Sting (16 page)

There’s nothing. Zip.

She’s been here, for what, two years? She said that much, but it looks as if she just moved in. Did she pack up in the middle of the night with what belongings she could grab?

Something about this doesn’t sit right in my gut.

Girls decorate shit. It’s what they do. Growing up, Cass was constantly re-painting her room, buying new linen and stuff, and there were always photos. When my sister moved into her first house, she went decorator crazy. I swear all her spare cash went on cushions and candles and shit. Now I guess she’ll be decorating a nursery.

I make my way to the bathroom, a pokey little room with old-fashioned small white hexagonal tiles on the floor, and a peachy-pink sink and matching bathtub. The tub is deep.
Hmm
. Room enough for two.

I fill the sink halfway with hot water and wash my face.

Once I’m feeling a little fresher, I take a stroll down the hall. There’s a door at the end which is closed. I’m tempted to open it, to see if it’s like the rest of the house, but that’d be rude.

The next door, which is opposite to the bathroom, hosts a queen-sized bed with a pale blue comforter and white, red and navy cushions. Nice to see a bit more colour around. There’s a small bookshelf in the corner filled with worn paperbacks.

Fifty Shades of Grey
. Isn’t that the kinky shit that Jeremy told me Cass was reading? Not that I particularly wanted to know my sister was into it, but at least I have an idea what it is. Good to know that Willow’s not averse to reading this stuff.
Not so RomCom in the bedroom, are we, Miss Willow?
Maybe we can delve into some of Willow’s fantasies.

Next along on the shelf is
Welcome to Sugartown,
which I can’t resist picking up. I scan over the back cover. An Aussie sex god rolls into town on a bike, with dirty secrets.

Hmm.
Secrets
. I sure as hell know a lot about those. My life is one big secret.

“Do you want a drink?” Willow calls out.

Enough snooping. I walk through to the kitchen.

“I’ve got beer or wine?” she asks, shrugging.

“Beer, thanks.”

She opens two beers and hands one to me. “We can have these out back while the chicken cooks.”

Willow collects a metal bowl with the chicken in it, and a pair of tongs, and leads me out the back door. She opens the lid to the small round barbecue. Smoke escapes into a cloud above her.

The chicken sizzles the moment she places the marinated meat onto the grill plate. She closes the lid and picks up her drink.

“Come on. Let’s see how our babies are going,” she chirps.

I’d sure like to drive my cock into that sweet pussy.

She says babies and all I can think about is practising for some. I chuckle to myself, and take her free hand in mine as we walk through to the garden. Once I have some food in my stomach, I’m sure it won’t be long before I get her naked.

Willow waters the seedlings with the hose, looking over at me occasionally. The bright smile she’s sporting never leaves her mouth.

“So, how long you lived in this house?” I ask and take a long swig of the cool amber liquid.

“Oh, since I moved here.”

“Just doesn’t look very lived in.”

She shrugs, and diverts her gaze away from me. The baby capsicums hold her attention for a bit too long. “Between the café and the beach, I’m hardly ever here. When I am, it’s pretty much to sleep.”

I’m not entirely satisfied with her answer, but I guess it’d take up a lot of time, running a small business.

“Yeah, I can understand that. Have you thought about doin’ anything else with the rest of the block? If you’re too busy I could give you a hand, if you wanna plant some trees or flowers or something?”

“I’m not big on flowers,” she says, her voice deadpan.

“Not even the bought kind?”

“Especially the bought kind. I know this sounds stupid, and I hope you don’t take offence, but please, don’t ever buy me flowers.”

Huh?
What kind of chick doesn’t want flowers?

“Why?”

“They remind me of—I’d rather not talk about.” She shakes her head. “Chocolate, on the other hand, I won’t say no to,” she adds with a crooked smile.

“Got it. Chocolate is key.”

The more I probe, the more her past niggles at me. She has a clear aversion to flowers. She came here for a fresh start, and she’s doing her utmost to hide her past.

Something happened to this beautiful girl.

I don’t like it one bit.

Willow turns off the hose and I follow her back up to the barbecue.

“Come on, Big Mussies. I’d better feed you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

RYAN

“I don’t think chicken and veggies get any tastier than that,” I say, putting my cutlery down on my empty plate.

“Was that enough? I mean, I’m used to just cooking for me.”

“All good, Blondie. It was beautiful. I made sure I’ve left room for dessert, though,” I say and wink.

“Good.” She takes our dinner plates to the sink and cuts two pieces of pie, placing them in small white bowls. “Let’s take a load off and eat this in the lounge room.”

“Good idea.”

We flick off our shoes in the corner and retreat to the couch. Willow switches on the TV and snuggles into my side. The news blares something about bushfires in Victoria. I need to catch up on what’s going on in the world. These long days are a killer.

“You nailed this pie, by the way,” I say, with a mouthful of the tanginess and hit of sugar rolling across my tongue.

“Thanks.” With a finger, she wipes meringue from her top lip.

The next news story is about a drug bust in Albury. Immediately I recognise the dingy pale blue weatherboard house, with the abandoned car bodies and rusted out tractor.

Operation Moonstone.

Of course, my ears prick up. Dougie and I worked our arses off on that job. We barely slept for those few months. I’m fucking proud with the knowledge that we finally nailed the bastards.

The broadcast continues to detail how many houses were raided simultaneously and the significant quantities of pills, ice and coke that were seized in the haul. We had suspected they were dealing ice, but this is great fucking news. They also found the old man in possession of child pornography, and seized all electronic equipment for analysis. Another paedophile off the streets, too. More than anything else, bastards who objectify kids like that make my blood simmer. The old man was involved in some serious shit.

“Disgusting,” Willow mutters under her breath. Her legs stiffen and she draws her shoulders closer to her ears.

“Yeah,” I mutter, returning my focus to the story.

“After carrying out the raids, a juvenile and two males were remanded in custody. The drugs seized have an approximate street value of three million dollars, which will have a significant impact on the supply and distribution in the community,”
the newsreader states. Images of the pills and bottles with ice lined up in evidence bags flash on the screen.

“You mind if I turn this off?” she asks, scrambling for the remote beside her.

“Um, sure.”

The room fills with a heavy silence. Willow sinks back into the couch and forces out a breath through her nose.

“You okay?” I ask.

“It just seems that the news is always about what’s wrong in the world.”

“Yeah, I guess, but it’s good to see that sometimes the bad guys get caught.”

“That’s if they can get them behind bars,” she scoffs.

“The justice system has a lot to answer for,” I say, and take another mouthful of pie.

I know I’m a piece of that puzzle, and I shouldn’t bag it, but too many times I’ve seen arseholes get off on technicalities. It fucking does my head in. Innocent until proven guilty, my arse. The public has no idea what we’re up against sometimes.

“Yeah, it does,” she replies, her words curt.

Silence hangs in the air. Willow puts her plate on the coffee table, her pie only half eaten. Any trace of happiness has left her pretty face. It’s like as soon as we changed rooms, she changed mood.

Okay … moving right along. Maybe a change of subject is in order.

“So tell me—I can probably already guess, but what was your favourite subject at school?”

A smile quirks at the corner of her mouth. “You think you’ve got me pegged, do you?” she says, turning side on to face me.

“Yup.”

“Okay then. What do you think?”

“Home Science,” I say with an affirmative nod.

“Nope.”

“Nope? What then?”

She breaks eye contact and turns her head slightly before making contact again. “Phys Ed.”

“Hmm, ’kay.” I frown, stumped that I got that wrong. I guess she looks the sporty kind, being fit and all, but I’m not convinced. “You lyin’ to me?”

She smirks and squirms in her seat.

“Did you just lie? Right to my face?”

“Not exactly. I had two favourites—P.E.
and
Home Science. Don’t like being wrong, do you?”

“I wouldn’t go scything that around. Technically, I’m not wrong. A favourite indicates one, Blondie.” I give her a wink, and poke her in the side. “So you were the quiet achiever. Kept your nose clean, and was a total suck-up to the teachers? Sound about right?”

“I wasn’t a suck up.” She pouts that pretty mouth, confirming my suspicion.

“Straight-A student?”

“Pretty much. So what?” she says, all attitude.

A deep chuckle rises up my throat. “Relax. I’m just yankin’ your chain.” I resist the urge to lick my plate clean, instead placing it on the table. “I don’t know what the hell you did to that chicken we had tonight, but it was incredible. In fact,” I say, lengthening out on the couch, and pulling her to lie beside me, “anything of yours I’ve put in my mouth tastes that good, it should be illegal.”

“Are you being rude?”

“Only if you want me to be.”

“I was an apprentice chef,” she blurts out.

Was?

“So you never finished?”

“No. Things didn’t quite go to plan, but I always dreamed of having my own place. When I came here, I had the opportunity to do what I wanted, and then I met Gabs at the hairdresser one day. We got to talking. We bonded over our love of coffee and sweet stuff, and the café kind of snowballed from there.”

“That’s awesome. You guys make a great team. You should be proud.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty lucky to have her in my life. For a lot of reasons. You know, without Gabs, this”—She motions her hand between us—“might not have happened.”

“Oh, this was always gonna happen, Blondie.” I grin with satisfaction. She was no easy conquest, I’ll give her that, but I had that vibe from day one.

She rolls her eyes and then shushes me. “So, I’m guessing you were into sports.” She relaxes into my arms and glides her fingers over my stomach to curl around my hip.

“Yup. I was a jock. Rugby, swimming and all that.”

“What about other subjects?”

“Auto Tech, of course. I’ll admit I wasn’t the smartest scholar, but I was pretty good at school. Well, when I wasn’t letting myself get distracted by girls. My dad was a real ball-buster back then, which I no doubt needed. You know, horny teenager and all.”

Willow runs her finger along my jaw, and we share a moment of silence. “You like working with Mick?”

“Yeah. He’s a good bloke, but there are
other
things that I look forward to in my day, yeah?” I twist my body so her front is against mine. A deep blush rushes to her cheeks, as I curl a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. I find myself wanting to know more. “So, any brothers or sisters?”

She closes her eyes and releases a long stream of air from her pursed mouth.

“I had a younger brother,” she says, eyes still closed.

Had? Well, fuck.

I give her waist a gentle squeeze. Her eyelids flutter open, glassier now.

“Hey, shit, I’m sorry.” Another squeeze.

“It’s hard to talk about.”

My heart constricts in my chest. What other shit has she had to deal with? Losing a sibling would be debilitating. I’d protect my sister to the ends of the earth. If I lost Cass …

“I can’t imagine.”

“I don’t talk about family. It’s too … hard.”

Her parents aren’t local, and she rarely sees them. Her brother is dead. It seems like all she has is the café and the people she works with. How can this cutie, this giving, hard-working sweetheart have next to no one in her life?

It’s not like I’m about to give her all the nitty gritty about mine—I can’t—but the thing I’m struggling with is that I want to. Never in the last two years have I wanted to bend the rules. Surely I can give her a little?

“You don’t have to talk. It’s cool.”

She blinks a few times in quick succession, and takes in a deep breath. Her fingers tease at my fringe, and run over the top of my scalp.

“Tell me about you, though.” A fleeting smile crosses her lips.

“I have a younger sister. She busts my balls any chance she gets.”

She laughs, and her eyes crinkle at the sides. “I’d love to see that.”

Will she get to bear witness to it one day? Meet Cass? My parents? How far will this thing go between us? Do I move here, to give it half a chance? One thing I know is that now I’ve had a taste, I’m not walking away. Not if I can help it.

While I’m on the subject of taste …

I lift my chin in the direction of the coffee table. “See that leftover pie there?”

She twists her body towards it. “Yeah.” She shrugs one shoulder.

“How do you feel about wearing it? Temporarily, of course.”

Her body jerks in silent laughter. “I’d say I’m intrigued.”

“Well, I’d say, I’m turned the fuck on.”

I haul Willow into my arms, and throw her over my shoulder. She squeals and pounds her fists against my arse cheeks. It only adds to the stiffening of my dick.

“Ryan,” she begs, and giggles. “What are you doing?”

I squat down and pick up the pie, and stride towards her bedroom.

“Having seconds of dessert,” I growl.