Her drink threatened to shoot back up her oesophagus as she pleaded with higher powers for Jenna not to have brought her one of those tongue-shaped devices she’d seen in her email. Not that she planned on using it anyway. Her request had been made in a moment of insanity.
The ribbon floated to the floor and Jenna giggled with excitement as she removed the lid. Imogen’s heart stopped as she watched her friend unveil the present.
‘Ta-dah!’ Jenna sang as she held up a hot-pink penis-shaped vibrator.
Imogen gulped. At first glance it vaguely resembled her hair straightener, but this thing promised far greater pleasure. Could she really give it a shot?
Jenna must have guessed the workings of her mind. ‘Are you intent on never sleeping with anyone else?’
A few months back, she’d have given a resounding yes. Immediately. Now, ‘never’ seemed like a long time. But she said it anyway and hoped she sounded convincing.
Jenna sighed. ‘In that case, this little baby is going to become a very good friend.’
‘Okay. Whatever.’ Without a thought, Imogen snatched the offending object from her friend and shoved it back in the box. She wanted this awkward conversation over and she didn’t want Jenna getting any ideas about giving a demonstration. When the box was shut and safely on the couch beside her, she looked back to Jenna. ‘So? Guy? What’s the deal?’
Jenna shrugged, that mischievous gleam returning to her eyes. ‘You know me. Just having a bit of fun.’
They chatted about the pub and about Jenna’s latest scores – both at work and play – for another half an hour, but as much as they could have spent all night talking, Imogen knew they’d need their energy tomorrow.
After saying goodnight to Jenna, dumping the mugs in the sink and listening quickly at Amy’s door, Imogen climbed into bed and looked at Jamie’s photo. Then she glanced across at the pink box sitting in the middle of her dresser. Jenna had insisted she take it into the bedroom … just in case.
Usually she found it easy to talk to Jamie – looked forward to it all day – but how could you tell your husband you were the proud owner of a dildo? It’d be funny if it wasn’t squirmingly embarrassing. If it wasn’t her life! She could have said she missed the intimacy between them and explain about the hot flushes she’d been having, but the fact was, she only had those flushes when a certain man was present. To be precise, a certain grouchy and insufferable farmer. These feelings were hard enough to comprehend, never mind finding the right words with which to express them to Jamie.
She never really thought about how he’d feel if she hooked up with another man. When he was alive, they’d been too busy planning their future – a house with a pool, three or four kids splashing in it and a caravan out the back to take the whole family travelling – never imagining that they might not have decades to enjoy each other. Stressing about things that didn’t really matter, but never making the most of what they had. When he died, she couldn’t imagine the day would come when she’d look at another man and have he’s-a-bit-of-all-right thoughts. Now they were sprouting, she didn’t know what to do with them and she definitely didn’t welcome them.
Perhaps she should try the vibrator.
Chapter Nine
The slab party began with an official breakfast at seven o’clock on Saturday morning. The Majestic would be closed all weekend except to those volunteering, but it seemed to Imogen like Charlie had roped in half the town. Farmers left their properties and livestock to their own devices and arrived bright and early. Other locals showed up in droves. Karen and Tom turned up armed with tools, paintbrushes and cleaning products. Amy and Jenna sat among the gathering men, going through the plans for the day. The number of volunteers astounded Imogen and she began to think big about what they could achieve by working together, even only for one weekend.
Tormenting smells of cooked bacon, sausages and eggs wafted from the kitchen where Pauli and Cal were in full-swing breakfast mode, singing as they worked. Imogen smiled as she and Karen trekked back and forth from kitchen to dining area, happily serving food to the merry men. Focusing on the pub had undoubtedly been good for her spirits, and it also seemed to have worked its magic on Pauli.
The food was almost gone, the plates were being piled up in the kitchen and Imogen was just about to announce Amy – so she could allocate everyone to their tasks for the day – when Charlie arrived wearing a pair of painter’s overalls and his floppy grey terry towelling hat. Imogen almost fell off her bar stool and face-planted the floor when she noticed Gibson behind him. She was surprised to see him here at all, but also shocked at how criminally attractive he looked.
It was obvious that, despite the early hour, Gibson had already been at work on his farm. His brow shone with perspiration, his worn, navy-blue t-shirt clung to his body and his khaki Stubbies gave her a tantalising view of his legs. Tanned, Muscled. With just a nice dusting of hair. Who was she kidding? It was more than nice. His leg hair was turning her on! She caught herself gawping and quickly pulled it together as they approached.
‘Hi Charlie. Hi Gibson.’ Dammit, she sounded unusually chirpy. She pushed her hair behind her ears and downgraded her smile. ‘This is a pleasant surprise.’
‘He’s not staying,’ Charlie announced gruffly. ‘He just didn’t trust me to carry his precious sander.’
Imogen raised her eyebrows at the power tool in Gibson’s grip. He was holding it so tightly that his knuckles were white. She imagined it could pack quite a punch but it didn’t exactly look heavy.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Gibson glared at Charlie and then thrust the sander at him. He ran a hand through his hair and looked at Imogen. ‘Sorry I can’t stay. I hope it’s a great success for you.’ He bit out the words before turning and striding back out of the pub.
And Imogen – her insides burning up – was helpless to do anything but watch him go.
‘Where should I put this?’
She started at Charlie’s question, shaking her head and trying to gather her thoughts. What was it about grouchy Gibson Black that had her forgetting simple things like what she needed a sander for in the first place? She didn’t like being flustered, especially on an important day like this. It wasn’t like she’d never seen a hunk before. Jamie had turned heads in the street too.
Swallowing, she answered Charlie. ‘Will it be safe out on the verandah? We’ll be moving everything out of here soon.’
‘It’d better be safe,’ Charlie replied, turning. Over his shoulder, he grumped, ‘Anyone steals anything from you and they’ll have all these men to pick a fight with, hey boys?’
Shouts of agreement erupted across the room. She smiled at the eager-faced men. It was hard to believe she’d lived in Gibson’s Find such a short time. Everyone was so welcoming and friendly and supportive. She felt herself tearing up at the thought. If Jamie was looking down from somewhere, he’d be happy his girl had found a safe haven.
She took a deep breath and gathered her thoughts. ‘Okay everyone.’ She raised her voice so even the guys at the back of the room could hear. ‘Listen up.’ The hush of chatter died immediately. She gestured for Amy to stand up beside her and all eyes focused on the two of them. ‘Firstly, thank you all for coming. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to have you all here. I’d like to introduce you to one of my best friends, Amy Reynolds. Many of you met her and Jenna last night. Like you fabulous lot, they’ve agreed to devote their weekend to helping turn this place into something absolutely amazing. A pub you’re proud to call your local. A pub that attracts people from further afield – hopefully a few extra women as well.’ Imogen winked and cheers echoed throughout the room.
‘As you can see,’ – she gestured to Amy’s very pregnant stomach – ‘Amy won’t be much good for strenuous labour today, so I’ve put her in charge of organising us all. She’s the boss.’
Jenna began handing out Amy’s photocopied schedule.
‘Hi everyone. Lovely to meet you,’ said Amy, clipboard
in hand. She was wearing casual clothes like everyone else, but talked in measured tones as if she were in the office. ‘I think the best way is to split into groups to tackle each of the major tasks. I’ve compiled a list of the teams we’ll need and soon I’ll give you the chance to nominate your preferences.’ She took a breath and then began explaining tasks and duties. When she’d finished, everyone was eager to start, but she held up a hand to silence the chattering.
‘You’ll see from the schedule that we have designated times for breaks. I’d appreciate everyone sticking to these or we’ll never get finished. We’ll be eating outside in the courtyard, because although I’m sure you’re all fast workers, the new dining room probably won’t be finished today. Any questions?’
If anyone did have a question, they didn’t dare ask it. Imogen guessed it had something to do with Amy’s authoritarive tone – not that she was complaining. If anyone could get a pub full of men to achieve, it was Amy.
Finally, Amy gave the word and the men stepped forward to choose their tasks. Within five minutes, the crowd had dispersed into pairs and groups, and despite the warm weather, they all threw themselves enthusiastically into their various tasks.
By mid-morning Imogen could barely believe what had already been achieved. She’d heard no whinging or complaints. The old furniture in the main bar and adjoining dining room had been stacked outside, ready to be taken to the op shop in Southern Cross or simply ditched. Some guys who’d bragged about being clever with hammers were in the courtyard constructing the flat-packed furniture Imogen had ordered to replace the old stuff. She’d gone for very simple stuff – nothing too funky or modern – because she wanted the decor on the walls and the actual building to be the focus of people’s attention.
Another couple of blokes had put down drop sheets in the bar, readying it for the mammoth job of painting ceilings and walls. They were now cleaning in preparation for the first layer of paint. Jenna, Guy and a few others formed a team doing the same in the dining room, which was carpeted in the same ghastly, 1970s psychedelic pattern Imogen was subjected to upstairs. Karen, Tom and the majority of the other volunteers had started on the accommodation rooms.
Pauli and Cal were on kitchen duties – taking on the important role of keeping the workers fuelled – so that had left Imogen, Charlie and Warren to start on the verandah. Despite everyone’s willingness to help, no one except Warren had been particularly enthused about taking this job, which would mean spending most of the day in the heat. It didn’t take long for Imogen to work out that he had ulterior motives.
‘Everyone’s turning into girls’ blouses these days,’ said Charlie as he tried to lift one of the heavy outdoor tables on his own.
‘Not me,’ said Warren, flexing his muscles like a cartoon character. He leaned towards Imogen, offering his upper arm. ‘Wanna squeeze?’
‘Um, no thanks.’ She tried not to sound too crushing. ‘Let’s help Charlie.’
Between the three of them, they managed to stack all four tables at one end of the verandah.
‘Right. Let’s get started.’ Charlie thrust hard-bristle brooms at Imogen and Warren. When he turned his back and began sweeping, Warren made a questioning grimace at Imogen. She shrugged back. She’d never seen Charlie in anything other than a jovial, chirpy mood, but something had certainly got his goat this morning. She guessed it was Gibson refusing to help, but she wished he wouldn’t get so worked up over it. She didn’t hold Gibson’s absence against him. If anything, they had almost too many volunteers. And for her sanity’s sake, it was a good thing Gibson didn’t deem her worthy of his help.
For half an hour they worked without a break, scrubbing the old boards and readying them for the sander. When Imogen noticed Charlie getting a little red in the face, she suggested he go inside and fetch them some water.
He dithered for a moment, but when she added, ‘Please, Charlie, I’m parched,’ and wrapped her hands around her neck to prove her point, he headed inside.
Warren winked at her and sidled closer. ‘Good work, babe. Getting us some alone time?’
She raised her eyebrows and gave Warren The Glare. ‘I think he’s overdoing it,’ she said, not taking the bait. Warren might think himself a comedian or a Casanova – she couldn’t tell which yet – but she didn’t want to give him any encouragement. She took a breather and leaned against the wooden railings. ‘Do you mind using the sander if I can convince Charlie to swap to a lighter job?’
‘Not at all,’ Warren replied good-naturedly, seemingly unfazed by her rebuff. ‘But good luck with that. The old dude doesn’t like to be told what he can and can’t do.’
‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’
Warren laughed and then knelt to examine the sander. They were ready to start stripping the first layer off the decking. He put on some safety goggles and Imogen took the chance to slip inside and find Charlie. She wanted to check he was okay. Gibson would never forgive her if she overworked him and he got dehydrated. Hell, she wouldn’t forgive herself.
She sucked in her breath as she stepped through the front door. The whole bottom floor of the pub was empty of furniture and the space was much larger than she’d imagined. In the dining room – despite obviously flirting with each other – Jenna and Guy had already starting painting one wall a dark shade of coffee; Jenna had a matching coloured handprint on the back of her tight black tee. Consumed with each other’s company, they didn’t notice Imogen watching until Amy joined her, the clipboard resting against her tummy.
‘They certainly work hard in the bush, don’t they?’ Amy said, smiling her approval.
Imogen nodded, a little speechless at what was already quite a transformation. Stuff that would have taken her months to do on her own – especially while running the pub as well – was happening before her eyes. ‘It’s so much better.’
‘And this is only the first coat,’ Guy said, turning and grinning at her. ‘Good colour choice.’ He didn’t flip her insides like some unmentionable people, but Imogen could see why Jenna would find him a nice distraction.
‘Thanks so much for all your hard work, folks,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget to keep your liquid intake up.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ Jenna and Guy chirped in unison.
She shook her head at them and turned to Amy. ‘Have you seen Charlie?’
Amy consulted her list. ‘I thought he was outside with you.’
‘He came in to get drinks a few minutes ago.’ Imogen bit her lip, trying to quell the worry building inside her. There was no reason to start stressing, yet she couldn’t curb the feeling. ‘I’ll check the bar.’
She found Cal and Pauli removing glasses and other objects that might be in the way of the renovators, but no Charlie.
‘Are we on track for lunch in half an hour?’ Pauli asked.
‘Yes, that’s perfect,’ Imogen replied, distracted. She headed out to the shade of the back courtyard where the furniture construction was in full swing. The tension left her limbs the moment she registered Charlie, bent over a half-made bar stool with an Allen key in his hand. His brow was furrowed and he was poking out his tongue like a young child focusing hard. She tamped down the urge to rush up and give him a big cuddle.
She spoke with the few blokes putting together tables and chairs, complimenting their quick work and thanking them. Then she approached Charlie.
‘So, this is where you got to?’ She sat in a newly made chair. ‘Hmm, comfy.’
He looked up, smiled and then his forehead creased in confusion. ‘Just doing my bit.’
‘And you’re doing a fabulous job, but I thought you were on drink duty? A girl could die of thirst waiting for you.’
His smile morphed into a scowl. ‘Drinks? Is that all you think I’m good for? I may be old, but I can work harder than this lot put together.’
Imogen twisted her ponytail round a finger, not sure how to respond. Was the heat making him cranky or was there something more going on? ‘Oh, maybe I didn’t make myself c
lear,’ she said, pushing the uneasy thought aside, ‘but it’s hot out here. How about you come inside and help Pauli and Cal organise morning tea?’
‘I’m not hot,’ snapped Charlie, wiping his brow with the back of his paper-thin, wrinkled hand. ‘And I’m fine out here.’
Imogen sighed. ‘Okay, I’m sorry. Just looking out for my favourite barman.’
Finally, that got a smile and a tiny blush. Charlie nodded his head at Imogen. ‘And you’re my favourite publican, so I promise to come in for a drink in a moment.’
Conversation done and dusted, he adjusted his hat and turned his attentions back to the stool.
By six o’clock that evening, Imogen thought maybe she should call The Guinness Book of Records for the most renovations completed in one day.
‘It’s amazing what can be done when a whole town pulls together,’ she said to Charlie, impulsively pulling him into a hug. She popped a peck on the side of his face. ‘Thank you for having this wonderful idea.’
Charlie beamed, the tense words they’d exchanged earlier in the day now forgotten. ‘I’m not just a handsome face, you know,’ he said, leaning against the bar.
‘Definitely not. If you were a few years younger, I’d really have to behave myself.’
He was the only man Imogen dared flirt with, and she knew by the grin on his face, he liked it. Unfortunately, his mention of a handsome face got her thinking about Gibson and how he always used to visit his granddad at this time. Stupidly, she glanced at the front door, wondering if he’d come back tonight. The pub was closed to everyone except the workers but she didn’t think that would stop him. Gibson Black was the kind of guy who walked round like he owned the stars and did exactly as he pleased.
‘Taste this.’ Cal laid a platter of Mexican nibbles on the bar – corn chips with homemade dips of guacamole, chilli con queso and green salsa. The divine aromas teased Imogen’s tastebuds and distracted her thoughts.
Man Drought Page 10
