Rose River

by Margareta Osborn

  ‘No, it’s my fault, Stirling. I signed up. I have to wear the conse … sconse … con … ohhhh, I’ll just have to wear it!’ Damn all that wine.

  ‘You are not going out there naked.’

  ‘Women are allowed to wear their underwear,’ interjected Adam’s Apple.

  He shut his mouth at Stirling’s savage glance.

  Swinging his body to block out the skinny brothers, Stirling asked urgently, ‘What underwear are you wearing?’

  He must have read hesitation in her expression because his next question came fast. ‘Don’t tell me you’re only wearing that G-string I plucked off the street when you arrived?’

  ‘I’m only wearing the G-string you plucked off the street when I arrived.’

  For God’s sake! What sort of underwear did he think she’d be wearing? They were supposed to be having a ‘romantic’, as in ‘hot and sexy’, night out in town. Now it turned out she’d have been better equipped in her original granny pants, damn it!

  Stirling’s face became murderous. He turned back to the brothers. ‘She’s not doing it.’

  ‘C’mon, McEvoy,’ said the one he’d called Skinner, ‘you know the rules. Once you’ve signed up, that’s it. No backing out unless you pay the forfeit.’

  ‘But there wasn’t full disclosure.’

  ‘Yeah, but there soon will be.’ Skinner sniggered.

  Looking at their red hair, Jaime suddenly put two and two together. Were these the Kelly brothers she’d been warned to avoid on day one? Whoever they were, she could see Stirling was about to clout Skinner and she wasn’t going to be able to stop him this time, unless …

  ‘What’s the fine?’ she interjected. ‘Like, if I don’t play?’

  All the men paused from sizing each other up. Hope flared in Stirling’s eyes.

  Adam’s Apple glanced down at his clipboard. ‘You’ve gotta donate your hair straighter gadget to us.’

  ‘No wayyy!’ Jaime said. ‘I’d rather play nude cricket.’

  ‘Give it to them,’ Stirling said, his expression still thunderous. ‘I’ll buy you another.’

  ‘You can’t get that model anymore. And I love it.’

  It was all very well for him. What if they asked him to donate Busters One and Two? Bet he wouldn’t be so keen then.

  ‘Are there any other options?’ she asked the Kellys.

  ‘You can swim across Lake Grace,’ said Skinner.

  Jaime sighed. That scuttled that idea. She wasn’t a good swimmer, and it was miles across the lake. She shook her head. It was better to be naked than drowned.

  ‘I’ll swim it for her.’ Stirling made it sound like a huge sacrifice but he’d do it to save her.

  Well, bugger that. She wasn’t going to be beholden to anybody, and she really could play cricket, even if it was in the nude.

  ‘No can do,’ said Skinner with relish. ‘She’s got to get across the lake herself.’

  So that put paid to Stirling’s martyrdom. She was playing. Good. Well, sort of good.

  The previous animosity between the men returned with a vengeance. Stirling looked as if he was ready to take on both the Kelly boys in one go. Jaime scouted around for help. Saw Jean a few metres away and begged her with her eyes.

  The publican’s wife walked over and inserted herself between Stirling and the men, her solid body putting an end to anyone’s thoughts of throwing a punch.

  ‘I’ll take care of this,’ she said. She grabbed Jaime by the arm and hauled her behind the bar and into the residential part of the pub. ‘Let’s just hope I can find something your size.’

  Chapter 20

  By the time Jaime returned, there were makeshift cricket stumps – in the form of two big green wheelie bins – at each end of the pub’s car park, which had been roped off earlier to keep it clear. All the children had disappeared, apparently to watch a movie on a big screen set up in the local hall, or so Jean said. Stirling was standing at the bar, glowering. Jaime was pleased to see the McGregors were with him. At least Nate would be there to help out if anything went wrong.

  The two Kelly brothers – Jean had confirmed their identity – kept darting little glances at Stirling from their place at a rickety scoring table. As if they knew the situation might get dicey if they didn’t keep an eye on things. Two massive men with shoulders like giant legs of ham stood with them, each as bald as a plucked chicken, but their long red bushy beards told Jaime they were probably Kellys too. That and their protruding adam’s apples. Backup, obviously.

  ‘All set?’ asked a sympathetic-sounding Jodie as Jaime walked up to them. ‘I’m sorry – I should’ve warned you. They tried to get me too my first Christmas here.’

  ‘Really?’ Jaime was relieved to hear she wasn’t the only fool here.

  ‘Nate was onto it and bailed me out before I signed on the dotted line.’

  So it was really Stirling’s fault, Jaime thought. He should’ve expected the Kellys to target her, since she was new to town. He could’ve saved her. A vision came to mind: a swashbuckling, muscled Stirling McEvoy striding away with her in his arms, her naked breasts pressed against his equally naked, delicious chest. Her vision looked nothing like the frowning man in front of her. Maybe she could just ignore the real Stirling and continue with this very pleasant daydream version?

  ‘Jean get you something to wear?’ Nate asked. His mouth was twitching.

  Jaime thought of the garments Jean had hauled from her dressing table drawer. Seductive they were not, but perfect for the current occasion. Which, thanks to Jodie, she could now say was all Stirling’s fault, damn him.

  ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ she said.

  Stirling seemed surprised. ‘I hardly thought you’d be capable of wielding a pen, let alone a bat, in your current state.’

  ‘Nate told Jodie. Why didn’t you give me a heads-up?’

  ‘Well, I –’

  ‘It’s all your fault.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Don’t you dare do that eyebrow trick with me.’

  ‘Princess –’

  ‘And don’t Princess me either. For your information, I’m not talking to you anymore. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I’m going to play cricket!’

  She stalked away as best she could given her tipsy state, towards a bevy of drunken men who were divesting themselves of their clothes.

  ‘I think you’ve just been told,’ she heard Nate say to Stirling.

  ‘Now, miss, remember it’s clothes off,’ said Adam’s Apple as she approached.

  She only managed a nod, thrown by the sight of all the naked men turning to look at her. Oh dear God, what had she done? All those white, dangling willies. It was impossible not to look. And it was quite fascinating really. She’d never known they came in so many shapes and sizes.

  ‘C’mon, you!’ called another woman, who was already buck naked and at the stumps, wielding the bat. ‘Off with your stuff.’

  ‘She’s allowed her underwear if she wants,’ stated Jean, who’d come to stand beside Jaime.

  The Kellys, all four of them, looked like they were going to protest, but at one severe look from Jean they quailed.

  Jean nodded towards the woman at the stumps. ‘That’s Mands. She loves a beer so she wants the winner’s slab pretty bad. She also likes getting her clobber off. Her tattoos cover most things anyway.’

  Jean started stripping too.

  ‘It’s okay, boys,’ she said, ‘I’m not going to be completely naked.’ A few brave yobbos booed. ‘But believe me,’ she added, ‘your saggy arses aren’t a pretty picture. I’ve seen better on that grey nomads’ nudist beach Bluey and I visited up the coast.’

  The blokes shuffled their bare feet and slunk off to their respective positions in the car park.

  Jaime grinned sheepishly. ‘I didn’t know they got you too?’

  ‘They didn’t,’ said Jean with a grimace, which by now Jaime had worked out was definitely her smile. ‘I’m doing it to keep you company. We can be t
wins swanning around in our neck-to-knee, suck-it-in onesies.’

  Jaime was touched. No one had ever done anything so lovely for her before. Well, except for Stirling making the sponges after she’d passed out drunk. And, well, Stirling bringing her boots to her after the Christmas Tree when she was so grumpy and had tried to walk home.

  ‘C’mon, girl. Off with your gear,’ said Jean. ‘Let’s go whack a few balls around.’

  The pun didn’t escape Jaime. She smiled. This could be fun after all.

  An hour later, just as the sun sank over the horizon, the match was declared a draw, much to the consternation of the Kelly boys.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ whined Skinner. ‘Who’s going to get the slab of beer?’

  ‘How about it goes to the highest scorer of runs?’ said Jean. Her salt-and-pepper crew cut was feathered with drops of sweat, a direct result of all the running she and Jaime had been doing for the past quarter of an hour.

  ‘That’d be you,’ said Skinner. ‘And that’s not fair because you donated the slab in the first place!’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Jean with a grimace/smile. ‘But not many things in this life are fair, young Skinner, and it’s about time you worked that out.’

  ‘I’ll take the slab for her then, shall I?’ said Jaime, who was soaked to the skin in her black lycra neck-to-knee onesie. All that belting up and down a gravel pitch did that to you. She’d been delighted to find she hadn’t lost her touch from her time in the Under-Fourteen Grammar Girls cricket team. They’d been champions two years in a row. Her father had been the coach. ‘I need a drink, anyway. All the running has sobered me up.’

  ‘You!’ said Skinner. When Jaime had stripped off her singlet top and short flouncy skirt to reveal her onesie, his groan had been audible.

  ‘Yes, me,’ she said.

  ‘You were supposed to be naked!’

  ‘She was as naked as she was ever going to get,’ said Stirling, who’d come to stand at Jaime’s side. ‘For you, anyway.’

  When Jaime looked up at him, startled, Stirling’s flinty eyes were decidedly doe-like. Well, well, well, Marble Man had certainly changed his tune in the last hour. The man was such a conundrum. Just when she wanted to get all fired up and yell at him, he had to look so nice. It really made things difficult. Although, come to think of it, she was so tired from all the running that she couldn’t find the energy to be angry with him anymore. Plus it had all worked out okay. She’d survived with her pride and dignity intact, thanks to Jean. Besides, how could you stay irrationally cross with someone when you weren’t drunk anymore?

  Jaime decided it was time to cut and run. Skinner looked like he was about to size up to Stirling, which really was rather ridiculous. Stirling’s arm was thicker than Skinner’s whole body. Skinner’s brothers on the other hand …

  ‘We’re off,’ she said quickly. ‘You take the slab, Jean. We’ll meet you upstairs. I just need to get my case out of the car.’

  ‘I’ve done that,’ said Stirling.

  ‘You have?’

  ‘Yes, while you were running your little heart out beating the knackers off those blokes.’

  She grinned. She had belted the odd ball into places she probably shouldn’t have. There was one man who hadn’t gotten up again! ‘You liked my style then, Marble Man?’

  ‘I liked your style, Princess.’

  ‘Good. I seek to impress.’

  Skinner snorted. ‘Why does he get all the luck?’

  Jaime could’ve told him, but she was too busy drowning in Stirling’s gaze. His eyes weren’t doe-like now, they were pure molten lava. And she came to the rapid conclusion that if she didn’t get out of Jean’s onesie quick smart, it might get ripped off.

  ‘Finally,’ said Stirling, closing the door of Room 4 of the Lake Grace Hotel. The best room in the place, Jean had told them. She’d also mentioned how proud she was of its original claw-foot bath.

  ‘Nice view,’ said Jaime, gazing out the window. The beer garden and its drunken inhabitants seemed way more preferable to turning around and looking at the man in the room with her. All of a sudden she felt very nervous.

  ‘If you want to watch the Kelly boys start throwing punches,’ Stirling said.

  ‘A police car’s just arrived.’ Jaime could see its flashing blue lights.

  ‘Jean likes to take preventative measures before the fights start.’

  ‘Have she and Bluey owned the pub long?’

  ‘A while. Are you going to turn around or spend all night gazing at the Kellys?’

  Jaime turned to find Stirling right behind her. He was holding out her overnight case.

  ‘Would you like a bath?’ he said with a wicked grin. ‘So you can look good for Skinner?’

  ‘What if I said I don’t want Skinner, I want you?’

  ‘You’d still want a bath. Have you seen your face?’

  There was a mirror in the bathroom. She bolted towards it and squealed when she saw her reflection. Here she was thinking she looked all sexy and sultry, when instead she looked like a broiled turkey. A very dusty and dirty broiled turkey. Even her eyes looked like lumps of raw meat.

  ‘Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘I just did, didn’t I?’ He sounded surprised, as if he didn’t realise she wanted to look good for him.

  Jaime ran back into the bedroom, snatched at her case and held it clasped against her chest like a shield. ‘I will be back,’ she said before disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

  On the other side of the wood, she heard a deep chuckle followed by, ‘I’ll be waiting.’

  Chapter 21

  It took a while. The bath was so delicious, once the bottom of the cast iron tub warmed up. She could almost have gone to sleep, except she knew there was an impatient man on the other side of the door. She’d heard him move around a few times, open and shut the fridge, switch on the television, then turn it off. It’d been quiet for a while now though. Maybe he’d gone to sleep? She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

  Why was she so hesitant about going to him? She closed her eyes and thought about it. She wanted Stirling McEvoy more than she’d wanted any man in her entire life. So why was she still in the tub, leaving him in the bedroom? It just didn’t make sense.

  The door suddenly swung open. ‘You’re taking so long I thought you might like some help?’

  ‘Crap!’ She sank into the bubbles. ‘What are you doing in here?’ She watched in amazement as he started pulling off his shirt, his boots, his socks, his … ‘Stop right there,’ she said, sitting upright, forgetting the movement would make her breasts visible above the waterline.

  Stirling glanced up from undoing his belt. His blue eyes darkened and flickered with longing as he took in what was right in front of his face. His gaze travelled upwards to her mouth, her eyes, right to the top of her head, where blonde hair spilled from a topknot like a fountain.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘So beautiful.’

  Men had called her beautiful before, but never like that. Not in a tone of wonder, of pure reverence. Maybe it took a more mature person to deliver those words so deep from the heart.

  ‘How old are you, Stirling?’ Anything to ease the tension building in her chest.

  ‘Thirty-two.’ He leant against the door jamb looking all relaxed, like there weren’t a zillion atoms of sexual longing banging around the tiled walls. ‘Practically an old man compared to you.’

  ‘Hardly,’ she said. She tried to find something else to say, but couldn’t. Her eyes wouldn’t move from his chest. She wanted to run her hands over him, sculpt her way across all that delicious tanned skin, all the way down to his a six-pack to rival any gym junkie’s. The sight of those sexy muscles made her own tummy twist with desire.

  Her eyes dropped to his navel, where a sprinkling of hair disappeared beyond the denim of his jeans. She clenched her hands under the water so hard bubbles squeezed out from her fists.

 
‘Mind if I join you?’ Stirling said, quirking one eyebrow and nodding towards the bath.

  Jaime let out a deep breath. When had she ever felt so insecure around a man? Ever since Marble Man rode his V-Max into her life!

  At her hesitation, he flushed bright red and moved towards his shirt, mumbling, ‘I’m sorry, I thought … Well, never mind what I thought. This was a bad idea. I’ll just leave you to get on with it.’

  He was pulling his shirt back over his head when she blurted out, ‘Stop!

  ‘Now?’ he said, his voice muffled amid layers of cobalt blue cotton. His head reappeared, and his arms pushed their way into the sleeves.

  ‘Get it off!’ she commanded.

  He cocked his head to one side. ‘Off? Contrary little thing, aren’t you?’

  Jaime didn’t answer. She was too busy watching the muscle at the edge of his mouth doing its little dance. It made his lips seem fuller. More vulnerable. More kissable.

  ‘On or off, Princess? Last chance.’

  His confidence was back. She realised she liked it.

  ‘Off.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Yes. No. Yes. Ummmm … For goodness sake. ‘Yes. I’m sure.’

  ‘Okay then,’ he said, reaching for the tail of his shirt once more and pulling it over his head, revealing that wonderful chest again. He unzipped his jeans, slid them off his hips and down, down, down, before stepping out of the denim. His legs were muscular and, beyond a shorts mark, tanned. Nothing remained on Stirling’s powerful body except a pair of jocks that revealed more than they hid. Then they were gone too. She sucked in a breath. He was gorgeous.

  He climbed in the bath and made himself comfortable behind her, and she nestled her back against his chest. His hands sat hesitantly on her thighs, like he wasn’t sure where to put them.

  She reached for the cake of soap, turned his hand over and placed it on his palm. ‘I think I need soaping up.’

  ‘You do, do you?’

  ‘Yes. I’m not quite clean enough.’

  ‘After half an hour in the bath? With bubbles?’ He chuckled and sucked in a breath. ‘I won’t be responsible for what happens.’