Tumble Creek (16 page)

‘Uh-huh.' Despite her worries, Sofie managed to nod.

Brock's hand curled around her neck and then up to span the back of her head; fingers pressing in he held her still, then mouth on hers he gave her a warm, bone-melting kiss. He pulled back and, head to one side, he whispered, ‘Sorry, Babe, you have no idea how much my body aches to take you in the shower, have fun with you, but I can hear panic setting in on the other side of the door.'

‘Take me?' Sofie asked; licking her lips, she couldn't stop the little squirm she did with her hips and thighs.

She loved it when he gave her that soft look, hot as all get-out. It shouldn't be, but to Sofie it was extra special coming from a big man like Brock, and even more special when the situation made him stumble over his words.

‘Christ … you and I can't … but soon, yeah … real soon.' Resting his forehead on hers, he sighed, ‘You can bank on it.'

‘Yeah?' She nodded then shook her head to clear the images of her and Brock getting naked and wet. She made a mental note to examine every inch of him at the first opportunity, especially his back. ‘Really, it's okay. Go, open the door, and can I have a coffee please?'

And a shot of brandy would be good.

‘Yeah, my girl can have coffee.' He grinned, pressed his soft mouth on hers, but didn't linger, then he closed the door. Still coming to terms with all that was happening, she waited, rooted to the floor, as Brock's bare feet thundered down the hall. The front door opened and there was the sound of happy voices. She held her breath as the chatter moved past the bathroom and into the kitchen.

Sofie finally got her feet to move and hurried through the business of showering and drying herself. She gathered her clothes and … ‘Shit!' she whispered. She couldn't very well wear her birthday dress and fuck-me shoes. She edged the bathroom door open, peeked out and heard the murmur of voices coming from the kitchen. The coast was clear; Sofie hurried out and tiptoed along the hall to her room. Throwing her clothes on a chair, she rummaged through her bag of stuff, found her black winter leggings, warm black socks, a T-shirt and long red jumper, and dragged them on. Passing Brock's room, she caught sight of the rumpled bed and quickly dashed in to straighten the quilt and shiny blue bedspread. Then she scanned the room for any incriminating evidence. After passing inspection, which included under the bed, Sofie headed for the kitchen.

At the threshold, she hesitated, not sure what to do as three sets of eyes met hers.

‘Sofe.' Face lit with a smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes, Brock pushed his chair back and wasted no time in striding over to her. ‘Come, meet Mum and Dad.' He slid an arm around her waist, pulled her in close and, hand reflexively on her hip, led her to the pink nineteen-sixties Formica kitchen table where his parents sat with their cups of tea.

All very normal domestic bliss, but her heart hammered anyway.

He turned to his parents. ‘Mum, Dad, this is my girl, Sofie Dove.' He turned to Sofie. ‘Babe, my parents Doreen and Walter.'

Brock gave her a priceless gift when he introduced her as his girl. Sofie's sense of belonging felt so beautiful, it overwhelmed her. Staring at him, she was lost for words.

Brock tickled her ribs.

She sucked in a breath and said, ‘Hi, it's lovely to meet you both.'

Sofie extended her hand to Doreen, who smiled as she said, ‘No thank you, dear.'

Walter stepped in, took her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Brock is very careful who he invites into his life. So, in my opinion you're the cat's pyjamas,' he finished on a wide grin.

‘Oh!' Doreen exclaimed. ‘She is handsome … pyjamas? Where's the cat?' Then she giggled. ‘Would you like … um … one of these?' she said, head inclined to her cup. And without waiting, Doreen placed her hands on the table and pushed herself up to stand.

‘It's okay, Mum, I've got it.'

‘What have you got, dear?' Doreen's pretty face turned to her son.

‘Sofie's drink.'

‘Oh, yes. A drink.' She sat down, put her fingers through the delicate porcelain handle of her Royal Doulton roses cup and sipped her tea. She carefully put the cup down and declared, ‘Um …' and stopped, eyes suddenly vacant, then she looked around and smiled. ‘This is a lovely room.'

‘We had the devil of a time getting in, didn't we, Dorey?' Walter covered her hand with his, and Doreen gave him her undivided attention. ‘First I had the wrong key, and then I couldn't find the lock.'

‘Yes …' Doreen turned to look around and repeated, ‘This is a lovely room.'

Ever so gently, Walter reassuringly patted his wife's hand, murmuring, ‘Yes, I think so too, Dorey.'

Sofie didn't know what reactions Doreen had under normal circumstances, so trying to pre-empt the situation right now was impossible. Doreen was perhaps overwhelmed with seeing a new face and expectations she didn't know what to do with, if she had them.

Puzzled, Doreen turned to Walter; her expression changed, became agitated, worried. Eyes welling, she nervously whispered, ‘Walt?'

Sofie cast a glance at the men, and though the room sparkled with hope, there was also dread that this wouldn't last.

Hands trembling, Walter calmly and quietly continued, ‘Yes, sweetheart, it's Walt.'

She gave him a tentative smile, turned her hand around to hold his, and softly said, ‘Thank you.'

‘I'm always happy to take you anywhere, my Dorey.'

Her face lit up with a sweet smile. ‘Thank you, you're my best friend.'

Walter's eyes welled up too. He nodded and asked, ‘Can I give you a kiss? On the cheek of course.'

‘Yes, that would be lovely.' Doreen inclined her head and offered her cheek.

Walter leaned in, puckered his lips and gently pressed them to her lovely face. Doreen's smile deepened and two dimples appeared.

Emotionally overwhelmed, Sofie felt a lump pressing in on her throat and tears stinging her eyes. As Brock neared to set her coffee on the table, she turned her head so he wouldn't see the feelings playing havoc with her. It didn't work. His arm went around her shoulder, and with a little pressure to the back of her head, he eased her face into his neck. Sofie's silent tears flowed, wetting his skin.

‘I reckon Sofie's a keeper, son,' Walter said quietly.

Nodding, Brock's chin brushed the side of her head and, voice strained, he whispered, ‘Yeah.'

Sofie pulled herself together, wiped her tears away, took a deep breath and sat at the kitchen table to get to know Brock's beautiful family. Walter rubbed Doreen's hand; her eyes had that glazed look again and Walter, with a sad look, accepted that their sweet moment had passed.

‘We were sorry about your uncle,' Walter began. ‘Bob was an amazing man, always ready to help anyone. He did great charity work.'

‘Bob?' Doreen join in the conversation. ‘He's a pharmacist …' She frowned trying to remember, then her face lit with excitement. ‘He helped us one night when Brockie had the croup … yes.' Remembering a time long ago, Doreen's faraway look went back to her past. ‘Lovely man … lovely man,' she repeated.

Walter stroked her hand and smiled, before he turned his attention back to Sofie.

‘Brock tells me you and your sister own Veronica's, built it up in the shop your uncle had?'

‘Yes, we didn't change too much inside. And Calum found two beautiful Edwardian marble fireplaces either side of the shop. They'd been boarded up and hidden behind plaster.'

‘That's a very lucky find. Rumour around town is you and your sister are cooking up a storm. Tumble Creek needs a place like that.'

‘Please come and visit anytime. Veronica's will treat you.'

‘Thank you, we'll do that.'

‘Has anyone had breakfast?' Sofie asked.

‘We have,' Walter answered. ‘They start early in the village.'

‘Do you think you could fit some pancakes in? They're my specialty,' said Sofie.

‘There's always room for pancakes.'

‘That's what I like to hear.' Sofie grinned.

She went behind the island bar and found everything she needed in the pantry and fridge. In a bowl she whisked eggs, milk and flour, and when she judged the pan was hot enough, added a nob of butter, poured in a measure of batter and began her batch of pancakes.

Brock slung an arm around her hips, nuzzled her hair and took a long deep breath that made her toes curl. He ambled into the kitchen and she immediately missed his body, his gentle presence, next to her. He ducked into the pantry to collect jams, a lemon, brown sugar and maple syrup and placed everything on the table. He came back, slid one hand around her waist and with the other gathered plates and cutlery. Not looking up, Sofie smiled.

The pancakes went down a treat. Walter said they'd be back next weekend for more.

During her second cup of coffee, Doreen stood and without a word started walking out of the kitchen. Walter silently followed.

‘What's happening?' Sofie whispered.

‘Mum does this.' Brock started to get up. ‘Shit—the bed!'

Sofie put a restraining hand on his arm. ‘No, it's okay, I straightened it before I came in.'

He gave her a look that said she'd done something extraordinary.

‘What?' she frowned, concerned she'd taken matters into her own hands when perhaps she shouldn't have. ‘Did I do something wrong?'

Eyes intense but warm, he shook his head. ‘Just shows me how much you care. How you think of others and their feelings. How you'd think you did something wrong tells me what shit parents you had.' He curled a hand around her neck, leaned in and kissed her, hot, sweet and all too brief. He moved away from her mouth and explained quietly, ‘Mum wanders into their room, and as I said the other day, she doesn't say anything, just sits on the bed, strokes the spread, smiles and looks around. Sometime she lets Dad sit with her and holds his hand. It's as if Mum recognises she's lost something, but isn't sure what that is. One thing's certain, she finds a little happiness and peace in their room.'

‘Can't Doreen stay here in her house?'

‘Mum needs twenty-four-hour care, it's too much for Dad. The first time she left the house to wander down the street, Dad panicked, he was in a state. And that's not good or fair on him.'

‘And you have to work, sometimes odd hours.'

‘That's right.'

‘Not that I would want it any different—okay?' Sofie paused and when she got what she wanted—Brock's nod—she continued, ‘What if you set up her room at the village to look just like theirs here?'

‘Dad and I have discussed it. He thinks it's more than just “their room”, it's everything. How it feels, smells like her perfume.' He grinned. ‘Sometimes Dad uses her atomiser, sprays it in the wardrobe. It's Mum's home.'

Sofie's mouth trembled and Brock became a blur. She sniffed and pulled in a deep breath.

‘Sofe?'

‘I'm okay. It's just that I've never come across a family with so much love, care and understanding for each other. Except for Claudia and Jennifer, of course; I love them with all my heart; just like I've seen here today. Your hearts are bound and you'll move heaven and earth to make your Mum as comfortable as humanly possible. It says a lot about your Mum and your Dad, and you.' She slowly nodded, emphasising the importance of what she said.

Brock hauled Sofie to him and crushed her to his body, his mouth came down on hers, his tongue swept in, and Sofie forgot time and space as she opened herself to all that was Brock, and gave as good as she got. He moaned into her mouth, his hand trailed down to cup her bottom and he tucked her pelvis into his groin.

Oh my!

***

For the first time in many months, Doreen had lain down on Brock's bed. Exhausted, she had fallen asleep instantly. Holding her hand, Walter sat in a comfy chair and snoozed by her side for several hours. They stayed for dinner, which Sofie prepared, and it was late evening when Sofie kissed Brock's parents goodbye.

‘Take good care of your girl,' Walter told his son, giving him a man-hug.

‘Always, Dad.'

Brock helped his mother into the passenger seat of his parents' car, and came back to stand next to Sofie. Hand on her hip, he hugged her closely to his side as they waved at Walter and Doreen heading back to the village and the safety of twenty-four-hour care.

Brock took Sofie's hand and led her inside. ‘Babe, thanks for feeding us. Your lasagne's not bad,' he said, with humour in his voice.

‘Is that so? I think it's better than “not bad” seeing as you had two helpings.'

‘You're right, it rocked.' He gave her a lopsided grin.

Together they cleaned up the kitchen, sipped wine and started to watch a movie, Brock's choice this time, Vin Diesel's
Pitch Black
. Sofie was either hiding behind a cushion, or shoving her face into his chest, unable to watch. He'd offered several times to turn it off, then when the alien bit someone's head off, she dived into his lap. Brock laughed and without asking again turned the TV off.

‘The only good thing about that movie is Vin,' Sofie declared. ‘You want to know why?'

Brock stood with her in his arms. ‘I think you're going to tell me regardless, but let me hazard a guess, you think he's sexy?'

‘Maybe, but the one thing that gets me is his voice. It's almost as good as yours.'

Surprised, he stopped in his tracks, and stared down at her, then laughed a full-bellied laugh that had her bouncing on his chest. ‘Babe,' he said still chuckling, ‘the wine's gone to your head. You're a cheap drunk.'

‘Could be.' Sofie glanced around. ‘Why are we in the bathroom?'

His hands moved to straighten her, but he didn't put her down. Sofie took the opportunity to swing her legs around his waist, and her arms went around his neck. His hands moved to grip her bottom. She liked that, his big hands under her cheeks, squeezing them. Then again it didn't take much for Brock to turn her on. He could do it simply by locking eyes with hers as he walked into a room.