Only We Know

by Victoria Purman

  Sam rubbed his chin. ‘Okay, Dad.’

  The wind picked up and the high clouds moved across the sky in front of a fierce wind, blocking out the sun and casting a shadow across the property. He wasn’t sure what to do now, how to progress with his old man. They’d been around and around like this before. At the end of the day, was it any of his business what his father decided to? If the stubborn old bastard wanted to stay there, live there, die there — because he was too stubborn to admit it was too much for him — wasn’t that his choice?

  Sam looked back to the door. Wondered where Calla was. She’d know what to say, what to do to stop Charlie being so cranky with him. Sam looked at the dogs. They looked back at him like he was an interloper. Charlie was their master. They would no more take orders from him than from any other stranger who lobbed up to Roo’s Rest. They knew their place, where they belonged. Just like Charlie did.

  Charlie cleared his throat. ‘The dam. Your mother always loved it there.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Bloody hell, son. And you think I’m losing it. Show your girl the dam.’

  CHAPTER

  21

  Calla swung open the passenger door and stepped out of the car. Her borrowed rubber boots squelched and sank into the soggy paddock mud. She pulled them free with a laugh. She’d offered to open and close the gate, and was feeling all country girl and rugged as she did it, so they could drive through into the next paddock. But before she even looked for the latch, the beauty of the scenery stopped her in her muddy tracks.

  This place felt like a miracle. The air was so crisp and clean that breathing it in made Calla giddy. She leant over the gate and took it all in. To her left, the spindly branches of a gum tree growing on the side of the track reached towards her like an old lady’s arms, the scrubby leaves gathering in clumps and moving slightly back and forth in the breeze, like a slow dance. In the distance was dense scrub, olive green against the bright damp grass. A sliver of aqua sky was visible between dramatic rolling clouds of white and pale purple.

  When they’d climbed into the car back at the house, she’d asked Sam where they were going; but he’d refused to say anything other than a mysterious, ‘You’ll see.’ She hadn’t missed the huge wink that Charlie had thrown his son when Sam had announced they were off for a drive. The Hunter men were something else, she decided, and she wondered if the whole island was full of blokes like them. But only one of them sent her nerves jangling when he trained those dark eyes on her. Maybe it was the mystery of being away in a strange place, stuck out of her comfort zone, being a little lost, that made these feelings more intense than they might have been if she’d met him back home. If she’d run her trolley into a man who looked like Sam in her local supermarket, she would have simply been annoyed — and he would have turned out to be gay. That was the kind of neighbourhood she lived in. Brilliant if you wanted to make a new gay best friend, but not so great for an achingly celibate straight woman.

  A straight woman who was feeling very bent out of shape by the one-hundred-per-cent hetero Sam Hunter. Hell, she wouldn’t care if he were only ninety per cent, as long as he kept looking at her the way he did.

  The car horn sounded twice in quick succession. Calla looked back over her shoulder and hoped to hell her cheeks weren’t flushed with the desire she felt in every nerve ending. Sam was grinning at her through the front window and tapping his watch. She threw him a cheeky middle finger and a warm tingle zapped her in her throat when his eyebrows lifted and that grin became a sexy question on his face, complete with raised eyebrows and a dipped chin.

  She unfastened the metal loop that served as a latch, lifted it, walked the gate open and waited while Sam drove through, deliberately revving up the engine to growl at her as he passed. She closed the gate and walked over to climb back into the car, aware of his eyes on her, watching every move. The way she stepped up onto the footrest, turned to slide her bum into the seat. When she reached to her left to pull the seatbelt around her, when she fastened the buckle. When she ran her fingers through her hair to push her curls away from her face. Sam had turned off the music. All she could hear was her heartbeat thudding in her ears and his breathing.

  ‘Do that a few more times and people will think you’re a local.’ His voice was low and so damn sexy that Calla had to grip her hands into balls to keep from touching him.

  She chuckled. ‘Hah. How many generations does it really take for islanders to think of someone as a local?’

  ‘Maybe a few.’ Sam took off and they slowly drove across the paddock, manoeuvring to avoid the low-lying water. Calla liked being high up in the four-wheel drive. Her own car sat low on the road like a squashed bug. Her car. She hadn’t thought about that disaster for at least twenty-four hours. No, all her thoughts had turned to this man. Her reluctant tour guide.

  Calla rested her head against the headrest. The sun through the window warmed her and she knew that, in ordinary circumstances, she could easily fall asleep in this little warm cocoon. But she was too aware of him, too on edge about being so close. There was something dangerous about Sam and her alone in the middle of nowhere. Whatever was said would be locked in this space, this time and place. If she closed her eyes, this could be something other than what it was. It could be the start of something, rather than just a detour because of a missing brother and a car accident. She wondered what he might look like wearing something other than jeans, sturdy boots and thick jumpers. A suit? Something dark, slim cut, with a silver tie. And what about his uniform? Oh boy. And what about naked? She’d already seen him wearing nothing but droplets of water and a towel, and had appreciated every bit of him. Could she remember? Had there been a scatter of dark hair low on his belly? A strong chest and smooth skin?

  ‘Calla?’

  Her name on Sam’s lips. It had never sounded so good to her. Oh god. She pressed a hand to her quivering belly and kept her eyes squeezed shut. That one word hadn’t ended her fantasy of seeing Sam naked: it had thrown petrol on its fire. Kaboom. Calla. Was that how it would sound if he were close, whispering in her ear? As he moved over her, as he was about to come, pressed against her and inside her? Her blood thickened, pushing her pulse to racing, and she pressed her thighs together, relishing the sensations she was feeling. ‘Yeah?’ she said, hoping it didn’t sound like a gasp.

  ‘We’re here.’

  ‘We are?’ Calla opened her eyes. There were more green paddocks in front of them, and a copse of gums on one side.

  Sam opened the car door and got out. Calla followed him on shaky legs.

  CHAPTER

  22

  Calla hung back as Sam walked ahead of her through the lush grass. She’d slowed her footsteps on purpose so she could watch him. Damn, he had a nice walk. She loved a tall man. Driving. Walking. She swore under breath. Next she’d be burning up with desire over the way he drank his coffee.

  Maybe the fact that she hadn’t had sex for about a million years was doing strange things to her imagination. The angel warred with the devil in her head for quite some time as she watched his long strides. Surely that delicious way he looked at her meant he was thinking what she was thinking?

  They’re all like that before the sex, remember. It’s what happens after that screws a girl up so bad.

  I know, but …

  Calla sighed. She knew exactly who her angel was. Rose. What would her sister say to her right now? ‘Look, he’s hot. You’re both single. Just be clear about what it all means from the start and you’ll be fine.’

  Which was easy for her to say, with her adoring husband and her nearly-there baby. Her brave choices had paid off. Calla’s? Not so much.

  Sam was ten metres ahead of her, his hands in his pockets, taking aimless steps, looking like he wasn’t in a particular hurry to go anywhere. In complete contrast to Calla, he seemed more relaxed and at ease than she’d seen him since the day they’d met. He wasn’t rushing around to save someone or care for her, or worried about his father.
He’d tried to hide all that anxiety from her but she’d known, could see it in his eyes and in the tension in his shoulders. Right here, right now, he was ambling, she decided, and it was such a nice word for what he was doing. She decided to amble right along behind him. Mostly so she could keep watching his arse.

  And then Sam stopped, turned back to her. Silhouetted against the green of the paddock and the distant gums, he was all height and handsome. He was beckoning her with an outstretched hand. She stopped, unsure if her legs would buckle if she took another step towards him.

  He must have sensed her hesitation. ‘C’mon,’ he called. ‘I want you to see this.’

  When she got close, he took her hand.

  And there it was. A fuzzy kind of shock tingled up her arm and jolted in her chest. She couldn’t breathe. When his warm fingers wrapped around hers, when his thumb rubbed the inside of her palm, her knees felt even wobblier and the hot look in his eyes tipped her pulse into a crazy dance. The smell of wet grass was suddenly sweet. The chilled breeze was comforting. And her hammering heart made her feel alive.

  Sam led her closer to the trees and, as they rounded the edge of the copse, they reached what looked like a small lake, edged by gums on one side. Just as they’d approached, the sun had escaped from behind a curtain of clouds to brighten every colour. Calla was overwhelmed by the green of the grass and the trees, the clear blue of the sky and the puffy marshmallow whiteness of the distant clouds. The water in the dam was a mirror: all the clouds and images around it reflected on its smooth surface so everything looked twice as big and doubly as dramatic. Tufts of different grasses grew sporadically around the water’s edge and, over to the left, a ghost gum stood watch over the scene, half submerged in the water with its arms eerily outstretched.

  Calla squeezed Sam’s hand and finally found the words. ‘This is perfect.’

  All around them it was silent. If Roo’s Rest was in the middle of nowhere on a remote island off the southern coast of Australia, this stunning and special place might well have been the most secret place in the country. There was barely a noise, save for the wind rustling the leaves. There was nothing to see but the sky and the water and the trees. There was nothing to breathe but the crisp goodness and beauty of this place. The ducks and the swans on the dam might be sniffy about an intrusion but, otherwise, Sam and Calla were alone. That realisation made Calla more aware of everything. Her heartbeat. His strong hand still around hers. The way their arms touched as they stood, close. The only movement was in Sam’s fingers as he entwined his more closely with hers. She liked his warmth, liked feeling protected in his grasp this way. She reached up with her free hand and wrapped her fingers around his forearm. She moved in closer. Up above, so high she could only make out a shadow against the sun, two birds soared, wings outstretched, riding an invisible current.

  Sam followed her gaze. ‘Wedge-tailed eagles. See their fan-shaped tails?’

  ‘I can see,’ Calla said in wonder. ‘How beautiful.’

  ‘They mate for life, you know.’

  Calla smiled, kept her eyes in the sky. ‘Like your mum and dad, right?’

  Sam chuckled. ‘Yeah.’

  His parents had made the place their home, and raised a family there. She wondered what Roo’s Rest would have looked like through a child’s eyes, a growing boy’s eyes. As a girl, she would have been so scared of all this space, this emptiness, those huge birds soaring in the sky above them. She would never have opened herself up to all the wonder of it. Maybe that was being a city kid. Maybe it was just being Calla.

  ‘So this was your backyard,’ Calla said softly into the murmuring breeze.

  ‘We roamed everywhere, all day, every day. There wasn’t a frog we didn’t torment or a stick we didn’t chuck somewhere. We left the house after breakfast and came back for dinner.’ Calla could hear the change in Sam’s voice. He sounded far away, as if the memories were flooding over him in a wave and he was struggling to pick out the ones that meant the most.

  ‘Well, it sure beats the quarter-acre block I grew up on. The most adventurous thing I ever did as a kid was swing on the Hills Hoist. I could only ever make it around one time. And then I’d get scared and jump onto the overgrown grass — my parents didn’t believe in gardening, you see — and hope like hell I didn’t land on one of Jem’s toy trucks or the garden rake.’

  ‘Sounds dangerous.’ Sam smiled down at her, nudged her playfully. ‘Must have been scary as hell for the glass-half-empty girl.’

  Calla tingled at the awareness that he’d filed that away, that piece of her. That little bit of getting to know her.

  ‘I hated it. It always — always — made me feel sick. But I was the big sister and I had to prove I was the bravest. Of course, I never was.’

  Sam led Calla closer to the edge of the dam, their footsteps disturbing the floating ducks, which took off in a flap and a flutter. Calla watched them disappear into the distant blue sky.

  ‘I don’t reckon I’ve been here since I left the farm.’ Sam’s gaze was on the ripples in the water.

  ‘Charlie said your mum loved it. I can understand why.’

  Sam looked down at her, his face serious. ‘This was her favourite place in the world.’ His eyes softened. ‘Sometimes, she’d disappear from the house and we’d search for what seemed like hours and hours. And we’d always find her down here, with a rug and a book. I guess she got sick of a houseful of boys. Can’t blame her really.’ Sam chuckled. ‘Other times she used to drag us down here for picnics. Andy and I —’

  Sam stopped.

  Calla waited. Breathed deep. She gripped his arm tighter, snuggled her hand into the warmth and comfort of the space next to his chest. ‘Your brother?’

  Sam nodded. ‘We’d throw our yabby nets into the dam, over there on the other side. Mum hated the bloody things so of course when we caught any we’d chase her all over the place, waving them in her face. It used to crack Dad up.’

  She looked up to him. ‘What happened?’

  He waited for a moment before speaking. ‘He was driving a tractor here on the farm and it rolled and crushed him. Almost twenty years ago.’

  Calla’s heart almost stopped beating. He’d lost a brother too. Really lost him.

  ‘He must have been so young.’

  ‘He’d just turned twenty.’

  ‘Do you think—’ Calla held her tongue. Would her question push too far? It seemed almost too obvious a reason to her for Charlie’s stubborn refusal to move. He’d lost a wife and a son there. Wouldn’t that be more than enough to cement him in? Deep breath. ‘Have you ever thought … Have you ever wondered if that’s the reason Charlie doesn’t want to leave the farm?’

  Sam didn’t answer right away. ‘Maybe. It’s the reason I left. Couldn’t wait to get away from the place after that. Everything here was just too fucking sad.’

  ‘You were only a kid, right?’

  ‘Eighteen. It was the summer after I finished high school.’

  ‘How come you didn’t stay and take over the farm, grow all the sheep?’

  She felt him stiffen. ‘That was Andy’s thing, not mine.’

  Calla dropped her head on Sam’s shoulder. She could feel his chest rising and falling with his breath. When he moved, they were face to face. He looked into her eyes.

  He leant down, came in close. ‘I don’t want to talk about all this sad shit.’

  ‘I understand if you—’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about anything.’ Sam’s lips were a whisper away from hers and Calla arched her neck to meet them. His dark chocolate eyes were on her mouth. His breath was hot on her cheek. She tugged on his hand, a silent urging.

  He paused. ‘I’ve been wanting to do this since you crashed into my car.’ The crinkles in the corners of his eyes appeared once again and he grinned.

  ‘Oh really?’

  Sam’s cool lips grazed her left cheek before pulling back again. ‘Or maybe since you ran into me with your trolley at the supe
rmarket.’ He touched her right cheek with his mouth, lingering there a little longer now. Calla stepped into him, pressed her breasts against his chest until they were locked together down to their thighs. She stepped a foot in between his legs on the wet grass.

  Sam nuzzled her curls, kissed the soft skin under her ear and then nibbled her earlobe.

  Her belly — and lower — quivered. He traced more lines on her with his mouth. She reached for his forearms, gripped him through his jumper.

  ‘Actually, now that I think about it …’ Sam’s mouth was nearly on hers. She could almost swallow his hot breath. ‘… I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you on the boat.’

  There was a buzzing in Calla’s ears. She felt so limber that, if she were to let go of him, she was scared she would tumble backwards onto the grass.

  She leant back and met his eyes. ‘You going to keep talking about it or are you going to shut up and kiss me?’

  Calla reached up and grabbed Sam’s neck, tugging him to her at the same time he crashed his lips into hers. His strong arms were around her waist, lifting her off her feet, and his kiss, oh, that kiss, did nothing to extinguish the burning inside her. His teasing lips were open and full of wanting her and she kissed him right back with everything she had, hard and desperate and aching for him. He tasted real and masculine and his three-day growth abraded her cheeks as his mouth searched hers. Their tongues danced, and then he was kissing her top lip, her bottom lip, invading her, stealing her breath. She clung to him like a limpet, weak-kneed, shaking, burning up and feverish. His hands roamed over her, cupped her arse, moved up her back, then weaved though her curls as he cradled her head. All she could feel was his strength. All she could hear was her breath and someone moaning. She figured it was her. And all she could taste were his lips, his desire.

  She’d been struck by lightning.