Call On Me

by Angela Verdenius

  “The footy game still on for tonight?” Matt asked as they separated at the bowsers.

  “Hell yeah. Can’t wait to see your team get thrashed.”

  “You’ll be weeping into your beer.”

  They separated at the bowsers, Matt returning to the ambulance while Ghost hopped into the panel van.

  Ali was still smiling as she handed the iced coffee to Ghost.

  He took a mouthful before placing it in the drink holder and starting the van. Putting it into gear, he pulled out of the service station. “So,” he began conversationally. “New bloke in town, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “You seemed to be getting on all right with him.”

  “Name’s Chris Smith, new mechanic working at the servo, new to town, just bought a place nearby. The Mason’s old house, in fact. Two sisters living in the city, Mum and Dad retired and caravanning around Australia. No pets.” She glanced sideways at him. “Catholic.”

  “Oooh, could be a problem there,” he replied.

  “How so?”

  “You’re Anglican.”

  “I think we can work around it.”

  He mulled that over for several seconds. “Going on a date?”

  “He did ask me, yes,” she answered.

  “Don’t tell me you agreed.”

  She turned her head to look at him. “I did. Why not?”

  “He’s new to town, you don’t know him.”

  “I will know him after a date.”

  A spike of concern went through him. “Please tell me you’re taking your own car.”

  “I’m not a complete drongo, Ghost. I’m meeting him at the restaurant for a meal.”

  “Wise move,” he approved. Lots of people, her own car, and no chance of getting dumped anywhere or being at the mercy of a man she didn’t know. “Take your mobile.”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  He shot her a glance. “Home by ten.”

  “Sure. Not.”

  “No messing around in the back seat.”

  “Can we borrow your van, then?”

  “Yeah, about that. Not happening.”

  She laughed.

  Dropping her off at home, Ghost carried the empty esky inside for her, waiting until she locked the security screen before he went home.

  Once inside he was met with five furry felines all demanding an early morning snack because it had been hours since they’d last been fed and they were starving to death.

  “Lying little hounds,” he told them as they followed him into the kitchen. “It’s only three in the morning.” But he nevertheless refilled their biscuit bowls, refusing to cave under Mauve’s reproachful gaze to get them tinned food.

  Pulling a bag of frozen ‘roo meat from the freezer, he placed it in a bowl and shut it in the pantry to thaw out for their dinner that night. If he dared leave it on the sink, Max would have it dragged across the floor and up the stairs within the hour and likely stash it under Ghost’s bed, which would be downright nasty when it thawed out completely and went undiscovered for a time. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.

  Going upstairs, Ghost showered and pulled on a pair of boxers. Padding across the carpet to his desk, he turned on the computer and sat down. Pulling a notebook from the drawer, he started jotting down notes from his impressions of the night, as well as some ideas he’d come up with while talking to Matt.

  Millie wandered in to jump up onto the desk and eye the notepad. As soon as Ghost stopped writing and pushed it aside, she flopped onto it and closed her eyes, purring happily. Giving her an indulgent under-the-chin rub, Ghost leaned back in the chair and glanced out the window at his neighbour’s house.

  The light was on in the backyard and he could see Ali standing outside, the smaller shadow of Minx in the garden. Obviously the old cat wanted a last walk in the garden before going to bed.

  Then Ghost did a double-take at a sudden realisation. It was three in the morning and Ali was standing outside in a thin nightgown. A very thin nightgown. The light behind her showed the outline of her lush curves in tantalising peeks.

  Good God, the woman shouldn’t be outside dressed like that! In fact, she shouldn’t be out at all, not alone at this time of the morning. Who knew what perverts lurked around? Not that anyone had ever actually come to any harm in the small town, but still, a woman dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown shouldn’t be parading around in it in her backyard.

  Bounding out of the chair, Ghost ran down the stairs, across the hall and into the kitchen, flinging open the back door and running down into the back yard. Crossing to the fence, he placed his hands on the top of it and pulled himself up, bracing his hands on the fence as he looked around at the now empty Mackay yard. Ali had gone inside, the click of the door lock audible on the night air, the back light switched off, leaving him hanging onto the fence in the dark.

  Dropping back onto the ground, Ghost shook his head. He’d have to have a chat to her about her safety, and he’d have to include Lori in that talk if she did the same thing. Odd, he’d never noticed it before, mainly because both sisters usually went out together if it was a late night, this was the first time he’d ever seen one of them out there alone and it wasn’t something he liked. True, they lived in a small town, but anything could happen, especially when strangers came and went.

  Like Chris Smith, who no doubt knew exactly where Ali lived.

  Yep, he was going to have a chat to her this afternoon when they’d all be out of bed.

  Turning around, he went back into the house.

  ~*~

  Matt was coming over at five to watch the footy game and bringing the pizzas with him. Ghost checked the ‘fridge. Light beers and Coke were nice and cold and everything was ready. The furry horde were scoffing down ‘roo meat and all was right with the world.

  Time to have that little chat with Ali. No doubt she wouldn’t welcome it, but he was sure he could do it diplomatically.

  Going out the back, he easily jumped the fence and crossed the grass to the veranda. Up the steps, a quick knock on the door and he opened it and walked inside. The kitchen was empty. “Ali? Lori? You girls up yet?”

  Ali walked in seconds later. “I’m here. What’s wrong?”

  His gaze skimmed over her. Good God, the woman was dressed in the same thin nightgown. The light behind her from the hallway outlined those same lush curves and if the material had been a little thinner, he’d have seen a lot more than just curves outlined. “Ali!” He almost barked her name.

  “What?” Drawing on an equally thin dressing gown, she yawned.

  “This.” He waved his hand at her then the door. “That.”

  Brows raised, she looked from him to the door and back.

  “You’re in your nightie with the door unlocked,” he stated, more than a little annoyed.

  “So?”

  “Look, I wasn’t going to be so blunt about it but obviously you need it. I saw you in the early hours of this morning.”

  “So?” Puzzled, she crossed to the sink, picking up a glass and placing it under the tap as she turned it on. “We were out at the pond. Of course you saw me.”

  “I mean out in the yard.”

  “You were spying on me?”

  “No. I got a glimpse of you and…” He took a deep breath, not sure why he was so annoyed. “Look, I could see right through your nightie.”

  For several seconds she stared at him. “So?”

  “Ali, I could see through your nightie.”

  Her cheeks flushed a little but she refused to look away. “That bothers you? So don’t look.”

  This was harder than he’d thought. “It didn’t bother me, but-”

  “So what’s the point?” Taking a sip of water, she watched him closely over the rim of the glass. Her green eyes had darkened a little, a sure indication that she, in turn, was getting a little annoyed.

  “Look, you were alone in the backyard in the early hours of the morning, no one home to help you if you ne
eded it, in a see-through nightie for any pervert to ogle.”

  “Such as you?” she replied a trifle tartly.

  “What? No.” He thrust one hand through his hair, dislodging a strand of hair to irritatingly flop across his brow. “I’m saying you need to be more careful.”

  “I’m not an idiot, Ty.” She placed the glass on the sink with a decided clink. “Anything else you want to pick on while you’re at it?”

  “No. And I’m not picking, I’m just trying to advise you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Well don’t. I’m a grown-up, not a fifteen year old.”

  “I never said-”

  “And I have to get ready for a date, so if you don’t mind.” She stalked from the kitchen.

  Great, he’d handled that without a shred of diplomacy. He wasn’t even quite sure where he’d gone wrong. Probably in trying to tell Ali instead of Lori. Lori could be reasoned with, Ali, however, was a whole other ball game. Not to mention the fact that Ali was not a morning person and seeing as how she’d gone to bed in the early hours of the morning, four thirty in the afternoon was kind of like morning for her, so not a wise time to confront her and try to give a friendly warning. You’d think after all these years he could have remembered that. Now she was mad at him.

  With a sigh, he strode from the kitchen into the hallway. “Ali?”

  “Go away.” Her voice came from her bedroom.

  The door was open. He rolled his eyes. “Look, I’m sorry, okay?”

  “I doubt it.” Her head poked around the corner as she scowled at him. “You never say what you don’t mean.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry, then, at how it sounded.” Hands in his pockets, he rocked backwards and forwards on his heels.

  “You sounded like an opinionated jerk.” Her head vanished.

  He didn’t think so, in fact, he totally disagreed. “I’m just concerned.”

  “And that’s really sweet, but you didn’t have to be an arse about it.”

  “I was not an arse.” He watched Minx come out of Lori’s bedroom and meander into Ali’s. “Where’s your sister?”

  “Why? You want to pick on her as well?” Ali strode out of her bedroom to the bathroom across the hall.

  “No, of course not.” Hmmm, she was wearing a red dress with a low-cut bodice. From what he could see, her breasts were amplified by some kind of bra that made them sit higher.

  They didn’t sit naturally that high, that much he knew. He’d seen her in bathers, though granted she’d always been careful to wear a towel draped around her overly generous hips. But her breasts, yes, he’d seen them threatening to spill out of the top of bathers. They weren’t as high as they were now in the dress. She was wearing some kind of magic bra.

  He preferred her natural. Heavy and tear shaped, just the way a woman was supposed to be, not high enough to make his eyes water.

  Except she wasn’t out to impress him, but to impress…“Are you getting ready for a date with John Brown?”

  Eyes narrowed, she walked back out of the bathroom. “That’s Chris Smith, and yes I am.” Walking up to him, she turned her back and held up her heavy hair with one hand. “Can you zip me up, please? Bloody thing is caught.”

  “Great, now I’m a lady’s maid?” Grabbing the zipper, he tugged. It was caught and he bent down to watch closely as he wrestled the silky material.

  Now he could see the back of her bra. Holy Hannah, it was black as sin. And lacy. He’d seen her bras on the clothesline, of course. Big, lacy, and in a variety of colours, but he’d never actually been up and personal with them. He couldn’t help but brush a fingertip against the bra strap. Yep, silky.

  “Are you done yet?” She queried, trying to look back over her shoulder.

  Ghost shook his head. “Not yet.” Bloody material. Slipping his hand between the material and her back, he pulled it away a little so he didn’t catch her skin as he tugged again on the zipper.

  That light, fresh scent she’d worn the previous night rose from her warm skin to swirl through his senses and he breathed it in deeply. Nice. Very nice. Her skin was as silky against his fingers as her dress, and with the material pulled a little way from her body he could see the beginnings of the curve of her hips, rising out from the small of her back into the graceful, ample curves of her bottom.

  An unaccustomed warmth went through Ghost. He wondered if her curves were soft. Well, he knew they were, he’d had her snugged up against him many times over the years as they ghost hunted, he’d hugged her on birthdays and special occasions, he’d kissed her cheek and the top of her head, but he’d never actually thought about it. Never thought about the warmth of her skin, the softness of her curves, the-

  “For crying out loud, Ghost, what are you doing?”

  “Nothing.” More than a little flustered at his own wayward thoughts, Ghost tugged the zipper and up it went, closing off the sight of all that white, soft skin.

  Before he could straighten, she spun around. “Thanks. Took you long…enough…” She trailed to a halt.

  Ghost was nose-to-nose with her breasts, those same big breasts pushed up in one of those magical bras, the tips of them almost brushing his nose. Straightening slowly, he had a good eyeful of an ample cleavage and an equally good nose-full of that damned scent that had his senses swimming.

  Still straightening, his gaze took in her throat, the graceful arch of it as she moved her head back to meet his gaze as he straightened to his full height until he was looking down at her.

  Her green eyes were big, but also a little wary. “Um, Ghost…?”

  “Yeah?” His voice sounded husky to his own ears.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?” The feel of her curves registered under his hand.

  When had his hand moved? Of its own accord, as though pulled by invisible strings, his hand brushed her hip, palm curving to cup it.

  “Ty?” Her eyes were big, the expression uncertain.

  She’d never looked at him with uncertainty before, not uncertainty about his behaviour, and it was enough to snap him back to awareness.

  Holy shit, he’d been about to grope Ali! Cop a feel of her curves! Rub his palm against her!

  He leaped away as though scalded. “I’m fine. Fine! I just…I think I’ve caught a cold or something. I – uh-” His gaze fell on the grandfather clock in the corner of the hall. “Oh, is that the time? Hell, Matt will be knocking on my door. Bye, Ali, have fun!”

  Forcing himself to wave at her and smile in a friendly fashion, Ghost walked sedately down the hall and into the kitchen. He caught a last glimpse of her just staring after him with her mouth hanging open before he was through the kitchen door. He had to force himself to walk to the back door and exit with the outward show of calmness, as though nothing was wrong. Nothing at all.

  Down the steps, across the lawn, hoisting himself up and over the fence. That was it, nice and steady. A last glance across to the Mackay house as he entered his own back door showed Ali standing on her back veranda, a frown on her face as she watched him.

  Another smile, another wave, a cheerful “Enjoy yourself!” and then he was safe in his own kitchen.

  Where he stood stock-still in the middle of the floor and just stared at the far wall. What the hell was wrong with him? Ali was like his little sister, for God’s sake, and one didn’t grope one’s little sister. Not that she was his sister, so it wasn’t as if he’d done something disgusting, but it was Ali. Ali Mackay, his best friend. One didn’t grope a friend.

  A crash from the lounge snapped him from his troubled thoughts and he hurried into the room to find a vase lying in pieces on the floor and Abraham happily chewing on a rose stem with the rose head bobbing at the bottom of it. It was the last rose in one piece, for amongst the broken pieces of vase and water were demolished roses, petals of every colour a rose could come in scattered on the floor and even a couple on the sofa.

  “Moron,” Ghost said sternly. “Mum brought those roses
around a few days ago and you’ve destroyed the lot. She wanted that vase back too, you cretin.”

  Abraham blinked his big, gold eyes and jumped down off the side table.

  Retrieving a dust pan and brush from the laundry and a cloth to mop up the water already soaking into the carpet, Ghost returned just in time to see Abraham hunch up and start retching. Wonderful. The doorbell rang before he could do anything further and he opened it to find Matt standing outside dressed in cargo shorts, t-shirt and thongs with two pizza boxes in his hands.

  “Dinner is served,” Matt informed him.

  “With a side order of rose spew.” Ghost stood to one side, closing the security screen behind Matt and leaving the wooden door open.

  Matt watched as Abraham brought up an impressive amount of rose petals. “Vegan diet?”

  Dropping to his knees, Ghost sighed. “Mixed with ‘roo meat? Doubtful.”

  “Huh. Well, I’ll leave you to attend your splurking cat and put these in the kitchen.” Matt disappeared.

  After cleaning up the mess and binning the broken vase, Ghost wandered into the kitchen to find Matt on the back veranda gazing across at the Mackay house. In one hand he held a light beer, in the other arm Mort was curled up, his front paws lying limp, his head thrown back, and bliss on his face as he purred. Max was asleep in a patch of sunshine on the grass.

  Standing beside Matt, Ghost also peered over at the Mackay house. The garden needed weeding, the lawn mowing, yet it was a friendly place. Pot plants lined the cement path to the clothesline.

  No fancy bras were hanging on the line today.

  No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Matt murmured quietly, “Nice girls.”

  “Huh?”

  “Lori and Ali.”

  “Oh, yes. Very nice.” He glanced at Matt curiously.

  “Lori’s kinda shy, huh?”

  “Yep.”

  “Huh. So different to Ali.”

  “Very much so, yet not in other ways.” Lori had certainly never had him wanting to curl his palm against her equally lush curves. Stop thinking about it!

  “You know, I shifted into the house on the other side of theirs four months ago and while I’ve seen Ali go out on a few dates, I’ve never once seen Lori get picked up by a bloke,” Matt mused.