by Evie Snow
If lack of sleep weren’t enough, every day so far had been hell. From the moment she’d climbed out of the helicopter, her boss, Rick, hadn’t even bothered to hide his dislike, pinning every single mistake, every screw-up on her, no matter who was at fault. So much for expecting any disappointment in her resignation, although she knew that would be coming. Faced with a never-ending wave of green graduates like Hedgehog, upper management would be hounding her to come back for at least the next six months. It was too late though. She’d made up her mind. Even the cake a couple of the boys had somehow gotten to the mess hall hadn’t changed her mind, although she had to admit she’d been touched. No, it was time to go. She was done.
Over the past weeks, her conversation with Stephen about setting up a microbrewery had been rattling around her head, popping up whenever she had a spare moment and keeping her marginally sane. Slowly but surely, she was talking herself into the whole thing. She had the capital and contacts, and most importantly, she loved beer. She allowed herself a small smile at the thought then screwed up her face at the chemical smell of drilling mud, crude oil, and sweaty men. This was not the time to be thinking about her imminent career change, or beer for that matter. No point trying to launch herself into the future when she still had to deal with now.
She checked the time again. It was too late to call Amy, but maybe Stephen would be up. She’d never called him at night before, preferring to catch him before he went to work, but it had been a nightmare shift and she wanted to hear his voice.
It was obvious she’d woken him up when he took over a minute to answer the phone, picking up at the last second.
“Stephen Hardy speaking,” he answered in a sleep-roughened voice.
“Damn. I woke you up, didn’t I?” Jo grinned.
“Jo? No. No, I’m up.” She could hear him fumbling around, maybe turning on the light. “Hey, it’s really late. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Nothing,” Jo said, running a hand over her eyes. “I’m fine. Just had a bad shift and wanted to hear your voice.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah.”
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“Not really, but I will if you want to hear.”
“Why don’t you?”
Jo didn’t need any more encouragement to give full vent to her frustration, her rant interrupted only by Stephen’s sympathetic responses and a few welcome exclamations of outraged disbelief.
“Feel better?” he asked lazily when she finally wound down.
“Yeah, actually, I do. Thanks.”
“I know what’ll leave you feeling even better.”
“What?” Jo asked suspiciously.
“You alone?”
“I’m in a mess hall with over thirty men,” Jo scoffed.
“Can they see you right now?”
Jo looked around. “Yeah.”
“Turn and face the wall. I don’t want them seeing your expression.”
“Why?”
“Because I miss you. I’m horny, and we’re going to indulge in a very pleasant few minutes of phone sex.”
Jo gave a loud hoot of laughter that had a few men eating at nearby tables looking up. “Nice one. Thanks. That’s cheered me up immeasurably.”
“Shaddup or I won’t pick you from the airport.”
“I’m all yours,” Jo said quickly, and Stephen gave a low, rumbling chuckle that flowed down the line and over her nerves like maple syrup.
“Well, I thought I’d tell you about a dream I was just having,” Stephen said in a playful tone. “You listening?”
Jo could hear him shifting around. She could also hear a faint meow in the background that meant Boomba was getting booted off the bed. Her smile widened to a wicked grin. “You know . . . it sounds like you’ve got all the pussy—”
“Don’t go there,” Stephen groaned. “You know, you’re really not making this easy. How’s a man supposed to get his thing on with a woman like you?”
“Sorry,” Jo said, not the least bit contrite. “I hope I’ve not deflated your ego too much.”
“Trust me, I’m far from deflated,” he grumbled. “So, I was telling you about this dream of mine . . .”
Ten minutes later, Jo was leaning with her forehead against the wall of the small phone box, listening to a very satisfied man breathing deeply after having one of the sexiest orgasms she’d ever heard. She hadn’t seen it, but by god, she wished she had. If she got any hotter under the collar, she’d need to install a cooling fan in her overalls. Somewhere in the pants region would do.
“You still with me, babe?” Stephen asked.
“Yes.” She groaned. “Dammit, you have no idea what you’ve just done to me.”
“Save it up and take it out on me later.” Stephen yawned loudly.
“Tell me you’re not going to fall asleep on me now that you’ve gotten me all worked up?” Jo growled.
There was a gleeful chuckle. “All the better to motivate you to come home soon. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
She growled at him again before hearing a knock on the door of the phone box. “I gotta go.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“That sucks.”
“I know. Love you and I’ll talk to you soon.” The words slipped out before she could edit them, distracted as she was by an ugly bastard named Frank who was gesturing to her to get off the phone. He had no idea what hellfire he was inviting upon his person.
There was dead silence on the other end of the phone. “Yeah. Talk to you soon.”
It was only when she’d hung up the phone that her words replayed in her head. She hadn’t just told him she loved him, had she? Too soon . . . too soon. Not when she hadn’t told him about the stuff with her family. Not when he could still walk away!
“Fuck!”
Jo’s frustration was augmented by the heaping plate of sexual frustration Stephen had just served her. She snatched the door open and towered over Frank, who stood a good five inches shorter. He backed up.
“What the hell do you want?” she demanded. “Some manners would be nice around here. Jesus Christ! I’m so sick of this crap.”
Frank’s expression was a rictus of terror. “Ah, sorry Kraka-Jo. Just wanted to let you know the boss man wants to talk to you. Something about a dud batch of mud . . .”
He and the men at the nearby tables winced at the inventive and impressive variety of expletives she heaped on Hedgehog, Frank, and the room in general before she stomped away, leaving a stunned silence in her wake.
“Well . . . she blew,” one grizzled good ol’ boy drawled after a while.
“Impressive,” the man next to him said.
“Can someone check to see where Frank’s head landed?” another voice piped up.
Chapter 16
“Do you have some weird medical condition no one’s told me about or did you just ram that stick up your arse for fun?” Scott asked, crunching across the blinding-white sand towards Stephen, who was brooding on a beach towel, elbows propped on his knees.
The two of them had just spent the last hour catching some early morning waves at Trigg Beach and were about to drop into a popular beachside café for a full breakfast. The smell of frying bacon was wafting across the beach, leaving Scott’s mouth watering and his stomach grumbling.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stephen muttered, glaring at a young kid holding a bodyboard who had the misfortune to be in his line of sight.
“You wouldn’t. Too stupid.” Scott dropped his board in the sand before stripping out of his wetsuit and wiping himself down with a towel. He began to squeeze the water out of his long, inky-black plait.
“Anyone ever tell you that your hairstyle is a disgrace to heterosexual mankind?” Stephen griped.
“I take back the stick comment. Sounds like it’s an entire tree. I might be a disgrace to mankind, but the ladies never complain. And given that I’m seeing a lot more activity in t
hat department than you of late, you’re a fine one to talk.”
It was six weeks since Jo had flown out to work, and Scott had watched Stephen’s mood degenerate from upbeat and obviously infatuated to downright vicious. Still, Scott was taking Stephen’s shitty mood as a good sign; after making Jo promise to tell Stephen everything about her family, he wanted to make sure Stephen wouldn’t be a dick and mess things up. If Stephen was missing her, there was a good chance he was in it for the long haul.
“Are we having breakfast or not?” Stephen pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his board and towel.
“Sounds good,” Scott replied, hiking his board under one arm and picking up his towel and wetsuit.
Fifteen minutes later, after they’d both inhaled a full English breakfast, Scott leaned back in his chair on the café balcony and leisurely sipped his Americano. Stephen hadn’t said anything the entire time they’d been eating other than to order a second espresso. This was painful.
“You taken up monastic silence or have you just evolved your communication to a higher plane?” Scott asked eventually, hoping he’d get a rise. He got lucky.
“Lauren’s sold the apartment,” Stephen muttered after a while, squinting out at the near-blinding glare of the sun reflecting off the sea.
“Yeah? Wow. Does Mum know? What am I saying? Of course she does. She’s your lawyer. She would have settled the deal, right?”
“No, actually.” Stephen shook his head. “Lauren sent me the paperwork and deposited half the money in my account last week. No lawyer.” He winced. “I really should tell Aunt Corrine, shouldn’t I?”
“When she’s finished beating you senseless for keeping her out of the loop, let me know, and I’ll come shovel your pulverized body parts off the floor,” Scott replied blandly, hailing a waiter and ordering another coffee while Stephen vibrated in his chair, both his legs jiggling under the table. “So what did Jo say?”
When the corners of Stephen’s mouth went south, Scott knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “Ah. You haven’t told her yet, have you? What are you worried about? That it’ll wreck the deal you two have living together? There’s no way she’d give you the boot.”
“You think?”
“Yeah. I don’t think it’s an issue. What’s with you two anyway? I know Jo’s serious, but—”
“She say that?” Stephen began playing with the teaspoon he’d used to stir his espresso, banging it concussively on the table.
“Not in so many words, but I know her well enough to have a good idea of where she’s at. You know she had a thing for you when we were kids, right?”
“Yeah. She told me just before she left. Showed me that photo in her room.”
“Serious?” Scott was surprised. He knew what that photo represented for Jo. It’s why he’d given it to her. Both he and Amy had matching photographs at their houses. For him, it was a reminder of the important people in his life and how far they’d come, but for Jo, he knew it meant something far more complex. For starters, she and Amy had been “camping,” or hiding out from their dad for two weeks already, when he’d accidently found them while taking photos with his new Christmas present.
“Yeah.” Stephen said curtly, obviously not wanting to go into detail. “She told me she loved me on the phone the other week too.”
“That’s not surprising,” Scott murmured, smiling.
“Hasn’t repeated it since though.” Stephen’s frown got more pronounced.
Scott wasn’t the most enlightened bloke out there, but he could tell when something was missing from the equation. “You said anything?”
“No,” Stephen blurted. “It’s so awkward on the phone, you know? There’s always someone around her. The phone lines are shitty, and I can never tell what she’s thinking. The whole situation is screwed.” He flicked the teaspoon across in the table in frustration.
Rather than say anything, Scott gave a huge shrug and smiled.
“What?” Stephen barked.
“You’re a first-class idiot, mate. You were when you were sixteen and thought Jo was my girlfriend and you are now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Jo doesn’t say stuff lightly. If she said it, she meant it. She probably hasn’t said anything since because you”—Scott gestured at Stephen with his coffee mug—“haven’t said anything back. Did you at least acknowledge what she said?”
“No. But—”
“I rest my case,” Scott jibed before his expression turned serious. “Jo tell you anything else? Anything about her family yet?”
Stephen scowled. “Not much. She said she would when she got back though. Want to enlighten me? Because it’s about bloody time someone did.”
“Nope. Not for me to tell.” Scott gave him an apologetic grimace. “So how serious are you about her then?”
“Jo?”
“No, the fucking tooth fairy.”
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought. Well. I have, but . . . this is a bit heavy for this early in the morning, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. You brought it up, and we’re talking about my best friend here.” Scott didn’t intend to let the topic go.
“Oh, alright. Well, ah. Pretty serious, I think,” Stephen said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.
“So you’d stick by her if something huge happened in her life? Even if it was pretty shitty?”
“Well, yeah. Of course. What sort of bastard do you think I am?” Stephen asked indignantly. His expression turned alarmed. “This isn’t about what happened after I fucked up at the party, is it? I’d pretty much chilled out about that, but now . . . Jesus Christ.” He ran a hand over his face. “The way she won’t talk about any of it has been giving me nightmares. How bad is it? Can’t you just tell me now?”
“I don’t think you’re a bastard at all, mate. Calm down, it will all sort itself out,” Scott replied, relaxing back in his chair. “Do me a favor though, will you?”
“What?”
“Tell her how you feel when she gets back. Straightaway. No messing around. At the airport if you can.”
Stephen’s expression turned suspicious. “Why? What’s it to you?”
“Just bloody well do it, alright? And you better have not been lying about sticking by her. Because if you were, you’ve got a chance of losing something that most men dream about getting once in a lifetime.”
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Stephen gripped the table and leaned forward, getting in Scott’s face. Scott wasn’t fazed in the slightest.
“If you can’t work that out, you are bloody stupid. Come on. I have to get home so I can get some work done. Can’t all be navel-gazers like you.” Not waiting for Stephen to absorb the twists and turns their conversation had taken, Scott pushed away from the table with one easy movement and sauntered over to the cashier.
* * *
Two weeks later, Stephen gazed down at Jo’s gently snoring figure on the couch and smiled wryly. It was one thing to tell Scott he’d wax poetic the minute Jo landed back in Perth. It was another to actually do it. Her flight had been seven hours late, delayed in Singapore apparently, and by the time she landed in Perth, she’d been near comatose from exhaustion. He’d then had to get her home, get her out of the car, and half carry, half drag her up the stairs, thanking god the entire way he was in good shape. A six-foot-tall woman wasn’t meant to be a featherweight.
He grinned. She shouldn’t look this beautiful to him right now. Her long legs hung over the armrest of her couch and her steel-cap boots were caked with some crap from her work. One of her arms dangled off to the side, hand resting on the carpet, and her black T-shirt was twisted around her awkwardly, exposing a good expanse of toned, creamy-skinned stomach. Her clothes carried that cooped-up plane smell that was reminiscent of flatulence and blocked drains, and her now-faded red hair was a greasy mess.
God, he’d missed her. Couldn’t wait to get her naked and show her too.
He reached down and ran a thu
mb over her full and slightly chapped bottom lip. “Jo? How about we get you into the shower and then bed?”
“Just a minute. Sleeping,” she muttered, closing her eyes tighter.
“Come on, babe. You are not going to thank me if I leave you here, and there is no way you’re going to want to wake up looking and smelling like that.” He tried to rouse her again by gently nudging her knee, but she batted him away.
Chuckling, he regarded her speculatively before making up his mind.
Within a few seconds, he had warm water running in the shower and his clothes stripped off. It took him much longer to get Jo naked, half charming, half bullying her into a seated position on the couch as he pulled her T-shirt over her head and unhooked her bra, only stopping for a few moments to reacquaint himself with her breasts.
“Lech,” Jo grouched, eyes opening a fraction before closing again.
“I’d like to be,” Stephen said before letting her flop back onto the couch. He moved down to pull off her steel-cap boots, then her jeans and underwear. “There. Okay, come on. Let’s get you moving. Jo?” he prompted, only to be rewarded with the sound of deep, even breathing.
In the end, he settled on scooping her up and carrying her awkwardly into the bathroom, where he stepped the both of them under the shower’s warm spray before letting her body slide down his so she was standing with his arms around her waist.
“Ohhh, so nice,” she mumbled against his neck. “That slipped disc you just got from lifting me was worth it.”
“You going to help me out here at all?” he asked, laughing.
“Hmm?”
“I’ll take that as a no.” Stephen reached for a bar of soap. Holding her up with one arm, he started brusquely lathering her back and arms. Like all good intentions, his took a slide when he reached her backside. He groaned when Jo shifted her legs slightly apart. She returned his groan with one of her own.
“I thought you were exhausted,” he said huskily, enjoying the feel of slippery, soft skin.
