“That we do,” he agreed. “Are you staying to eat?”
Was he asking her to join him? Wishful thinking. More like being polite. With a little, wistful, mental sigh, Bree shook her head. “’Afraid not.”
The laughter left his face, concern taking its place. “You’re not going out in this weather?”
“Things to do.”
Aliens to find
. If he knew that last thought, he’d be backing away from her in case her insanity touched him. She gave him a small wave as she turned and headed for the door. “Toodles.”
No sooner had she grabbed the door
handle than she felt warmth behind her, the sensation of something big, the faint scent of male cologne and soap invading her senses as a long arm came over her shoulder and a big hand landed flat against the frame.
Startled, she started to step back only to bump into a tall, hard body. Man, he was hot, and she didn’t
mean just his looks. His body called to her chilled one like the mug of hot Milo and the book called to her commonsense. He felt warm, safe…
Tipping her head back, she looked directly up into green eyes that studied her,
dark brows pulled into a frown.
“Ma’am,” he said softly, “t
here’s a storm out there. It’s not safe.”
“Mr,” she replied, “I’ve driven in storms before.”
“Is this an emergency?”
Only for dry panties, because being this close to th
e stud was making her current pair damp. “Depends on your definition.”
He
glanced out through the glass door. “No emergency, then.”
“I actually have to be somewhere.”
His gaze dropped back down to her. “Wait.”
“Sorry, afraid I can’t do that.”
His frown darkened. “Ma’am-”
“Nice to meet you,” she said. “Now if you’ll move your hand?”
For a few seconds she thought he was going to refuse, and annoyance spiked in her. Hot stud or not, this man was still a stranger and she didn’t take orders from strangers.
Actually, she didn’t take them that well from friends, either, so that made taking it from a stranger null and void.
Unless it was a cop. She’d do what a cop told her. She respected cops.
A muscle ticked in the man’s square jaw and he stepped back. Immediately coolness pervaded where he’d been pressed against her. “Ma’am, please. Just wait. The storm won’t last for long.”
“I really appreciate the concern,” she assured him, “But I’m fine. Storms aren’t new to me.” When he opened his mouth to try once more, she added, “I gotta go. Have a safe trip wherever you’re going, and make sure you enjoy a good bellyful of food from here before you continue your journey. They really do make the best chips.”
Turning away from him, she opened the door, flinching as a cold wind whipped past her.
Staying inside was a good option, very tempting, in fact, but UFOs had no regard for weather. If one was to land, or be flying, now would be perfect. No one would be outside to see. Her mother had always instilled that in Bree’s head, and Jackie’s team had pounded it in further. It was validated by several sightings she’d been witness to during the worst weather.
No
way was a bit of wind and rain going to interfere in her UFO watch, nor a studly man. Besides, he probably had a bimbo waiting in the car or a wife and kids at home. Or wife and kids in the car. Or maybe a male partner. A man like that didn’t stay single for long.
Taking a deep breath, Bree plunged out into the storm, running full pelt for the van, yanking the unlocked door open and leaping inside. Shutting the door behind her, she placed the bag of food on the passenger seat and wiped the water from her face with the towel she always carried. Her braid wasn’t too wet, thank goodness. She wasn’t
keen to do a watch with water dripping down her back.
At least she wouldn’t have to change her clothes. Dampness she could tolerate.
Starting the van, she pulled out of the parking bay onto the road. A glance at the café showed the blurred image of the handsome hunk of impressive manhood standing at the window watching her, but she couldn’t make out his features through the driving rain.
Ah well, she had a good memory.
Carefully she drove out of town towards the farm. It took her twice as long to find the exact place, the pouring rain making her travel a lot slower. Not wanting to end up in a ditch, up another vehicle’s arse-end, or side swiped off the road, she crept along until she could pull safely into the parking bay. She really wanted to park on the side of the road near the field, but in the rain it would be too dangerous. Getting taken out by a road train wasn’t on her list of things-to-do.
Pushing the seat back, she kicked her sneakers off, picked up the bag of food and swung her legs up to rest her heels on the passenger seat. Leaning back on the driver’s door, she sighed happily and opened the bag.
The
rain on the roof, yummy food even if it was only luke warm, and shelter. What more could anyone wish for on a hunt? It was cosy in the old van. She glanced around. Little wardrobe behind the driver’s seat with a little seat that could be pulled down and sat on, and a seat that stretched across the back of the van that would pull out to form a bed. From the little wardrobe to the seat were cupboards which contained an emergency stash of kitty litter, tinned and packet food, some bottled water, and a tiny sink. The wardrobe held two changes of clothes.
Even though she’d settled in Whicha with no intention of travelling from place to place, it was hard to completely let go of her upbringing. Her mother had always insisted on being ready to flee from any disaster, be it UFO invasion, monster invasion, government invasion, or shady people who might bear a grudge.
Bree could remember fleeing from the last, but never the first, second or third. Now she just liked to keep a stash in case of fires or floods. ‘Be Prepared’ was more than just a Scout’s motto.
Munching on a chip, she tu
rned her attention to the wet darkness outside. In the distance were several lights, low to the ground and definitely not moving. Farm house and barns. Nothing weird.
Rain continued to pound the roof as she worked her way through the chips and toasted sandwich. Giving a genteel burp, she wiped her hands with the wet wipes she pulled from the glove box and studied her surroundings.
All was quiet. It could be a long wait.
She fiddled with the police scanner, but all was silent. Not even the cops would be out on a night like this, not until the storm calmed down or something happened.
Nothing was happening.
Not wanting to risk flattening the battery, she turned off the key in the ignition and slid between the seats to go into the back. Opening the cupboard, she took out the portable radio and switched it on, tuning it into the local radio station which was currently playing light rock.
Nice.
B
ringing it back to the front, she set it on the dashboard and leaned back against the window, settling a little cushion behind her. The radio crackled.
And that was when something slammed into the side of the van.
Opening his eyes, Nick was instantly awake. It was barely dawn, but he still checked his watch. Yep, five thirty. Time to get up.
Rolling out of the big, cosy bed, he sat and contemplated the room. It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d been here a year ago. Big, old fashioned bed made with fleecy sheets and piled with a couple of blankets and a thick quilt. The pillows were fat and snugly. The furniture was old, polished and cared for, the carpet faded but thick, and the wallpaper had little roses sprinkled across the walls. The curtains at the window were shut, adding to the cosy atmosphere.
Stepping into Harly and Alex’s home was like stepping back in the past. He liked it.
Standing, he padded across to the curtains and parted them, opening the window to both shiver and inhale the chill breeze. Beyond the veranda he could see in the gloom that the trees dripped, the grass was still wet, and puddles pooled further out in the yard. Birds were just starting to stir. Everything was wet and fresh.
Pulling on a pair of shorts and a
long-sleeved t-shirt, he laced up sneakers and crept out the door into the hallway.
Old Buffy, sleeping on a blanket next to the sofa in the lounge, lifted her ears when he passed her but didn’t get up.
Obviously the morning was too early and cold for her. Nothing else moved in the house, not even the cats appearing, so he knew that Harly and Alex still slept, the three cats probably piled in the bed with them.
Smiling, he opened the door, shutting it carefully behind him. Taking deep breaths, he looked around. His breath came in cold puffs from his mouth and goosebumps shivered down his arms and legs. Jumping lightly down to the ground, he jogged in place for several minutes, stretched a
couple of times, then proceeded to lope lazily down the bitumen driveway that Alex had had put in the last time he’d been home, and turn onto the roadway. Keeping to the side facing any on-coming cars, he lengthened his stride, falling easily into his morning run.
The silence of the morning was broken only by the sound of wildlife stirring, birds appearing, and several kangaroos bounding off at the sight of him.
Ah, Whicha, he really liked it. He’d stayed here with Alex and Harly several times, liking it as much now as he had then. It was more home to him than anywhere he’d ever been, and in the Army he’d travelled to a lot of places. But Whicha, with its quiet country charm, called to him.
Arms
swinging in tandem to his stride, Nick breathed deeply and steadily.
He’d have liked to have come here a week ago, but mindful that Alex hadn’t seen Harly for
six months, Nick had been considerate enough to leave them alone for a week. They had lost time to make up for, and having him around was something they didn’t need when they first reunited after so long apart. That they considered him almost family was nice, but he wasn’t a user.
A farmer passed him, the back of his truck piled with hay bales. He waved to Nick, who waved back, ignoring the spray of puddles against his legs.
Now that he was here and had been greeted so welcomingly the previous night by both Alex and Harly, his thoughts switched to The Goodbye Girl.
She was here still, had to be here. He’d been champing at the bit to come to Whicha to look for her, and now he was here he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she’d left. If only he had her last name
, but Bree wasn’t a common name, he was sure it wouldn’t be that hard to find her.
Okay, so maybe she might not welcome him finding her, maybe she deliberately kept her
identity a secret, and he’d respect that…probably. But his link to her called to him as much as Whicha. After all these months of sharing laughter and ideas, he wanted to meet her, see if her face was as bright, her personality as sparkling, as her letters.
Sweat
started to trickle down his back as he pounded onwards, but he ignored it.
Maybe he’d be disappointed, but he’d decided that there could be no disappointment in meeting the woman who cared enough to write to lonely soldiers and sen
d them care packages. If she was a shy little thing, then that was okay, too. He just wanted to meet her, talk to her, thank her.
See if that link he felt was as strong to her in person as the link he felt when he r
ead her letters.
Today he’d start looking for her, but he’d have to be subtle about it. To be truthful, he had no
idea how she’d react to having one of her ‘soldier boys’ looking her up, and he certainly didn’t want to jeopardize another lonely soldier’s chance to have a link home.
Yep, he’d be
subtle about it.
But he wouldn’t deny that he was looking forward to meeting her, to spotting her from a distance if necessary, if she really didn’t want to know him. He’d find out who she was, watch her, see if he could
get a feel for what kind of a person she was, if she’d welcome a ‘g’day’ and ‘thank you’.
And maybe a cuppa and a chat. Yeah.
With renewed vigour, he fastened his pace, rounding the bend in the road to see an old blue Ford Transit van coming towards him. It would have been fine, except the van went right through a huge puddle, spraying Nick from top to toe.
“Shit!”
He couldn’t stop the gasp when the icy water hit him.
Stopping on the side, he ran his hand over his face, wiping the muddy water from his eyes and flicking it away. His shirt was saturated with muddy water, his shorts clinging to him. His
sneakers were squelching when he took a step to the side.
The sound of an engine slowing then backing up had him turning to see the van reversing up until the
passenger’s door was level with him.
“Hells bells, man, I’m so sorry,”
a feminine voice greeted him.
He knew that voice, and turning his head, found himself looking directly into the
hazel eyes of the woman from the café the previous night. Two things hit him at once - she was as pretty now as she was then, and merriment danced in her eyes even though she seemed genuinely sorry.
“Man, I am so sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s all right.” With a rueful grin, he wrung out his shirt. “Guess I won’t need a shower now.”
“Get in.”
He paused in the act of flipping his shirt down. “Pardon?”
“Hop in the van. I’ll take you home.”
He was astonished. “To your home?”
“You’re a stranger. Why would I take you
to my home?”
“Why would you take me anywhere?”
She pursed her lips, and wow, those lips were as full and lush as her hips had been under those figure-hugging jeans. “I’m not taking you anywhere, mister, I’m taking you to
your
home.”
“You don’t know me,” he pointed out, feeling rivulets of water trickle down his legs into his soaked sneakers.
“And yet I’m offering you a lift. Whatever is the universe coming to?”
Well, she was offering and he was soaked
. Now that he’d stopped running the cool breeze was bringing up goosebumps. And he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, so… Nick opened the passenger door and got in, sitting his wet bum on a thick towel.
“Good thing you have vinyl seats.” He clipped on the seatbelt.
“Makes it easier to clean up blood from my victims.”
Nick cast her a glance.
Expression serene, she put the van into gear and pulled onto the road. “Scared?”
“I think I’ll survive,” he replied dryly.
“You just keep thinking that.” She checked the rear-view mirror. “Where to?”
“Do you know
Harly Lawson’s place?”
“Everyone knows
Harly.”
“I’m staying there.”
“Ah.” She looked sideways at him before returning her gaze to the road. “There’s a tea towel in the glove box you can dry your face with.”
Wondering what she was doing with a tea towel in the
glove box, Nick popped it open and took it out, rubbing his face and hair dry before sitting it neatly on his lap.
Silence filled the van a
s he studied her curiously. Long, black hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail that fell halfway down her back, small gold hoops pierced her earlobes, and her cheek was tinged pink. He’d bet it was from cold and not cosmetics, because her window was half open and the cold air was blowing through.
Her profile was pretty
- uptilted nose, lush lips, small, stubborn chin, and thick eyelashes. So thick and long, in fact, that he wondered if they were fake.
His gaze slid lower. She wore a long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged a
pair of magnificent breasts. Jesus, if he cupped one in his palm he had no doubt it would overfill his hand, and he had big hands.
Stretch jeans hugged generous hips and rounded thighs, and a pair of neon pink sneakers shod her feet. His gaze drifted back up. A
wide gold bracelet with weird scroll marks on it was wrapped around one wrist, several gold rings were on her fingers, and her nails were painted blood red.
She slid a look his way. “Problem?”
“What? No.” Hastily, he averted his gaze, a faint flush staining his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed. Since when had he ever been caught off-guard by anyone? By a woman at that, one he’d just met? Twice, actually, but still… “Ah - the turn is just ahead.”
“I know.”
Well of course she knew, hadn’t she just said everyone knew Harly? With a sigh, Nick combed his hand through his short hair.
“You sure you’re okay?”
The woman turned the van into Harly and Alex’s driveway and rolled towards the house.
“Fine.” He unclipped the seatbelt as the van came to a halt. “Listen, thanks a lot.
You didn’t have to do this.”
She
turned her head, a huge smile flashing across her face, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Sweetie, I half drowned you. I had to do this or suffer bad karma.”
“You believe in karma?”
“Apparently.”
Nick blinked. “Apparently?”
“Long story.”
“In that case, maybe karma is getting back at me for some things.”
“Hmmm. Have you made a will yet?”
Amusement
filled him. “You think it could be that bad?”
“Only you know that.”
Her good humour was infectious, tickling at him, making him smile widely back at her. “Right.”
Her gaze slid over him. “You better get inside and have
a hot shower and change of clothes. You don’t want to catch a cold.”
“Can’t catch a cold from rain, Ma’am.” He opened the door, strangely
reluctant to get out.
“But why risk it, right?” She waited patiently.
Not wanting her to regret giving him a lift, Nick jumped out and shut the door. Jogging around to the driver’s side, he looked at her through the open window. “Thanks for the lift.”
Laughter had her hazel eyes sparkling. “What
about for the impromptu cold shower?”
He grinned. “Oh, definitely for the shower. Thanks very much.”
“I promise not to make a habit of it.” Putting the van in reverse, she waved her hand. “Toodles!”
‘Toodles’? Who the hell ever said ‘toodles’? Fascinated, Nick watched as the van left the property. Scratching his head, he turned to the house, climbing the steps and kicking off his squelching sneakers on the edge of the
veranda.
Somehow
, he felt a whole lot lighter, like a ray of sun had burst in on a cloudy day. As though her amusement had seeped into him, airily flinging aside some of his darkness, flapping the cobwebs from his sense of humour, making him…sound like an idiot.
Frowning
, Nick placed the sneakers neatly side-by-side before opening the door. Hell, in the space of ten minutes he’d blushed, ogled a woman, was reluctant to get out of her old van, and was thinking of rays of sunshine. And, he realised, he didn’t know her name.
From his seat at the kitchen table, Alex raised his eyebrows as Nick walked past the doorway. “Did you roll in a puddle?”
“Nope. Had one flung at me.”
“Oh, okay.” Alex placidly took a sip from his cup.
“I’m going to wash up.”
“Good plan.”
Sunny, the youngest of the cats, trotted behind him as he collected dry clothes from his bedroom and followed him into the bathroom.
“I’m shutting this door,” he told her. “Once it’s shut I’m not getting out of the shower to open it for you.”
Sunny jumped up onto the wash basin and proceeded to investigate his toilet bag.
“You’ve had your warning.” He grabbed the strip of condoms she unearthed with one paw from the bottom
of the toilet bag. “Behave.” Grinning, he gave her ears a quick fondle, which had her closing her eyes and bursting out in enthusiastic purring.