by Alison Kelly
‘I could’ve sworn I told you I find you particularly sexy on any day.’
Borrowing a ‘Savvyism’, she rolled her eyes at him via the mirror, then returned her attention to the ivory sheath she’d been holding against herself before her daydreams about Reb, then the man himself, had distracted her.
‘I’m thinking of suggesting to Savvy she wear it for the school formal. It’s ankle-length on me, but it’ll still look fabulous hitting her at mid-calf. And with her colouring the overall effect will be sensational.’ She frowned. ‘What do think, Reb? Would she be offended if I offered it to her?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, coming to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her middle. ‘What fifteen-year-old wouldn’t be offended at having a four-figure designer dress thrust upon her?’
With a blissful sigh, she nestled against him, grateful for even a short reprieve from single-handedly carting around additional weight. How, when just painting her toenails felt like tackling an obstacle course, was she going to survive the next three months?
‘It didn’t cost anything like that amount,’ she assured him, her flash of self-pity vanishing with the soothing motion of his hands across her stomach. ‘I modelled it for a charity show and got it for way below retail price.’
He frowned, his attention now solely on the dress. ‘You don’t think it’s a bit…I don’t know…sophisticated for a kid her age?’
‘Well, of course it is! Which is exactly why it should be perfect for a school dance.’
He looked so adorably perplexed she could do nothing else but toss the dress on the bed and turn to pull his mouth down for a kiss.
‘Trust me,’ she whispered, nibbling his jaw and loving the feel of his late-afternoon beard against her lips. ‘I know how fifteen-year-old girls think. I used to be one.’
He pulled her closer. ‘Yeah, and you hung out with rich boys in flash cars and drove all us poor guys insane ’cos we knew we didn’t have a chance with you.’
Grinning, she nestled further into his hips. ‘Well, you’ve got a chance now. There’s not a rich boy or a flash car for as far as I can see.’
‘True, but unfortunately there’s a ’91 Commodore downstairs that needs new sump oil before we close up for the day.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, babe, but Deb got a call from the day-care centre that her daughter Alanna’s sick—’
‘Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘Nah!’ he said easily. ‘Apparently half the school has that virus that’s going around and Alanna’s got in on the act. Anyway, since Deb and Gunna drove to work in only one car today I let them both go home early. So,’ he said, pausing to steal her breath away with a kiss that scorched her to the soles of her feet, ‘despite the fact I’d rather be lying under your sexy little chassis unfortunately I’m going to be stuck in grease up to my elbows and holding the fort on my own for the next few hours.’
‘Ah, poor baby,’ she consoled teasingly. ‘And you do so hate having oil and grease all over you. Still…’ she grinned ‘…I’m sure you’ll manage to endure it.’
Reb groaned as his body responded with predictable interest. Her words were a deliberately seductive reminder that what had once been only a therapeutic use of the herbal lotion for her had developed into a ritualistic sensory treat for both of them.
‘Tease,’ he muttered, tilting her chin for better access of her mouth. ‘I’ll endure it just fine with a little sustenance to keep me going.’
As always the taste and feel of her was enough to scatter all thoughts of time and responsibility from Reb’s mind. All that mattered to him was that she never failed to return his passion as rapidly as she inspired it.
‘It’s wonderful how you’ve managed to teach Leth to pump gas, so he can handle the garage while you two neck.’ Savannah’s facetious comment succeeded in pulling them apart.
‘How come you’re home?’ Reb asked, finding quiet delight in A.J.’s less than successful attempts not to look fazed by the intrusion. ‘I thought you had hockey practice.’
‘Netball. But it was called off because the coach is dead or something equally annoying,’ she said. ‘So where is everyone? The place is deserted downstairs; I could’ve walked in, raided the till and no one would’ve been any the wiser.’
‘No chance, kiddo,’ Reb said easily. ‘Old Lethal is pretty possessive of that cash register. However, the mathematics of giving change has him a bit baffled so as soon as you get changed from your uniform I’m going to need you downstairs to help him out.’ At Savvy’s droll look he added, ‘Seriously, kiddo, I need you. I’ve got a ’91 Commodore waiting for me and Gunna and Deb had to go home ’cause Alanna’s crook.’
‘Great! There goes my lazy afternoon!’ Savvy’s pained expression switched to wide-eyed curiosity as her eyes drifted to the bed. ‘Wow,’ she said, darting to pick up the dress. ‘This is gorgeous.’
‘You really think so?’ A.J. asked eagerly, crossing to join her.
‘Hell, yes.’
Reb smiled at the look of genuine pleasure on his wife’s face, but the quick glance she shot at him clearly said he was going to be superfluous to the ongoing conversation.
‘Okay, I’m gone!’ he said good-naturedly. ‘But, Savvy, you’ve only got fifteen minutes to do it in.’
The teenager stared blankly. ‘To do what in?’
‘Try this on,’ A.J. responded, shoving the dress at her with a beaming smile. ‘If it fits, and you like it, I…I thought you could wear it to the dance.’
Delight and disbelief warred for dominance in the girl’s face as she looked from the dress to the older woman. ‘You mean it? You’d let me wear it?’
A.J. laughed. ‘Yes, I mean it, Savvy. As a matter of fact I think you’ll look stunning in it.’
‘Fourteen minutes!’ Reb said with mock gruffness, then, when neither woman paid him the least bit of attention, quietly exited the room, grinning. Just maybe, he thought, heading for the stairs with the flurry of excited female chatter singing in his ears, just maybe they’d started chipping away at yet another domestic hurdle.
Twenty minutes later he decided that the development of a close friendship between his wife and cousin mightn’t necessarily make his life quite as perfect as he’d imagined.
‘Savannah!’ he roared from under the Commodore for the third time. ‘Will you please get down here? We’ve got a custom—’
‘It’s okay, Reb!’ A.J.’s voice cut him off. ‘Savvy’s just popped out for a bit. I’ll handle it.’
The sight of the designer-brand sneakers and trim ankles convinced him he wasn’t imagining things and rapidly had him propelling himself from under the car.
‘A.J.!’ he called. ‘It’s okay. I’ll do it.’
‘Relax, Reb. I’ve been here long enough to know how a petrol bowser works,’ she said dryly. ‘I’ve even filled my own car a couple times in Sydney where, stupidly, most petrol stations are self-serve.’
Reb couldn’t help being thrilled that she was obviously prepared to now take an active part in the business, but he did have one concern. ‘What about the effect the petrol fumes might have on the baby?’
Shaking her head, she gave him a reassuring smile. ‘The baby will be fine. Trust me, I’ve become mechanically knowledgeable enough to know the pump nozzle goes in the petrol tank, not up my nose.’ And, with a wrinkling of that perfectly formed nose, she hurried towards the car Reb knew belonged to the elderly and less than patient Cyril Ferguson.
This, he thought, easing back against the wall to watch the proceedings out of sight of the driver, would be interesting.
Knowing Reb was standing by expecting to have to jump in and help her only made Amanda-Jayne more determined to prove she could do this. So, at the sight of the scowling, bespectacled face of the driver, she widened her smile to idiot-size proportions.
‘Good afternoon, sir! How can I help you?’
‘Speeding up the service here would be a good start! Where’re Reb and his offsider?’
&nbs
p; She smiled wider. ‘I’m the official…er…offsider today, sir. Gunna’s not here and Reb’s changing the oil in a spark plug.’
‘He’s doing what?’
The man’s facial contortion told her she’d mixed things up.
‘Er…I mean a…a…radiator.’ Again, it appeared she’d made some error. Either that or the man was in the midst of some sort of seizure. ‘That is, he’s—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, girl, stop your nonsensical babbling and just fill up my tank! And make sure you use leaded petrol!’ he called, sticking his head out of the window as she moved to the nearest bowser. ‘Some fool up in Grafton put that flamin’ unleaded, environmental lolly water in it the other day; flamin’ car ran like it had whooping cough!’
Grateful he’d spared her making the same mistake, she smiled at his rudeness and swiftly redirected her hand to the bowser marked ‘Leaded’. The absence of a tank cap on the driver’s side of the car had her tugging the awkward hose around the other…only to stare at the unbroken smoothness of that panel, and she became totally perplexed.
Where the devil was the petrol tank?
Okay, Amanda-Jayne, she thought. You’ve let the old grouch rattle you. Obviously it is on the other side. Calming herself, she trudged back around the rear of the car…and—
‘Blast it,’ she muttered, walking back to glare at the boot. ‘Where the hell do I fill it?’ Glancing up, she caught an obviously amused Reb giving her the thumbs-up sign.
Smart-alec! she silently fumed, prepared to sweet-talk the information out of the grumpy old driver before she’d admit to defeat.
Hooking the hose back up, she grabbed the squeegee scraper—or whatever the stupid thing was called—and bucket of water and darted to the front of the car.
‘’Bout time!’ the driver grunted. ‘How much do I owe you?’
‘Oh, nothing yet!’ she said cheerfully, sending water in all directions as she attacked the windshield over the man’s sputtering protests. ‘Gosh, it’s lucky you didn’t have an accident, driving with all this grime distorting your vision!’
‘My vision’s fine—’
‘And this is such a gorgeous old car,’ she gushed on. ‘I just love the way they tuck all the normally obvious par—’ she gasped as her protruding belly and the width of the car bonnet combined to inhibit her ability to reach the centre of the window ‘…all the normally obvious parts out of sight.
‘I mean,’ she said, pausing in the window-washing to give her muscles a chance to get their second wind, ‘don’t you think all cars should have their petrol caps in the same place as your car?’
When the now confused-looking man didn’t immediately pick up his cue to say something helpful like ‘No, you idiot! I happen to think having a tank cap concealed in the roof, above the left-hand-side back passenger door, is every bit as stupid as you!’ she really had no option but to keep digging.
‘You know, sir, I’m actually thinking of petitioning the relevant government department and suggesting they pass a law making it compulsory for all future cars to be designed with their petrol caps positioned where it is on this model. Er, tell me… How exactly would you word that request if you were me? That is, how would you describe the precise location of the—?’
‘Hoy, A.J.!’
The man’s shoulder literally sagged with relief when, swivelling his head at the sound of Reb’s voice, he spotted him standing outside the workshop.
‘Oh! Reb must need my help with something,’ she said. ‘Excuse me!’
‘Anything I can help you with, honey?’ he asked, when she reached him. The innocent tone didn’t disguise the blatant amusement in his eyes. ‘You seem to be having a bit of trouble…er…washing that windscreen.’
‘Don’t be cute!’ she snapped. ‘Just tell me where the dumb petrol cap is.’
‘It’s where it is in all 1982 ZK Ford Fairlanes.’
‘Reb!’
He grinned. ‘Have I told you today how sexy you look?’
She thumped his arm. ‘Yes! Now tell me where the damn petrol tank is!’
‘It’s behind the rear registration plate,’ he said, swinging an arm around her shoulder and starting towards the car.
She stopped dead. ‘I’m not going to let you fill that old crank’s car,’ she insisted.
‘And I’m not going to let you hurt yourself stretching to finish cleaning his windscreen,’ he told her. ‘So you handle the petrol and I’ll tackle the windscreen and cantankerous Cyril. Okay?’
She nodded.
‘Oh, and by the way,’ she said, raising her voice as they parted so it carried not only to him, but also to the loudly complaining driver, ‘I think you’re looking particularly sexy today too.’ She grinned. ‘But then I happen to think you look great covered in oil in or out of bed.’
The car’s driver made a choking sound.
Reb’s eyes met hers with a promise of retribution.
Her heart told her she’d love every minute of it.
Even before Cyril’s refuelled car had pulled onto the road, a Landcruiser drove in. ‘I told Savvy I needed her here this afternoon,’ he said testily, returning the driver’s casual salute as he pulled into the far bay.
‘Savvy wanted to see Kara and tell her about the dress so I said I’d cover for her. So why don’t you go back to whatever you were doing under the car and let me do exactly that?’
Not wanting to dampen her new-found confidence, but having horrifying visions of her filling the obviously brand-new, diesel-only vehicle with regular petrol, he deftly blocked her path to it.
‘Nah,’ he said, kissing her forehead when her eyes flashed. ‘You go ring up the last sale. I’ll take care of this one.’
‘No, you’ve got to finish…’ A frown of concentration marred her forehead for several seconds. ‘Well, finish whatever it was you were doing under that car. I can cope with—’
She broke off as a red Ferrari sped in and came to a sudden stop beside them.
‘Hi, guys! Just thought I’d pop round for a nice family visit.’ Josh grinned from behind mirrored sunglasses. ‘And of course a good home-cooked meal if you absolutely insist.’
A.J. folded her arms and stared pointedly at her brother. ‘Honestly, Josh, not everyone has the time to just drop everything and entertain you. As it happens, Reb and I are very busy this afternoon.’
Reb bit the inside of his mouth so hard to keep from laughing at her sudden ‘blue-collar work ethic’, he nearly drew blood. But he had a hunch the apprentice playboy might turn out to be a godsend.
‘Now, honey, I’m sure your brother wouldn’t mind working for his supper,’ he said quickly. ‘Josh, A.J. was just about to serve this customer, so—’
‘Amanda-Jayne knows how to pump petrol?’ the kid cut in, surprise dripping from his words as he shoved the sunglasses to the top of his head.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Josh!’ his sister chided. ‘It’s hardly difficult. I only have to ask the driver if they want leaded or unleaded petrol then shove the nozzle in the car, pull it out and take their money.’
Josh’s glance cut to the waiting Landcruiser, then knowingly back to Reb’s before he said, ‘I see… Well, that sounds easy enough, sis. How about I give it a shot with this guy and see how I do?’
‘No, Josh—’
‘Great idea, Josh!’ Reb said over the top of her, opening the Ferrari’s door and all but hauling Josh from behind the wheel. ‘Let’s not keep the customer waiting any longer. Prompt service is repeat business and all that,’ he said heartily. ‘A.J., you park Josh’s car over near the back stairs. That’ll give you a chance to get plenty of fresh air before your next exposure to a bout of petrol fumes.’
Two minutes later the Landcruiser was fuelled and on its way as a resigned-looking A.J. made her way back towards Reb and her brother.
‘How long do you plan to keep her in the dark about diesel and LPG?’ Josh asked out of the side of his mouth.
‘I’m not keeping her
in the dark. I’m just walking a tightrope between undermining her confidence and confusing her.’
‘And I take it you want me to ride shotgun on her in as subtle a way as possible?’
‘Exactly,’ Reb said. Then added dryly, ‘And it’d probably help preserve the business if you could also prevent her from telling any more customers I’m putting oil in radiators.’
When Debbie called that evening to say both she and Gunna had caught their daughter’s virus and wouldn’t be in for two days, Josh, who was cheerfully digging into a second serving of vegetable lasagne, amazed Amanda-Jayne by immediately announcing he’d be happy to help out for as long as necessary, his private school having already closed for the term break.
But what was even more amazing was that after Deb and Gunna were back on deck Josh still continued to turn up prepared to work each day, and now, after having returned to boarding-school, he arrived on their doorstep every weekend. Most recently with a few of his friends.
While Amanda-Jayne loved the idea that her brother felt so comfortable with her and Reb that he sought out their company, one aspect of his visits was bothering her more and more.
‘We should have gone to that fête with Savvy and Josh,’ she mused aloud, snuggling up to Reb’s shoulder one Sunday afternoon.
Turning his attention from the bike race he was watching on TV, Reb gave her a squeeze. ‘Nah, I wanted you all to myself. But hey, if you’re fed up with being cooped up inside we could go for a drive,’ he offered.
She shook her head. ‘No. It’s okay. I know how much you enjoy watching these lunatics trying to kill themselves by racing in circles at three trillion miles an hour—or some equally stupid speed.’
Reb knew she wasn’t any sort of motor racing fan, but she didn’t normally sound so morose about it. Killing the picture with the remote, he angled around and tilted her chin towards him. ‘Hey, honey what’s up?’
‘It’s just that— Oh, I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. It’s probably just hormonal. These days everything is!’ she groused. ‘If I get any fatter, I’m going to explode.
