by Emma Powell
Not wanting to climax yet, Laney leaned forward and reached for Rich’s shirt. Instead of undoing it she ripped it clean off, sending the buttons flying. Rich threw his head back and laughed a deep sexy, horny laugh. She ran her hands over his hard, lean chest, stopping to flutter her fingers over an old scar that ran the length of his torso. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his and he smiled.
‘It’s ok.’
She smiled back, dropped her head and kissed the scar – every inch, until she was low enough to run her tongue across his belly button, making him shiver. Rich groaned and ran his fingers through her hair. He pulled her back up and kissed her ferociously, deeply. She sucked on his lips and grazed them with her teeth, all the while taking his belt buckle in her hand and undoing his trousers. He helped her remove them and they fell to the ground. He kicked them away as Laney teased him through his boxers.
What was the expression? Italian Stallion. Well yes. Rich was one definitely one of those.
All of a sudden, Rich pulled away with a sharp breath, dropping his eyes to the ground.
Laney gasped. Did she do something? ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, tears stinging her eyes. ‘Did I ...’
‘No. You didn’t do anything.’ Rich interrupted. He reached out to touch her and then pulled back, shaking his head.
Exposed, Laney grabbed for her shirt and flung it around herself. The air was hot and damp but she was shivering. Finding her glasses she shoved them onto her face, her hands shaking.
Rich took a step towards her, ‘Laney I’m sorry. It’s complicated. I’m kind of in a relationship. I think.’
Laney held her hand up to stop him. ‘You think? And you chose now to mention it? Her voice trembled with rage and embarrassment. ‘When I almost had your fucking cock in my hand.’
She pushed past him, refusing to let tears take hold, and ran out of the Barrel Barn into the post hail drizzle. She heard Rich yelled after her but she was too busy berating herself for believing in him to hear what it was.
Rich
‘I don’t want her. I want you!’ Rich called out after Laney as he reached for his clothes, trying to run after her and jumping from foot to foot to get his pants on without falling.
He cursed himself for being an idiot. She had every right to be angry. He had gotten so carried away with wanting her that he’d totally forgotten about Charlotte. He didn’t think she’d mind but he did. He didn’t want to start anything with Laney before ending it completely with Charlotte. But now he’d most likely stuffed it with Laney anyway.
He’d finally managed to pull his wet trousers up when he heard the vineyard manager’s gravely urgent voice.
‘Ricco! Ricco!’ Carlos entered the barn out of breath.
‘What’s up?’ Rich asked, still shirtless.
‘It’s not good, boss. Not good at all. The hail.’
He bent down and picked up his buttonless shirt.
It was only at that point Carlos noticed his boss was half naked. He raised a quizzical eyebrow and Rich shook his head. ‘It’s a long story my friend. A long story.’
‘Well I think I saw your long story heading that way.’ Carlos pointed towards the main building.
Rich closed his eyes and let out a deep breath to get himself back on track. ‘Ok Carlos. Show me the damage.’
They stepped out of the shed into the dense muggy air.
He couldn’t believe how thick the humidity was. Normally a storm would have cleared it. This time it had made it worse. It was the kind of wetness that decades ago had only occurred in northern Queensland and had slowly but surely been making its way south – not the optimum climate for wine grapes. Rice, yes. Grapes, no.
He looked down at his once flourishing vines that had stood so proudly in the summer sun were now a wilting bunch of leaves in the post-storm Armageddon.
He and Carlos made their way down to the crop. He walked through the rows of vines, surveying the damage. Dark brown mud caked his once shiny black Oxfords, from which they would never recover. He caressed the hail-damaged leaves and bent down to inspect the trauma to the grapes.
It wasn’t as horrendous as it looked. The canopy of leaves had done their job and protected their little round, delicious, money-making offspring. They would’ve been no good for a supermarket shelf but for wine-making they would pass muster.
‘Carlos!’ Rich called out to his vineyard manager who was inspecting the fallout a few rows away.
Carlos popped his head up over the vine and had a huge smile on his face. Rich smiled back at him.
‘Hallelujah, Ricco!’
‘Hallelujah, Carlos! As long as we don’t get another one in the next few weeks we’ll be fine.’
‘My car didn’t fare so well from those hailstones,’ Carlos said, ‘but as long as these babies made it, I don’t care.’ He bent down and with a Mwaw kissed the leaves.
Rich clapped his hands and laughed, relief surging through his body. The relief was quickly replaced with guilt about what he’d done to Laney.
His Catholic upbringing had drummed guilt into his DNA so he pretty much felt guilty ninety-seven percent of the time.
He let his mind wander back to when she was half-naked in his barrel barn, up against the eight-month-old Chardonnay. She was vulnerable then, he could see it in her eyes and feel it on her tingling skin. To do that to her then was just a really fucked up thing to do.
So regardless of what happened with them he knew he needed to explain and apologise properly. She deserved that.
Then he realised he didn’t have a way to contact her. Hoping she may not have left yet and as he turned to run back up the hill,his Oxfords slipped and he went down head-first into the mud.
Carlos had seen the entire thing, and he burst into laughter. ‘Oh no, capo!’
Rich hauled himself up, his entire front bathed in sludge. ‘Not funny, Carlos.’
No time to lose he whipped his shoes and socks off, and sprinted up the muddy hill towards the restaurant.
Taking them off had given him more grip on the wet grass but it was still slow going as his feet slipped out from under him many times.
He finally made it to the main building, and the onlookers who’d taken shelter in the restaurant during the storm greeted him with rapturous applause. They’d watched his mountain-goat-like climb up the glistening hill. He gave them a flourishing bow.
‘Bravo!’ A smiling Ben walked towards him with a slow clap. ‘I shall now and forever call you Sir Richmund Hillary. Mountain killer. Slight-incline-on-wet-grass slayer.’
‘Fuck off, mate.’ Rich brushed past him.
‘You got something against footpaths?’ Ben trotted along behind him, the annoying sidekick.
‘I was in a hurry.’
‘Mate, you look like you’ve been in more than a hurry.’
‘Storm and hail plus dirt makes mud, Ben. Hashtag science.’
‘Did the storm pop your buttons too?’ Ben laughed and clapped Rich on the back.
‘I didn’t DO anything.’ Rich hoped the drying mud on his face covered the rising blush as he attempted to close the shirt around himself.
‘Well, you two definitely have a thing about buttons then, because Laney hot-footed it through here a few minutes ago fixing up the crooked ones on her shirt. Dead giveaway! But hey, I’m rapt for you, buddy. I can live vicariously through you, ’cause right now ‘getting lucky’ for me means just finding my car in the parking lot.’ He laughed out loud at his own joke and gave Rich another whack on the back.
‘Mate don’t live vicariously through me. I fucked up. Where’d she go?’ Rich asked.
‘You fucked up, with a woman?’ Ben shook his head. ‘What are the odds.’
‘Where’d she go?’ Rich demanded again.
‘Dunno. Think she was heading out the front.’
‘Thanks, mate.’ Rich gave Ben a particularly hard back-slap and made a beeline for the entrance.
Ben winced, and rolled his shoulders, ‘Now
that was unnecessary.’
Rich pushed open the large entrance doors and ran outside but there was no sign of her. He raised his head to the sky. ‘Oh c’mon!’
There was nothing else he could do and as he turned to go inside, a cab pulled up at the entrance. The passengers tumbled out and, based on their level of intoxication, were on a cellar door to cellar door expedition. As they caught sight of Rich, in his shoeless, mud caked glory, their eyes widened and one of the women reached into her purse, pulled out a ten dollar note and gave it to him. ‘Get yourself a new shirt, darling.’
Rich stared at the note in his hand as the group stumbled towards the entrance.
‘I thought only homeless people lived in the city.’ exclaimed his benefactor.
He glanced up as they tried to open the huge doors. He smiled to himself and was content to watch them struggle, because in that moment he wasn’t the owner of Xroad Wineries, he was just some random homeless guy needing a new shirt, a hot shower, and a phone number for Laney.
He followed the party of revellers back inside to get Laney’s booking details from Dee.
‘Oh no, Mr De Luca. That is a privacy issue. We never give out booking information.
‘Oh, come on, Dee. Just this once. Please?’
Dee shook her head in exasperation and with a few keystrokes on her laptop pulled up the bookings list. She wrote a phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.
‘This is the person who booked it. It might not even be her number. Booking was under Gallagher. You owe me.’ She shut the lid of her laptop, tucked it under her arm and walked out of the restaurant.
Ben ambled up to Rich. ‘Jeez, you’re good, mate.’
‘At what?’
‘Getting what you want. With that old dropping of the head and doggy-eyed thing.’
‘Since when do I do that?’ Rich asked, aghast that if he had done it, that he’d done it with Dee.
‘You’ve been doing that thing with your big blue innocent eyes since the beginning of time, mate.’ Ben counted on his fingers. ‘That time when you wanted to get out of detention with Mrs Walsh cause you didn’t want to miss cricket training. Then there was that time when you were on your Ps and did the U-turn at the no U-turn sign and the cops pulled you over. The female copper let you off with a warning. Then there was that time two weeks ago –’
‘Okay, okay, I get it,’ Rich interrupted. Desperate to finish the conversation and call Laney, he walked into the main office, with Ben tight on his heels.
‘What’s so important on there?’ Ben eyed off the piece of paper.
Rich took a deep breath. ‘Laney’s number. I hope.’
Ben flopped onto a chair opposite the desk.
Rich scowled at him. ‘Don’t you have glasses to wash or something?’
‘Nope. This is much more interesting.’ Ben smiled, rubbing his hands together.
‘Out!’ Rich glared at Ben and pointed to the door.
Ben crossed his arms and slumped back further into the chair. ‘Not until you give me the lowdown of your monumental fuck up buddy. I might be able to give you some advice.’
Rich threw his head back and laughed. ‘You, give me advice? From the bloke who hasn’t had a relationship that’s lasted longer than two months. I’m the longest relationship you’ve ever had.’
‘Ouch,’ Ben’s bottom lip trembled in pretend hurt, his voice dry with sarcasm.
Rich threw his hands up in surrender and sat across the desk from Ben. ‘We were going at it,’ Ben gave him a thumbs up, which he ignored. ‘And then I told her about Charlotte.’
Ben sat up straight. ‘You fucking what? Rule number one or seven I can’t remember but it’s a rule – never mention another woman when you’re going at it,’ he exclaimed, air quoting going at it.
Rich rolled his eyes. ‘It’s number ten and we came up with those rules in Year Seven.’
‘Year Seven or yesterday. A rule’s a rule mate,’ Ben huffed. ‘No wonder she took off.’
‘Which is why I need to call her and apologise and explain.’ Rich waved the number at him.
‘What are you going to say? Gee sorry I told you about the other woman I’m seeing as I was about fuck you sideways.’
Rich slapped his hand on the desk. ‘It wasn’t sideways we were upright and I’ll tell her the truth.’ Rich glared at Ben. ‘I love you mate but get out before I chuck you out.’
Ben pushed himself out of the chair with a heavy sigh of resignation. ‘Well don’t say I didn’t warn you.’
Rich shot him an infuriated stare, which sent Ben towards the door. Then he turned back. ‘Oh and I love you too.’ He blew Rich a kiss and narrowly escaped the paperweight Rich threw at him as he ran out of the office.
Rich gathered himself, picked up the phone and dialled.
Laney
Laney’s toes poked out through the bubbles at the end of the bath as she leaned back on the white porcelain and breathed out – really truly, deeply breathed out – for what felt like the first time that day. Baths always relaxed her. She was definitely a water baby and her mum had always used it to calm her. Even when as a toddler they had no bath in their tiny one-bedroom flat, the kitchen sink sufficed. Laney didn’t care. As long as she was surrounded by water, she was happy.
She closed her eyes and the memory of Rich pressing against her, his breath on her neck, his hands running down her back and him moaning Fuck you’re beautiful made her squirm. Her skin hummed, and she felt every bubble and every molecule of H2O as it swirled around her, making her shiver.
Then she remembered him pulling away and telling her there was someone else, and her saying something about having his cock in her hands, and then her getting the hell out of there straight to Ryan’s place.
He’d looked surprised to see her but obviously knew well enough not to ask any questions as she threw her hands up in the air and declared, ‘That’s it. Men can get fully fucked,’ and made a beeline for the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
As she contemplated a life without men, there was a knock on the door and before Laney could answer, Ryan flounced in. carrying two glasses of wine and a bottle shoved under his arm.
Laney wondered how he’d knocked on the door.
She pushed herself up, making sure the bubbles still covered all her bits, as Ryan handed her one of the glasses.
He plonked himself down on the closed toilet seat and sat the bottle on the bench next to the toothbrushes and cotton buds.
‘So…?’ He took a large swig of wine and leaned back against the cistern.
‘So what?’ She copied him and slugged almost half the glass, regretting it straightaway as it wasn’t a particularly good drop. Definitely not as good as the Xroad they had for lunch. And probably not even as good as the chardonnay that Rich had pressed her up against only a few hours ago. That arsehole.
‘So, I gather it didn’t go according to my plan? Spill the re-fried beans, baby. What happened hon?’
She wasn’t quite sozzled enough to tell him the embarrassing truth that she’d been rejected, so instead she held her glass out for a refill.
Ryan took the bottle off the bench and held it next to the glass in a pouring position. ‘But not until you give me something.’
Laney pulled her glass back.
‘Okay, okay. How about I ask and you just nod or shake your head,’ Ryan yielded.
Laney moved her glass back to the bottle in agreement.
‘Cool. Now I’m going to assume something happened. So…did you pash?’
Laney nodded. He poured a minuscule amount into the glass.
‘Is he a good snogger?’
Laney dropped her eyes, smiled and nodded. Ryan poured a little more.
‘Did he touch your boobies?’
Despite being angry with Rich, Laney felt her nipples tighten and tingle at the memory and took a quick peek to see if the bubbles where still doing their job. Thankfully, they were.
‘I’ll take that
as a yes.’ He poured a little more, bringing the glass to half full. Laney took a gulp.
‘Did you fuck?’ Ryan winked at her and slugged from the bottle.
Laney coughed and spluttered her mouthful of wine into the bath.
Ryan tossed his head and laughed. ‘Oh hun, you know I don’t care about snogging and boobies and all that hetero nonsense, I just wanna know if you got your end in. God knows you need a good shagging.’
Laney glared at Ryan but couldn’t stay annoyed at him for long. ‘No, we got interrupted. Thank goodness.’
‘Why?’ Ryan leaned forward, his brow furrowed with real concern. She didn’t see this version of Ryan that often and it made her heart swell with love for him.
‘We were interrupted by him telling me that he’s seeing someone else.’
‘Ouch. That’s gotta hurt,’ Ryan winced, sucking in air at the thought.
‘Even better I had my boobs out at the time,’
They locked eyes for a moment and then burst into hysterics.
‘That’s not ideal,’ Ryan squealed through bouts of laughter.
Laney let out a snort. She hadn’t snort laughed in a long time. ‘No. No it wasn’t.’
At that moment Ryan’s phone buzzed with a call. His ringtone was of himself belting out a Mariah number. He looked at the screen. ‘I don’t know this number.’ He shrugged. ‘Live on the edge.’
He clicked on the call. ‘Hello Ryan the siren.’
Laney giggled at his greeting and rolled her eyes at him as he listened to the caller.
‘Oh yes I remember you,’ he hissed then sat up straight and looked down at Laney.
She mouthed What?
He nodded, did lots of ah huhs to the person on the other end and pointed to Laney.
Who the hell was he talking to? Laney threw her arms up in an impatient shrug.
‘One moment caller,’ Ryan ordered. He didn’t bother to cover the mouthpiece. ‘It’s the arsehole. He wants to apologise to you. In person. He’s sorry, blah blah blah etc etc etc.’ He cocked his head to her as if waiting for a response.
It was Rich. Laney felt her head spin. What was she supposed to say? She covered her face with her bubble soaked hands and shook her head.
