An Endless Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  Without thinking I reached out and traced my finger along the faint pink scar. “What happened?”

  Sean didn’t move his leg; he was frozen, watching me trace the line down and then up again slowly over the puckered flesh. He swallowed deeply and opened his mouth to speak but must have changed his mind again. Just as I thought he was about to say something, we were interrupted by the beeping of the dryer. He snapped out of his daze and I drew my hand away.

  He walked over to the dryer. “It’s over,” he said, still serious.

  “What, your footy career or the load?” I teased, in an attempt to lighten the mood.

  Sean turned his back to me and wrenched open the dryer, gathering up the clean clothes.

  “Both,” he said and slammed the door shut.

  Wow. Note to self: don’t mention footy.

  Sean handed me the warm pile of clothes and I placed it on the bench. I grabbed my T-shirt first to flick it out before the creases set in.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  “What?” Sean frowned.

  I held the T-shirt against my body. It was now only big enough to fit a five-year-old. I quickly grabbed for my shorts and they, too, were a shrunken shadow of their former selves.

  “What happened?” Sean laughed.

  “What does it look like? They’ve shrunk!” I cried in dismay, holding up the pieces of fabric in horror.

  I had been so impatient, so distracted I hadn’t even thought about it. I flicked out the tag to read the words out loud: “Do not tumble dry.”

  I banged my forehead on the overhead cupboard once, twice, three times.

  “So, no MacLean’s Beach, then?” Sean said, trying not to smile.

  “Definitely not.”

  “Do you think you could make up an excuse for me and just take me home?” I pouted.

  “I didn’t have any grand illusions you would actually be out there waterskiing with the masses, Amy.”

  “I know, I just thought I could make an appearance.”

  “You still could.” Sean smiled, letting his eyes roam over my attire. “You look pretty good to me.”

  Against my better judgment, I smiled back. “Yeah, I’m sure all the people at the boat ramp are going to think so, too.” I cringed at the very thought of trying to make my way from the jetty back to the hotel in Sean’s massive, baggy T-shirt.

  “Relax, I’ll drive you back.” Sean moved towards the door.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  He stopped in the hall, turning back to face me. “What’s in it for me, though?”

  I paused. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you know all about fair trade and all, and this is a favour, so you kind of owe me one in return.” His eyes twinkled deviously.

  I swallowed, trying not to lose my cool as I eyeballed him directly. “Well, what do you want?”

  His lips twitched into a small, crooked curve. He looked up to the ceiling, deep in thought. “Hmm,” he said, “what do I want?”

  My heart beat faster as he dragged the moment out. He finally ended the torture and exposed his brilliant line of white teeth with a wink.

  “I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Mercifully only Chris and Max were around when Sean dropped me off. But still, I didn’t want them seeing me, either, especially not Chris.

  “Just pull in around the back,” I said, my eyes darting across the car park.

  Sean grinned from ear to ear as he watched me fidget nervously in my seat.

  “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.” I glowered at him.

  “What was that? Drop you off out the front?”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  It was my only hope that no one was loitering in the beer garden or still finishing up some tasks left over from the working bee. I had devised a clear-cut, meticulous plan for Sean to drop me off by the back entrance so I could cut through the beer garden and scarper through the back entrance and up the back staircase and be fully dressed again with no one the wiser. I prayed the door had been left unlocked. God, please let it be open.

  Sean turned the ute to the right to sweep around the back and he slowly pulled to a stop under a big towering gum that shielded us from the blistering sun.

  He killed the engine but kept his arm casually slung over the wheel, his eyes trailing over my attire with an air of amusement.

  I folded my arms and tilted my head, combatting his amusement with a dirty look.

  He snickered and shook his head. “It always seems that every time I bring you home you’re missing some article of clothing. Shoes. Shorts. Shirt. Seems to be a pattern with you.”

  “Only around you it is,” I said.

  “I can’t help it if you can’t keep your clothes on around me,” he teased.

  “Oh, ha ha!” I said sarcastically. “So Tammy Maskala went home unscathed, then?”

  Sean’s eyes narrowed, all humour disappearing from his face. “What’s with all the Tammy questions?”

  “Nothing; just seemed like you two hit it off last night.” I looked back out of the window, suddenly finding the roof line fascinating.

  “Well, we played pool,” he said.

  “Really badly,” I threw in.

  “Really badly.” He nodded. “And then I went home. I had to give a bloke a quote this morning and fix up some roof flashing that moved in that storm we had a few weeks ago … but why am I explaining all this to you?” he said in frustration.

  An awkward silence filled the cabin. I could see in my peripheral vision Sean staring at me as I looked down into my lap. Why was I asking these questions? Why did I always shoot him a sarcastic jab about all the girls he would be rendezvousing with, or who he chose to invite into his house? It wasn’t exactly like he cared if Stan had walked me to my bedroom or anything – he hadn’t asked, so he obviously didn’t care.

  I breathed in a sigh of relief, grateful that Tammy hadn’t talked me into anything as ridiculous as telling Sean how I felt. Not that I knew exactly how I felt. I knew I didn’t like Sean looking or speaking to Tammy, and anytime he got close to her I could feel my blood boiling under the surface. Tammy had obviously suspected something in the five minutes she had been on the scene, and Adam made no secret in taunting me any chance he had. Chris and Mum certainly didn’t approve of us hanging out.

  “Why do you care what I do, Amy?” Sean asked seriously. It was so direct, so unexpected. He wasn’t playing games, he was calling my bluff.

  My face flamed and I wished the ground would open up so I didn’t have to answer him. Maybe I really was that spoilt, immature little girl who used to loiter on the stairs and eavesdrop on everyone’s private business. Maybe I was just a busybody by nature and that’s why I had to know.

  But I knew that was a lie. Above all, I did want to know about Sean and what he was doing and who he was with. I held my breath every night hearing the front door of the bar open and secretly hoped he would walk in. In the beginning he had annoyed me, infuriated me to the point where I wanted nothing more than to get away from him. But I never really did. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was desperately addicted to Sean Murphy and I didn’t know how to process that revelation.

  The one thing I would do for myself now to stop from feeling so exposed was to lie through the skin of my teeth.

  I met his eyes, unblinking. I replied in all seriousness, “I don’t care what you do.” Of all the lies I had been telling of late, that was the biggest one of all.

  I thought he might have said, “Good!” Or at least nodded his head, or sagged in relief at my admission, but his stone-like expression never changed; he didn’t even so much as blink as he looked at me.

  Instead, he reached out, gathering a fist full of fabric of the black, baggy T, and pulled on it.

  “Come here,” he said, low and demanding. I sat frozen, my mouth dry as my eyes flicked to his hand and then back up to his face. I swallowed deeply.

 
My mind was fuzzy, desperate to work but it couldn’t. When I made no move, didn’t pull away in my moment of confusion, I felt the fabric of my top pull tighter. Sean slid closer, pulling me to him as he leaned forward. Removing his hand from the wheel he cupped the back of my neck and covered my mouth with his. I exhaled a long lingering breath as I melted against his body, the slack of my shirt loosening as I slid closer into him. I grabbed the fabric of his shirt in my fist and drew him closer. His tongue teased ever so gently inside my mouth, giving it to me but not his all; it was as if he was dancing, a promise of things yet to come. He let go of my shirt and slid his hand around my waist along my back, causing a tingly sensation across my skin as I knew I wore nothing more than his silky, baggy footy shirt and my knickers.

  It was an insanely erotic thought that I felt so exposed to him and yet so utterly shielded under the dark canopy of the gum tree. A moan escaped my lips as his tongue finally pushed deeper into my mouth. I felt him smile against my lips, pleased with my response. Just as I pushed myself into him, silently pleading for more, he slowly drew away. His eyes burned into mine before they fell to my mouth, watching my shallow breaths escape past my kiss-swollen lips. His own breath laboured and I almost felt that I could die and go to heaven when his tongue ran across his lower lip as if savouring the taste of me.

  “Now tell me you don’t care,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

  I straightened in the passenger seat, looking directly into his smug, brilliant blue eyes. “I don’t,” I said, none too convincingly.

  Sean leaned back against his seat, laughter escaping him as he shook his head at me.

  “Typical pig-headed, stubborn Henderson,” he said.

  My mouth gaped. “That will be the last time you insult my family name, Sean Murphy.”

  “Or what?” He quirked a brow.

  I smiled wickedly and leaned forward. “Or I’ll bar you from the pub.”

  He shook his head. “You wouldn’t do that.”

  I mirrored him with the curve of my brow. “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

  He reached out and slowly ran his thumb over the seam of my lips. “Life would be dull without me.”

  I fought not to bite my lip at the hypnotic feel of his thumb gently caressing my lips. I had to blink to focus. “No, it wouldn’t,” I whispered, my chest rising in small, shallow breaths.

  Sean looked pleased with himself, working me like I was putty in his hands. “Fair enough. Run back to your tower, little Amy Henderson. I won’t bother you tonight.”

  “Aren’t you coming for lunch?” I said all too quickly, disappointment spiking through me.

  He shook his head. “I have a job.”

  “But we’re testing out the new menu,” I said incredulously.

  “It’s for a mate. You know what they say,” he started up the engine with a boyish grin, “no rest for the wicked.”

  I truly believed that, because as far as wicked was concerned Sean was the President, Vice President and Treasurer of Wicked, and that was based solely on his lip service. My heart raced at the memory of his tongue in my mouth.

  “Well, what about tonight?” I tried to opt for casual, but I could hear myself, how I sounded. I knew I was coming across just like all the other needy girls. Maybe I had been too harsh to judge all the girls that pawed over Sean; maybe they had been kissed by him and needed a hit like it was their drug of choice. I had actually felt pity for them, but more so for myself. What had I become?

  “The boys are coming over tonight for a few beers; do you want to come?” My heart spiked at the invitation. I fought not to leap and shout a resounding, ‘Hell, yes!’

  “I’m working tonight, but if it doesn’t get too late I might come out.” I shrugged.

  “All right.” He smirked and put the ute in gear. “You better go before someone sees you and assumes you’re an Onslow Tiger supporter.”

  “Heaven forbid.” I laughed and slid out of the ute and slammed the door closed.

  Sean shook his head in dismay. “Such a traitor.”

  I stepped backwards, lost in the moment of watching him back out and turn the wheel. He locked eyes with me and saluted before he pulled around and headed back to the front and down Coronary Hill. I gave a small wave and watched the dust cloud settle and listened to the sound of his engine fade off into the distance. I stood there for the longest time, trying to unravel what exactly had just happened, before I edged my way through the gate into the beer garden. I touched my lips in deep thought, smiling. I had kissed Sean Murphy, or, more to the point, he had kissed me.

  He. Kissed. Me. Holy crap!!

  I laughed to myself before swinging around the bottom staircase and quickstepping up the stairs, giddy and happy at the unexpectedness of the day’s events. I didn’t know, however, just how unexpected they would become as I stopped still at the sound of my name.

  “Hold it right there, Amy Henderson!”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Any feeling of stomach-tingling excitement over what had gone on only a mere moment before was ripped out from under me with such gut-wrenching force, I thought I must have misheard, or maybe I had dreamed it? But as I slowly turned to gaze down at the bottom of the stairs, the reality hit me like a ton of bricks.

  “Mum?”

  There she stood, her arms crossed and shooting icicles with her cool, blue eyes.

  I hesitantly descended the stairs. “What are you doing here?”

  Her hard gaze trailed over my attire. Of all the people in the world to catch me like this, my mother had to be the worst. I would have sooner run into Chris or the entire Onslow Tigers footy team.

  “You’re early.” I smiled weakly. “By a whole week.”

  “We thought we would surprise you,” Mum said coolly, her perfectly manicured brow arching.

  Well, it had worked – surprise! As in nearly giving me cardiac arrest surprise. Normally by now my mum would be flinging her arms around me, her gold bangles jingling with every movement as I was suffocated by the hovering cloud of her expensive French perfume. But she hadn’t budged, she just stared me down.

  My heart pounded; surely she hadn’t seen me in the car with Sean? I discreetly flicked my eyes out towards the entrance and breathed a small sigh of relief. You couldn’t see beyond the thick canopy of ivy, even from my vantage point on the stairs. I inwardly thanked Dad’s mates for not being too heavy-handed with the trimming at the working bee.

  “Where’s Dad?” I lifted my voice, aiming for light and breezy, hoping that if I didn’t play into my mum’s mood, or acknowledge my state of dress, it would cease to be an issue. No such luck.

  “He’s inside, talking to Chris and the apparent new staff member that was put on without our knowledge.”

  Crap!

  He was already in there, talking – there was no chance to corroborate any story with Chris or Adam or anyone.

  The jig was up.

  “Um, look, I better get ready, there’s a booking for lunch that I’m a part of.”

  “As in your friends? Chris mentioned it.”

  “Um, yeah, it’s a kind of a get-together.” I wanted to say as a private celebratory drink for all the hard work we’d put in, but I didn’t want to say anything until I had spoken to Dad.

  “Well, I wouldn’t bother, I told Chris to cancel it. Your father and I want to settle in. You can catch up with your friends another time.”

  “They wouldn’t be in anyone’s way,” I said. “You had no right to—”

  “For God’s sake, Amy, this is not a holiday camp, and although it seems that you have been treating it as such, it is still a place of business.”

  My mouth gaped open. She had cancelled my lunch plans so she could preciously kick back in their apartment? An apartment that would be uninhabitable if I hadn’t have scrubbed and cleaned and washed and repaired it. The very fact that she had accused me and my friends of leeching off the Onslow made my eyes burn with such anger that I clenched my fists and met her stare d
ead on.

  “Are you kidding me? You don’t know anything,” I bit out.

  Mum’s brows rose in surprise before creasing back into a hard line.

  “What I do know is you better make yourself decent and change out of Sean Murphy’s top before your father sees you.”

  For a moment I thought she was telepathic and then I inwardly cringed at the memory that ‘Murphy’ was plastered across my back with the number nine, Sean’s old footy number. I might as well have had a bright fluoro arrow pointing to me, flashing ‘SEAN’.

  My mum shook her head. “Honestly, Amy, I am so disappointed in you.” And with that. she unfolded her arms and walked away, leaving me on the stairs feeling like I was that sixteen-year-old girl getting banished all over again.

  ***

  There was no way I could perform damage control on my own. Adam was out with everyone at MacLean’s still, poor Chris was probably getting drilled by Mum and Dad downstairs, and they were no doubt humiliating me in front of him. I could just imagine it now.

  “I should have known better; she has done nothing but lounge around since she deferred uni.”

  “Sleep all day, party all night; it’s time she got her life together.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed, breathing deeply. There was nothing for it: I had to face the music and if it meant telling them a few home truths, then so be it. I had done all I had to protect Dad. I had fought to save the Onslow – it looked a billion times better than it had when I’d arrived, and business was slowly picking up again.

  But if they could only see what they wanted to see, that I was frivolous and irresponsible and off gallivanting with boys rather than working in the pub, well, I couldn’t help that. Mum had come in with dagger eyes for her huge disappointment of a daughter; but what I really needed was to talk to Dad, and alone. I didn’t hold out much hope as I changed into some cutoff jeans and a singlet top, scooping my hair up into a high ponytail. My concentration faltered as I heard a knock on my bedroom door. At first I half expected Chris’s grim face to peek through the crack as he unleashed how much trouble we were in, so when I saw my dad stick his head in the door, I let my arms fall slowly from adjusting my hair as I warily watched him step into my room.