Outback Sisters

by Rachael Johns

  Being cheated on by his wife hadn’t been a pleasurable experience, but in the end he’d accepted that they’d been too young and not at all right for each other in the first place. He’d forgiven Loretta long ago but this was an entirely different kettle of fish. Did blood and family mean nothing to Angus? The evidence spoke for itself. He’d lied about that night—so much for going for a late-night run—and he’d been lying about it ever since. Logan doubted Simone meant anything to him either—he’d just been bored and unable to keep it in his pants. Perhaps it was even his way of punishing Logan for dragging him to the wedding in the first place.

  Feeling like such a bloody fool, he slammed his hand against the wall but it did nothing to relieve the storm raging inside him. His breathing ragged, he grabbed the suitcase and laptop and thundered out of the bedroom. Normally a peacekeeper, he’d planned on leaving without confrontation—let Angus wonder why he didn’t come home—but as he was heading down the hallway he heard his brother taking off his boots at the front door and talking to the dogs.

  When Angus entered the house, Logan dumped his luggage and charged at him. He put his hands against his chest and shoved hard.

  Angus stumbled back, his butt smashing into the hallway table as he let out a cry of shock. As he straightened, he looked at Logan like he’d gone insane. ‘What the hell? What did you do that for?’

  Logan pushed his shirtsleeves up to his elbows, angling for a fight. ‘The name Simone ring any bells?’

  Before Angus could reply, Logan slammed his fist into his brother’s face. Pain shot through his knuckles but he didn’t care. It was worth it.

  The confusion left Angus’s eyes, replaced by a sheepish expression. ‘Mate, I’m sorry. I never meant for it to happen.’ He wiped the blood off his upper lip. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Simone told Frankie,’ Logan said. ‘And don’t call me mate.’

  ‘And you ran into Frankie because …?’

  Logan swallowed, wondering if he should punch him again. If he admitted he was seeing Frankie, Angus wouldn’t see why he was so angry. But it wasn’t about the girl. ‘Frankie and I … We … we’re together now.’

  ‘Really?’ Angus grinned as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. ‘So I wasn’t the only naughty one?’

  ‘Shut your face or I’ll punch it again,’ Logan warned. ‘I may have had feelings for Frankie but I didn’t act on them till I was a free man. I know how to keep my dick in my pants, which is more than I can say for you.’

  ‘Look. I’m sorry,’ Angus began, offering his hand to Logan, ‘I admit it wasn’t my finest hour and I promise it was never about hurting you. That’s the last thing I ever wanted to do. There’s just something about Simone that—that made me lose control. I—’

  ‘Save it.’ Logan held up his hand, not wanting to hear his brother’s excuses. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think Angus was in love with Simone. He bent down to pick up his suitcase when it suddenly hit him.

  ‘Oh my God, that’s why you changed your mind about wind-farming.’ The timing certainly made sense.

  Angus looked like he was about to deny this, but at the last moment he hung his head. ‘Yes, which shows you how bloody bad I felt about what happened. Speaking of which—’

  ‘It shows no such thing,’ Logan interrupted. ‘All it shows is that I’ve been a fool all these years worrying about you, when you don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself. You can have your fucking farm and do whatever the hell you want with it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean I’m done here,’ Logan said, slowly this time so his idiotic brother could understand. He picked up his stuff and charged past Angus, but he stopped at the front door and turned back. ‘And by the way. That night you “lost control”? Your sperm hit the jackpot. You and Simone are going to be parents.’

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  ‘Parents?’ Angus breathed the word to an empty hallway as he heard Logan’s ute door slam in the distance. He steadied himself on the side table, the blood on his face and the wrath of his brother no longer his biggest concerns.

  Logan’s parting words kept repeating in his head until he felt like it was going to explode.

  No. It can’t be true.

  Simone had said she was safe. He hadn’t given her words much thought while they were in the throes of passion, but he’d assumed she’d meant she was on the pill. And wasn’t the pill 99.9 per cent effective? Besides, the wedding was what … three weeks ago? Surely she wouldn’t be able to tell so soon.

  He glanced at his watch. It was only mid-morning but he needed a beer. Forgetting his busted lip, he headed into the kitchen and opened the fridge, hoping to find a cold one. Neither he nor Logan were big drinkers but they had the occasional quiet beer of a night when Logan was home. When he was away, Angus stayed off the grog; drinking alone was never a good idea. But this was a one-off and he needed something to calm the rising panic inside him.

  ‘Thank God,’ he muttered as he spotted a bottle right at the back. He snatched it up, cracked it open and then sank into a chair at the kitchen table. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a long slug but after a mouthful, he realised he’d need a whole carton to stop the noise inside his head.

  Simone. Beautiful, lovely, funny Simone. Pregnant. With his child.

  He put the bottle down and pushed it across the table, his other hand tapping a tattoo on the surface in time to the heavy beat of his heart. When staring into space didn’t help either, he dropped his head into his hands and closed his eyes but that only made everything worse, because when his eyes were shut, all he could see was the tiny lifeless body of his baby son. Cold. An unnatural tinge of blue under his soft skin. His special spark gone. That was a sight he never wanted to see again and the only way to ensure that was to never have another child. No commitments apart from Liv and Logan.

  The plan had been going just fine until his brother had brought Simone home.

  If anyone should be angry here, it was him. Angry at Logan for meddling in his life—for trying to get him to socialise, for conning him into going to that damn wedding. If he’d just let him be the way he was content to be then none of this would be happening.

  A tiny part of his brain wondered whether perhaps Logan had been messing with him. Maybe there was no baby—he’d seen Simone on Friday night after all, and she hadn’t said anything then. Maybe Logan was so angry at the betrayal that he’d said the one thing he knew would really throw Angus into alarm.

  He could sit around here all day drinking beer and thinking bitter thoughts or he could confront Simone and find out the truth. Decision made, he pushed back his chair and stood, thankful that because of Harriet he knew where to go.

  The dogs leaped up in excitement when he went outside, thinking they were off for a ride in the ute to some part of the farm, but at the shake of his head and one word from him, they sank back down into their beds, disheartened.

  ‘You’re living the dream, boys,’ he told them as he yanked on his boots and tried to make light of this shitty situation. ‘No bills, no worries except where you’re going to bury your next bone, and best of all, no women.’

  Although it was only a fifty-minute drive between his farm and Bunyip Bay, it seemed to take forever. The grey nomads with their caravan clubs were out in abundance, doddering along the road as if they had eternity to get to wherever they were going. And then he had to stop for ten minutes for bloody road works. What the so-called workers were actually doing to the road he couldn’t figure out—from where he sat, impatient in his ute, it looked like the only people doing anything were the two men turning the stop/go signs.

  All this time to think wasn’t what he needed. He wanted the facts—straight from Simone’s mouth—before he started analysing everything and working out what the hell to do about it.

  Finally, a fat, balding man wearing an orange hi-vis vest spoke into his walkie-talkie and then turned his sign. Angus pressed his
foot against the accelerator and ignored the go-slow signs as he zoomed ahead. He only slowed again when he passed the ‘Welcome To Bunyip Bay’ billboard and realised he’d be with Simone very soon.

  His hormones woke and battled with his anxieties as he turned into her driveway and parked the ute. Hearing she might be pregnant should have been cold shower enough, but despite the difficult conversation they were about to have, he still worked up a temperature at the thought of her.

  He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, told his eager libido to take a hike and then climbed out of the ute. In a few strides he was on her porch, lifting the little metal knocker on the door and pounding hard. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he waited.

  And waited.

  After about two minutes, he tried again and after another long wait, he finally accepted that she might not be at home.

  Bunyip Bay wasn’t a big place so it wouldn’t take him long to track her down but he didn’t want to risk running into Frankie. Dammit, he thumped his boot against the ground. Why didn’t he give Simone his number when she’d asked for it on Friday night? They could have exchanged numbers like normal people and he’d have been able to call her. Admitting defeat, he was turning back to his ute when Simone’s Pajero pulled up alongside it—half in the garden because the driveway was so skinny. He’d been so distracted when he arrived that he hadn’t even noticed the four-wheel drive wasn’t there. Pathetic. If there was a baby, it had drawn the short straw when it got him for a dad.

  He swallowed, thoughts of the baby sidelined as Simone climbed out of the vehicle. She looked different from the other times he’d seen her—today she was wearing black tracksuit pants and an old, oversized T-shirt—but somehow was just as gorgeous as when she’d been all dressed up at the wedding. Maybe even more so. Barely acknowledging him, although he knew she’d seen him, she opened the back door and leaned in, emerging a few moments later with a handful of plastic shopping bags. He rushed forward to help her as she bumped her butt against the door to close it.

  ‘Hi, and thanks,’ she said, as he took the bags. ‘I needed to stock up on a few supplies.’

  He glanced down at the bags in his hands and glimpsed ice-cream, biscuits, packets of chips and chocolate. Comfort food, Olivia would call it.

  ‘Don’t judge me.’ She sniffed. ‘I had a fight with Frankie.’

  ‘No judgement here.’ He tried to offer a sympathetic smile but it didn’t quite work out that way.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she gasped, slamming a hand over her mouth and gaping at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What happened to your face?’

  ‘Oh, that.’ He’d almost forgotten all about it. ‘I had a fight with Logan.’

  She sighed. ‘I guess that means you’re not just here for a chat or to check up on how Harriet is after the Friday debacle?’

  He shook his head.

  Her shoulders slumped. ‘You’d better come inside then.’

  An awkward silence followed as Simone unlocked the front door and pushed it open for him to go inside. The situation had gone well past small talk.

  ‘Head straight down the hallway and you’ll find the kitchen,’ she told him as she closed the door behind them. Inside the house was much the same as outside—a mix of colours and styles, as if the decorator had kept changing their mind on what kind of look they wanted.

  As predicted, he found the kitchen easily and dumped the bags on the 1970s orange Formica bench top.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said again, her voice a little shaky as she came in behind him. ‘Let me just put away the cold stuff and we’ll talk.’ She began, then paused a moment and looked over to him. ‘Unless you’d like some ice-cream?’

  ‘No, thanks.’ He shook his head. He’d never understood women’s inclination to eat sweet stuff when they were down in the dumps. Alcohol seemed like a much better idea but it was still early-ish in the day and, of course, she was pregnant.

  ‘Take a seat then,’ she said, gesturing to the small table in the middle of the small kitchen. ‘Or would you rather have this discussion in the lounge room?’

  Truth be told he’d rather not have this discussion at all. ‘Are you pregnant?’ he blurted, still standing exactly where he’d been when he dumped the bags.

  The tub of cookies and cream she was holding slipped from her hands. She cursed, stooped to pick it up again and instead of putting it in the freezer as had been the plan, grabbed a spoon and sat down at the table. She peeled back the lid and dug in. ‘So what if I am?’ she asked, before shoving a very large spoonful into her mouth.

  Was that a yes or a no?

  As if she could read his mind, she sighed. ‘Yes. I am. I suppose Logan told you the good news? And yes, it’s yours.’

  At her confirmation that his worst nightmare was coming true, his heart rate shot up again and he dealt with the terror the only way he knew how. He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Isn’t a bit early to be mine?’

  For all he knew she could have been sleeping with every Tom, Dick and Harry for weeks before she did the deed with him. She’d cheated on Logan at least once, who knew how many other times she’d done so?

  She narrowed her eyes and pointed the spoon at him. ‘Are you accusing me of making this up?’

  He shrugged. ‘The wedding was three weeks ago. I thought you couldn’t tell till at least four weeks?’

  ‘Oh, so you’re a pregnancy expert, are you?’ She obviously didn’t expect him to reply as she continued, ‘As it happens, I went to the doctor because I wasn’t feeling well and she picked it up. I said the same as you and apparently I must be one of those women who ovulate earlier in the month. Lucky me. But don’t worry, it’s still very early days. No guarantees it’ll stick. The poor child’s living in a body stressed out to the max at the moment. Not exactly ideal thriving conditions.’

  ‘Is that what you want? To lose it or … get rid of it?’ Angus asked, unsure how he felt about that.

  ‘No!’ she roared, waving the spoon around as if she might hit him with it if he came any closer. ‘And don’t use that tone of voice with me in my house.’

  ‘Right,’ he said, nodding as he tried to get his head around this news. Maybe he did need some ice-cream. ‘So when were you planning on telling me?’

  She shrugged and gobbled some more ice-cream. The way she was eating, the tub wouldn’t last the hour. ‘You made it pretty clear you didn’t want anything more to do with me,’ she mumbled through her mouthful. ‘I assumed the same went for little people.’

  ‘How dare you assume anything about me. What do you think? I’d shirk my responsibilities? What kind of bloke do you think I am?’

  She glared right back. ‘How the hell do I know? We had one night together.’

  That was true, but it had been a night he’d thought about ever since.

  The problem wasn’t only a baby that had the potential to steal his heart. It was that he thought Simone might already be halfway there. And dammit, he didn’t want that.

  ‘You told me you were safe,’ he accused, regretting the words the moment they were out of his mouth.

  The spoon froze midway between the tub and her mouth. She raised her eyebrow and gave him a look no man ever wants from a woman. ‘You don’t want to start down that road, buster. As you so aptly taught me, it takes two to tango. You were very much present and accountable the night this little bundle was conceived.’

  This time she dumped the spoon back in the tub and placed her hands on her stomach in the way pregnant women often do. There was no evidence of pregnancy there but his chest tightened at the vision of what she might look like seven or eight months from today.

  A baby. Oh God, he was never going to sleep again.

  ‘Look. I don’t need your crap today. I’ve already had Frankie’s.’ Simone’s chair scraped against the tiles as she stood and set her hands on her hips. ‘I’ve done this twice before on my own and I’m quite happy to do it again, so go.’

  ‘Simon
e,’ he pleaded as she thrust her finger in the direction of the front door.

  ‘You know the way out!’ she yelled, her cheeks red with fury. ‘What are you waiting for? I’m giving you permission to leave and not come back. Pretend you never met me and retreat to your solitary existence. Go!’

  Go? Before he fell any harder for Simone and before the baby became real to him. Angus considered her offer for all of two seconds, then turned for the door and hurried back out the way he’d come in. He jumped in the ute and reversed out the drive, narrowly missing the Pajero in his haste to get away.

  * * *

  Simone waited until she heard Angus’s ute start up, then retrieved the spoon from the ice-cream and started to eat again. That was two people she’d argued with and tossed out of her house in one day. God help the next person who came knocking!

  Her bravado lasted about as long as the ice-cream. What a fucking coward, she thought, as she swallowed the last mouthful. She recalled the expression on his face when she’d confirmed she was pregnant and then again when she’d told him he was off the hook. She hadn’t been so naïve as to imagine that news of a baby would have him dropping to his knee and proposing marriage. Hell, until that morning, they’d only met each other three times, but each of those times she’d felt an intense connection she hadn’t felt with anyone since Jason. And yes, she’d thought that once they got past the fact she’d dated Logan first, maybe down the track they could have a future.

  But his reaction just now was about as bad as it could get and had dashed all such fantasies. He’d all but accused her of getting pregnant on purpose.

  As if she wanted to raise another child all by herself. Because, oh yeah, doing so was a walk in the park, a piece of cake, easy as pie and a whole load of other stupid clichés. Not. And he, who’d practically raised his kid sister, should understand that.

  And then, when she’d given him the chance to walk away, he’d run. Her fists clenched tightly at the memory. Surely she couldn’t love a man like that? Surely walking away from a woman pregnant with your unborn baby trumped all the wonderful things he’d done, like make her laugh, rescue her teenage daughter from possible death, and give her toe-curling orgasms. Yes, there were so many things that ranked higher than those.