Something to Talk About (Rose Hill, #2)

by Rachael Johns

  When nobody came forward, Chloe officially announced the meeting closed and Beth went to put the kettle on. No one ever missed an opportunity for a bit of a chat and although Tab usually hung around for a cuppa, tonight she was out of there so fast she could have given Cathy Freeman a run for her money.

  ‘Where are you off to in such a rush?’ Adeline called.

  ‘To bed. I’m stuffed.’

  That wasn’t a lie—she was heading for bed, just not her own, at least not straightaway. There was a spring in her step as she walked to her van and a massive grin on her face as she climbed into the driver’s seat. Hopefully everyone was too busy nattering to notice that when she drove out of the town hall car park, she didn’t turn in the direction of Rose Hill.

  ‘Finally,’ Ferg exclaimed as he heard the sound of Tab’s van on the gravel. It felt like hours since he’d finished school and since then he’d been counting down the minutes until their tryst. With a grin, he pushed up from the couch where he’d been watching some stupid reality show, switched off the TV and went to greet her.

  ‘What time do you call this?’ He pretended to be cross, tapping his finger on his watch as she jogged up the few steps onto the porch, her hair swishing about.

  ‘I got away as quick as I could,’ she said breathlessly.

  ‘Well, you’re here now, that’s what matters.’ With these words, he pulled her inside. Their mouths sought each other even before the door had banged shut behind him and his hands grasped at her clothes as they feasted on each other.

  A little voice in his head told him he should pause and ask her how her day was, maybe offer her a drink or something to eat, but his physical urges were far stronger than the voice of reason. And if the way her hand snuck under his shirt and slid over his skin was anything to go by, she didn’t give a damn about niceties either.

  ‘Man, you taste so good,’ he whispered, breaking their kiss so he could whip her T-shirt over her head.

  ‘You don’t taste so bad yourself,’ she replied as she moved her hand lower.

  He sucked in a breath as she slipped her fingers past the waistband of his jeans and felt how hard he was for her. She smiled against his mouth. He’d never been so hot for anyone and he kept waiting for their chemistry to fade, but so far there was no sign of that happening. If anything, the more he had her, the more he wanted, but he pushed that thought aside, not willing to give it the attention it probably deserved and ruin the moment.

  Right now, the moment was all that mattered. He reached around and unhooked her black bra, replacing the material with his bare hands. Her breasts fit so perfectly in his palms, her skin so soft, her nipples so hard. She groaned at his touch and it was the most magical sound in the world.

  ‘Shall we take this to the bedroom?’ He barely managed to get the words out as he gazed down at her perfect breasts.

  ‘What’s wrong with right here?’

  He chuckled—‘What indeed?’—and then made quick work of removing the rest of Tab’s clothing. When she was beautifully naked in front of him, he shucked his own jeans and jocks so there was only his T-shirt between them. She yanked it off over his head just before they fell onto the carpet, then she climbed on top of him and he thrust up into her.

  Magic. It was like when they came together they went somewhere else entirely. He couldn’t think. He didn’t want to. He only wanted to feel. And the feelings just got better and better every time.

  A few minutes later, when his breathing had almost returned to normal, the little voice returned and somehow he found the wherewithal to speak. ‘Are you hungry?’

  Tab smiled at him. ‘Not as much as I was when I got here.’ Then she kissed his bare skin just below the shoulder.

  He chuckled. ‘That’s not what I meant. Have you had dinner?’

  ‘I had a cookie at the meeting.’

  He frowned. ‘That’s not enough.’ Especially in her condition, added that pesky little voice. It was easy to forget when they were in the throes of passion that Tabitha was pregnant. But he shouldn’t forget. That information was exactly what he needed to keep the boundaries between them.

  She hit him with a look. ‘We make big cookies in the country, you know, but if you’ve got something else on offer, you might be able to twist my arm.’

  ‘How about I make you an omelette?’

  ‘Is that all you’ve got the ingredients for?’ Tab tsked. ‘Do I have to restock your fridge again?’

  ‘To be fair, I haven’t had that much time to shop.’ During the days he was at school and lately most nights belonged to her. Not that he was complaining. Time down here was going much quicker now he had her keeping him busy. ‘But I promise you, it’ll be the best omelette you’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘Is that right? How can I resist then?’

  ‘You sit.’ He pointed to the 1970s era bar stools on one side of the bench as they entered the kitchen. ‘Tonight it’s my turn to wow you with my culinary skills.’

  ‘I can hardly wait.’ Tab settled onto one of the stools as he started to get the eggs, cheese and bacon out of the fridge.

  He poured her a juice. ‘How was the meeting tonight? Things must be ramping up now the show’s so close.’

  She nodded and filled him in on what they’d discussed.

  ‘I can’t believe all that goes into the organisation of a small country show,’ he said as he poured the egg mixture into the hot pan.

  ‘The show is our biggest day of the year and this is our hundred-year anniversary, so it was always going to be huge, but now that Ryder’s singing it’s become mammoth.’ She barely batted an eyelid as she mentioned her ex-boyfriend and, not wanting to upset her, he decided not to ask her how she was feeling about him.

  ‘Shall we eat these in the lounge room or out on the back verandah?’ he asked, as he slid two pretty good-looking omelettes, even if he did say so himself, onto two plates.

  ‘Let’s go outside,’ she said, picking up her glass. ‘It’s a beautiful night.’

  As they sat out on the porch in two ancient rocking chairs, Ferg had to admit she was right. He couldn’t recall a more perfect night and it wasn’t simply that the sky was so clear you could see thousands more stars than he’d ever seen in the city. It was also so quiet; in the far distance he could only just make out the soft lowing of cattle—probably from her family’s farm. But the peace wasn’t what made it perfect either. Tab was so easy to be with, so easy to talk to, that sometimes he felt himself letting down his guard, almost telling her things he’d rather not share. Other times they sat in comfortable silence and that was good too.

  They were in the middle of one of those silences now when Tab said, ‘I’ve just realised something.’

  ‘What?’ He stilled, fearful she might say something that would break this carefree ease between them. ‘That I was right and I do make the best damn omelettes in the world?’

  She laughed. ‘No, that wasn’t it, although I do concede that omelette was up there in my Top Ten.’

  ‘Only Top Ten? I’ll have to try harder next time.’

  ‘Anyway,’ she said emphatically, ‘what I was trying to say is that I just realised you haven’t played your accordion for me yet.’

  ‘Oh.’ He relaxed a little. ‘I guess we’ve been busy with other more pressing things.’

  Her cheeks flushed, which only made him want to do something to make them flush more, but she was persistent. ‘Can you play it for me now?’

  ‘Well, I would, but it’s at school.’

  Tab snapped to her feet. ‘Come on then.’ She picked up her plate and glass and started inside.

  Maybe she didn’t hear him correctly, he thought, as he followed her inside. She was already at the sink rinsing her dishes.

  ‘You’re not suggesting we go to school now so I can play for you?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.’

  He chuckled and shook his head—it was almost ten o’clock. ‘How about I bring it over to your place
tomorrow night?’

  ‘I don’t want to wait until tomorrow,’ she said, taking his plate and dumping it in the sink. ‘I’m in the mood for some accordion-playing now.’

  ‘What if someone sees us?’

  She turned slowly from the sink to look up at him. ‘We’ll be stealthy. But anyway, they won’t. This is dairy country, folks have long been in bed by now. Come on … live a little dangerously with me.’

  And how could he ever say no when she batted those eyelashes at him?

  He couldn’t, which is why Ferg found himself following Tab’s van to the school, parking beside it, holding her hand as they crept through the yard like burglars, and then letting them both into his classroom in what felt like the middle of the night. The good thing about this plan was that it would eliminate the awkward parting at the end of the evening. This way they’d both just go their separate ways. He always felt a little guilty about sending a pregnant woman out into the night whenever she visited him, but asking her to stay wasn’t the right thing to do either. Actually sleeping the night together would blur the lines of what this was supposed to be, and for this to work, they had to keep those boundaries firmly in place.

  ‘Stay here,’ he told her, ‘while I turn off the alarm.’ The last thing they needed was security being alerted to a break-in and Joanne woken up in the middle of the night to find he and Tabitha in the middle of a jam session.

  ‘Okay, all good.’ Ferg held the door open and ushered her into his classroom.

  ‘Isn’t this fun?’ Tab said with a big grin as she turned slowly and glanced around. ‘This was my classroom for a number of years, you know? Sadly, I never had any teachers quite as cute as you.’

  With that, she closed the distance between them and kissed him on the lips. For a second he thought she’d lured him here under false pretences and maybe now she wanted to fulfil some weird fantasy about doing it in her old classroom, but she pulled back before the kiss could take off. ‘Where’s this accordion then?’

  He couldn’t deny the tug of disappointment. ‘Here it is,’ he said, crossing the room to where he kept his shiny red pride and joy on a shelf just out of reach of little hands.

  Tab watched as he picked up the instrument and strapped it to himself.

  ‘So it’s like a cross between a piano and bagpipes?’ she asked as he pointed out all the bits to her—the treble keyboard, the bellows and the bass buttons.

  He gave a simple explanation of how it all worked, then sat down on a chair to play a song. ‘Any requests?’

  ‘Play me your favourite,’ she said as she perched herself on the edge of his desk, swinging her legs as he began.

  ‘Okay.’ With a deep breath, he pressed on the bellows with his left arm, put his right fingers on the keys and started to play ‘Hotel California’—a song he hated almost as much as he loved because of the memories it evoked. Usually he sang along as he played, but he’d never really performed for anyone aside from the kids in his classes. Jools and Eider had often heard him play, but they were just around, neither of them particularly interested in music. So he felt a little self-conscious and couldn’t even bring himself to look at Tabitha as he played.

  After a while her voice broke through the music. ‘It’s such a beautiful instrument.’

  He looked up to see her crying. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said, breaking off mid song.

  ‘Nothing.’ She sniffed and gave him one of her full-faced smiles. ‘I’m fine. It’s just … that was my mum’s favourite song. She’d always have it on repeat in the car.’

  He didn’t have time to tell her it was his mum’s favourite too, because Tab nodded towards the accordion. ‘Please … keep going.’

  Within a few minutes, her tears dried up and she started singing along, bopping in time and belting out the words. It was all he could do to keep on playing, knowing that if he stopped she probably would too, but wow. Just wow. He knew she’d been very dedicated to her music as a teen, but he had no idea she had this much talent.

  When he came to the end of the song, he couldn’t hold back anymore. ‘Why aren’t you singing for a living?’

  ‘What?’ She blinked and semi-laughed.

  ‘You. Your voice. It’s like nothing I’ve ever heard.’

  Tab’s cheeks tinged red. ‘I’m not sure about that, but I do enjoy a good sing-a-long. What else is in your repertoire?’

  But he wasn’t letting her get off that easily. He’d play another song for her but first he wanted some answers. ‘Why did you stop?’

  She exhaled loudly, clearly annoyed. ‘I didn’t stop. I still sing in the shower and I’m singing now, aren’t I?’

  ‘But didn’t you want to sing for a living?’

  ‘I wanted to play the guitar and sing, but … well, dreams don’t always come true. I accepted my life had a different path. Now, can you please play something else?’

  Not wanting to push her and ruin this night, he nodded. ‘You like Paul Kelly?’

  Her lips twisted into a smile again. ‘Who doesn’t like Paul Kelly?’

  So he played ‘To Her Door’ and ‘Before Too Long’ and she started singing again, and Ferg felt he could play all night if it meant he could keep listening to her.

  ‘I can’t believe you taught yourself,’ she said between songs, ‘and before the era of YouTube tutorials.’

  He laughed, secretly chuffed. ‘It wasn’t that hard. And it gave me something to do as a kid. I never stayed anywhere long enough to make real friends or join a club or a sporting team.’

  ‘Do you reckon I could have a go?’ she asked.

  Ferg didn’t mean to, but he frowned. He reckoned Tabitha Cooper-Jones could do almost anything she set her mind to, but the accordion required the use of two hands—for the piano keys and the bass buttons. But they were having such a nice night and he didn’t know how to say that without upsetting her.

  She chuckled. ‘Just let me do the keyboard—I used to play a little piano as a kid—and try the bellows. You can push the buttons for me.’

  ‘Okay.’ Relieved and also excited at the prospect of sharing his passion, he stood and started unbuckling the instrument.

  Tab slid off the desk and stepped towards him. He lowered the accordion into her lap, positioning the bottom of the keyboard just between her legs, before awkwardly trying to secure the straps. Tab giggled as he slipped his hands between her body and the accordion to tighten them.

  ‘I didn’t know you were ticklish,’ he said, his face close.

  ‘Only in certain places,’ she replied with a cheeky wink. ‘But don’t go getting any ideas right now. I want to play this thing.’

  The wink and the determination in her eyes were attractive, but he pushed aside the urge to kiss her and focused on the task. ‘Do you remember any of the songs you learned as a kid?’ he asked as he dropped to his knees, positioning himself next to her so he could press the bass buttons and help with the bellows if need be.

  ‘“Hot Cross Buns”.’

  He laughed. ‘Let’s give that a go then. This is middle C,’ he said, pointing to a key. ‘As you press down on the keys, gently press the bellows in and then out again.’

  She stuck her tongue out slightly as she followed his instructions and her face exploded into joy as sound came from the accordion. ‘Oh my God! I did it. This is so cool.’

  ‘Yes.’ He beamed at her excitement.

  She tried again, and they’d almost got through the whole song when the classroom door flew open, Fergus sprung back, and they both shrieked at the sight of two cops standing in the doorway.

  ‘What the hell is going on in here?’ demanded Sergeant Skinner, who Ferg remembered from their interactions regarding Mrs Lord. Beside Skinner stood the young female constable—Morris, if Ferg recalled correctly—and both of them looked half-asleep as if they’d been yanked from bed for this. Shit.

  Thank God he hadn’t succumbed to the impulse to kiss Tabitha because their track record of pulling back wasn’t that grea
t. He shuddered to think what the local constabulary might have encountered.

  Pulling himself together, Ferg strode across to offer Skinner his hand as if this type of thing happened all the time. ‘Evening, sergeant, constable. I’ve just been teaching Tabitha to play the accordion.’

  ‘Really?’ Skinner’s monotone voice and the way his bushy grey eyebrows almost met his hairline said he didn’t quite buy this story. ‘Bit late for a music lesson, isn’t it?’

  And really, what could Ferg say to that?

  ‘We got a call from Mrs Rodgers next door,’ Skinner continued, ‘saying she’d heard unusual noises coming from a classroom.’

  ‘I’d hardly call the accordion unusual; rare maybe, but …’ Ferg’s voice drifted off at the expression on the old sergeant’s face. Constable Morris looked to be stifling a smile, but her superior was clearly not amused.

  Tab, accordion still attached to her—how was that for evidence?—came across to join them. ‘I’m sorry, sergeant,’ she said, flashing him a smile. Surely no man could resist that. ‘Don’t be angry at Fergus, this is entirely my fault. I practically forced him to bring me here.’

  ‘Is that right?’ He turned to look at Ferg, although he still didn’t sound convinced.

  Fergus wanted to argue the point as it didn’t feel very gentle-manlike to let Tab take the blame, but as he opened his mouth, Skinner shook his head and continued. ‘I can’t believe I left my warm bed for this.’ He let out a heavy sigh and then tried to cover a yawn with his hand. ‘If you two insist in continuing these late-night music lessons, can I suggest you do it in Rose Hill where you won’t disturb the neighbours?’

  ‘Yes.’ Tab nodded, a solemn expression on her face, despite the twinkle in her eyes. ‘I promise we’ll do that, won’t we, Ferg?’

  ‘Yes, so sorry to have ruined your evening. It won’t happen again.’

  ‘We’d better go next door and tell Mrs Rodgers it was a false alarm,’ Skinner grumbled, already starting towards the door.