He levered his body out of bed, finding a glass of water on the side table with painkillers. His girl wasn't the type to leave love notes when she did something sweet for him, he was learning. If she did write something down, it was to pass on a message or instruction: 'Please don't eat the cupcakes; they're for work' or 'I'll be home late tonight'. There were no hearts or flowers, just her initial signed at the end. He'd almost call it perfunctory, except that she thought of him enough to do it, which made it something more. She was thinking of him, and Rex was starting to wonder if he was doing the same, if holding her tightly when she slept and making sure her coffee would be ready when she woke up was his way of trying to express the burgeoning feeling in his chest.
He was starting to wonder whether he was ready to risk putting a name to the feeling.
He wondered if she had.
After showering himself back to feeling human, he wiped steam off the mirror and met his own eyes in the reflection. A deeply-buried part of himself had been just slightly uncomfortable since he woke up, and he probed it like nudging a loose tooth with his tongue.
What if the reason no one's ever even wanted to date me isn't just convenience?
He had no illusions about the way he looked—wouldn't win any Mr. Universe competitions, but he could keep up with his brothers. No obvious deformities, the right number of each facial feature in a fairly standard position, and keeping physically active meant he was in good condition. He wasn't physically repellent, was fairly socially competent, and according to one woman, ate pussy like it was going out of style. He didn't have Jared's easy charm, but he was friendly. Approachable, even. Just not… bringing-home-to-meet-the-family material. Casual sex was fine, apparently, but not an emotional commitment. No plans for the future. And when something else came along for the woman… no future at all.
Was that why he'd reacted so strongly to Alannah's discussion of her past? He couldn't even think about it without anger stirring again. Maybe he was being biased—he was insightful enough to know full well he was developing feelings for her, if not quite ready yet to name them—but the idea of someone having a prize like Al and not only neglecting her but denigrating her, making her afraid to express her desires, making her feel dirty, made him want to put his fist through something. Someone. And the nameless, faceless nature of the man who had left his girl expecting repulsion when she asked for what she wanted, the lack of identity, had him expecting to see some kind of clue to who it was, everywhere he went. Every bloke of dateable age in Shepherd's Creek had just become a candidate for the position, and part of him wanted to pin each one down for a comprehensive interrogation. At the same time, Rex didn't want to violate Al's privacy when it came to something she clearly didn't want to discuss.
Did it qualify as prying if all he did was analyse every word they'd spoken to each other since his return in an attempt to identify the man?
Or maybe a better question would be what could he possibly do about it if he did work out who it was? Flaunt his own not-quite-a-relationship with Alannah until the guy realised what he'd lost? Take him aside and let him know that being a close-minded, judgemental prick in bed would probably damage any future relationships as well?
And if there was nothing he could do, why did he care who it was?
Alannah had left a covered bowl on the kitchen bench, the notepad alongside it reading, 'Running errands. Waffle mix—toppings in fridge', with an arrow pointing toward the bowl as though the adjacent waffle iron might not be enough of a clue. And praise be, she'd left most of a pot of coffee for him.
There was something strange about being in Alannah's house, which was so clearly hers, when she wasn't. Rex took his second coffee out with him to collect the newspaper from the front lawn and waved to the neighbour across the street who was doing the same thing, hoping he didn't look too much worse for wear. The painkillers were kicking in and the headache receded as he ate and idly perused the paper, at a loss for what to do with himself for the rest of the day. This much introspection was clearly more than his hungover brain could withstand, or maybe he was just getting used to the combined physical exercise from work and his woman, because he needed to move or he was going to lose his mind. He washed up his breakfast things, looking out over the garden, and decided to dig in Alannah's garage for gardening supplies. At the very least, he could mow the lawn.
Truly, Kayla's enthusiasm for various cuts of ethically sourced meat was something to behold. She was talking loin versus scotch fillet with the butcher as though they didn't chat at the farmers' market every weekend, as Al perused the handmade glass beads displayed in the next stall. The woman selling them also made snow globes, she saw, though the confetti was green and blue sparkles rather than white for snow. To represent the paddocks that surrounded the town and the river that ran through it? Al vaguely considered buying one to take with her to Mansfield. She could put a picture of her house inside, to remind her she had a home to return to when she needed.
"What about if I wanted to make a crust for it?" Kayla was asking the butcher. "I have a lemon-pepper recipe I've been meaning to try. Do you have any advice?"
"Depends. Have you taught that boyfriend of yours how to use a barbecue properly yet?"
Kayla laughed. "He's getting better. There weren't as many burnt bits last time. I'm making him practice on no-name meat for the foreseeable future. I refuse to sacrifice any more of your sausages."
"In that case, you had better drop the temperature a little to avoid burning the crust. Extend the cook slightly but keep the centre rare."
"You're an oracle." Kayla turned to Alannah. "Are you up for lunch yet?"
"Starving. I had one waffle and a coffee for breakfast four hours ago."
The two of them always took their time wandering around Shepherd's Creek's weekly producers' market. Though Al's veggie patch was highly productive at this time of year, she tried to buy what she didn't grow from local farmers, and the handmade stalls of ornaments, clothing, and jewellery filled the rest of her time. Kayla had bought so many things that she'd briefly trialled the use of a pull-along trolley, a la European grandmothers. The two of them had quickly concluded that it did not add to her aesthetic.
Sam had laughed and hugged her to him when they'd spilled the story. Harry had been watching the footy at the Local that night, and she'd felt a stab of loneliness, not because of his absence from their evening of wine and trash talk, but because of his presence in her life. Perhaps watching the thinly disguised passion in everything Sam and Kayla did had been part of what had brought her discontent in her life with Harry bubbling to the surface. Sam was away for work every few weeks, and no matter how short the separation, Al always saw how much her friend missed him. After five years of dating and a sixth of engagement, she and Harry hadn't even moved in together.
She tried not to think of the contrast between Harry and Rex and failed miserably.
She could still feel the heat in her cheeks when they sat at their usual table for lunch.
"Don't try to hide that blush," Kayla chided, tugging the menu from Al's hands. She lowered her voice and added, clearly thrilled, "Did you get some this morning? Make-up sex after last night?"
Al almost choked on her water. "You are way too invested in my sex life, you know that?"
"Clearly. I was just surprised that you didn't leave together, since he had his eyes on you all night, even though Andrew and Jared were throwing every single girl in town at him. It seems Andrew is still on the hunt for grandchildren."
"You caught that, did you?" Al asked drily.
"I spoke to Nate while he was there. He's quite chatty after a few drinks, even if he did leave early to get back to his office. Apparently, Andrew has been planning a marital assault since they knew Rex was moving back home."
"Well, to answer your question, no, there was no make-up sex. Rex was still asleep when I left this morning. He came in a bit drunk last night and was trying to quietly make himself some tea to sober up with
out disturbing me. I found him trying to fill the kettle with the lid still on."
"And you put his tipsy ass to bed?"
"After a bit," Al said. "It got weird. He said some things."
"What kind of things?"
"I think he might maybe be developing some… feelings," Al admitted.
"Oh no," Kayla said.
"Oh no is right. I hedged a bit, and then we went to bed."
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why did you hedge? Why not just remind him that you didn't sign up for feelings?"
Al's face started to flush.
"Unless," Kayla said, dragging the word out. "Unless, you're starting to develop some feelings of your own."
"I can't, Kayla," Al said, knowing she sounded stricken. "How long do I have until I leave? A few weeks? And I have no idea how long I'll be gone. It sounds selfish, but I don't want to have that kind of tie yanking on me while I'm trying put myself out there and see the world. It wouldn't be fair on either of us."
"So you're just going to ignore the fact that you are both developing feelings for each other?"
"That was sort of the plan," Al admitted. "He asked for a label, Kayla. He said he knows I'm not ready, but that, soon, he'll want one. He said 'I'm', and I quote, 'in deep with him'. He's a good man, and I don't want to lose him from my life. Does that make me selfish?"
"Are you sure you're remembering right?" Kayla asked. "Did he definitely say he knows you're not ready for what he's moving toward?"
"Definitely."
"Then I don't think you're doing anything against the word of the law, necessarily. And the spirit of the law is always debateable." She chewed on her lip, probably running legal jargon in her head. "How does he feel about you leaving?"
"I might not have… specifically told him that."
"Alannah!"
"I know, I know. There's just never been a good time."
"Of course, there's never a good time to tell your live-in booty call, for whom you are rapidly developing feelings, that you're leaving town in a matter of weeks. But you do it anyway, because, otherwise, you're stringing him along! He probably thinks he has all the time in the world to woo you into what he's feeling, Al. That's why he wants a label. He doesn't realise it's going to be 'Mr Left Behind'."
"I know," Al said and dropped her forehead to the table. "I just didn't want to do it before Monday, okay? I just want to still have him with me then. I don't want the house to be empty, and I don't want to sleep in a cold bed. I'll tell him… afterward."
And then the challenge would be living with the fallout.
When Al came home in the late afternoon, it was to the very welcome sight of Rex in a beaten-up straw hat she'd forgotten she owned, watering her hydrangeas. She sat in the car and blinked at him for long moments before her wits returned enough for her to approach him. "You don't have to do that."
He gifted her with a smile. "I know. Wanted to."
He was sweaty from the heat, and she thought she should probably not want to rub herself all over his body, but her t-shirt dress could handle getting a little dirty. In truth, she would have been prepared to sacrifice a ball gown to get her hands on him. She stopped when barely a foot separated them. "You mowed the lawn."
"Yeah." His smile didn't exactly change, but the rising heat in his eyes somehow made the whole thing more potent.
"Didn't have to do that, either."
"I know."
A beat, where neither of them moved, and Al was frozen once more from the sight of him, all gleaming tanned skin and easy athleticism, and had it been this damn hot when she left the house? Had he been outside all day? Was that why he looked like he'd been oiled up and posed in the late afternoon light specifically to tempt her?
"Why are you standing all the way over there, sassy girl?"
She closed the gap between them quick as a breath and slotted herself into the place she hadn't realised she missed being. His sweat mixed with hers as he held her to his chest, and even if she had been wearing that ball gown, it would have been worth sacrificing it just for the moment of bliss when he kissed her in full view of anyone who might have been watching, and she found she didn't care one iota. It wasn't sensible, kissing him so openly, where his mother could have caught them, when she knew their fling couldn't ever be more than that. It wasn't cautious. It wasn't predictable. It was the furthest thing from beige.
And Al found that, perhaps, part of her didn't give much of a shit about being sensible after all.
Eventually, Rex pulled away, and the last vestiges of Al's self-consciousness tried to tell her it was because she'd done something wrong. But she could hardly believe that when he smiled down at her like she'd given him the sun.
"That's how you thank me for mowing the lawn?" he asked.
"I guess it is."
"Looks like I'm going to be out here every damn afternoon." He peeled them apart and took her hand, drawing her toward the house. "Productive day?"
"I ticked a few things off my list. That's always satisfying. There are fruits and veggies in the car."
"I thought I might make us dinner if you're willing to risk it being terrible."
"You're being very domestic today," she noted.
"Well, you did make me breakfast."
"Did I?"
"By proxy. Good waffles." He pressed his lips to her hair. "I'm a mess from the garden, though. Shower?"
"Do you want to go first?" she asked then realised what he'd really been asking, and it felt miraculous to be comfortable enough not to have her face heat in shame.
"With you? Never." He winked, pulling her toward the stairs. "From my experience, all it takes is a little concentration for us to go at the same time."
Sunday felt like the kind of day that a real couple would have a thousand times, and the familiarity of the lack of schedule felt strangely blissful to Rex. Though his eyes were drawn to her every time she moved, their companionship in the shared space was oddly… comfortable. He wanted to do it with her every week, this lack of schedule, moving through domestic jobs without any sense of urgency. He marvelled at how effortlessly they moved around each other, an unchoreographed dance that came so naturally, it felt instinctive. She put the washing on; he hung it out to dry. He washed the dishes; she put them away. He heard her vacuuming upstairs, so he moved all the large furniture out of the way downstairs so she wouldn't need to navigate around it.
Once the hottest part of the day had passed, Rex went for a run. As he huffed his way up yet another of the hills outside the town, he spotted a familiar figure coming from the other direction—Nate. They slowed at the same time.
"Still running this one?" Rex asked breathlessly.
"Better than you." Nate was right—his fitness clearly outshone Rex's. He had a classic runner's build, which was why Rex had refused to be his running partner in their teens; he'd quickly tired of being left behind.
"Eric'll be along in a minute. Left him behind a while back."
Rex had to tamp down on an uncomfortable twinge of jealousy that his role as running partner had been usurped. What did you expect, man? It's been eight years since you lived here. Did you think he'd run alone all this time? "Eric's running?"
"He refuses to use the treadmill at the gym. Says it's stupid to run without going anywhere."
"Only time he's out of the gym, then."
"Too right. I've been trying to talk him into a half-marathon, but he won't budge."
They took in the view together in silence.
"Glad you're out of the office for once," Rex said. "You spend too many hours there."
"I'm getting some big cases," Nate explained. "Mostly contracts, but they're big ones. It's a high-pressure kind of gig. I have to put in the hours."
Rex felt again the familiar sense of loss at having missed so much of his brother's life. "Can't imagine sitting behind a desk for that long."
"That's why I have to run. Not everyone can take out their aggression on
large pieces of wood like you."
Rex huffed out a laugh. "Not so large, at the moment. I'm mostly helping Jamie Cameron with small stuff."
"He's kept you on this long, then?" Nate asked. "The last guy Mitch tried to pair him with was sent packing in a week. I think he was despairing of finding someone Cameron could actually put up with."
"I don't try to talk to him very much. That might be the reason. How do you know so much about it?"
"I do Mitch's contracts too. Gotta keep the locals engaged, or they'll forget I'm one of them."
"Not surprised, given your suits. You were the only man wearing a jacket on Friday."
"And Christ, did I regret it. It was hot as Hades in there." Nate stretched to touch his toes. "How did Dad's matchmaking attempts go? Found an eligible woman yet?"
Rex pushed away the image of Alannah that immediately leaped into his head. "Jared was worse. He's trying to set me up for casual sex, as though that would go down well in this town. I'd be lynched by every relative the girl had."
"It's not that you couldn't keep your eyes of Al Green, then?" Nate asked, shooting Rex a sideways glance.
The pause as Rex collected his thoughts was just long enough to be suspicious. "Is it that obvious?" he asked eventually.
"Maybe not if you don't know what to look for. But I talked you through being gaga for Mary Anne Cook in high school, remember? I know what smitten looks like on you."
Rex scuffed at the ground with his shoe. "Smitten," he echoed. "Yeah, maybe. She's… something, all right."
Eric came huffing up the hill moments later, shirt tucked into the side of his shorts. "Hate this fucking hill," he gasped out when he stopped beside them. "Rexy. Still running? Thought you might be otherwise engaged these days." He had the nerve to wink.
He Comes Home Page 13
