Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2)

by Amy Andrews

  “Another six tackles, that’s good, bring it back!” Marcus called from the sideline.

  “I’m so pleased you could stay for the match,” Mrs D said, giving Selena’s hand a squeeze.

  “So am I,” Selena said, smiling at her grandmother, and she sounded genuine to Jarrod.

  After last night, he’d expected her to do another disappearing act back to Brisbane—do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

  Do not say goodbye.

  To find her car still parked outside this morning had been a surprise. To find her at the football even more so.

  They hadn’t said much last night afterwards. They’d righted their clothes, and he’d driven them back home. He hadn’t known what to say, his brain too busy trying to figure out how the hell they’d ended up screwing in his dual cab. And she’d seemed equally as lost for words. When he’d pulled up outside their houses she’d opened her door and simply said, “Goodnight,” before sliding out of the vehicle, and he’d let her go because what did you say to the woman you’d just nailed in your car, who you used to love but had spent the last fifteen years not liking very much?

  What the fuck? Even now his head was spinning.

  “Do you remember how we used to come here every Sunday and watch Marcus play for the Bucks?” Mrs D said.

  “Yes.” Selena shot him a sideways glance, fanning the coals of desire that had been smouldering in his balls since she’d sat down beside him in a pair of teeny tiny shorts and a V-necked T-shirt with two buttons popped at the cleavage. “I remember.”

  Was she remembering the day they’d had sex in the team change rooms after everyone had gone home? It had smelled like sweat and feet but neither of them had cared at the time. All he’d been able to smell was her Lulu perfume and the jasmine in her hair.

  “Hard to believe he’s the one doing the coaching now,” Selena murmured, returning her gaze to her grandmother.

  “He’d still be playing if he hadn’t blown out his knee that third time,” Connie chimed in like she was an authority on sports injuries.

  “Yes! Go Reggie!” Marcus yelled from the sideline. “Go man, you can do it.”

  Jarrod was pleased for the distraction as everyone on the blanket along with every Bucks’ supporter at the field got to their feet and whooped and hollered as little Reggie Wyndham, the runt of the team, became a blur of red and green as he streaked down the field towards the goal posts. Reggie and his family had emigrated from northern England last year and lived on one of the outlying properties. He always gave one hundred and fifty per cent; unfortunately he was clumsy as hell and hadn’t scored a try all season.

  But, just before the full-time hooter went, he managed to dodge the larger but slower opposition player and put the ball down on the line.

  Reggie leapt in the air with a grin on his face a mile wide as the rest of his team piled on top of him. Marcus and his excited parents ran onto the field, along with about half of Jumbuck Springs.

  “Did you see that, Selena?” Mrs D exclaimed, clapping wildly. “What a little ripper that Reggie is! I always knew he had it in him. Jarrod,” she beamed at him, “wasn’t that brilliant?”

  Jarrod laughed. “It was bloody awesome,” he agreed. Reggie was a good kid and a real team player. It was fantastic to see him have his moment in the sun.

  Reggie was carried from the field on Marcus’s shoulders, followed by the rest of the team. He was beaming when he was finally put down right near the Weston’s blanket.

  “I did it, coach,” he said, excitement emphasising his northern accent, looking up at Marcus like he’d hung the fucking moon instead of making him do endless ball catching drills to counteract his clumsiness. Drills that had definitely paid off today.

  “You did it, Reggie. I told you you could, didn’t I?” Marcus grinned, ruffling the kid’s hair. “All that hard work paid off. You were a real champ out there today. I’m proud of you.”

  Marcus pulled Reggie in for a big, tough-guy chest bump and then the whole team was swamped by people wanting to congratulate them. It was twenty minutes before they were all called back into the middle of the field for the medal ceremony. But Jarrod couldn’t hang around for it. He was due to start work soon.

  “I have to go,” he announced.

  Selena glanced at him, startled, as Mrs D said, “Oh no, really?”

  Jarrod nodded. “My shift starts in half an hour.”

  “You work too hard,” Mrs D said, smiling at him, giving Selena’s hand a squeeze before turning her attention to Delia’s fingernails. “That’s very artistic, Connie,” she said, sitting herself down next to mother and daughter.

  Jarrod glanced at Selena. No-one else seemed to be paying any attention to them but they weren’t exactly alone either, with people milling around everywhere waiting for the awards ceremony to start. He wanted to ask her to come back to the house with him. She was leaving later, and he wouldn’t be home until eight. Shouldn’t they at least talk about what happened? Even if he didn’t have the words?

  He sure as shit didn’t want to do it here in front of everyone.

  “So you’re off, then?” she said.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Shift work,” he shrugged.

  “It’s fine,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Well it was …” She looked around her, obviously not comfortable with their lack of privacy either. Jarrod was pretty sure Mrs D was eavesdropping and possibly also Lacey. “Nice seeing you again.”

  He blinked. Nice? Seeing her again had been a lot of things, none of them in the ballpark of nice. “You too,” he said stiffly, because that’s what people said, right?

  “And thanks for …” She dropped her gaze to the brittle grass. “The ride last night.”

  Jarrod’s breath cut out for a moment before an absurd urge to laugh pushed against his diaphragm. He wasn’t sure if she’d deliberately chosen those words, but it was just one more idiosyncrasy in this bizarre reunion they’d had. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured, unable to suppress a small smile.

  She glanced up at him sharply, a frown on her face that quickly melted as her lips briefly quirked up at the side.

  “Well anyway … goodbye,” she said, awkward again.

  For an awful moment Jarrod thought she was going to stick out her hand. He stepped forward and leaned in, a hand sliding onto her waist as he kissed her on the cheek, lingering a little longer than strictly necessary.

  “Goodbye,” he murmured, before dropping his hand and stepping back.

  At least it was a goodbye this time. Still unsatisfying. Still a sense of unfinished business, but a goodbye nonetheless.

  He was just pleased Marcus wasn’t here to witness it. And hang shit on him later.

  Their gazes locked and in that moment everything and everyone around them faded, and he was seventeen again, standing with his girl at the footy on a Sunday afternoon.

  He wanted to tell her that he was glad she’d come back. That he was glad they’d talked, glad he knew what had happened all those years ago, but a loud squeal of feedback from the crappy sound system rent the air between them and Selena broke eye contact.

  A tinny, “Welcome ladies and gentleman and thank you for staying on for the medal ceremony,” announced the start of the awards.

  “Gotta go,” he said.

  She nodded. “Yeah.” And she turned away heading toward her grandmother, her ass in those shorts taunting him all the way to work.

  * * *

  Selena had every intention of driving straight out of Jumbuck Springs later that afternoon and never looking back. But when she got to the main road through town, instead of turning right and heading east towards Brisbane, she turned left heading out of town in the other direction.

  Saying goodbye to Jarrod at the football had been awkward and stilted. Things had been left unsaid between them, and she didn’t want to leave like that again. Last night they hadn’t really talked about what had happened between them—it had been too raw to even anal
yse—and she needed to know that Jarrod wasn’t freaking out about it.

  He’d seemed kind of freaked out at the footy—distracted—his gaze landing on her frequently, hot and heavy on her neck.

  And she didn’t want that. She may not have any plans to return to Jumbuck Springs any time soon, but she didn’t want to leave with any resentment between them this time. She wanted to talk to him. Say the things she’d wanted to say to him at the football, but hadn’t felt able to amongst a crowd of people.

  That she had missed him. And she had been wrong to leave like she did fifteen years ago. That she had hurt him and she was sorry.

  That it was great to see him again. Not just nice as she’d told him. Great. Really great.

  Too great …

  Something that maybe they’d both needed in order to move forward.

  Then she could leave with a clear conscience. Something she hadn’t had as far as Jarrod Weston was concerned for fifteen years.

  She’d hightailed it out of Jumbuck Springs with the ghost of her mother on her tail—a woman she didn’t even remember—and never looked back. In hindsight, telling him the real reason last night had been cathartic. For both of them. Even if it hadn’t been easy hearing his pain. Knowing she’d caused it. Jarrod had spoken the truth—he wouldn’t have been like her father. And she should never have judged him through that lens.

  She had to live with the fact that she’d destroyed something good. Something that could have been better.

  And she needed to tell him that too.

  * * *

  Five minutes later she pulled her car up outside the rural fire service headquarters. A quarter of the building appeared to be office space, abutting a huge concrete hangar area with three massive roller doors that were up and showing off two gleaming yellow fire engines. A small engine took up the third space and beside it sat a sturdy four-wheel drive vehicle with a row of emergency lights on the roof and the rural fire service logo on the sides and front.

  It had expanded significantly from the single shed and one engine that had been here when she’d left town all those years ago.

  She climbed out of the car, the afternoon sun hot on her bare legs and arms as she approached the building. She walked inside, the coolness of the large concrete space caressing her skin as she slipped between the two big engines. The place seemed deserted, but she could hear voices coming from somewhere nearby even if she couldn’t see anyone.

  “Hello?” she called.

  Nothing.

  She walked across the enormous concrete bay towards the office area, where the voices appeared to be coming from, through an open doorway into a large multi-purpose room. It boasted both kitchen, eating and lounge areas as well as some desks and whiteboards displaying several topographical maps.

  Several rooms led off it. There was only one with the door open and she walked in its direction, satisfied that the voices she could hear were coming from inside. She stepped through the doorway to find three buff dudes, in baggy workout shorts and no shirts, pumping iron.

  Well, hellllo there. This was better than a slap in the face with a wet fish.

  Two were standing with their backs to her, working on their biceps, joking around about something. The other guy—Jarrod—was lying on his back on an apparatus, doing bench presses.

  There was clearly some truth to those TV shows set in firehouses where fireman worked on their bodies in between running into burning buildings.

  None of them noticed her at first. Selena didn’t mind so much. But when waiting turned to straight out ogling she figured she’d better make herself known. She cleared her throat and the two guys working on their biceps turned and she was treated to more fabulous man flesh.

  “Hell man, are you seeing what I’m seeing?” the younger guy said, sweeping her from head to foot as he shot her a dazzler, “or do I need to rehydrate?”

  Selena smiled. The guy looked like he was twenty and she had to give him points for his cockiness. Maybe he’d been taking lessons from Marcus.

  The other guy was probably ten years older but just as smooth. “I sure do hope so, otherwise I’m going to have to see my optometrist about getting my prescription checked.”

  Selena laughed. She could see Jarrod replacing the bar, vaulting up, twisting around. “Selena?”

  The young guy glanced at Jarrod then at her, faking a wounded expression. “You’re after Jarrod?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  He looked at his mate. “What is it with rangas?” he groaned. “Why do they always get the chicks?”

  As Jarrod stood and her body started to hum, Selena was tempted to say it was because of his really big cock. She’d show him she could talk dirty outside the sexy times too.

  But she didn’t.

  “We feel sorry for them,” she said instead.

  “Well, I guess somebody’s got to,” the younger guy said.

  “Okay, fun’s over,” Jarrod said, picking up a nearby towel and throwing it around his neck, wiping his face with the tails. He walked toward her, his big broad chest and meaty shoulders covered in sweat and she was reminded of him up a ladder in his tool belt.

  Her belly did a crazy flop as he prowled closer. This was not the time for it to be getting all needy. They were at his place of employment and she was leaving town.

  He halted in front of her. Close enough to see beads of perspiration on his chest. Close enough to smell the mix of healthy sweat and virile male. Close enough to touch. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

  “Just on my way out.”

  He frowned. “Is everything okay? Is your grandmother—”

  “Everything’s fine,” she assured, cutting him off. “Do you think we could … talk?”

  She glanced behind him at two very interested onlookers. Young dude winked at her.

  “Oh. Sure …” He ushered her into one of the other rooms and locked the door after them. It was a small area that had five low camp beds, evenly spaced, and not much else.

  He ran the towel over his head, neck and shoulders and indicated that she should sit on a bed but she refused. She didn’t want him looming over her. Or having his crotch anywhere near level with her mouth.

  Having him all pumped up, sweaty and half-naked on the back of last night’s exploits was seriously pushing her buttons. And taunting him with her blow job expertise last night was putting all kinds of ideas in her head.

  “Are you sure everything’s okay,” he asked planting his feet near the closed door.

  “Yes. I just … didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. Properly.”

  His gaze swept up her legs to the popped two buttons of her T-shirt. “Properly?”

  His voice sounded strained. “Without an audience,” she clarified.

  “Right.” He threw the towel around his neck again and hung onto both tails.

  “I feel like we should talk about last night,” she said. “I’m sorry about it being kinda … weird afterwards.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed a hand along his whiskers and she felt the delicious scraping noise deep behind her belly button as if he’d gotten on his knees and rubbed his chin there. “It was kinda weird wasn’t it?”

  “I’ve never done anything like that before … I mean, had sex with someone I wasn’t in a relationship with and well … it was you and … I couldn’t really wrap my head around it for a while. I didn’t know what to say, and then I was afraid I might say the wrong thing, and it seemed easier not to say anything. To just … let it be what it was.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “And what was it?”

  “Crazy? Impulsive? Cathartic? Inevitable … And, apparently,” she smiled, “your pleasure.”

  His eyebrows lifted and he seemed uncertain for a moment before he smiled back. “Fucking A it was.”

  Selena laughed and he joined her as they remembered their little moment at the footy, and some of the awkwardness from earlier lifted. “I guess I just didn’t want to leave here without k
nowing that you were … okay with what happened. I don’t want to have anything that feels like unfinished business between us. Not after last time.”

  He shrugged his shoulders, no sign of laughter now. “Okay.”

  Selena frowned. What did that mean? Okay, fine. Okay, whatever. Okay, I’m still pissed at you. His lack of response needled at her. Jarrod had always been infuriatingly brief.

  “Nothing’s changed because of what happened, Jarrod. I can’t just drop everything because you and I had sex.”

  He pulled the towel off his neck and threw it on the nearest bed, shoving his hands on his hips, doing the finger drumming thing again. “I don’t believe I asked you to.” His jaw was tight, his glare frosty.

  “No … Right. Shit, sorry.” How fucked-up arrogant must that have sounded? A few days back in his orbit and the Selena who’d hoped she was pregnant all those years ago was rearing her ugly head again. Sabotaging her. She should have killed that bitch dead instead of just cutting her off at the knees.

  What had happened to coming in here and telling him she was sorry and she missed him?

  “Ignore me. I think my conscience is especially sensitive when it comes to you.”

  “You can leave with a clear conscience, Selena. I’m a big boy, I know casual sex when it lands in my lap.”

  Selena blinked as his words slapped her hard in the face. Hang on … what? Is that what he thought it was? Sex with Jarrod may have been a one-off, but there hadn’t been anything casual about it. Not for her anyway. “It wasn’t casual sex.”

  He gave her an oh-really look. “How would you describe it?”

  Was he serious? Did he really think she didn’t know that it had meant something to him too? “You are pissed that I’m going.”

  “I’m not.” He shook his head. “I’m just debating your definition of casual. We had sex. We’re not in a relationship. Now you’re leaving with, I assume, no plans for continuing to have sex with me. I think that’s the very definition of casual.”

  “I think casual is about more than frequency, or infrequency as the case may be. It’s also about … intention.”