‘Bridgett,’ he began and then stopped, biting back the words that immediately came to mind; most of them weren’t friendly after the runaround she’d given him, and now this blatant attempt to play yet another game. ‘Can you give me a few seconds?’ He grabbed the two cups of coffee he’d just poured, set them on Jo’s dining-room table and ditched Rachael’s undies on the couch before taking a seat. The table felt like more than a physical barrier. It allowed him to cool his temper and keep things in perspective.
This was probably Bridgett’s way of saving face after he’d left that last time, and given how things were working for him, he couldn’t begrudge her, and even had to admire her for the sheer guts it took to try to pull it off.
Bridgett took a seat across from him, back ramrod-straight, eyebrow raised, waiting for him to start.
‘I’ve been trying to get a hold of you because I want to talk about us,’ he began, pausing to think through his next words, only for Bridgett to interrupt him.
‘It’s about time,’ she replied curtly. ‘I thought we had a business relationship and a friendship, but the impression you’ve left me with is that we had a friendship until I stopped being useful to you. I’ve been thinking about reconsidering our business agreement, Stephen.’
Stephen sat back, stunned she’d even level a blow that low at him. He fought for the right, diplomatic words that wouldn’t mess everything up for his family’s business, even though he wanted to yell his head off right now. ‘We both know that wouldn’t be a good idea for the both of us. Your business means a lot to the winery, but personally you’ve been a good, a great friend.’ As he said the words, he realised he wasn’t lying. Bridgett had been good for him after his breakup with Lauren.
She must have registered his sincerity, because her shoulders visibly relaxed and a small, fleeting smile played at the edge of her mouth before the stern expression returned. ‘You’re not too bad yourself . . . and I might have been a little difficult to get a hold of lately. What’s been going on?’
Stephen debated glossing over the events of the past few weeks, then changed his mind. He didn’t have anything to hide and given the way it looked as if Bridgett was going to let this rest, he could afford to give her a decent explanation, so he summarised the events from the day he’d left her place that last time until now, keeping things light.
She sat, hands folded neatly on the table in front of her untouched coffee, while he talked. Her expression was completely unreadable, but he figured that was just the Botox.
‘You know, Stephen,’ she said eventually, once he’d finished, smoothing her hair back from her face, ‘I can’t really judge you. We had some good times in bed, but if I’m being completely honest, you were never my type anyway.’ She pursed her lips and gave him a cool once-over. ‘But I don’t see why we can’t still be friends. I like you. And I do have a few more contacts you will find useful for the winery.’
‘Thanks. I appreciate it,’ Stephen said slowly, wondering where this was going, not liking the slight hint of smugness in her smile.
‘I know,’ she said wryly. ‘But that’s not the point. You’ve got a good product. People are thanking me for putting them on to you. It’s not all about you, Stephen.’ Her tone and expression were painfully condescending.
‘Fair enough.’ He stood up. ‘So, I’m pretty sure you’ve got stuff to do today.’
She stood up and collected her bag. ‘Always busy. How do you feel about doing lunch next week? I’ll call you.’
‘I’ll get back to you on that.’ Stephen followed her to the door, holding it open. ‘Thanks for dropping by.’
She gave him a plastic smile, stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek as she walked past. ‘You’re welcome. One day you’re going to grow up, Stephen. I’m only happy to be helping you on the way.’
‘Ouch,’ Rachael said from the door of the bathroom. She was wrapped in one of Jo’s massive red bath sheets, looking just as stunned as Stephen currently felt.
‘Yeah,’ Stephen said through gritted teeth, pulling the front door closed with a slam.
‘Last word is always a killer. She’s smooth with the knife between the ribs, isn’t she?’
‘Change the subject or you’ll be looking for a new place to stay,’ Stephen snapped, scooping up Boomba and extracting Rachael’s red undies from the cat’s mouth. ‘Looking for these?’
The phone ringing interrupted Rachael’s howl of outrage. Glaring at Boomba, she picked up the handset next to her and answered while reaching over to snatch her underwear from Stephen’s hand. ‘Hello, you’ve reached Bedlam, how may I be of assistance? Oh, hi, Jo. This is Rachael. Stephen’s sister. Remember me? How are you? How’s the leg?’ She gave Stephen an evil grin.
He rolled his eyes and held out his hand. ‘Hand the phone over, Rach. You’re not ten years old.’
‘Stephen? Yeah, he’s here. Are you sure you want to talk to him? I mean, he’s a few cents short of a dollar, but you’d already know that, right? I have it on pretty good authority that he needs to grow up too.’
Stephen plucked the phone out of her hand with a snarl. ‘Jo?’
‘Hey. You all right there?’ He smiled as the sound of Jo’s familiar husky voice chased away his black mood.
‘Yeah. Rachael’s staying with me for a few days, and she’s already driving me crazy.’ He ignored his sister’s snort. ‘How was your flight?’
‘Awful. I’m so close to quitting, it’s ridiculous.’ Her exhaustion was clear in her voice. ‘I miss you. I want to come home.’
‘Miss you too. I especially missed you last night.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Particularly around the two-a.m. mark when I—’
‘Stop it!’ Jo exclaimed, cutting him off and laughing softly. ‘I’m losing enough sleep as it is. I don’t need sneaky thoughts of you keeping me awake at night too.’
‘Would I be naked in those sneaky thoughts?’ Stephen grinned wolfishly, sitting down on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table.
‘Of course,’ Jo said simply, and he groaned.
‘Oi!’ Rachael yelled. ‘There are children present.’ Stephen levelled a glare at his sister, which she ignored because she was too busy dumping even more of her clothes on the dining-room table.
‘Yeah, better keep it G-rated,’ Jo warned with laughter in her voice. ‘I’ve not exactly got a load of privacy here either.’
‘Damn,’ Stephen said with real disappointment. ‘Get your backside home soon. This long-distance thing sucks.’ He meant it.
‘Tell me about it,’ Jo said with a heavy sigh.
Stephen felt responsible for the downturn in her mood. ‘So tell me what’s been happening,’ he asked, looking to salvage the situation and hoping to learn a few more details about her day-to-day work.
‘There’s a lot of stupidity involved. I’m warning you.’
‘As long as you make it sound amusing, I’m all for hearing about it.’ Stephen laughed at her groan and kept the wide grin on his face as she began to talk.
Over the next twenty minutes, Jo shared what the last few days’ flying and arriving on the rig had been like while Stephen listened, only butting in or laughing every now and then. He had to quell his disappointment when she ended the conversation all too soon, saying she had to give someone else a turn on the phone, promising she’d call him every day if it was possible.
‘But don’t count on it, all right? I gotta get up a few hours early with the time difference, and I’m not sleeping that well,’ she warned.
‘Sure. Sure, when you can. Promise to have a few X-rated dreams involving me?’
‘Don’t go there. I’m trying hard not to think about what I’m missing while I’m here.’
‘Don’t try too hard.’ He chuckled. ‘Talk to you soon.’
‘Okay, bye.’ There was an odd awkward silence like she wanted to say something else but didn’t.
Hanging up a few seconds later, Stephen put down the phone with a ridiculously wide smil
e on his face.
Rachael plonked herself on the couch next to him and turned on the TV. ‘I note you didn’t share with her the events of the last hour or two.’
‘Screw you.’ Stephen gave her shoulder a gentle push with his foot.
‘Charming and no thanks. Keeping it in the family has never been my thing.’
‘When were you going home again?’
‘Two days from now. So be nice, and I might cook you dinner. Hey, don’t you have a meeting this morning?’
Stephen was off the couch, fully dressed and out the door in minutes.
Jo hung up the phone and rested her forehead against the wall, a warm glow in her chest and a smile on her lips that quickly faded as the industrial sounds and chemical smells of her surroundings slunk back into her consciousness. Sighing, she gave herself a mental shake and made her way to get some food. With luck, and some divine intervention, every one of her fellow workers, with no exceptions, would discover that he could miraculously find his arse with both hands today so she wouldn’t be tempted to commit a mass homicide. In the meantime breakfast was calling her name. Loudly.
‘Heard you got shot.’ Grumpy parked himself in the free chair across from hers, and she groaned, not caring if he heard her. Her regular roommate deciding to be friendly was never a good way to start the day and not something one wanted to see while eating massacred bacon and mediocre scrambled eggs.
Grumpy was huge, mainly as a result of the southern cooking he loved so much, and other than his bald pate, he was hairy too. His habit of wearing his overalls undone down to well below his oversized stomach meant she frequently saw more of Grumpy’s hair-covered, corpulent acreage than any one person should bear witness to. Today was no exception. She really wished he’d decided to stay in bed a little longer. The ongoing joke around was that he was half-man, half-mattress, because he was asleep anytime someone needed him. It was a pity no one needed him this morning.
‘Yep,’ Jo said, not wanting to encourage him. She tried to spear some overly charred bacon with her fork, but it shattered. She gave up and picked it up with her fingers instead.
‘What sort of gun?’
‘A.22 calibre, and I’m fine, thanks for asking.’ She surreptitiously scanned the mess hall to see if there was anyone around she could use as an excuse to move tables. No such luck.
‘A.22? What did he think he was going ta do with that?’ Grumpy roared in disbelief.
Jo felt her head begin to pound as she crunched into her bacon. ‘I don’t know. Shoot me?’ Her sarcasm was lost on Grumpy.
‘Rifle or handgun?’ he demanded.
‘Rifle. Look, can we drop this?’ Jo ran her hand over her eyes and pushed her plate away. The sight of Grumpy’s indignantly wobbling paunch had killed her appetite.
‘Over how much distance?’ He obviously wasn’t going to let this one go.
‘I don’t know. I was running away. Being shot at, remember?’ Jo snapped.
‘Running, were ya?’ Grumpy looked speculative for a few seconds, crunching his own helping of bacon with an open mouth. ‘Would have been better off for him to sit pretty and wait until you got closer,’ he announced. ‘Did I tell you that’s how my baby brother, Charlie, shot a deer last fall?’
‘Yes.’ Jo rolled her eyes; it was too late to stop him now.
‘Well, Charlie’s a quadriplegic, but that don’t matter. Fixed a gun to his chair and rigged the trigger so he could fire it with his blowpipe. Sat there for five hours until one walked out in front of him, and he hit it fair and square.’ Grumpy let out a loud guffaw and slapped his bare stomach with both hands, causing it to ripple disturbingly. ‘That’s what your sniper should have done. Should have waited until you got closer and then pulled the trigger. BAM.’ He thumped the table and then looked smug. ‘You wouldn’ta had a chance.’
‘Next time someone has me in his sights, I’ll be sure to give him the pointer.’ Jo pushed away from the table. There was one thing to say about Grumpy. After even a few minutes in his company, every other man on the rig looked like a male model and champion conversationalist.
‘You’re going to be working hard today,’ he called out after her. ‘Heard the boss man’s pissed at you. Hedgehog fucked up big time last night.’
‘Thanks. Thanks a lot,’ Jo muttered to herself and went to get an idea of how much of a clusterfuck was on today’s menu.
Stephen let himself into the apartment that evening and grinned at the savoury smell that greeted his senses. Rachael was cooking.
Today had been a good day. His plan to put on an autumn concert at the winery was coming to fruition, and he’d just received the fantastic news that one of the big-name bands he’d been negotiating with was interested. He couldn’t wait to tell Jo. He knew she had about four of their albums. Rachael would be pretty excited too, come to think of it. Anything that got backsides on seats in her restaurant was welcome.
He set his leather laptop bag down by the door and took off his shoes. ‘Rach. You wouldn’t believe who I’ve lined up for our concert.’
There wasn’t a reply.
‘Rachael?’ he called, walking into the kitchen. A pot was rapidly boiling on the stove. He turned it off and looked around. ‘Rachael?’
‘Here.’
He found her huddled on a couch in the living room, the phone clutched in her hand and Boomba at her side.
‘Hey. What’s up? You all right?’ He crouched down next to her.
She looked at him with huge, tearful brown eyes. ‘I just answered your house phone, and this guy started screaming that he was going to kill me. He was psycho, Stephen. His voice was terrifying. He was saying he was going to find me and rip me apart and do a whole lot of other stuff. I hung up, and he tried to call back twice.’
‘What the hell? Did he say who he was? What it was about?’ Stephen demanded, shocked, mind whirring. Furious that someone had scared his sister this badly. ‘You all right now?’
‘Yeah.’ Rachael drew a shaky breath and reached out to pat Boomba. ‘It was just . . . well . . . scary, and I know the call wasn’t meant for me. It was meant for Jo, which makes it even scarier.’ She bit her lip and looked Stephen straight in the eye. ‘You sure that shooting was an accident? Because this guy sounded nuts enough to kill someone.’
Stephen stared at her, processing her words. ‘Give me the phone, Rach.’
‘Here. What you doing?’
‘Trying to look up the call history,’ Stephen replied. ‘What time did he first call?’
‘Around six I think.’
Same time as the prank caller, but he’d never spoken before when Stephen had picked up. Until a female voice answered. Fuck. The call was logged, but the number was blank as if the guy had called from a payphone or an unlisted number, maybe even Skype. If it was the latter there’d probably be no luck tracing it even if the cops had time to bother. The local police force was notoriously overworked of late.
‘Think we should call the cops?’
‘Yes. Not that they’ll do a bloody thing,’ Stephen growled, frustrated. ‘We’ll call them in a minute. Are you going to be up to repeating what this bastard said?’
‘Yeah. I think so.’ Rachael rubbed her arms with her hands. ‘Jo had problems like this before?’
Stephen remembered her weird questions about the prank phone calls in the car down to George Creek and the phone call a few months before that had shaken her up so much. ‘Yes. No. I don’t know. I know who will, though.’ He felt rage crystallise into an iceberg in his chest. These last few weeks, squashing down the compulsion to demand answers and waiting for Jo to voluntarily talk about her past had been hard, especially after she’d changed the subject the few times he’d tried to bring it up, but this was another thing entirely. He dialled Scott’s mobile. It was turned off. He tried his home number. Sorry I can’t come to the phone right now . . .
‘Fuck,’ Stephen snarled.
‘How about Jo’s sister?’ Rachael suggested.
> Stephen tried Amy’s number but it went to her answering service. He left a message for Amy to call him back and threw the phone onto the couch, then spent a few minutes collecting his thoughts and calming himself down before following his sister into the kitchen, where she’d resumed making dinner.
‘Sorry, Rach. I know you’re pretty shaken up still. Didn’t mean to get so angry.’ He placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed the tense muscles on her back.
His sister turned to him, brown eyes almost black, face lined with worry. ‘Talk to Jo, Stephen. Get her to tell you what’s going on. This is some really scary stuff.’
‘Yeah,’ Stephen said. He walked back out to the living room and looked around for his laptop. He wanted answers, and Jo was going to bloody well provide them.
Chapter 12
Her leg aching from her newly healed wound and head pounding, Jo crawled out of the bottom bunk and glared up at Grumpy, who’d just made it to bed after the night shift. She glanced down at her watch. Early. The sneaky bastard had obviously made himself scarce before his shift ended. As usual he was snoring louder than a jackhammer. Even her tried-and-true method of shoving earplugs in her ears and then piling her pillow on top of her head hadn’t helped the past few days. Right now no paycheck was worth this kind of crap. Dammit. Grumpy didn’t know it, but the only thing standing in the way of her smothering him with his own pillow was that he’d woken her up early enough to call Stephen.
Five minutes later, surveying the remains of the one common-use telephone on the rig, Jo decided she should have smothered Grumpy. At least then she’d be feeling slightly better now.
‘What happened?’ she asked no one in particular while staring at the broken receiver next to her boot and then at the mangled keypad hanging half off the wall.
Unforgettable You: Destiny Romance Page 17
