by Kris Pearson
Ollie blew out a frustrated breath and reached down to pick a few bunny-tails, idly stroking the soft heads over his fingers as though he was trying to distract himself. “The girls used to have vases of these in the old cottage’s bedrooms when they were young. They were forever falling apart and having to be swept up. Drove the mums and aunties mad.”
Mei smiled, imagining the kind of family life she’d never had. “My mother bought plastic roses for the shop. Red ones.”
“Red for love? Like Valentine’s Day.”
She rolled her eyes. “Red because it’s the lucky color for us. Like the money envelopes for Chinese New Year. The roses were horrible, but she thought they were fine because they stayed the same with the heat and the grease and the sunshine. She sometimes washed them after she’d done the dishes. Tough roses to be okay in dishwashing liquid.”
“She’s a tough rose herself. Just like her daughter.”
“Rather be a rose than a Dragon Lady,” Mei said, looking away from him and picking some more of the bunny-tail grass. She felt the weight of his gaze on her. “What?”
“Just wondering what your name means?”
She ducked her head again. “Meifeng?” She hesitated. “Beautiful wind. I don’t know why they called me that.”
“Beautiful wind,” he repeated. “Beautiful wind that blew into my life but keeps blowing out again. Maybe you should stop?”
She shrugged. “I’m stopped for two more days, but that’s all. It’s the way my life goes, Oliver. Always to somewhere else.” She reached across for his stems of bunny-tail grass and combined them with hers. “At least this time I leave, it’ll be away from here and away from him.”
*
Ollie fired up the bike and placed a hand over Mei’s where they clasped his body. A little lower this time, almost as though she was teasing. He yearned to have her hands everywhere on him – and his everywhere on her – but despite their kisses he wasn’t hopeful. He sat there for a few moments, the engine throbbing under them, planning the next few minutes.
Moving off the rough shoulder of the road, he kept an eye on his speed because the last thing he needed was an accident. His heart thumped and he breathed faster than usual – aroused and excited and full of anticipation. He didn’t have her yet, but surely he was a step or two closer?
What had become of her bunch of grasses? He expected the seed-heads were breaking to pieces and scattering behind her in the wind. No matter – he could pick her some more. Or buy her better than weeds from the beach.
They scythed steadily on through the summer air, past the long stretch of deserted beach with its tangled line of drying seaweed and driftwood. Past the airfield. Past Anna and Jason’s well concealed house.
An empty log truck rattled by in the opposite direction, then another a minute or so later. He presumed they were felling one of the big plantations further inland. Nothing stayed the same – not even the countryside around sleepy Scarlet Bay.
Reaching down, he clasped a hand over Mei’s again, pushing her fingers lower so she could feel how much he wanted her. To his surprise and pleasure she ran her hand part way down his cock and back up again before returning it to its former position. Way to distract a guy! He drew a deep breath, trying to keep his eyes on the road and his brain on the traffic. Progress maybe, or was she only teasing?
Finally they were safely inside the garage. He stopped by the growing pile of recycling and signaled the door to close. Mei pulled her helmet off, and he hung it beside his, unable to resist smoothing his hands over her luxuriant fragrant hair again, then sliding his fingers right into it to cradle the back of her head in one, and tilt her jaw up with the other. “Killer hair,” he murmured, nipping her bottom lip and hoping she’d open to him. Her hand on his chest kept him from getting as close as he wanted though, and he drew back with a frown.
“Not you,” she said, looking up at him with a grin. “My grasses. I put them down the front of the sweatshirt in case that would keep them safe.”
Ollie nodded, only slightly consoled, and kissed her lightly again before turning to unlock the door through to the house and following her into the big sunlit space. He thought of the one lonely condom in his wallet. Hell no. If anything happened during their night together, one would never be enough. “Just off to the tavern,” he said, opening the front door and jogging away. It would take him a bare five minutes on foot for the round trip. Maybe he’d buy another bottle of wine or a six-pack of longnecks to make it less obvious what he’d gone there for.
He hadn’t expected any of this. Hadn’t expected Anna would choose him as Mei’s security guard and transport. Or that he’d find feisty little Mei had been mistreated by the Neanderthal banjo player from the wedding. Or that there’d be only one bed. Or that there was the least chance Mei would be willing to share it with him. And, please God, maybe share her body as well. Her dismay at his lack of condoms had been pretty enlightening, but right now he was operating on glimmers of hope through rose-tinted glasses instead of anything concrete.
He slowed from his jog to a comfortable lope, nodding to familiar faces but ploughing onward without stopping to chat. Mei was waiting. Mei might want him. After half a lifetime of being fascinated by her but held at bay, he hoped his luck was changing.
The tavern door stood open – dark blue paint faded where the sun always hit the lower portion not shaded by the roof over the entrance. Ollie blinked as he accustomed himself to the sudden beer-scented gloom.
Even late on a fine summer afternoon people were inside drinking. Rabid sports fans more interested in the cricket on the big-screen TV than the beach. Older men escaping the shrieks and exuberance of visiting grandchildren. And a few women keeping an eye on them.
He wandered past the tables and across to the big chiller to survey the rows of green bottles with their assortment of labels. There was a decent choice of whites, but maybe they’d be better with another bottle of Shiraz to follow the one they’d started? He checked the selection of reds on the nearby racks and took one to the bar, digging out his phone to pay while the owner bagged the bottle.
“Can you hang onto it for a mo?” he asked, waving a hand toward the men’s toilets.
“No probs,” the man assured him, returning his attention to the cricket match on the TV screen.
Ollie pushed the outer door open. No-one at the urinals, although one of the stalls was closed. He checked the vending machine, chose his usuals, and then took a moment to review what else was on offer.
The nearby toilet flushed. The door slammed back against the wall and a red-faced man lurched out. Old denim shorts drooped to his knees below a T-shirt garnished with tomato ketchup. He squinted at Ollie, grinning when he saw the condoms. “Getting lucky, eh? A man’s gotta get fuckin’ lucky sometimes.” He sharpened his gaze. “Hey, you were at Jase and Anna’s wedding, yeah? I was in the band.”
Ollie, speechless, stared at him as though he was looking at a pile of steaming dog turds. His fist flexed around the condoms and he stuffed them into the pocket of his jeans. He was, itching, just itching to plant it in the middle of Kieran’s leering gob.
“Have to give the little laydeeez what they want,” Kieran slurred, pushing a hand through his rumpled hair and nodding like the bobbling animal ornament on the rear shelf of Essie and George’s car.
The back of Ollie’s neck prickled and the tension in his shoulders became unbearable. Picturing those big rough hands touching Mei made his skin crawl and his lunch threaten to return. Serve the bastard right if he got vomited on!
“Gotta keep the girlies satisfied. Sweet little man-eating girlies,” Kieran continued, staggering back against the wall and cursing as he hit his elbow. He straightened up and mimed an inept cricket shot. “How’s that bloody game going? They got Williamson out yet?”
Ollie clenched his jaw and turned on his heel. He strode away, lifted his bagged bottle off the counter with a nod to the barman, and dived out into the fresh air again, away
from temptation. It was too easy to imagine punching Kieran so hard his head hit the wall, his skull fractured, and his blood and brains spilled out as he hit the floor. Or pulling Pearl from his ankle holster and making the scumbag beg for his life.
He kept these satisfactory scenes in his mind the whole way back to Mei, forcing his shoulders to relax and his breathing to slow as he approached the house. Bastard! Awful rough bastard. What had she ever seen in him? How had he persuaded her to move into the house?
And yet, at the wedding, Kieran had been well-dressed, cheerful, and obviously a good friend of Jason’s if he was a guest and part of the music group. Could people change that fast? Or had he been hiding his true nature for ages? Had Mei been in jeopardy for longer than anyone knew?
Chapter 8 – No Escape
Mei touched up her make-up again, trying to repair the damage the close-fitting crash helmet had done as she’d pulled it on and off. The bruises down the side of her face would be there for days until they slowly faded away. She grimaced as she dabbed on more concealer and blended a hint of blusher onto her cheekbone, working gently to minimize the pain. At least her jeans hid the big bump on her hip and the graze running down toward her knee.
Then she returned to the kitchen and investigated the contents of the drawers and cupboards. She chose a small white jug she’d packed away earlier, arranged the not-too-badly-squashed grasses in it, and set it in the center of the dining table. Straightened the eight chairs. Took two blue-and-gray striped linen placemats from the stack of at least a dozen, and set them at right angles at one end of the table. Added a knife and fork and wine glass to each. She stood back as the late afternoon sunshine poured through the big skylight onto her shoulders while she daydreamed for a while. The room in her new flat would be better than the one she’d shared with Kieran, but she wasn’t expecting luxury like this. She’d enjoy it while she could, and if tall, dark Oliver Wynn was part of the dream, well, that was no-one’s business but hers.
There was still plenty to unpack. She found Ollie’s box-cutter and slit some of the tape holding a stack of outdoor chairs together. As she tried to yank one free, the front door opened and banged closed again and he strode in clutching a bottle of wine in the tavern’s distinctive blue and green bag. He set it on the counter. He looked odd. His jaw was hard as granite, which had flattened his usually full mouth to a tight press. His eyes were narrowed and his nostrils flared as though there was a bad smell somewhere near.
She pushed the outdoor chair aside. “Why are you all wound up?”
“Jesus, I so nearly lost it,” he growled. “Guess who I just bumped into? How long was he really hitting you for?”
“Kieran?”
“Of course bloody Kieran. Are you being straight with us?”
Mei swallowed and turned aside from his fury. Another angry man was all she needed.
Ollie closed a hand over her shoulder and forced her to face him. “Did you tell Anna the truth? And me? You made it sound like it was only recent. Was that for real?”
She stared up into dark eyes full of accusation, shuddering at the strength of his grasp. “Let me go,” she hissed, jerking away, pushing and pulling against his size and sudden unexpected anger. The old panic was back, sinking its icy fingers into her soul.
His eyes widened and his jaw sagged as he realized what he’d done. “Fuck, no Mei! No…” Swiftly he drew her close into a comfort hug, pressed her face against his chest and rubbed slow circles on her back. “Sorry, babe. So sorry. Not thinking right. I’m as bad as him. Worse.” He dropped a kiss onto her hair. Smoothed his face against it and gave a gusty sigh.
The slight prickle of his stubble scraped against Mei’s scalp and the warmth of his skin sank through the thin cotton against her cheek. Comfort. Reassurance. Could she really give Ollie her trust and relax with him? At least she’d managed to stop struggling. Even that was quite an achievement.
His breath rushed in again as he inhaled. “Fuck the bastard. He’s put me way on edge. I nearly lost it and went for him. I can only imagine how he made you feel.”
“Mmm…” She didn’t want to say ‘scared and helpless’, but her trembling probably conveyed that graphically enough. Maybe she wouldn’t need to say it out loud because it felt nothing but good in Ollie’s arms now she’d got past the initial fright. “Yes, only recent,” she whispered. “Stop worrying. Hopefully I’ll never see him again.”
“That’s for sure, if I see him first.”
She huffed out a rueful laugh. “You’re kind of a reverse Saint George.”
“Huh?”
“Protecting the dragon instead of slaying it.”
That got half a chuckle out of him, anyway. “Oh, I fully intend slaying the Dragon Lady one of these days. Just you wait until I turn my full attention in your direction.”
She glanced up again, and saw he now looked more relaxed. His eyes had warmed, and the corners of his mouth curled up in a hint of a smile.
“Anyway, there’s no need for you to unpack these chairs,” he insisted. “That’s my job.”
Mei shrugged. “Got to do something to pay for my accommodation and transport. Something to fill my time. You can let me go now.”
“Might not want to.” Ollie’s smile grew broader. “I might feel the only safe place for you is right here, surrounded by me.” He loosened his grasp.
“I can easily carry them,” Mei said, trying to ignore the way her traitorous body sagged with disappointment as he released her. “You could do the TV so I have something to watch if you go out tonight.”
He quirked a brow. “Why would I go out and leave you? I’ve been waiting years to spend time with you. Now I have the chance, I’m going to feed you horrible dinner from a box and watch rubbish telly with you all evening. High living, huh?”
“It might be all right,” she said, thinking it sounded pretty perfect. Except, of course, there were no settees yet, so they’d have to sit side by side in chairs. Cuddling together would have felt so good, even after the scare he’d just given her.
Ollie pulled out his phone and checked the program listings. “Ancient re-run of Two and a Half Men,” he muttered. “Attenborough on dinosaurs… Yet another house fix-up thing.” He scrolled some more. “CSI… kids’ movie… here we go!” He tilted the screen at her. “Seen this?”
Mei shot him an amused smile. “Oliver, don’t tell me you’re a rom-com fan.”
He grinned back at her. “Okay, let’s find something on Netflix, then.” He put the phone down on the kitchen counter as though it was settled. “Very civilized, Ms Chan,” he added, glancing across to where she’d set the placemats and cutlery for dinner. “Shame the food won’t live up to the surroundings.”
Mei privately thought that at least the company would be good. She occupied herself by separating the eight outdoor chairs and carrying them across to the big doors leading to the back deck. Expensive chairs, like everything else the Wynns had ordered. Made in Italy according to the tags. Metal framed so they were heavy enough not to tumble about if the sea breeze freshened to serious wind. And sealed all over those stylish frames with a matt waterproof coating in pale gray. She couldn’t help comparing them with the ultra-cheap shiny plastic chairs in her parents’ shop where customers sat to read the well-thumbed magazines while they waited for Zhang Wei to prepare their orders.
“Let’s put a couple of these loungers outside for us,” he said, unlocking the big glass bi-fold doors leading to the private deck at the back of the living area. He pointed up to the retractable roof. “Sun if you want it, shade if you need it. Like a demo? It’s controlled from a pad in the kitchen.”
She pushed her hair back over her shoulders as the sea breeze flirted with it. Yes, he was a total dude, just as Anna had said. Obviously loved anything mechanical or electrical. “Maybe tomorrow?” she said. “There’s still plenty to unpack inside.”
“Okay, Boss.” He was soon wrestling with the packaging protecting a long, low TV base an
d then a very large flat screen TV. He ran a hand along the top of it. “I’m putting this in the bedroom for now. Even with the blinds closed here, people will see the flickering from the road. Too much of a giveaway there’s someone in the house.”
Once again he was looking after her. “Best to be careful,” she agreed. So it seemed they’d be sitting side by side on the bed instead of on chairs. Definitely more of a temptation. “Do you want a lift with that?” she asked, eyeing the big base with its shelves and drawers.
“Nope – it weighs a ton. I’ll leave it here where it’s meant to stay. I’ll stand the screen on something lighter in there. Maybe that smaller coffee table.”
She moved toward it.
“My job,” he said, which totally got her on the defensive.
She turned and glared at him. “I’m not helpless, Oliver. That’s not heavy.”
“Together then. To protect the new paint on the doorframe?”
Slightly mollified, she allowed him to lift one side of it, and they carried it into the bedroom, positioning it against the window wall facing the bed.
Ollie checked for the aerial connection. “If you give me a hand carrying the screen through, I think we’ll deserve a glass of wine. I won’t bother putting the bunks together until tomorrow.”
She left him to tune the TV in, but he was back in no time, enthusiastically telling her it had tracked through the available channels and done the job for itself. By then she’d retrieved the opened bottle of Shiraz and poured some into the two glasses she’d set on the table.
He lifted his in an ironic toast. “To staying in.”
“With TV dinners,” she couldn’t help adding before she took a big swallow.
His broad grin made a sudden appearance, teeth gleaming against his ever darkening stubble. “Dragon Lady – this is not the way I pictured getting to know you.”
No, not the way she’d pictured it, either. She shrugged. He reminded her of a big tawny lion – all upper-body strength and watchful dark eyes. “You already know me.”
