WE ARE ONE: Volume Two

by Jewel, Bella

  “Can you tell me now where you’re taking me?” I ask as we fly to wherever we’re going.

  “No, I’ll show you in a minute instead,” is his reply. I look intently out the window trying to view the scenery but because it’s still dark, I can’t make out much at all. All too soon, Jackson is lowering the helicopter to the ground and cutting the engine. Once the rotors have stopped spinning, he climbs out and comes around to my side. Helping me out, he leads me over to a rocky cliff edge. Producing a picnic blanket and two travel mugs from thin air, he sits down and tugs my hand, so I follow.

  “Here,” he says, handing me a mug.

  I inhale the sweet aroma of coffee and take a sip.

  “What is this place? Why’d you bring me here? And why, when it’s so dark I can’t see anything to appreciate it?”

  “It’s my favorite place on the property,” he answers before adding quietly, “I’ve never brought anyone else here before.” He pauses for a moment and I let his words sink in. He’s never brought anyone else here before. Wow. “And I brought you here to show you that,” he says pointing directly out in front of him. I follow his outstretched arm and … Wow.

  The sun peeks out from behind a distance mountain, coating the sky in splatters of pinks, purples and blues. I’m not sure if it’s our location on this cliff or if the sunrises are like this everywhere in the Northern Territory (they certainly aren’t this beautiful in Sydney) but this is the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen.

  “Wow, Jackson. It’s absolutely awe inspiring. It’s … like nothing I’ve ever seen,” my voice full of veneration. “I can see why you love it. Why’d you decide to bring me here? I mean, if you’ve never brought anyone here before, why me?”

  “I wanted to share it with you. I told you I’d prove to you I wasn’t who you thought I was, and this is part of me showing you. Honestly, I’ve never wanted to bring anyone else here, ever. Then last night you mentioned seeing the rest of the property and I just knew I had to bring you here.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I smile and snuggle into him.

  We sit for the next forty five minutes or so sipping our coffees and watching as the sun fully makes its appearance.

  “Did you like it?” Jackson asks as we make our way back to the hanger in the chopper. The tone of his voice tells me he already knows the answer – he sounds cocky and sure. As much as I would like to lie and clear his voice of that sexy arrogant tone, I can’t do it.

  “Like it? I loved it. I hope I have the chance to see it again,” I say, adding the last part softly and a part of me hopes he didn’t hear it.

  “You will,” is his reply.

  “Do you have anything on today?”

  “Not until later this afternoon; I’ve got a shift at four.” I reply. We’re sitting at Jackson’s table, having just eaten our breakfast of creamy oats with brown sugar. I haven’t had oats like this since I was kid and they’re just as I remembered – delicious.

  “Knock, knock,” a voice calls at the same time Jackson’s front door opens. A middle aged Aboriginal man fills the doorway.

  “Hey, mate,”

  “Hey, Jack. Sorry to interrupt, mate. Just wanted to let you know I was going to jump on the tractor. I’ll plow the seven eighties paddock today.”

  “No worries. Did you get Clear View prepped yesterday?”

  The man nods his reply. “Burt, this is Edie. Edie, this here is Burt, one of our station hands.” Jackson introduces.

  I stand and extend my hand. “Hi Burt, nice to meet you.”

  “Not Burt. Burp. With a ‘P’,” he corrects.

  “Oh,” I reply, not sure what else to say.

  “See,” he says and then proceeds to belch loudly and then recite his ABC’s by burping. I cut him off at ‘E’.

  “That’s very, um, talented?” I offer, but it comes out sounding like a question.

  He misses my hesitant reply, or maybe he just chooses to ignore it, and he says in a proud voice, “Thanks.” Then he turns to Jackson and says, “She’s a keeper.” He winks and he’s gone. I take another mouthful of my oats because I’m not sure what to say. That was weird.

  “Burp is a,” Jackson starts and then pauses to search for a word.

  “Unique individual?” I suggest.

  He laughs, nodding his head. “Yeah. Unique individual, that’s one way to put it. He’s a good worker though – reliable, trustworthy, honest. All the things you want in an employee.”

  “You forgot talented in the art of burping the alphabet. And I’m guessing because his nickname is ‘Burp’, that the alphabet isn’t the only thing he can belch.”

  “You’d think right. That man can burp almost anything you ask him to.”

  I can’t help it. I burst out laughing at the thought of a man being so proud of being able to burp that he earns himself a nickname for it. Jackson smiles, but he doesn’t laugh; he’s too busy watching me.

  After Burp left, Jackson and I spent the morning and early afternoon ‘rolling around in the hay’, so to speak. I got to see him completely naked in the daylight and let me tell you, it is a sight to behold. Broad, muscular and solid is the only way to describe him. On his back, spanning shoulder to shoulder is a long horn bull tattoo, and upon further exploration, I discovered he also has the Southern Cross inked down his back and side. His stomach is rippled with definition and his arms, back and legs match. I was right when I thought before that Jackson was the type of man that couldn’t be worked out of your system in a lifetime. I don’t even think a hundred lifetimes would be enough. He’s so charismatic and charming. And he’s funny and nice and good.

  In between all the sucking, licking and fucking, we ate sandwiches for lunch and managed to watch a midday movie. Although ‘watch’ probably isn’t the right word because I spent more time concentrating on fondling him, than I did on watching the movie. As I was leaving, Jackson said he was off to do some farm work and would see me later. This left me a myriad of thoughts that I didn’t have time to think about and wasn’t sure I wanted to think about. Also because they all revolved around Jackson telling me he’d see me later and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I mean, sure I liked him, and I liked having sex with him, but is that all this is to him? Maybe he had a hankering to fuck me and needed to appease his curiosity, which he did numerous times. Maybe he was just saying he’d see me later to be nice.

  But, what if he did want more? What if he really did want to see me later? What if he wanted to see where things went between the two of us? How did I feel about that? I wasn’t sure. He’d said all the right things when we played question for question, and he had treated me nicely and taken care of me in and out of the bedroom. And what about the early morning chopper ride to his favorite place to watch the sunrise? Surely he wouldn’t take just anyone to that spot, and in a helicopter, no less. Of course, he’d told me that he’d never taken anyone there before, but why me? It was all so confusing and I wasn’t sure what I wanted.

  Actually I did know what I wanted. I wanted Jackson. I was just scared. Afraid because I’d been too hurt in the past and I wanted to protect myself from hurting again. And no, I’m not talking about Matt. You see, the thing is, loving someone enables vulnerability. Vulnerability enables the ability to hurt. There are two types of love we experience in life; the love that is automatically programmed into you from birth. This is the love you feel for your parents, brother, sister, aunt and so on. It’s the love you feel for family – whether that family is blood tied or bonded by the soul. It’s the love I feel for my parents and for Jules, because even though Jules isn’t family by blood, she’s family by soul. Then there’s the love that we choose. We look for that one person to marry, have children with, and grow old with. But do we really get a choice? Or is it all decided by destiny?

  If you love someone, and you lose them, it hurts. Kills.

  So is falling in love worth the risk of vulnerability? Is falling in love worth the risk of feeling the hurt that comes
with loss?

  When it all boils down, that’s what I’m most afraid of – the vulnerability and the risk of hurting again – because let me tell you, when someone you love dies, or in my case two people, you can alter your life in such ways to ensure that you never feel that level of pain and loss again. Surprise, surprise Jules was right again.

  By the time I leave Jacksons and arrive at the cottage, I have just enough time to shower and get dressed before my shift starts. I race around the cottage like a complete loon trying to get ready. I don’t have enough time to blow dry my hair so I brush my long brown locks up into pony tail and wrap the loose hair round and round to make a bun. I pull on my boots and race out the door. Good thing I live at the back of the pub.

  Thankfully the bar was busy tonight which meant I didn’t have time to dwell on my thoughts. It didn’t matter how busy the bar was though, I still had time to notice that Jackson wasn’t sitting at the end of the bar during my shift. He didn’t show up. I try to ignore the painful twisting in my belly but it’s impossible. I feel sick. I let my heart run away from my head for twenty four fucking hours and this is what happens.

  I’m not surprised at how much it hurts. Even though I’ve only known him for such a short time; he’s just that kind of man – the kind that sucks you in immediately and holds you captive with his good looks. Then, he keeps you sucked in with his personality and sweet gestures, and even his annoyingness you come to like because you get used to it. Really, it’s not annoying – that’s just the cover you use to try and guard your heart because it’s then that you know. You know you’ve already fallen. Before you even realize it’s too late, you’re too far gone.

  Then he doesn’t show up and you’re left wondering.

  Head down, shoulders slumped, I make my way back to my cottage when my shift ends. It’s just after twelve and there’s no one around; they’ve all either gone home or to after parties. Climbing the steps I walk up to my door. Did I lock the door? I can’t remember. I mustn’t have, because it’s unlocked. I don’t have the energy to give a shit. Walking in, I toss my bag on the lounge and strip off my clothes as I make my way to the bathroom. I don’t even bother picking them up as I go. Stark naked, I walk into the bedroom to grab my pajamas and I let out a shriek when I spot Jackson lounging back on my bed.

  “Jesus woman, calm ya farm,” he mutters sleepily.

  He reaches over and turns on the bedside lamp and I watch as his eyes rake over my body. The immediately turn from sleepy to hungry.

  “Jackson, you scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” I place my hand over my heart to try and steady the rapid beating.

  “Told ya I’d see you later. Got in late from work and thought I’d come and sit on your verandah, then I noticed you’d left your door unlocked and I was feeling a bit tired so I came in to lie down.”

  “Why would you be feeling tired?” I ask coyly.

  “Hmm, I dunno. Maybe because the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen was in my bed last night and today, and she’s insatiable,” he says cocking an eyebrow.

  “Insatiable, you say?” I ask, tilting my head to the side.

  “Yeah, voracious,” he murmurs in a husky voice.

  I feel my nipples harden and I know it has nothing to do with me being buck naked at midnight because moisture gathers between my legs at the same time.

  “Voracious,” I repeat in a breathy whisper.

  “Come here,” he orders gruffly. The only part of my body that moves is my eyes. My gaze travels down his clothes clad body. Flannel shirt open at the collar, jeans, belt buckle and socks. My sight settles on his crotch. It’s bulging with his hardness. My mouth suddenly feels parched. I swallow hard.

  “C’mere, Ace.”

  “Yes,” I whisper and make my way toward him. He knifes up on the bed and grabs me around the waist, burying his head in the valley between my breasts as his arms snake around my back so his hands can cup my ass. I thread my fingers through his hair and hold him to me.

  “Missed you, baby,” he mumbles against the side of my breast.

  “You did?” I ask

  He looks up at me, a frown forming on his beautiful face. “You thought I wouldn’t?” He sounds a bit pissed off.

  “Well,” I hesitate, “I wasn’t sure, and when you didn’t show up at the bar I thought…”

  “You thought I’d had my fill, conquered you and so I wouldn’t want anything else to do with you,” he states.

  Unsure of what to say, I don’t say anything. Instead, I bite my lip.

  “Ace, I get you’ve got demons – fuck, everybody does – I also get because of those demons you don’t want to trust me, but baby, you’ve got to realize that I am not your ex, and if I tell you I’m gonna do something, then one way or another I’m gonna keep my word. And if something happens that makes keeping it impossible, then I’m going to let you know.”

  He thinks this is about Matt.

  “It’s not that,” I explain.

  “Care to share?” He tugs me down beside him on the bed.

  I look down and remember I’m still naked so I reach over and grab an oversized shirt off my floor. I really do need to do some cleaning. And laundry.

  “I don’t like feeling vulnerable,” I say softly.

  “I don’t think anyone does, darlin’,” he replies.

  “My parents passed away in a car accident three years ago. Before that, I was like Jules. Happy-go-lucky, carefree, living life to the fullest – that was us. Two peas in a pod. Then, I lost my parents and I’m not sure if the decision was a conscious one or not but from then on I built a wall around myself to guard my heart against anything that could hurt me. Then, I found my way to Pine Creek and you. You’ve got the ability to make me hurt again, Jackson.” I whisper the last part so softly I kind of hope he doesn’t hear it.

  “I’m sorry you lost your parents, baby. That sucks and I can see how it would make you want to protect yourself. No one likes to hurt and darlin’ the last thing I want to do is hurt you. That first day, I saw you in the pub, fuck, couldn’t take my eyes off you. You didn’t even know I was there to begin with. You were just serving your customers, in your own little world. I saw you and I couldn’t believe something as beautiful as you was in Pine Creek. This town ain’t ever seen anything as gorgeous as you. Then you came over and I grabbed your hand. I could feel this tingling in my arm. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “You don’t have to. I felt it too,” I say.

  “I just remember thinking that I had to have you. In my bed, in my life. Everywhere. Then I said something and you gave me the filthiest look and I remember thinking about you later and remembering something my father said to me years ago. He said: “The best things in life take work. If you don’t have to work for something, it’s not the best. Remember that son. It applies to life, work and women.”

  I didn’t get it at the time, but I do now. And baby you gotta know, that I’m prepared to work at proving myself to you for the rest of my life.”

  Wow. That’s a really sweet thing to say.

  But first things first, “I asked what you’d be having, and you said, ‘You, later.’ That was the reason for the filthy look.” I snap.

  “Yeah, that was a pretty lame line. I’m glad it didn’t work on you, though.”

  “Thanks for putting yourself out there for me,” I murmur.

  “It’s not just about that, darlin’. I don’t like playing games. I like upfront and honest – letting it all hang out.”

  “Okay. Just, for the record, I don’t like playing games either, unless there’s a deck of cards involved, or alcohol.” I tell him.

  He pulls me into him and bursts out laughing, burying his face in my neck as he does.

  When he stops laughing I take his head in my hands so he is looking directly into my eyes. “Jackson, this thing between us, is it, uh… will you be, um. Are we… exclusive?” I stutter.

  “You bet your sweet ass we are, darlin’,” he re
plies immediately.

  “Oh, okay. Good.” I say relieved. As least I know where I stand. That makes me feel a lot better about things.

  “You got any plans in four Saturdays?” He asks suddenly.

  “Not unless I’m working,” I reply.

  “Talk to Doreen, ask her not to roster you on the Saturday or Sunday – fifteenth and sixteenth.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s Brunette Rodeo. I want to take you. Jeremy and I usually go up. Both of us ride in the open events.”

  “Ride? Ride what?” Surely he means the horses or something and not a thousand kilograms of bull.

  “Bulls, Ace,” he grins.

  “Oh god,” I groan, “You can’t ride bulls. Have you ever watched Eight Seconds? You’ll get hurt.”

  “It’s only the open bullride, darlin’, we’ll be alright. So you gonna come?”

  “I guess,” I mutter sullenly.

  “God you’re adorable. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes have turned intense and cloudy as he looks at me with veneration.

  “Really?” I squeak out. I’m feeling slightly uncomfortable with his compliments but that doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing them fall from his mouth.

  “Soft kissable lips,” he murmurs before leaning in to touch his lips to mine. “Smooth, perfect golden skin,” he says as he runs his tongue up my arm, across my shoulder and over my collarbone. “Deep brown eyes that I can get lost in.” He whispers so seductively in my ear that a shiver ripples through my body. Biting on my lobe, he continues, “Breasts made to fit my hands,” he cups my breasts, “And nipples that beg to be devoured.”

  Oh god.

  “All of that coupled with your personality – you can bring a man to his knees,” he admits softly.

  Oh god. That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.

  I don’t know what to say. ‘Thank you’ sounds a bit lame after everything he’s just said, but I can’t think of anything else.