Her Knight in the Outback (11 page)

Great. No wonder she'd taken a while to warm up to him. Maybe she still was.

‘It's not crazy,' he insisted suddenly, stopping and turning her towards him. ‘It's not common, sure, but what you're doing is...logical. Under the circumstances. I get it.'

‘You do?'

He waved his hand towards her poster display of all
The Missing
as they approached. ‘I imagine every one of their families would like to have the courage and commitment to do what you've done. To get out here and look, personally. To do something proactive. To know you've done as much as you possibly can.'

She tossed her head back in the direction of the MP's office. ‘That reaction is pretty common.'

‘People don't know what to say, I guess.'

She stared up at him. ‘You didn't have that problem.'

Something bloomed deep inside on learning that she had forgiven him for whatever first impression he'd left her with. Enough to shrug and joke, ‘I'm exceptional.'

The sadness cracked and her mouth tipped up. ‘So you say.'

‘Go,' he nudged. ‘Get started. I'll go back and manage Mr Charm, and then I'll go find us a camping site after I've dropped your new posters to you.'

She seemed to do a full-body sigh. ‘Thank you.'

‘No problem. Back in a few.'

He turned back for the MP's office but only got a few steps before turning again. He was back beside her in moments.

‘Wha—?'

It took no effort at all to pull her into his arms and tuck her safe and warm beneath his chin. To wrap his arms firmly around her so that nothing and no one could get between them.

How had it not occurred to him before now to hug Eve?

This was a woman who needed repeat and regular hugging. On prescription. And he was happy to be her spoonful of sugar. Her slim arms crept around his waist and hooked behind his back, and the rest of her pressed into his chest as she sagged into him. Stroking her hair seemed obvious.

Around them, the sounds of a busy coastal town clattered on.

But inside their bubble there was only the two of them.

‘That guy was a dick,' he announced against her ear.

‘I know,' she muffled into his chest.

‘I'm sorry that happened.'

She wriggled in closer. ‘You get used to it.'

‘You shouldn't have to.'

‘Thank you.'

He curled her in closer, resting his chin on her head.

‘Um...Marshall?' she eventually mumbled.

‘Yeah?'

‘Aren't you going to get us a site?'

‘Yep. Leaving now.'

Around them traffic did its thing and somewhere a set of traffic lights rattled off their audible alert.

‘Marshall?'

His fingers stroked her hair absently. ‘Hmm?'

‘We're making a scene.'

He opened one eye and, sure enough, a couple of locals walked by, glancing at them with amused smiles on their faces.

He closed the eye again and tucked her in even closer.

‘Screw 'em.'

* * *

‘Gotta say, you have a strange idea of what constitutes a “camping site”.'

‘I'm funded to stay in motels.' Marshall shrugged. ‘You might as well benefit.'

‘Are all your
motels
quite this flash?' She leaned on the word purposefully because the waterside complex was more of a resort than anything.

‘Well, no. But you put me up the last two nights so I have some budget savings. And there's hardly anyone else here out of season so you can take as much car park room as you need for the bus.'

Because she'd be sleeping in the car park while he spread out in the suite's big bed all alone?

She glanced at him. Maybe she'd misunderstood what his return meant. But she wasn't brave enough to ask aloud. Or maybe that was actually a really good idea. A tempestuous one-night stand was one thing but a second night—that needed some managing.

‘Come on. At least check it out since you're here.'

She followed him up to the second storey, where the suite's balcony looked out over a parkland walkway below to the turquoise, pine tree–lined swimming bay that curled left and right of them. The rest of the suite was pretty much made of either sofa or bed. Both enormous. A large flat-screen TV adorned the walls between local art and something tantalising and white peeked out at her, reflected, through the bathroom door.

Her breath sucked in.
Was that a...?

‘Spa?'

‘Yeah, I think so,' he said a little sheepishly. Had it suddenly dawned on him that this was all starting to look a little
boom-chick-a-wah-wah
?
‘It came with the room.'

How long had it been since she'd soaked her weary body? And having a spa, or lounging on the sofa, or sitting on the balcony with a glass of wine didn't have to mean she was staying the night here. Her own bed was pretty comfy, thanks very much.

She glanced at the crack in the bathroom door again and wondered how she could ask him for access without it sounding like a come-on. Or an invitation.

As usual, Marshall came to her rescue with the lift of one eloquent eyebrow and the careful and chivalrous choice of words.

‘You want first crack?'

It took her about a nanosecond to answer in the positive and about two minutes to sprint back to the bus and get some clean clothes. It was only as she took the stairs back up two by two that she realised what the bundle of comfortable leggings and track top in her arms meant.

They weren't going back out again tonight.

So, that meant room service for dinner. Nice and cosy, just the two of them.

Wow. Her subconscious was really going to make this tough for her. But the siren song of the bubbles was so strong she didn't care.

Bubbles.
Heaven.

‘It's a fast filler,' Marshall announced as she burst back into the room, more eager than she'd felt in a long time.

Oh, right...filling. Nature's brakes. Eve stood, a bit at a loss, shifting from foot to foot in the room's entryway.

‘It has a shower, too,' he volunteered, bright light glinting in the grey of his eyes. ‘You could get straight in and then just shower until the water level is high enough.'

She loved her bus, but its shower pressure was as weak as it was brief. The chance for a proper shower was overwhelming. ‘Oh, my gosh, really?'

‘Your face is priceless.' He grinned. ‘You like a spa, I take it.'

‘I used to have a jet bath,' Eve admitted to him. And then to herself, ‘I miss it.'

Not that she'd given her big four-person bath much thought when she put her house on the market. Because brothers before bubbles, right? But—oh—how she missed the great soak at the end of a long, hard week. And out here where every week was long and hard...

‘Go on,' he nudged. ‘Get in there.'

Her thanks were practically a squeak as she slipped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She waited a moment too long to flip the lock—worrying how Marshall might read the click after such a long, silent pause—but decided to leave it. If he had something nefarious in mind, he'd had plenty of more isolated opportunities to perpetrate his crime. Not to mention the fact they'd already slept together.

Besides, sneaking into a woman's bathroom was beneath a man like Marshall.

He's a good man.

It took no time at all to get naked and under the thundering commercial shower as the water slowly rose up over her calves. Hot, hot water pounded down on her shoulders and back, then over her hair as she plunged fully under it.

Warm and reassuring and...home. The water brought with it a full-body rush of tingles.

Unexpected tears rushed to her support.

She'd been doing this so long. Being on the road. Was it okay to admit she was tired? That didn't have to mean she loved Travis any less, did it? The water thundered on and she lifted her face to let the fresh water wash away her guilty tears. Eventually, though, the spa reached a generous level of fullness and she killed the overhead stream and slid down into the piping-hot pool. Her groan was inevitable and the long sigh that followed the perfect punctuation.

When was the last time she'd felt so...buoyant? When was the last time she'd just closed her eyes and floated? The water's heat did its job and immediately soaked into muscles she'd forgotten didn't always feel this way, including a few that had only been aching since the marathon of last night.

Was it only twenty-four hours ago that she and Marshall had twisted up in each other's arms? And legs. And tongues. Like some kind of fantasy. Had it even really happened? If it had really happened, wouldn't he be in here with her? Not respectfully waiting on the other side of a closed—but not locked—door.

She lifted one hand to better position it and the cascading tinkle echoed in the silent bathroom.

‘Marshall...'

‘Yeah?'

Water splashed slightly as she started in the bath at the speed and closeness with which he answered. The door was right next to her head but he sounded close enough to be in here with her. Her eyes went to the mirror reflection of the door instinctively, but she knew before they got there what they'd find.

Marshall wasn't really the Peeping Tom type. If he wanted to look, he'd just knock and enter and stare at her until she was as much a hot puddle as the spa water around her.

Because he's a good man, and he knows what he wants.

So what was he doing? Just lurking there? Or did the suite have some kind of weird acoustic thing going on?

She cleared her throat gently. ‘Are you busy?'

‘Nope. Just unwinding.' Pause. ‘Why?'

‘I just thought...maybe we could talk.'

‘Didn't you want to relax?'

‘It's a bit...quiet.'

‘I thought you'd be used to that after eight months on the road.'

Yeah. He had a point. Astonishing what two days of company did for a girl.

‘Normally I'd have music in my bathroom.' Classical. Mellow.

That deep voice was rich with humour. ‘You want me to sing something?'

The very idea added to her hot-water tingles. ‘Talking will be fine.'

‘Okay.' Another pause. ‘What do you want to talk about?'

‘I don't know. Where you grew up? Your family? Anything, really.'

The door gave a muffled rattle and Eve wondered if he'd leaned on it. She took the complimentary sponge from its packet and filled it with warm water, then squeezed it down her arms.

Rinse. Repeat.

The slow splashes filled the long silence and the steam started working on her pores. And her soul.

‘I'm not sure my history will be particularly conducive to relaxation.'

The tightness in his voice paused her sponge mid-swab. ‘Really, why?'

‘My family's about as functional as yours.'

Dead, drunken mother and AWOL brother was going to be tough to top. But her curiosity was piqued. ‘Where are they now?'

‘They're still in Sydney.'

‘That doesn't sound so very dramatic.'

‘Growing up had...its challenges.'

Her sponging resumed. Eve closed her eyes and let herself tune in to the low rumble of his voice. ‘Like what?'

Was that a resigned sigh through the door?

‘My family weren't all that well off, but we didn't starve. We were okay.'

Uh-huh...?

‘But it was the nineties. The decade of excess and success, and all that.'

Eve lay her head against the back of the bath and just listened.

‘I have a brother, too, Eve,' Marshall went on. ‘And poverty wasn't really his thing. So he took matters into his own hands and got quite...creative. Before long, the whole neighbourhood knew he was the go-to for whatever soft-core drug they needed.'

She opened her eyes and stared at the bathroom ceiling. After a moment she murmured, ‘Your brother was a dealer?'

‘An entrepreneur, according to him.'

Right
. ‘How long did that last?'

‘Until very recently I couldn't have answered that at all. But let's just say business is as good as ever for Rick. I don't really see him any more.'

No wonder Marshall could empathise about Travis. He knew exactly what it was like to lose a brother.

‘Whose decision was that?'

The only sound in the long, long silence that followed was the dripping of the shower into the spa.

‘It's complicated,' he finally said.

Yeah, wasn't it always?

‘I struggled growing up with Rick for a brother.'

‘Because he was a criminal?'

‘Because he was a hero.' He snorted. ‘This was the back suburbs, remember. Pretty rough area to grow up. People loved him, they loved what he sold and they scrambled to be part of his inner circle. And sometimes that meant scrambling over me.'

There was something so...suppressed in his voice.

Eve lifted her head. ‘Are you talking about girls?'

‘Girls. Friends. Even a teacher or two with insalubrious habits.'

Oh, poor teenage Marshall. ‘You resented him.'

‘No, I loved him.'

‘But you hated that,' she guessed.

‘It meant I was no different to them. The sycophants. I just wanted to despise him and be done with it.'

So, there were many ways to lose a brother, then.

‘Do you miss him?' she whispered.

‘I did. For a long while. It felt like he was all I had, growing up. But I just focused my attention on my work and suddenly a decade had passed and I hadn't really thought about him at all. Or my mother. Or Christine. Or what they were all doing together.'

She pushed herself up a little more. ‘Christine is with your brother?'

‘She was.'

The door rattled slightly again, but not the knob. Down lower. And that was when Eve realised how very close they were sitting to each other. Him sunk down onto the floor of the suite, leaning on the door. Her lying back in warm luxury.