The Lawson Boys: Alex

by Angela Verdenius

  “Supportive,” Zac choked.

  “And the missus goes off the deep end! I’m telling you, pregnant women are crazy!” Paul tapped his temple. “Nuts! I’ll never understand them.”

  “Did she give you back the marshmallows?” Alex chortled.

  “Last I saw, she was running to our bedroom, stuffing them into her mouth and sobbing that I’m an inconsiderate imbecile. Geez. Women.” Hands on his hips, Paul hung his head. “I got out of there fast, I’m telling you.”

  Alex was laughing so hard he nearly slid right off the wall against which he was leaning.

  “What’s so bloody funny?” Paul snarled.

  Zac was wiping the tears from his eyes but every tear he removed was replaced by another of mirth. “Hells bells, Paul, did you hear yourself?”

  “I was being considerate!”

  “I’m not married, and I definitely don’t have a pregnant woman.” Alex tried to control his laughter. “But even I know you don’t mention the word ‘fat’ to a pregnant woman who is soon going to be as round as a barrel. Man, you should know that.”

  “I thought that was just a myth.” Paul walked from the room. “Before those hormones went right up the pole, Becky was as calm as any sheila I’d ever met. Holy cow, bloody hormones!”

  “And don’t mention hormones to her either,” Zac yelled after him, “Else you’ll never get nooky again!” He looked at Alex. “Poor bastard.”

  Back-slapping each other, they roared with laughter.

  Paul looked around the corner with a scowl on his face. “Hey, you two laughing hyenas.”

  Shaking with mirth, they glanced at him.

  “Smithy needs that plumbing under the kitchen sink done this century sometime.”

  “Hormones,” Zac said to Alex. “It doesn’t just affect the women.”

  “And you can stop cackling like a chook about to lay an egg,” Paul informed Alex. “Come on, I need to go to Bunnings and get more screws.”

  “About the only place you’ll get one now,” Zac said cheerfully.

  Paul flipped him the middle finger.

  Ensuring that the rest of his carpenters were doing okay, Paul jumped into his ute.

  Settling into the passenger seat, Alex glanced sideways at his friend’s scowling face and couldn’t stop the snort of amusement that escaped.

  “Laugh it up,” Paul said. “One day this’ll be you.”

  “I reckon I’ll handle it better than you did,” Alex replied.

  “Huh. We’ll see.”

  They drove along in silence for a little while, the radio playing quietly. Relaxed in the seat, Alex watched the houses go by, content to listen to the music and feel the chill wind on his face.

  “So.” Paul broke the silence.

  “Mmm?”

  “You spent last night at Harly’s.”

  Knowing in exactly what direction his friend’s thoughts were going, Alex replied, “In the spare bedroom, yep.”

  There was silence for a few minutes more before Paul said bluntly, “Tell me if I’m wrong, mate, but I get the feeling you’re here for more than just visiting me.”

  Ahhh. Paul, ever the canny one. Alex glanced over at him to find his friend casting glances back at him in-between checking the road ahead.

  “So?” He demanded when Alex didn’t immediately answer. “What’s going on with Harly?”

  “What makes you think it’s Harly?” Alex replied mildly.

  “Because you zeroed in on her like a fly to horse sh-”

  “Think carefully about the comparison you’re making.”

  “Ah-ha!” Paul stabbed a finger at him and the ute swerved a little on the road.

  “I survived Afghanistan.” Alex grabbed onto the handle above the door. “I’d like to think I can survive your driving, too.”

  Paul returned his gaze to the road. “Harly.”

  “Nice girl.”

  “Don’t avoid the subject.”

  “I wasn’t aware I was.”

  Paul turned into the driveway leading to Bunnings car park. “Damn it, Alex. I want to know exactly why you’re here.”

  Releasing the handle, Alex leaned his elbow on the door frame and scratched his chin. “Visiting. Helping you.”

  Pulling into a car park, Paul switched the engine off and turned to face him seriously. “You’re one of my best friends. I know you.”

  Alex regarded him.

  “I know when you’re focussed on someone, and that someone is Harly. I’m not an idiot. She’s partly the reason you’re here, isn’t she?”

  “What if I am?”

  “Harly’s our friend. She’s sweet. I don’t want to see her hurt.”

  Alex raised one eyebrow. “You think I’ll hurt her?”

  Paul thrust a hand through his already dishevelled hair and sighed. “No, you won’t. I think.”

  “You think?” Alex was mildly annoyed. “You know me better than that. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life, and I don’t intend to start now.”

  Paul looked out over the cars parked before him, thinking before saying slowly, “You came back here to visit, yes, but it wasn’t just to see me. Harly is one of the main reasons, isn’t she?”

  “I don’t want to upset you,” Alex joked. “You’re special, too.”

  Paul just looked at him.

  After several seconds of regarding each other steadily, Alex finally nodded. “All right. Yes, Harly is one of the main reasons I came back to Whicha.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s personal.”

  A muscle in Paul’s jaw twitched.

  “It’s personal.”

  “You’re my best friend, Alex, but if you hurt her, I’ll punch your lights out.”

  “Why the hell do you think I’m going to hurt her?”

  “I saw her expression when you told her you’d bring her home that night at the BBQ. Someone mentioned the following day that she looked drawn in the café, when she’s usually happy and robust. I’m not a fool. Something went down between you two.”

  He could understand Paul’s concern, in fact he appreciated that he was intent on protecting Harly, but male instinct surged up inside Alex. Harly was his to worry about, his to protect, not Paul’s, even as he acknowledged that his reaction was a little irrational. He’d just gotten here a couple of days ago, whereas Paul had lived here his whole life.

  However, that didn’t change anything.

  Alex took in a deep, calming breath, pushing away the surge of anger before looking directly at his friend. “I appreciate your concern, Paul, but rest assured that we’ve sorted things out.”

  “Really?” Paul looked sceptical.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  They looked at each other, neither one backing down.

  It was Paul who finally sighed. “Okay, I believe you.”

  “Tough shit if you don’t.”

  “You say that so calmly.”

  “The truth should be stated calmly. I actually feel like ripping your head off, but I’m trying to be civilized.”

  Paul gave a bark of laughter, and just like that the tension eased between them.

  Alex looked at the car parked opposite. “And don’t worry about Harly.”

  In the act of opening the door, Paul glanced at him.

  “She’s mine to worry about.” Alex got out of the ute.

  Paul stared at him. “Huh?”

  “Not one word to Becky or anyone else,” Alex added quietly, “Or I will rip your head off.” He shut the door.

  Paul appeared at his elbow. “What the hell…? Alex, are you and Harly - you know? Together?”

  “I know it. Harly still has to get used to the idea.” Alex started to walk.

  “Are you kidding me?” Paul matched him stride for stride.

  “Nope. Harly is mine; I just have to convince her of it.”

  Paul’s mouth fell open. “What is this, Military Operation Get Harly?”

  Alex grinned faintly.
“When you put it like that.”

  “Wait until Becky-”

  Alex swung around to face Paul. “No telling Becky, no telling anyone. It would humiliate Harly if word got around. She needs time, I need time. If we’re to have a chance, Paul, then we need privacy.”

  “If you’re going to be seeing Harly, everyone is going to know about it soon enough.”

  “Yeah, that’ll happen naturally, and that’s fine, but I’m not having gossip flaring up and word getting back to Harly that I’ve staked my claim before our first real date.”

  “You mean she doesn’t know that?”

  “I mean that I want things to progress naturally.”

  Shaking his head, Paul fell back into step with Alex as they made their way through the car park. “I am so going to be on Becky’s shit list if she ever finds out I knew this and never said a word to her.”

  “But you’ll still have your head. If I ever find out you told anyone, you’ll be on my shit list and headless.”

  “Well, when you put it like that.”

  Without mentioning it any further, they entered Bunnings and went about the business of buying more supplies and returning to the house to continue the building.

  When they walked into Paul’s house at five o’clock that afternoon, Becky greeted them at the door. Alex winked at Paul over Becky’s head as she hugged her husband, but obviously happy to be back in her good books, Paul did nothing more than flip him the middle finger and hug her back.

  “Do you mind if we have takeaway tonight?” Becky queried. “I forgot to take the roast out early and it’s still half frozen.”

  “Actually, I’m going out tonight,” Alex replied.

  “Oh?”

  “Meeting a friend.”

  “Sure.” Becky smiled up at Paul. “Honey, how about some fish and chips?”

  “Sounds like a plan.” Paul kissed her forehead. “I’ll just shower, change, and go get it.”

  Alex made his escape to the bedroom while they were occupied. Going into the adjoining bathroom, he divested himself of the dirty clothes and placed them in the laundry basket that Becky had put in there for him. A quick shower and shave and it wasn’t long before he was exiting the house dressed in jeans, a thick shirt and a heavy jacket. The autumn nights meant that it was getting dark early, and he had to turn on the headlights as he drove through the street.

  The florist was shut, but the twenty four hour service station was still open. He fuelled up the Jeep, picked up a bunch of roses from the plastic bucket just inside the shop entrance, paid for both and then headed out to Harly’s house.

  Oh yeah, he was really looking forward to seeing her. Hugging her. Kissing her. Running his hands over her curvy body. Laying her beneath him and - whoa. Dragging his thoughts from that particular delicious path, he reminded himself that he wasn’t rushing her, that they were going to get to know each other better. He could happily jump from base two to base three, but she wasn’t of the same mind.

  For Harly, he’d wait. He smiled ruefully. Marty would have teased the living hell out of him at the knowledge that there was actually one woman who wasn’t in a hurry to fall into his brother’s bed. Then again, his Harly was a one-of-a-kind woman.

  His Harly. Yeah, he liked the sound of that. Alex was still smiling when he turned into Harly’s driveway. The house looked warm and inviting, the light on the veranda a beacon.

  No fancy gardens, no fancy house, but a home that was lived in, loved, and welcomed him.

  And inside was his woman.

  Locking the Jeep, he strode across the small distance to the house and climbed the steps. Knocking on the door, he waited for several seconds, his relaxed stance changing immediately to alertness when he heard a thump, a shriek, and Buffy barking.

  Thankfully the security screen was unlocked - he’d have to talk to her later about that - and he yanked both it and the wooden door open and hurried into the house. “Harly?”

  “Alex? No, don’t come in!”

  Like hell. Alex ran right in the direction of her panicked yell, entering the kitchen to see her lying partially on her back, her hands behind her as she attempted to push herself up off the floor. Red spattered her shirt and the floor, along with a broken bowl beside her.

  Fear rose inside him, and he dropped immediately to his knees beside her. “Where are you hurt?” Sliding his hand beneath her shirt, he started to move it up, only to stop at her shriek of surprise and her hand clasping his wrist.

  “Alex Lawson, don’t you dare move your hand any further!”

  “I’m just checking-”

  “Your hands are freezing!”

  “You’re bleeding.”

  “No, I’m not.” Harly shoved his hand away and sat up. “It’s only red colouring.”

  Sitting back on his knees, he took a second look at her. Yep, now that he wasn’t panicking, he could see that what he thought was blood wasn’t as bright a red, nor as viscous, as blood.

  “I thought you tough Army boys didn’t panic at the sight of blood.” Trying to get up, her hand slipped in a puddle and she nearly fell backwards.

  Moving fast, Alex slid one arm behind her back to steady her. “I don’t normally, but oddly enough, with you…” He trailed his hand down the front of her shirt while glancing down at her legs. “Have you hurt yourself?”

  “Only my pride.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was just going to take that bowl of berry liquid to the laundry and tip it into a jar for old Bert. He uses it for his garden, swears by it for his daisies, of all things. I stepped back, thought I’d trodden on Buffy’s tale, shifted to the side and slipped.” She attempted to pull her shirt down but his hand in the way prevented it. “If you don’t mind…?”

  Actually, he did mind. Very much, in fact. Now that he knew she wasn’t hurt, he was aware of just how much of this rubenesque woman was bared to his gaze by both her drenched shirt sticking to her bountiful breasts, and the skirt she wore riding up her rounded thighs.

  Yummy thighs covered in fine black stockings. And if he wasn’t mistaken, was that a garter belt peeking out from beneath the raised hem of the skirt?

  Oh boy. He loved garter belts. Unbidden, his hand slid down to land on her thigh right below that enticing peek of white frill.

  Harly’s shoulder brushed against his chest as she leaned forward and grabbed her skirt, yanking it down. Only she couldn’t get it right down, not with his hand on her thigh preventing it. “Alex, could you shift your hand, please?”

  “I could,” he replied huskily, “But I don’t think I will.”

  Surprised, she turned her head to look at him. The desire he was feeling must have been pretty plain on his face, because her eyes widened and a blush stole across her rounded cheeks.

  He looked again at her thigh. The black silk stockings looked sinful against the paler flesh of his hand. Sinful and evocative, and the garter belt he revealed as he moved his hand higher, pushing the skirt out of the way, was almost erotic in it’s startling white frill with the tiny red bow in the centre. His heart started to thud heavily in his chest, his blood pooling low and hot in his loins as the pale skin of her upper thigh came into view and-

  “Alex!” Harly almost slapped his hand away while shoving her skirt down, cutting off his view. “What are you doing?”

  “Having a look,” he replied frankly. “And I’d love another one.”

  “Well, you’re not getting one!”

  Seeing her burning cheeks, he realised that she was embarrassed. “Oh hell, no,” he stated firmly.

  “Oh hell, no - what?” Looking away, she tugged on her skirt again.

  Placing his hand against her cheek, he turned her back to face him. “You are never to be embarrassed about your body, Harly. Especially not with me.”

  “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

  “Yes, you do. You didn’t like me seeing your leg.”

  “It’s no
t exactly an appendage I want anyone to see.” When she tried to turn away, he stopped her.

  “If I ever hear you say that again, you won’t be able to sit on anything.”

  Mouth falling open, she stared up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.” His eyes narrowed. “You have a beautiful body, Harly Bentley, and running it down is not something I ever want to hear you do again.”

  “A beautiful body?” Her cheeks were still flushed, but there was a flash of annoyance in her eyes. “Are you blind?”

  “I’d be very careful of what you’re going to say next.”

  “Come on, Alex, it doesn’t take anyone with half a brain to see that my body isn’t beautiful. I know that.”

  “Oh, do you?”

  “Yes, and so do you, if you’re honest with yourself,” she replied a trifle hotly.

  “I’m honest with myself, all right, and now I’m going to be honest with you and you’re going to listen.” He almost laughed unexpectedly when her chin lifted and she arched one brow arrogantly, and he probably would have except he also saw the shadow of vulnerability in her eyes.

  That vulnerability struck him down deep in his soul and he softened. His hand on her cheek gentled, his thumb moving to brush across her lower lip.

  “Baby,” he said softly, “I think you’re beautiful just the way you are. You have two legs, two arms, a working body, and you’re all soft curves and warmth. I love every curve, so why shouldn’t you?”

  Swallowing, she licked her lips before whispering, “I don’t hate myself.”

  “You’re self-conscious.”

  “That comes with being a big woman.”

  “You’re not a big woman, Harly. You’re not a little woman, you’re not a skinny woman, you’re not a fat woman, or petite, or any other word we’ve all heard to describe a person. They’re just labels. You are a woman.” When she glanced down, he added quietly, “You are Harly Bentley, pet owner, worker, sewer, sweet, strong, and I find the fact that you wear black silk stockings with white garters very sexy.”

  Her lips twitched even though she glanced shyly up at him.

  “And your body makes me incredibly hot,” he stated firmly.

  The small laugh that escaped her made him warm inside, the fact that he could make her laugh, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see her push her fears away.