Outback Sisters (42 page)

She laughed, feeling sexy and desirable at his words and his touch.

‘You smell really good,' he whispered right into her ear.

His warm breath sent shivers down her spine. ‘That's because I've been baking cakes all day.'

‘Good enough to eat, even,' he said, sliding his hands under her T-shirt as he nibbled on her ear. She let out a little gasp of pleasure. Only yesterday she'd been in his bed, but after all that had happened today, it felt like so long ago and she wanted to plaster over today's horribleness with Logan's magic touch.

‘Go ahead.' She lifted her shirt off her head, tossed it away and then reached around to unclip her bra and did the same with that.

‘Don't mind if I do.' He gazed at her a moment as if she were a work of art, before dipping his head and taking one nipple into his mouth as his hand closed around the other.

She closed her eyes and arched her back, pressing herself closer, loving the feeling as his tongue swirled around her nipple, shooting pleasure right to her core. As his mouth attended to her breasts, he slipped his hand lower, inside her shorts, violating her underwear as he pushed one finger and then another deep inside. She held onto the back of the chair to steady herself as her body began to tense around his fingers.

Oh, he was so …
very
… good at this.

Her breathing quickened and just when she was about to fly over the edge of ecstasy, he withdrew his hand. She blinked her eyes open, confused at his smug expression.

‘I said you were good enough to eat,' he said as he eased her off him. She stood before him, a topless, shivering bundle of frustration, before he nudged her back against the table.

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide, her pulse quickening again as he slipped off her shoes and then tugged her shorts and knickers down her legs. Then he put his hands on her thighs to push them wide before dropping to his knees and hooking her legs over his shoulders. As his mouth touched her most intimate place, she looked sideways to make sure she'd closed the kitchen curtains. That was her last thought before he robbed her of her ability to think any more.

Much later, after Frankie had whipped up a creamy chicken carbonara fettuccine and they were eating it on the couch, with a glass of wine and a cooking show on the TV in the background, she told Logan all the horrible things Simone had said about her. Sadness overcame her and she tried to hold onto her anger rather than burst into tears.

‘I'm sure she didn't really mean all that,' he said, reaching up to stroke an errant hair out of her face. ‘We all say stupid things in the heat of the moment.'

‘She's been calling me all afternoon and if I thought she was really sorry, maybe I'd pick up, but I know she'll only be grovelling because she needs me. The girls will need dinner or she'll want sympathy over morning sickness or something. Well, too bad. I'm done with being used.'

‘Good for you.' Logan smiled and nodded approvingly. ‘And me, too. I told Angus I quit the farm.'

‘What?' She'd been lifting her glass to take a sip of wine, but halted in midair. ‘But you love it there.'

He shrugged. ‘Yes, I do. But I'm tired of feeling like my opinion doesn't matter. Angus refuses to listen to my ideas or budge on most of his and I've realised he's never going to change. Besides, I love my other work too and now I love you, so I've got plenty of things to keep me busy.'

Her heart stopped still. Had she heard him right? ‘Did you just say you love me?'

‘Maybe.' His cheeks flushed and he didn't quite meet her gaze.

She put her index finger on his stubbly chin and forced him to look at her. He was the most beautiful thing in the world. ‘Maybe you love me? Or maybe you said it?'

‘Neither.' He grinned and cupped her cheek with his hand. ‘I definitely love you. And I definitely said it.'

She opened her mouth but the emotion whooshing through her made it impossible for her to speak.

‘You don't have to say it back if you don't want to,' he said, gazing down at her. ‘But I couldn't hold it in any longer. I know it's happened fast, but I know my heart and I wanted you to know it too.'

‘I
do
love you,' she managed, before her tears broke loose. Right now all the crap with Simone felt worth it, just to hear those words. ‘More than I've ever loved anyone.'

He kissed the tears on her cheeks and then kissed her properly, taking the wine and putting it on the table in front of them as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. If they didn't have to work, she reckoned she'd be content to stay there on the couch, in his arms, forever.

‘So how'd Angus take it when you told him you're leaving?' she asked, after Fred and George had jumped up to join in the snuggles.

Logan gave the little brown bundle a chin tickle as he spoke. ‘You know, I'm not sure, because I hit him with the baby news before he really had the chance to say anything. When I left, he was standing there liked a stunned mullet who'd just swallowed a whole lemon.'

Frankie couldn't help but snigger at the image. ‘I wonder if he's made contact with Simone? How do you think he'll feel about being a father again?'

‘Fuck knows.' Logan shrugged. ‘But he'll probably come round eventually. He can be a right wanker, but he was a doting dad to his son and he was always good with Olivia. Whether he and Simone get together or not, he'll be there for the kid, I'm sure.'

‘That's good.' A tiny part of Frankie wanted to go see her sister or at least call to check she was okay, but then she remembered Simone's hurtful words and she settled back into Logan's lovely strong arms. She was still angry and didn't want that feeling to ruin the novelty of having her boyfriend—her boyfriend who
loved
her—to stay the night.

‘What is Olivia going to say about your big bust-up with Angus?' she asked, stroking her fingers across his red knuckles, which he'd admitted were sore from punching Angus in the face.

He sighed. ‘That's one conversation I'm in no hurry to have. Let's forget our sibling woes tonight and focus on enjoying the time together.'

‘Now that,' Frankie said, ‘is one of the best ideas you've ever had.'

As Angus stopped the ute and looked ahead to his empty house, an unfamiliar feeling sat heavy in his chest. Was he lonely? He couldn't remember ever feeling this way before. Even when Liv was in Perth and Logan off on one of his work trips, he never felt like the recluse they teased him about being. Most of the time he loved the solitude—he could watch whatever he wanted on TV, eat a packet of biscuits for dinner if that's what he so desired, not have to make conversation at the end of a long, laborious day, and no-one nagged him about tidying up his mess. If he wanted to talk, he had his dogs and acres and acres of open air. He loved his work and couldn't imagine ever doing anything else.

But over the last two days, since returning from his brief visit to Bunyip Bay, loneliness had seeped right into the marrow of his bones. The silence around him was eerie. He felt as though he were the last person on the planet, and the satisfaction that usually came from getting up and achieving stuff on the farm was missing. When he came in from working outdoors, there were no tantalising aromas wafting from the kitchen indicating that Logan was in there doing one of the things he did best. Angus kept expecting to hear his brother's ute tearing up the gravel or music wafting from his room while he tapped away at the keyboard, but so far Logan had stayed true to his threat to stay away.

The desire for conversation had Angus looking for an excuse to go around and talk to Loretta and Brad, which showed how insane this was making him. If he was like this after two days, what would happen if Logan never came back? Suddenly the prospect of living the rest of his life in this manner—like a robot with little purpose, no friends and no family—didn't appeal. Hell, another day like this and he was going to become an official mental case. He'd even trawled Facebook, of which he was a member but rarely checked, to feel some kind of human interaction. He missed Logan and wanted to apologise for his actions, but Logan refused to answer his phone. Calling Liv was his only option, but if he told her the whole sorry story, she'd be furious with him for hurting Logan and deserting his baby.

Hell,
he
was furious with himself. If some guy had knocked Olivia up and walked away from her the way he'd done with Simone, he and Logan would have taken the loser to a deserted paddock and shown him exactly what they thought of cowards. Because that's what he was—terrified. Every time he thought about Simone—and that was pretty much every second of the day and night—his chest tightened, his breathing grew ragged and he felt like he was being buried alive.

It wasn't that he couldn't imagine Simone and her daughters setting up residence in his life, in his heart, in his home. Quite the opposite, in fact. Whenever he went inside, he visualised what the house would be like with a family living there. It wasn't hard to picture himself and Simone in the kitchen, both as bad as each other at cooking, yet trying to concoct something edible. He imagined Olivia's and Logan's bedrooms taken over by Harriet and Grace; the house no longer quiet but filled with the sounds of boy bands and … a baby gurgling happily.

He'd been working towards that years ago with Sarah and then one dark morning, all hopes and dreams of a house filled with happiness and children's laughter were snatched away. Death was hard to accept at any age, but when a baby died, everything changed. He'd lost so much in his life and he didn't think he could go through such devastating loss again.

Although he'd come home from the sheep yards to grab an early lunch, the prospect of going inside to that empty, cold house didn't appeal. Everywhere he looked there were reminders of his past and fantasies of a future he wasn't sure he was man enough to reach out for. With a heavy sigh, he flopped down onto his mum's old swing chair that still sat on the front verandah and occasionally swung back and forth even when there was no wind. He looked out over the horizon but the usual rush he got from surveying his land didn't come.

Do you really want to live alone out here forever, my darling boy?

He startled at the sound of the voice, so soft yet so clear, so real, and then turned his head to see his mother sitting beside him, her legs tucked up on the seat the way they'd always been. His heart grew still and he blinked, expecting her to disappear, but when he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him.

Well? Do you really want to?
The look in her eyes told him exactly what she thought about all of this. Even when she was alive, she hadn't always agreed with or approved of the things he wanted to do but she'd always offered a listening ear, wisdom and her love, whatever stupid decision he ended up making.

‘What do you think?' he asked.

She gave him a reproachful look.
I think the fact you're scared shows how much you want this woman. Baby or no baby. I think fate has given you a second chance and you'd be stupid not to take it. Look around. I want more for you than this. And don't I deserve another grandchild?

He half-laughed and reached out to take her hand but his fingers landed only on the firm material of the seat cushion. ‘Mum?' He swallowed, wishing she'd reappear again, wishing he could have just a few more moments talking to her.

But she was gone. She'd been gone for more than fifteen years and he still missed her every moment of every single day.

Simone, however, was very much alive. He thought of her vivacious smile, her contagious laugh and the messy red curls that drove him crazy. She'd done what he'd thought impossible—she'd made him
feel
again. Awoken inside him emotions and desires he'd thought were buried alongside his mum, dad and baby boy. He may not have known her long, but she'd gotten under his skin in a way no other woman had since Sarah.

The way he saw it, he had two options. He could stay out here alone, going through the motions from day to day but never actually living; in essence, become his father. Or he could choose to risk his heart and take a chance on what life was offering.

It might take a while and a heck of a lot of grovelling to win Simone around but he planned on stepping up to the plate and accepting his responsibilities to her and their baby. He
wanted
to. And he owed it to himself, to Simone and to their unborn child to go and talk to her, to give her an explanation for his gutless behaviour and to promise he'd never act in such a manner again.

Decision made, Angus forwent lunch, jumped back in his ute and hightailed it to Bunyip Bay. He'd been there more in the last week than ever in his life and drove on autopilot, already feeling better now he'd made the decision. He puffed out a breath of relief when he saw her Pajero in the driveway and parked right behind it. Demons spoke in his head, reminding him of all the possible hurt and pain he was opening himself up to by coming here, but he pushed them aside, climbed out of his ute and charged up the path to the front door. He rapped hard and waited.

‘If you're here to yell at me or to throw more accusations, then you can turn back around,' she spat the moment she opened the door. ‘I don't need that right now.'

He opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat as he drank her in. She looked awful. Beautiful but awful. As if she'd been crying for the last two days and hadn't had a good meal in that time either. He had a crazy urge to cook something for her and he never had an urge to cook for anyone. The thought that he'd walked away from her made him sick.

‘Well, are you just going to stand there like a codfish or are you going to tell me why you're here?'

That she was angry wasn't unexpected but the absolute emotion in his heart was. Until he'd seen her again, he hadn't realised just how much he wanted her. Needed her. The thought that she might not forgive him, might not want to give
them
a chance, left him cold. ‘I'm sorry,' he blurted, wishing he had Logan's way with words. He'd never been good at knowing what to say to women and he shouldn't have just barged over here before thinking up some kind of speech.