by Meg Buchanan
He’d grown to like her more each time he went in there, so he’d started to buy lunch every day. He’d resisted temptation all summer and then one thing led to another and here he was.
“You should have answered that. You might miss out on a job.”
“No, I don’t want to talk work yet.” He slid his hand under the night dress. “Are you working today?”
She shook her head watching him, and then her mouth formed an O shape as his hand slid between her thighs. Her body responded to the touch instantly. But he’d take his time and make love to her properly.
He slid his hand up over her stomach, taking the nightgown up over her head. He dropped it on the floor and pushed the sheet down so he could see the perfection of her. Rose was unhappy about her body. She even wore those French knickers that came right to her waist. All smooth silk and fine lace, like an old-time film star. She looked sexy in them, but she never quite believed him when he told her that.
Rose’s hand moved to hold onto the sheet, but he stopped her. “That’s better,” he said. “I love your body.” His hand followed the curves and hollows of the perfect contours. He didn’t quite have the harem Isaac had hinted at. Two girls didn’t a harem make, but he had the best of both worlds.
Those amazing eyes watched his face shyly, then she reached for him to pull him closer.
He moved enough so he could love her with his hands, lips and tongue, using all his skills to give her pleasure. He’d never be able to play the games with her that he played with Tessa. But she did like this. Rose didn’t talk all the way through sex the way Tessa did either. Instead it was intense and gentle, her fingers raking through his hair, the quick feather light touches on his shoulder that told him when she was close to her climax.
He liked the shyness and hesitance. He liked the feeling he was initiating Rose into this world and the tender way she made love. The slow build -up, the sweet kisses and touches, her body moving with his until they climaxed together. She never tried to be sexy or erotic. It always felt like she was making love to him.
Watching his face, Rose tentatively stroked Luke’s chest, running her palm over the smooth curves before drifting down to his flat belly. She loved how touching him this way made him draw in a breath.
He kissed her then bent his head and nuzzled her breasts. He slowly moved his mouth lower and kissed his way down the front of her curving over her like a question mark.
She sighed enjoying sensations of hands and lips and tongue on her skin and the anticipation.
He knelt up, nudging her legs apart with his knees.
“Luke…” She arched as his tongue swept over hip one then across to the other.
“Luke, what?” he murmured.
“Make love to me.” She’d waited for him all weekend anticipating this, but last night he’d got home so late she was already asleep.
“I am making love to you,” he murmured and moved his mouth right past where she wanted it to be. Down her thighs to her ankles. His tongue circled the small bones there and then her instep. She gasped. Who would have guessed that was an erogenous zone?
She watched him look up at her like she was a banquet laid out just for him and he smiled that crooked sexy smile he had then held her foot against his chest and ran his fingertips along her leg in feather light strokes.
He leaned forward his hand beside her hips and kissed her again.
“Luke,” she breathed and stroked his hair,
“Shh,” he said, his breath against her skin. “I want to taste you.” He moved south again. His shoulders nudged her legs farther apart and his fingers slid into the dampness between and then his tongue. Her hips lifted in response.
She closed her eyes as the waves of sensation rolled over her. His lips and fingers sucked and caressed. The waves ebbed and flowed until they broke, and then he stayed with her stroking and tasting until she came back to him.
“Good?” he asked when she opened her eyes again.
She smiled and nodded. He stretched out beside her and slowly ran his hand over the curve of her stomach and breasts like this morning would only be about her pleasure. She loved him so much. Everything about him was perfect. The way he looked. The way he made love.
Rose let her hands roam over his back, then his chest, and down.
“I miss you when you’re away.” she said. She stroked him gently.
“Me too,” he rolled over her. Rose raised her hips to guide him and he entered her slowly. Her legs hugged his hips, and her hands gripped his shoulders.
She went with him, riding the sensations and the feel of his body on her and inside her.
Then he collapsed onto her breathing hard and throbbing.
Rose combed her fingers through his hair. She felt loved and cherished. She pressed soft kisses against his damp forehead.
“I love you so much, Luke,” she whispered. She tightened her arms around him. If it was possible she’d never let him go.
“Me too,” he said.
Me too. That’s what he’d always said. One day he’d say he loved her because that’s what he meant. She could tell from the way he touched her. Of course, he loved her.
They lay quietly in the each other’s arms feeling that afterglow. He still felt guilty every time she said she loved him, and he responded with ‘me too’.
At first, he’d tried to justify it to himself. He had never said he loved her. But in the end, he had to admit he was being a complete arse to both Rose and Tessa whatever he said or didn’t say.
He heard the phone ding. Tessa had a left a message this time. He’d check it in a moment. The call had better not be about Dominic losing the files and not sending him the photos.
Rose slid out of bed. “You’ll have to go to work soon. I’ll make you breakfast while you have a shower.” She found her nightgown on the floor, wiggled into it, and it tumbled down over her body. She was so shy. It was funny. He’d told her her body was spectacular, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. She thought she was fat. “I’ve washed your work clothes. They’re in the drawer.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t ask what she’d make for breakfast. It was always the same. Bacon and eggs. She knew what he liked.
As soon as he heard her filling the kettle with water in the kitchen, he checked Tess’s message. Dominic had sent the photos. He checked his emails. A message from Dominic. ‘I think you’ll be pleased with these.’ With an attachment.
He’d open them and have a look later. He probably should try to get to get to work on time this morning.
Chapter Eight
“What did you have to sort out before you came home last night?” Rose gingerly removed the toast from the toaster just using fore-fingers and thumbs and put the pieces on the plates on the bench beside the stove.
“Isaac changed some of the music, and he wanted a practice with us all together,” he lied.
She looked over at him, the long dark lashes framing her eyes. He loved her lashes almost as much as he loved her eyes. She seemed have more eyelashes than other people.
She nodded, accepting the lie.
He liked this routine. On Mondays and Tuesdays, she slept in with him and she let Jilly open the café and supervise baking the muffins and slices they served for morning tea.
Steam billowed out of the pot on the hotplate. Two days a week they could have breakfast together instead of Rose sliding out of bed at five in the morning, trying not to wake him, so she could open her café.
Luke watched Rose with her dark hair, and small curvy body, break two eggs into the boiling water. She had the bacon sizzling away in the frying pan.
Why couldn’t he have both girls?
Because they’re nice, and you have to lie constantly so they don’t get hurt, his brain answered.
Bloody brain with a conscience.
“Are you working in the weekend again?” he asked.
She nodded as she gently stirred the water so the egg whites wouldn’t spread. He’d tried the
stirring technique. It didn’t work for him “We’re catering a birthday party Saturday afternoon and a christening on Sunday.”
“So, you won’t miss me?”
She left the eggs to look after themselves for a moment, came over, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I always miss you. I wish I could come and see you perform with Stadium.”
That was a scenario to be avoided at all costs. He felt a little guilty at how well Rose’s catering work fitted in with his need to make sure she never came over to Hamilton in the weekends to watch the band play.
“But you get to have me the rest of the time.”
“I do.” She pecked his cheek, went back to the eggs, lifted them out of the water one at a time with the slotted spoon and placed them in the centre of the toast, the whites completely encasing the yolks. She did everything the way she made love, gently and carefully.
And she definitely wouldn’t pitch the egg shells across the kitchen in the hope they’d land in the bin the way he’d seen Tessa do. This morning the shells went in the little covered tin Rose kept for composting.
“What time will you be home this afternoon?” Rose brought the plates of eggs, bacon and toast over to the table.
“I’m not sure. It depends what Dad’s got planned for today.” He checked the time on his phone. He had quarter of an hour to eat breakfast before he had to leave and get to work. His father didn’t cut him any slack about getting to work on time after a big weekend.
Maybe the sex earlier hadn’t been that good an idea.
But something about the way Rose moved and felt and smelled and tasted, making love to her always seemed right.
He got to the joinery factory just as Isaac pulled his ute into the carpark. Eight o’clock. They were both just on time. Isaac probably slept in the after the weekend they’d had too. Besides, once he got home he still had a couple of hours work to do on the tracks they’d chosen, and he had to burn them to a CD or stick them on a flash drive.
“Did you get it done?” he asked as Isaac got out of the ute and locked it.
Isaac nodded. “The tracks are pretty good. I didn’t rerecord anything. Just cleaned up any background noise.” He handed over the plastic case. He’d gone for the CD. “You might want to make a cover for the case if you’ve got those pictures.
“I don’t know if I’ll go that far.” He stashed the CD in his car then checked his phone for the photo files. He didn’t know how they’d come out. Pictures taken in the middle of the day in an empty pub, didn’t seem promising. But that one shot of Noah that Dominic had let him see looked pretty good.
“Want to look at them now?” he asked.
Isaac nodded.
Luke heard the point-to-point machine fire up. Someone had started work. His father was going to wonder what the hell they were doing in the carpark when they were meant to be working too.
He flicked the file open. Out of the millions of shots Dominic had taken, it looked like he’d sent him about thirty.
The headshots came up first. He flicked through them.
“I didn’t know I still looked like that,” commented Isaac.
“The makeup’s a bit subtler than what you used to do.” Luke scrolled through the rest of the pictures. He had to admit Tessa was right. The makeup made a difference. They all looked good. These were better than any selfie he’d ever seen.
He flicked through the silly ones. Didn’t know how they got talked into leaping off tables. But the ones taken up on the stage in the pub looked good. They had a starkness about them. Dominic must have fiddled about with them after he got home. They seemed to be darker than he remembered the stage being and might even have had a sepia overlay.
He rubbed his nose. Fine sawdust hovered in the air. The hopper must need to be cleaned out. He’d get someone to do that later. Another day, another kitchen. At least he hardly ever got stuck doing the assembly now. His father had him on building work most of the time.
They wandered towards the office door, still flicking through the photos on the phone.
“What do you think?” he asked Isaac.
“They look good. I’d give us the gig.”
When they were nearly at the covered porch in front of the office, Luke suddenly stopped walking.
Fuck, Dominic had been right.
He handed Isaac the phone with the picture of Noah on stage playing the violin.
“Check this one out.” It was even better than it had looked on the viewfinder. A work of art. In the background he could see Cole and drums, a bit of him and Luke in the foreground, but Noah took up most of the shot now. Dominic must have cropped it a bit. The hat, Noah’s paleness, the coat and the shadows, all came together to make something beautiful.
Maybe there’d be a CD cover after all.
Isaac exhaled slowly. “Not bad. Tessa’s mate did know what he was doing.”
Tessa’s mate? He glanced at Isaac, but it didn’t look like he was implying anything.
“Have you told Jess about Chapman’s offer?” he asked.
Isaac shrugged. “Not yet. I thought I’d wait until you had something concrete. What about you?” He nodded at the office where the old man and old lady had to be.
“Not yet. And keep it quiet until we know for sure.”
Isaac nodded. Luke saw his father come out the factory door.
“Are you two coming to work, or are you going to spend all day out here playing with your phones?”
Luke put the phone into his pocket. That was his old man. Hadn’t seen him for three days, and the first thing he does is bitch at him.
Bit by bit his parents were stepping back and letting him take over. On Monday mornings the old man was all business, but by Monday afternoon golf or fishing tended to be high on the list of priorities.
He and Isaac both only had a few months of their apprenticeships left to go. What would happen there if they quit now? They wouldn’t get their trade qualifications.
He could live with that.
But leaving the old man in the lurch?” His father barely went onto the factory floor anymore. He just did the quoting and the ordering. His mother answered the phone and did the accounts but seemed to be working part time too. If he did leave, and maybe Isaac too, his parents were in for a rude awakening.
“Keep your hair on, old man. We’re looking at pictures of that stairway Joe and Steve installed last week.” They could have been discussing the staircase. Except they’d talked about what needed to be done on the way over to Hamilton on Friday night. They’d decided the owner was right, the gap between the stringer and the wall was too wide.
The minute he stepped through the door into the factory office, the work took over.
His mother was sitting at the computer.
“Hey Mum.” He pecked her on the cheek. It looked like she’d started the monthly accounts.
“Did you have a nice weekend, dear,” she asked.
“Brilliant,” he said. Neither of his parents bothered to ask him where he spent the night anymore. They went for the head in the sand, ostrich approach. They’d never liked Tessa with her short skirts and dodgy mother anyway. Tessa had tried to be classier by changing her name from Theresa. But it hadn’t made any difference to them. Maybe they were hoping he’d grown out of her the way they hoped he’d grow out of wanting to sing with a band.
His mum nodded at the clip file beside her. “I’ll need to run through these time sheets with you, Luke. Some of the jobs have gone over, and you’ll need to tell me what can be charged out.”
“I’ll do that when I’ve checked what Steve wants me to do.” He still had to at least pretend Steve was the foreman.
His mother nodded. “Okay.” And went back to whatever she’d been working with on the computer. It looked like a spreadsheet planning next month’s work. He’d need to check that over to see what the old man had scheduled in. Sometimes he forgot to allow time for rework. Like it never happened when he was in charge.
“What h
ave we got on today?” he asked his father. He followed Isaac and his father out onto the factory floor. Everyone was busy, doing what they should have been. The Thursday meetings were working. Everyone generally knew what they were doing most of the time now.
“What did you decide about the Leaches’ staircase?” his old man asked.
“Someone is going to have to go and reinstall it. That’ll be the only way to make it look right.”
His father shook his head and made irritated noises. “How long will it take?”
“Two men a good day.” And it’d be work they couldn’t charge out. “Isaac thought he and Reg could do it.” If he was really in charge, he’d get rid of Joe and Steve, or treat them as process workers until they left of their own accord. Tradesmen should be able to install a bloody staircase correctly. Two straight walls, two straight stringers and a landing. How could you go wrong?
“Okay,” said his father. “When?”
“Tomorrow?”
His father nodded. “That would work. McLean rang on Sunday. He wants to meet you on site tomorrow morning.”
“McLean?”
“You and Isaac talked to him Friday afternoon.”
“Him?” No wonder the name sounded familiar. So, he was heading for Auckland tomorrow anyway. He’d combine the meeting with McLean and talking to Oliver Chapman. No point in shutting any doors yet.
“Does he want to talk to Isaac too?” Then they could both go and see Chapman.
But his father shook his head. “McLean said there’s no need to finalise the joinery yet. He just wants to discuss the scope of the building work at this stage. Have another look at the plans before you go. Make sure you’re still familiar with them, so you can talk about them. It was a couple of months ago you helped with quoting the job.”
“I can do that.” He wasn’t likely to have forgotten anything about the plans he’d spent weeks poring over and analysing in detail. But he might still have another look. Then tomorrow morning he’d get Reg and Isaac set up to do the staircase, then make his escape.
