Hope's Road (13 page)

‘And me!' said a voice behind him. Jacinta Greenaway sashayed into the room. She wore a low cut lacy crimson top. A pair of cut-off denim shorts encased her trim bottom. Long tanned legs and bare feet with bright pink toenails finished the Project Barbie look off.

‘Who the fuck are you two? And what the hell are you doing on my hill?
In my bloody house
?' thundered the old man. Dean took a step backwards, but Jacinta stood her ground. ‘Hello, Mr McCauley,' she said sweetly. ‘How do you do? I'm Jacinta Greenaway, but my
friends
all call me Cin.' The inference was clear. Joe could be her friend too if he liked. ‘I heard you'd been in the wars, so thought I'd drop over some big, fat chocolate muffins. There's nothing like chocolate to set those feel-good endorphins loose.'

A big box covered in cellophane appeared on the table, perfect brown muffins dripping with chocolate buttons sitting snug inside.

Tammy watched, incredulous. Old Joe – the abusive, belligerent old codger – became melted butter within seconds. ‘Harrumph.' The old man cleared his throat. Nice words were obviously sticking in his gullet. He had another go. ‘Well, then . . . thank you.'

‘Oh you're most welcome, Mr McCauley. It must have been a
terrible
ordeal for you. Would you tell me
all
about it? I understand you were extremely
brave
!' The girl fluttered her eyelashes at Trav, who was watching the whole show, dumbstruck. Tammy wasn't sure who Cin thought was ‘extremely
brave
!' – Trav or Joe.

Suddenly Trav snapped out of his trance and abruptly gestured at Billy, who jumped from his chair and offered it to Cin.

‘Oooo, Billy! Thank you. How lovely.' Cin sat down and then pulled the chair closer to Joe, leaning across the table, her full breasts perched within spitting distance of the old bloke's mouth. Tammy could swear he started to drool. She grinned and met Trav's eyes across the table. He was smiling too. At her, not Cin. His half-smile. The one that had just recently started turning her stomach inside out.

‘So, Mr McCauley, how did you hurt your hip? Tell me the
whole
story, right from the start,' Cin's voice twittered somewhere to Tammy's right. A tiny part of her brain was saying she should swing around and talk to Dean Gibson, who still lingered in the kitchen. Be polite. Apologise for her behaviour towards him at the hospital. But her whole being was focused on Travis Hunter and his half-smile. His eyes had darkened from their usual vivid bright blue to the same navy of the mountains before rain. Tammy felt her mouth drop open slightly. Found she was breathing in small gasps. She felt herself leaning towards him. Saw him do the same. Oh good God! He felt it too. This pull, this attraction, this –

‘And so, Tammy, I was just calling by to see if you were free next Friday night. Rob Sellers told me where I could find you.' Dean's voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I met Jacinta down near Joe's gate – she was looking for Travis.'

The spell was broken. Just like that. Tammy pulled herself back from Trav. Disappointed, she turned towards Dean. ‘Huh?'

‘Oh, and I thought I'd check to see how your uncle was too, of course.'

‘Well, as you can see he's good.' He was far from good but that answer would do for now while she pulled herself together and got her mind out of Travis Hunter's pants. Geez! What the hell was she thinking? He was the wild man from the back-of-beyond. And her own husband had only just removed his jocks from her drawer!

‘And so, what about next Friday night? Would you like to come with me? I think the dance starts about eight-thirty. We could do tea beforehand.'

‘Oooo yes, let's!' Cin chimed in. She turned to Joe. ‘There's a dance on, Mr McCauley, to raise money for the ambulance station. A new defibrillator or something.' Cin clapped her hands together like she'd had some divine inspiration. ‘Travis, let's
all
go!'

‘What about me? Can I come?' This was from Lucy in the corner.

‘Of course you can!' gushed Cin, swinging round. ‘We'll find you a date too –' She stopped and gulped, taking in Lucy and her hair for the first time ‘– somewhere.'

Dates? A dance? Oh good Lord. Tammy glanced across at Trav, who'd gone pale. She was being asked out. By Dean Gibson. ‘Sorry, Dean, need to look after Joe –'

‘Can't, Cin. No one to look after Billy –'

Jinx again. They both stopped and stared at each other, then looked away.

Lucy was pouting.

‘Well, I think we can sort that one out pretty quick smart,' said Joe, speaking into the uneasy silence. ‘I'll look after Billy, and he can look after me.' He glanced at the boy, who had remained as quiet as a mouse. ‘Right?'

Tammy's heart went out to the child, whose eyes were now swinging wildly from his father to each grown-up in the room. She could almost see his mind whirring: he and Joe spending some time together alone? The boy looked like a cornered animal. Then Billy stared straight at the old man. ‘Yes, sir.'

‘Yes sir, what?' Joe was unrelenting.

‘We can look after each other, sir.'

‘Splendid!' Cin cried, clapping her hands. ‘What fun!'

‘Ripper!' said Dean. ‘I'll come out and pick you all up!'

‘Oh, my aunt's fanny!' Lucy was grinning.

‘Just great,' murmured Tammy.

‘Fuck,' muttered Trav.

Chapter 21

Tammy stood in the doorway contemplating the gaping bedroom ceiling. Outside, she could hear Travis calling the dogs to their kennels, the faint drone of two vehicles as they made their way down Hope's Road – Lucy, Dean and Cin were heading home. Crockery was clanking against the sides of the stainless-steel sink in the kitchen as Billy did the dishes. And she assumed Joe was where she'd left him, tucking into his third chocolate muffin. She surveyed the width of the gaps. They'd have to find some planks and do a quick fix.

Tammy moved outside and met Travis coming up the verandah steps. ‘We're going to have to mend that ceiling otherwise Joe will be swallowing possum or rat poo while he snores.'

Trav nodded. ‘I've been for a scout around and found a few spare lining boards up in the roof of the old barn. Want to come give me a hand to slide them out of the rafters?'

Tammy agreed and followed him out towards the sheds. The night was clear and brilliant under a bright fullish moon as she walked in Trav's footsteps. She couldn't help but marvel at how good his butt looked in a pair of Wranglers. ‘Enjoying the view?'

Tammy could feel a blush steal up her neck. She looked up but Trav was still walking and waving his big torch out across the mountains, glowing in the moonlight. ‘Looks pretty special, doesn't it?'

She glanced down again and pursed her lips in thought. Yep, the way the denim cupped his bum cheeks looked mighty fine to her.

Travis suddenly stopped and turned. She ran straight into his broad chest. Her knees went out from under her and his arms came around her slim waist to catch her fall. ‘Geez, Tammy. Get a grip. Those mountains aren't worth two McCauleys landing on your arses.'

But Tammy was lost in the folds of a navy-blue King Gee workshirt. The smell of the man was sublime: all wood smoke and manly deodorant mixed with the scent of warm skin. The feel of his arms around her was making her nerve endings fizz like freshly opened lemonade. His hands travelled down past her elbows, his clutch fierce when steadying her but at the same time almost like a caress as he checked she was okay. The touch of his fingers dancing across her arms burned like a peppering of hot rocks.

Then all the heat was gone, leaving her to think she'd imagined the way her body fit Travis Hunter's like a second skin. He'd pushed her away, but not before she felt the warmth and hardness centred in the man's groin. He obviously felt something too. She couldn't see his face in minute detail due to the shadows of the night, but she could sense the steel in his glare. He stood for a moment and stared down at her in contemplation. But then he spun on his heels and stalked off, leaving her to gaze after him.

Tendrils of unease ran through her body. Why did she feel so attracted to this bloke? Shon, even in his earlier charming years, hadn't had this effect on her equilibrium. Never had she felt she would combust with heat at the slightest touch. With a wary eye, Tammy watched the man who was now entering the barn. She didn't need any more problems or emotional upheaval in her life. It was complicated enough.

The silence surrounding them as they wrestled some planks down from the rafters of the shed was as tense as twine on freshly baled hay. Tammy gladly moved away to an old workbench in a lean-to and riffled around to find some nails, hammer, tape and a saw. If she kept her head down maybe Travis Hunter would disappear in a puff of smoke.
Pfftt!
Then she wouldn't have to deal with him again.

But she couldn't help but feel disgruntled when Travis headed off with his torch without a backwards glance to find a ladder. Like it didn't really matter that he'd left her there by herself in the dark. She stalked outside into the moonlight, carting her tools, and stood and waited for the man to reappear. She'd have to help him wrangle the planks inside. At least there would be seven foot of timber between them this time.

Travis reappeared with the ladder and picked up the end of the lining boards with his spare arm. They carried the planks to the offending room, shoved the bed to one side and nailed the extra boards up on the ceiling to cover the gaping holes, all in complete silence. Tammy darted a surprised look at the man as he hammered in nails with ferocity. Baltic pine wasn't
that
hard.

She searched around and found some fresh linen in an old wood box in the far corner of the room. The camphor nearly knocked her out, but she supposed it was better than the smell of possum shit. ‘We'd better make the bed up for the old bugger,' said Tammy, in an effort to ease the tension. ‘He won't be able to do it himself.'

She and Trav made the bed, moving around, trying not to touch one another, not acknowledging this
thing
that seemed to be zinging between them. They kept the double mattress between them most of the time but the problem was when the man's muscled, tanned hands smoothed the sheets, then the blankets, all Tammy could think of was those same hands on her waist, her arms, as he righted her fall outside. Caressing her body like she was his. All she could dream of was Trav's broad shoulders, his strong and muscled body naked in that bed with her. Making love to her. Giving her that half-smile as he thrust into her. Her wet with desire. For him. Oh good Lord. She could almost feel –

‘I'm not sleeping in that bed!' Joe's yell from the kitchen interrupted her daydreaming.

‘Well, I know you don't want to but where else are you going to sleep?' Tammy called back, her voice surprisingly steady, as she pulled her mind out of the sheets and away from Travis Hunter. ‘I don't see you fitting into that meat-safe cot.'

‘Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, girl. Don't be impertinent!'

Impertinent? He was saying
she
was impertinent? Tammy stifled a giggle and dared a look across at Trav.

‘Obviously, his good humour departed along with Cin's skimpy sandals,' Travis whispered.

Tammy shoved a hand across her mouth, trying to stop herself from giggling more. She glanced at Travis again.
He
was doing the same. Their giggles erupted into chuckles. Then full-blown laughter. Trav threw the pillow he'd just covered at her, trying to get her to stop. She buried her face in it but still the laughter kept coming. Unbottled, unfettered, hysterical laughter that was just bubbling to the surface – the tension, the stress, the worry, the events of the past few weeks set to blow like a champagne cork.

‘Are you laughing at me, girl?' Joe yelled, really pissed off.

‘Me?' called back Tammy. ‘No, I'm not laughing!' But she found she couldn't help herself until Trav strode around the bed and pushed her onto the big, soft mattress. He held her down, covered her with his strong and hard body, placed his hand over her mouth as tears poured from her eyes and laughter rumbled uncontrollably through her chest. She bit at his hand, and shook her head to dislodge it. Caught the look on his features and stopped. He stared down at her like he was doing battle with himself. His face had sobered, his eyes turning dark with hunger as they drank her in. Desire chased laughter away.

His soft lips came down sure and straight on hers, which were by now rising to meet him, all hilarity swept away by the look in his eyes, the feel of his body, the strength and sureness of his intent. Oh God, it was
really
happening.

Their lips met just as Joe's voice exploded from the kitchen. ‘I tell you. I'm not being told what to do by you pair of fucking morons! Here, boy, help me up! I'm going in there to give the pair of them the what-for!' The sounds of a scraping chair being moved out of the way followed, along with deep grunts of pain as the old man struggled to his feet.

And still Trav kissed her. Long and deep. Tasting, exploring, claiming. His warm lips moved softly and she was lost. In the moment. In the kiss. In Travis Hunter.

Then he was gone. Again. Cold air was all that caressed her body. Tammy wasted precious moments lying there wondering what had just happened.

‘What are you doing lying on my fucking bed?'

Tammy sat up, hoping her cheeks weren't as hot as they felt. ‘Just testing it out for you. See . . .' She gave the mattress a couple of bounces. ‘The springs are still good and I'm sure you'll be very comfortable.' Then she got off the bed quickly, refusing to look at the silent man on the far side of the room.

‘Harrumph! I'll sleep in me swag. Like I usually do.'

‘You can't get down there and you won't be able to get up,' Trav said from the shadows.

‘I'll fucking well give it my best shot!'

‘It's the bed or the nursing home,' said Tammy ten minutes later, after she'd watched Joe try to lower himself to the camp stretcher at least a half dozen times.

‘And that'd give you great pleasure, wouldn't it?' snarled the old man, out of breath. He tried again, and again, but eventually gave up, exhausted.

Tammy watched in silence until he stopped, then held the door open to allow him to clump back into the kitchen where Travis was helping Billy dry the dishes.

‘So the bed it is, McCauley?' Travis's tone was wry.

‘Harrumph!' The old man stomped his walking frame towards the front room.

‘Happy little camper,' said Trav, shooting a glance around at the others in the kitchen. When he reached Tammy she watched as his eyes paused and seemed to take in her whole body in one gulp. And her mind shot back to the scene on the bed, the look in his eyes, the reluctant hunger,
that
kiss. Tammy could feel the heat start to rise from her crotch.

Across the kitchen, Travis's Adam's apple quivered in his throat as he swallowed. ‘Right then. We'll get Joe into bed and then be off. C'mon, Billy.'

‘But, Dad, we haven't put the stuff aw –'

‘I'll do it,' said Tammy quickly. ‘I'll put it away, Billy. Off you go.' Anything to get this man out of the kitchen, the house. And the rate Travis Hunter moved through the door after Joe, she guessed he was feeling exactly the same.

It had been five days since her uncle had arrived home to McCauley's Hill and he'd been one difficult patient.

‘I'm not fucking eating that stuff!' yelled an indignant Joe, pointing to the offending food, now sitting in a nearby dog bowl. ‘Look! Even old Digger won't touch it and he eats
anything
!'

Tammy wondered if Travis was experiencing the same kind of behaviour. But she couldn't ask him because she hadn't seen him in five days. Or, more accurately, one hundred and eighteen hours and forty minutes. Not that she was counting. Somehow they'd managed to instinctively avoid each other. Travis came first thing in the morning to make sure Joe was up and about and then at night to see the old man into bed, leaving her to do the lunchtime and before-afternoon-milking run. Nothing had been verbally organised, it was just the way it had worked out.

‘I'm not eating it,' the old man said again, crossing his arms for emphasis. Tammy peered at the contents of the dish. A couple of very thin slices of grey meat, one lonely boiled potato and peas. Lots of peas. All floating in a brown broth that she supposed, at a stretch, could be called gravy.

She tried to inject a bit of enthusiasm into her voice. ‘Surely they delivered more meals? Susan said they would bring enough food for a week.'

Joe pointed towards the kitchen. ‘Go look. Tell me what you see.' He folded his arms and turned back to his kingdom, lips in an angry sulky line.

She kicked off her Redbacks and walked inside, clocking the bedroom on the right as she went. Try as she might she hadn't been able to stop thinking of Travis. What was it that drew her to him? He was so different to her. There was something about the man that made her think of circles and ovals rather than squares and rigid lines. A man who moved with the environment, the seasons, never on a set path. Wild. Dangerous.

She, on the other hand, was a perfectionist. A neat, tidy, worrying, perfectionist – someone who liked neat edges. Someone who had goals and targets to meet. Milk figures to aspire to; pastures to perfect. Her day was set out like a Rubik's Cube in precise boxes. Well ordered. Careful.