Blood Sport (55 page)

“I’ve always been a very selfish man,” he pronounced sadly.

I laughed. “That’s definitely the one thing you’re not, Sarge. Thank you again. You’re such a nice guy.”

“So you keep saying,” he sighed. “But don’t forget you also think I’m really good-looking.”

That elicited another laugh. “
Pretty
good-looking, I said. Not
really
good-looking. Don’t get carried away, sunshine.” And although I was incredibly grateful for his generosity, as I hung up two thoughts dominated my mind.

The first was that if he kept giving me gifts, our relationship was going to become extremely awkward. I was positive his motives were nothing but altruistic because he was a kind man and his gifts were very practical. But we were work partners and it just wasn’t right that he should buy me things, especially expensive things. I was really going to have to start saying ‘no’ and that would hurt his feelings. I didn’t want to do that because I liked him a lot, and he was a great partner.

My second thought was that Jake was going to go ballistic when he found out that I’d let the Sarge replace my chickens, and things were tense enough between them already. It had been bad enough when he’d found out about the phone. But that was something to worry about another day, I decided wearily, heading off to the shower.

~~~~~~

Before I even had the chance to start paying off the glazier, the hot water system died and the washing machine conked out. I could have cried, forced to shower and wash our clothes at the Sarge’s house after work, while Dad showered at Adele’s. Desperate, I sat down with Dad one cold and blustery Sunday afternoon and we reviewed our financial situation. Dire was the only word for it.

We made a decision that neither of us had ever wanted to make. We decided to sell the land on which Nana Fuller’s burnt out house was located. Nana Fuller had left it in equal shares to Dad and me. But Dad had always wanted to keep it for my future, to give me some kind of an inheritance. I argued that we needed the money
now
more than I needed it in the future. I didn’t want Dad to be stressed about money at this point in his life. And if that meant I had nothing to fall back on after he was gone, I figured that I was young and healthy and could earn my own living. So reluctantly, we put the land up for sale.

It was a big block, located on Silky Oak Street, one of the town’s better streets, and had been in the Fuller family since Mount Big Town was declared a town in 1889. It sold quickly and for a better price than we’d expected, being snapped up by a couple in the city with a passion for angling who were looking to build a country retreat and found the charms of Lake Big’s cod fishing very much to their liking.

It was a sad day for Dad and me when we signed the contract, but a much happier one when the money arrived in our bank account. We were able to pay off the glazier in full, buy a new hot water system, a new washing machine, get a few other urgent things seen to around the house and still, finally, had some money left over for a rainy day. I was also able to afford to buy myself a
very
expensive new knife and sheath. We even splashed out a little, and Dad, Adele, Jake and I went out to dinner at one of Big Town’s good restaurants one evening. Not Cybele though – we weren’t feeling that rich.

Wanting to thank him for his endless generosity and sensing that he was growing increasingly dispirited over his difficult long-distance relationship with Melissa, I also took the Sarge out one evening. We laughed through a crude and intelligence-reducing Hollywood movie in Big Town and had dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant, banning all talk about work or our partners. It was quite late by the time he dropped me off home, tummy happily full of pasta and salad, nicely plonked from a couple of glasses of red wine. We sat in my driveway in his little car for a few minutes.

“Do you know that’s the first time I’ve ever been taken out to dinner by a woman,” he told me, smiling.

“Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “I’ve always done the asking and the paying.”

“Oh, you old-fashioned thing, you,” I teased. “How do you possibly survive in this modern world?”

He pulled a face at me. “By maintaining my impeccable gentlemanly manners in every situation. Which I will now demonstrate by walking you to your front door.”

“You don’t have to do that! It’s only ten metres away. It’s freezing out there. You can watch me from the warmth of the car.”

“No, I insist. I don’t want you thinking that I’m some sort of gigolo who takes advantage of a woman’s hospitality, then dumps her and runs.”

I laughed out loud at the thought. I waited for him to come around to my side of his car and open the door for me with a flourish, holding out his hand to assist me from the low slung seat. He led me by the hand up the front stairs, across the veranda to the front door.

“There you go, young lady, safely delivered to your door. All Bycrafts and other wild threatening beasts bravely staved off on the way.”

“I didn’t see any,” I laughed again.

“That’s because I scared them all away with my overtly masculine presence. You probably find yourself a little starry-eyed at being with me. No need to be embarrassed about it. It’s very common.”

“And you honestly believe that’s true, do you?” I smiled up at him.

He sighed sadly. “Not so much as believe; more like hope.”

“Poor Sarge,” I sympathised. “He doesn’t get enough love from his disrespectful colleague.”

One eyebrow raised speculatively. “I would have settled for a cup of coffee, but if you’re offering some love . . .”

“I’m not,” I said gently, disengaging my hand from his. “Thanks for the great night. It was a lot of fun.”

“I should be thanking you. I’d almost forgotten that it’s supposed to be a pleasurable experience for a man and a woman to go out together. Not another opportunity to bicker over the little things in life such as, you know, setting a wedding date.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered, valiantly suppressing a yawn.

He laughed easily. “No, you don’t need to be bored by my troubles. You look dead on your feet. Go to bed, Tessie, and sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I yawned openly this time. “Night, Sarge.”

“Finn!” he insisted, exasperated. I’d been calling him Sarge all night.

“Sorry. Night, Sarge. Oops, Finn,” I corrected immediately, embarrassed at my double
faux pas
.

Not caring about my social clumsiness, he leaned down to kiss me on the cheek in farewell and I let him. With any other man who tried that, I would have had my knife out, pricking his stomach before he could even blink. But with the Sarge, I breathed in the wonderfully elegant scent of his cologne as he did, enjoying the touch of his warm lips on my cold cheek, not even reaching for my knife. Not even instinctively. My fingers didn’t even twitch towards it. And I guess that was a genuine sign of how much I had come to trust him because I couldn’t remember that ever happening to me before with another man.

He pulled back, his eyes drilling into mine in the semi-darkness. “No knife?”

I swallowed as I looked up at him. “No knife.”

Our eyes searched each other’s for what seemed too long for politeness, before he smiled and let me go. “Night, Tess.”

“Night, Finn,” I said softly, slipping inside and shutting the door, leaning against it, my heart thumping unreasonably with some unknown emotion, until I heard his car drive away.

~~~~~~

Red Bycraft writes to me from jail. He’s not supposed to be able to, but his family assist him in regularly smuggling out his little notes. They all say the same thing.

Tessie

I’m coming for you.

Love Red

I know I should be able to relax now, because he was sent down for so long at his trial that I will have moved on from Little Town decades before he’s released. I will never set eyes on him again. I should now be able to enjoy my morning jogs and evenings out without the constant fear of being attacked by him. But I’m finding it impossible to shake the persistent niggle that I haven’t seen the last of Red Bycraft.

I have an inescapable and abiding suspicion that it isn’t finished between us.

Not yet.

Not by a long shot.

~~~~~~ ###### ~~~~~~

About the author:

JD Nixon lives in beautiful Queensland in Australia, writing and editing for a living. But by night, she lets a wild imagination run free.

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Other books by JD Nixon at Smashwords:

Heller series

Heller
(free ebook!)

Heller’s Revenge

Heller’s Girlfriend – due end January 2012

Little Town series

Blood Ties
(free ebook!)

Blood Sport

Next Little Town book – due end March 2012

Thanks for reading!