You're the One

by Angela Verdenius

  This time Ken shifted nervously. “What for? Told you I don’t know anything about the sheep.”

  “Then you won’t mind, will you?” Without waiting for a reply, Moz did a slow walk around the truck, studying the double trailer holding the sheep.

  The smell of sheep, faeces and urine was heavy in the air. Personally, he hated live transport but it was a part of life, no escaping it.

  It didn’t take long to find some dried blood that had seeped from the trailer to drip off the side. “Where’s the blood from?”

  From behind him, Ken shrugged. “No idea.”

  One of the truckies aimed a frown at Ken.

  “When are you unloading this truck?”

  “Right now.” The sale yard owner walked up. “What’s going on?”

  “Couple of sheep and some newborn lambs dumped back near Ellor’s Loop,” Moz replied.

  The owner looked at Ken.

  “Wasn’t me.”

  Moz pushed his sunglasses a little higher on his nose. “Your truck was seen along the same stretch of road.”

  “Doesn’t mean it was me.” Ken braced his hands on his hips. “Hundreds of trucks go along those roads. So someone pointed the finger at me, so what? Doesn’t mean a bloody thing.”

  Moz smiled slowly. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll just hang around, wait until the sheep are unloaded.”

  Ken’s jaw clenched.

  “Come on, Light.” The sale yard owner shifted impatiently. “I’ve got more trucks coming and buyers waiting. Empty your load and hurry up.”

  Dust filled the air, the stink of sheep. Another truck pulled in, air brakes sounding.

  A four wheel drive pulled up beside Moz’s ute as he leaned against it waiting for Ken to back his truck up to the unloading ramps.

  Moz nodded to Grant as the vet got out, slapping a Stetson against his leg before placing it languidly on his head. “Here to check the sheep?”

  “Yep.” Grant stretched. “You here to do a check?”

  “I’m here following a lead.”

  “Do tell.”

  “A couple of dead sheep and some newborn lambs found on the road. That truck getting ready to unload was seen not far away. Driver’s a little uneasy. Has blood on the back of his trailer he doesn’t know where from, surprisingly.”

  “Surprisingly,” Grant agreed dryly.

  “I’m wanting to have a little peeky-boo in his trailer.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I’m thinking you could have a peeky-boo with me.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You could have a peeky-boo at the sheep, too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You’re killing me with all this chatter.” Moz straightened. “Let’s go.”

  Moving across the sale yard, they stood near the railings to watch the sheep come down the ramp. Ken was definitely perturbed now.

  Grant pointed as one of the sheep stumbled past them, bleating loudly.

  “I see her.” Yeah, Moz could see her, all right. Drying blood and mucous down her back legs, glaring evidence. Goddamn it. So bloody cruel. There was no doubting she’d given birth recently.

  With the back of the trailer empty, he could see the bottom clearly. Blood and afterbirth from more than one sheep.

  Turning to Ken, he said coldly, “Let’s have a little chat about how many sheep you’re supposed to have, how many you actually have, and this farmer who loaded very pregnant ewes on this truck.”

  Ken swore.

  Moz pointed to his ute. “Park your truck and then step into my office. I’m wanting details.” Gotcha, you bastard.

  It wasn’t the end of the day. On his way home he got diverted to help untangle a young horse from fencing, sustaining a kick to his leg. Mild, true, but he’d have a bruise regardless. The rain started during this but the owners and Moz managed to get the horse untangled and into the horse float. By then he was soaked and sore.

  The storm hit before he got home, the late afternoon dark and gloomy. He was looking forward to a hot shower, dry clothes and a relaxing evening when he got a call from Phil to say that there was a bird tangled in fishing line hooked up on a fence near the river. Those who found it were waiting for him.

  That was a detour down to the river where he found an elderly couple sheltering in their caravan. The lady was tearful, the man anxious. Tugging on his rain coat, a plastic animal cage in his hand, he followed them along the walkway until they reached the fenced off area proclaiming the next farm. And there, drenched and looking almost defeated, was a magpie, one leg caught up in fishing line tangled on the fence.

  Covering the flapping bird with the tea towel the elderly lady handed him, Moz had the man hold the bird while he carefully cut the line from the fence. The fishing line was embedded in the magpie’s foot, nothing he could do here, so he placed the bird in the cage, thanked the couple and headed back to the ute.

  Grant wasn’t back from the sale yard yet but was on his way, so Moz phoned Tish, the vet nurse, gave her the heads up and met her at the clinic, handing her the cage.

  “You look like hell,” she said bluntly.

  “Not as bad as the magpie is feeling,” he replied.

  “I’ll take care of it. Grant won’t be long, about another ten minutes. I’ll get the bird warmed up, let it settle down a little meanwhile, and then we’ll get the fishing line off when he gets here.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Going home sounded like Heaven, but he made one last detour, pulling in at the office to get the report done on the sheep. By the time he finished it was going on seven thirty and he was tired and hungry.

  Pulling up in front of the house, he thought how welcoming it was. The outside light was on, a warm halo in the cool, wet night. Locking the ute, he trudged up onto the veranda, toeing off his muddy boots before putting the key in the door.

  As he entered the hallway he sniffed appreciatively.

  “Hey.” Del peered around the corner of the kitchen. “Man, you look like crap.”

  “Nice to see you, too, baby.” Walking up to her, he dropped a kiss on her lips before looking over her head. On the stove stood a big saucepan, the smell coming from it delicious. “Smells good.”

  “I’m not a fancy cook but I can make a mean stew.” Del studied him. “Go and have a hot shower, then flop in the lounge and put your feet up. I’ll bring you a tray.”

  Sounded Heavenly, but - “You don’t need to do that.”

  “I’m not often motherly, so take advantage of it while you can.”

  As she headed back to the stove, he admired her backside in the old jeans that clung to her shapely rear. “My thoughts about you aren’t exactly suited to a mother.”

  Grinning, she pointed towards the bathroom. “Shower. Now, sonny.”

  “Yes Ma’am.” With a salute, he headed off to the bathroom.

  Mozart met him halfway and proceeded to meow anxiously, matching him step for step. Moz was hard put not to stand on him, so the progress was a lot slower than normal as he took bigger steps over Mozart who was trying to wind around his ankles, talk and observe all at once. Finally, he simply scooped him up under one arm and carted him into the bedroom to collect clean clothes.

  Old trackie pants soft with age, a t-shirt and thick socks completed his less-than-sexy ensemble. There was no way Mozart was going to leave him alone, so Moz showered while Mozart gave him a running commentary of the day’s events. He just had to laugh when Mozart stuck his head around the shower curtain to squint his eyes and check that Moz was really still there. Apparently it had been a pretty exciting day.

  Finally finished, the smell of stew was floating down the passage, leading him unerringly into the lounge to find a tray on the coffee table containing a bowl of steaming stew, a plate of toast and a mug of hot tea.

  Del was curled up in the corner of the sofa watching the TV, a mug of tea in her hands, Missy a tiny ball of black fur on her lap. The rain was pattering on the roof, no chill in the air because
it was summer, and the room was cosy without being uncomfortable Definitely Heaven.

  “Sit, eat, relax,” she ordered.

  Not about to argue, he did as told, taking a sip of hot tea before tucking into the stew with a moan of appreciation. No lie, the woman could make a mean stew. “Del, you really need to give me this recipe. What did you put in it?” Glancing up, he found her watching him with interest. “What?”

  “I’ve never seen you with your hair loose.”

  “It needs to dry before bed.”

  “Huh. Do you want to use the hair dryer?”

  “Nah, she’s right. I draw the line at hair dryers.”

  “Too girly for you?” Amusement danced in her eyes.

  “Yep.”

  “Yet you have a ponytail.”

  “What’s your point?”

  Grinning, she stroked Missy. “No point at all. None at all. Forget I said anything.”

  “If you hurt my feelings, you have to kiss them better.”

  “Sorry.” Pursing her lips, she made kissy sounds.

  “That won’t cut it, baby. I mean real kisses.” He spooned in more stew. “After this, of course.”

  With an amused shake of her head, Del returned her attention back to the TV.

  No sooner had he finished eating than she whisked the tray away. “You stay here, I’ll quickly do the dishes.”

  “Del, I’m not here for you to wait on.” He started to push to his feet.

  “Moz, how many times have you cooked for me?”

  “I don’t keep count.”

  “So don’t keep count of this. Take advantage of my-for-once sweet nature and just rest. I’ve been lazy all afternoon, you’ve been working. Now sit back, enjoy the TV show and I’ll be back soon.”

  How long had it been since he’d actually done that? Been waited on, looked after? It felt nice. Really nice. He could get used to it very quickly.

  Leaning back on the sofa, he listened to the sounds drifting from the kitchen. Mozart lay on the back of the chair, rain pattered down, all so cosy. His eyes started to close. So tired. He’d just lie down and rest his eyes for a few minutes while waiting for Del to return.

  When he next opened his eyes, the room was dim, a small lamp burning. A light blanket was covering him, Mozart happily sprawled on his chest. Damn, the sofa was surprisingly comfortable, probably because it was such a large, sturdy piece with soft cushions.

  Lifting his head, he glanced around sleepily. Del had obviously gone to bed. Bugger, he’d been looking forward to spending the evening chatting with her.

  Holding on to Mozart, he sat up and stretched, still tired. Time for bed.

  Switching off the lamp, he made his way along the dark hallway, one hand running along the wall to count the doors between the lounge and his room. At the door leading to Del’s room, he paused. Her breathing was deep and even, a small sigh sounding before she again settled.

  He bet she was a warm, soft bundle when she slept. Sliding into bed and gathering her close was a forbidden delight. For now. He wouldn’t betray her trust by trying to talk her into anything she wasn’t ready for, but heck, nor was he going to lie to himself. Right now the thought of cuddling up to her back would be the perfect ending to a cosy evening.

  “Alas, Mozart, it’s not to be,” he whispered.

  Mozart’s ears twitched but he just continued to dangle in Moz’s arm.

  With a mental shake of his head, Moz continued to his room and slid into bed. Man, he loved this bed. Big, old, long, wide. Perfect. Rolling onto his side, he fell asleep within minutes, Mozart happily purring against his back.

  Several days slipped past pleasantly. They kissed, they cuddled, but Moz stopped short of anything that would lead to sex. He was determined that she’d initiate it. No forcing, no coercing. She’d made a decision and he was going to respect it.

  It was going to kill him, but he’d do it. No joke, he probably would have to shave his palms. The shower was becoming his prime hand job place to ease himself. Being around her, watching her, kissing but going no further, well hell, it was giving him a permanent semi-stiffy. Work kept him busy, the on-going investigation occupying his days, but nights spent with her so near, yet so far, were hard.

  But he’d do it. For her, for him, for them.

  God, he was dying.

  ~*~

  God, she was dying. Leaning against the shop counter, Del stared unseeingly at the clothes racks.

  One week. One week and Moz had done nothing more than kiss and cuddle her. The kisses got hot but he went no further. Cuddled her but didn’t go for the grope. When he was near she was eyeing him off. Discreetly. Damn, she wasn’t sure what to do. It had only been one week. She was confused. No, she was in heat.

  Plain and simple, she wanted sex. Was it too soon? After what she’d said, was it? Man, she needed someone to talk to, someone who would give it to her straight down the line and keep it a secret. Someone who understood her.

  Running out the door, she stuck her head into the newsagency. “Dee.”

  Her cousin looked up. “Yep?”

  “When you shut up shop, come over, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  “No Ryder. No one else.”

  “Okay.”

  “This is personal.”

  “Got it.”

  At a quarter to six, Dee walked in the back door. “What’s up?”

  “In here,” Del called from the little office.

  Entering, Dee went straight to the big chair and dropped into it. “Problem?”

  From her position at the window, Del turned to look at her cousin. “Big problem.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Moz is living with me.”

  “Not exactly a news flash.”

  “I mean, he’s been in my house for a week and there’s been no…you know.”

  “No, I don’t…you know.”

  This was surprisingly difficult.

  Dee studied her face. “Would it help if I turned my back to you?”

  “So I can’t see your face? No.”

  “Then I suggest you just lay it out for me.”

  “Cripes. I didn’t think it would be this hard. It’s so much easier to give advice to friends when it’s not me in question.”

  “What if I was on the other side of the door?”

  “What if I kick your arse?”

  “That’s the spirit. Now spit out whatever the problem is while you’ve got the attitude up.”

  “Fine. One week, no sex.”

  Dee stared at her for several long seconds before blinking slowly. “One week, no sex.”

  A little embarrassed, but in for a penny, in for a pound. “He hasn’t made the move.”

  “The move.”

  “Geez, do I need to spell it out?”

  “You may have to.”

  “I mean, he hasn’t groped, touched or been improper.”

  “Been improper.”

  “If you make a crack like Molly would in your place, I’ll hit you.”

  “You’re rather violent these days. Is it because you’re not getting a regular grease and oil change?”

  “I called you in here to help me, not make bad jokes.”

  “Hey, I’m being serious.” Dee raised her eyebrows. “You mean you and Moz haven’t had sex yet? So what?”

  “So what? Are you kidding me?”

  “Look, Del, you wanted to wait for ‘The One’.” Dee made quotation marks. “Maybe he isn’t ‘The One’.” More quotation marks. She paused. “Or is he ‘The One’?” A third gesture.

  “Keep doing that and you won’t be able to use those fingers for a long time to come.”

  “That’d make Ryder cry.”

  Del sighed, slumped back against the wall. “Look, Moz and I have done the deed.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  Del sure was. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Man’s had the hots for you for awhile. You’ve eyeballed him. You’ve been going ou
t, now you’re living together.”

  “Wait. We’re not living together.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. He’s your ‘boarder’.” More air quotes. “Lives in your house, has had sex with you. You’d make a really popular land lady. Does he pay extra for the sex? Or is that a special of the week?”

  That did sound funny. Some of the tension eased from Del, and she laughed. “You dirty cow.”

  “Hey, I’m just saying.” Leaning back in the chair, Dee rested her forearms on the armrests, her gaze keen. “What’s going on?”

  “In a nutshell, yes, he knows I wanted to wait. That was after our first time.”

  “I think that was a bit late to inform him.”

  Ignoring her, Del continued, “And then the second time was after he got mad at me.”

  “Angry sex. Heh heh.”

  Figured. Her cousin was married to Ryder. Her favourite hobby was to rile him up which then led to some obviously pretty hot sex and God knew what else. Del didn’t ask and Dee never told, but going by the sparkle in Dee’s eyes and the satisfied grin Ryder sported often from ear to ear, it was very bloody satisfying.

  “Your weird sex life aside, what am I going to do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want sex, damn it!” Oops, maybe a little too forceful. “Um, I want sex?”

  “I’d go with the first one,” Dee drawled.

  “Huh?”

  “Go up to him and tell him you want sex.”

  “Think that’d work? Isn’t it a bit too, you know, forward?”

  “Ryder likes it.”

  “Ryder’s a freak.”

  “Can’t argue there, babe.” Dee winked then sobered. “Look, I can see where you’re coming from. You’re attracted to Moz, he’s attracted to you, you’re going out together. You’re both living in the same house. Seeing each other all the time, the kissing and canoodling without any hanky-panky is rough. To tell you the truth, I thought you two were already going at it like demented bunnies since you got together.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I knew you wanted to wait for…you know.”

  “The One?” Del asked dryly.

  “Yeah. So he’s The One.”

  “He is?”

  “Geez, Del, pull your head out of your arse, girl. All this time you’ve gone out with blokes and never wanted sex with any of them. You’re waiting for one special man, and that’s fine. Then along comes Moz and before you know it you’ve shagged twice and want more. So maybe he’s The One. Actually,” Dee tapped the table, “I’d say he is that special man.”