. “I’ll have to stock up, then.”

“You do that. Between the sex, the bacon, and strawberry ice cream, that man will be putty in your hands.”

There was an easiness to talking with her that Casey was attracted to. He wanted her to stay longer. “Can I offer you a drink?”

She shook her head. “No, thanks. I have someone waiting in the car for me. It was really nice to meet you, Casey. Tell Lon I’ll be expecting his call when he gets home.”

“Sure.”

She ducked through the annex flap and Casey followed her out, just to watch her walk down the road. She had a definite waddle to her gait, but she walked without stopping, following the paved access road to the end and turning left to head toward the park entrance. Casey gripped the paper and looked at the number she’d scrawled. Something nagged him to pick up the phone and tell Lon immediately, or at least send a message to him, but he’d told the woman he’d wait until Lon got home. She was right in saying there was nothing he could do from Newman, even if he knew what the favor was.

Finally he shrugged and snagged a roll of masking tape from the table. He tore off a piece and stuck the paper firmly to the wall of the van, just near the door, then headed off to meet Devon and Ash.

Chapter 18

M
ONDAY
MORNING
of the holiday, Casey was suffering through a bad hangover from partying too much with Devon and Ash when his grandmother interrupted his stumble from the toilet block back to Lon’s van.

“G’morning, Casey.”

“Oh, fuck. Keep it down, Grandma. Please? Some people need some quiet to get over their self-inflicted illnesses.”

“Oh, phooey. You’re young enough that it shouldn’t affect you too badly.”

“But you didn’t see how much I drank, Grandma. There aren’t enough grape vines in Australia to make the amount of alcohol I poured down my throat last night.”

She laughed. “Did you manage to hear from Lon while you were draining the pubs in Perth?”

Casey was wishing he’d brought his sunglasses when he took this little trip to the toilet block. The sun was giving him a huge headache, and the ground beneath his feet was trembling. Or was that his knees?

“Yeah, Lon called me last night, but I was partying and couldn’t hear what he was saying. He’ll be back on shift by now, so I’ll call him tonight.” He tried to stumble away, back to his bed, when his grandmother yanked his arm and spun him around.

“Hey,” he protested as the world tilted.

But his grandmother was looking remarkably stern. “Jesus, Casey. Don’t you watch the news? Didn’t you hear about the cyclone? I got up this morning to ask you if Lon has been evacuated, and you didn’t even bother to answer the goddamn phone to your boyfriend?”

Casey’s heart and mind froze as the words registered with him. “Cyclone? Evacuated?”

“It crossed the coast last night north of Pardoo. Latest reports have severe winds and flooding in Newman within six hours. The system is small and fast-moving. They expect it to travel a large distance inland. The mines have shut down. So did he make it out? Or is he bunkering down at the site?”

Casey didn’t answer because he was already moving, dashing back to the van and his phone. Lon had called him the night before, but the music had been so loud, he’d shouted drunkenly into the phone that he’d call later. He blushed as he remembered he may’ve shouted something about loving Lon too.

There were other pictures entering his mind now that pushed that embarrassment aside—twisted metal that used to be the single occupancy
dongas
where the miners slept, broken trees flattened by the wind, and swollen rivers of raging water. Several years back one of the major mines had been directly hit with a cyclone. The company had evacuated as many people as it could, but not everyone could be bussed out of the region or get to an airport in time. Those left behind had taken shelter in their cyclone-proof
dongas
—some alone for hours as the wind raged, others lucky enough to find a mate to wait out nature’s fury with.

At the end of their lonely hours in terrifying conditions, three people were dead. Their bodies were discovered in the twisted ruins of what used to be rooms that could supposedly withstand a cyclone. The courts were still arguing over how much responsibility the mining company had and if they had taken enough precautions.

He slammed into the annex and looked around frantically for his phone. He snatched it up and swiped at the screen.

Three missed calls. All from Lon. The last one at three o’clock that morning.

Shit!

He quickly tried to return the call, but was told the phone he was trying to connect with was either switched off or not in range.

Double shit!

He quickly loaded the news sites on his phone and found they didn’t tell him jack. They told him how much damage the major towns had sustained and how much rain had fallen, but not where the cyclone was heading next or what the mines were doing about it. He didn’t know what to do. He frantically scanned his phone, then connected to Ash’s contact details. Devon was flighty, but Ash was grounded. He would know what to do.