Welcome to Sugartown (14 page)

“
Hey, for
your information, I do not sound like a sexed-up
Teletubbie.”

“
Okay, so you
don’t sound like that, but baby girl, when you come, there isn’t a
sound in the world to rival it,” he whispers in my ear before
pressing his lips into my neck. “It’s pure fucking magic. Making me
hard just thinking about it.”

“
You’re
always hard.” I playfully shove at his chest and he slides my hips
closer to the edge of the bench so that I can feel just how true
that statement really is.

“
Exactly,” he
says, and nips my ear lobe. “How long you think we have before
Sammy finds—”

The sound of
whooping comes from the courtyard and Sammy races in shouting, “Eat
it thuckerth, you owe me twenty buckth.”

“
Hey Sammy?”
Elijah says. “I’ll give you twenty more if you leave us alone for
ten minutes.”

“
For
real?”

“
For real,
brother.” Elijah takes out his wallet and hands Sammy a twenty. He
slaps another on the bench and says, “That bad boy is all yours,
once you’ve served your time.”

“
Cool.” He’s
out the door quicker than I’ve ever seen him move and Elijah wastes
no time in pulling me to him.

“
Just ten
minutes, huh?”

“
Baby girl,
there’s a whole lot of orgasms you can fit into ten
minutes.”

And what do
you know? He was right.

Chapter Twelve

Ana

“
Where the
hell are we going?” I scream, though I know it’s likely he won’t
hear me, given that we’re going 110 km on the highway and in the
process of overtaking a Mack truck.

I feel
Elijah’s waist shudder beneath my fingers and realise he’s laughing
at me. He’s not going to tell me. I knew that much before opening
my mouth. I’ve been pestering him since he busted into my room this
morning and demanded I get dressed because he was kidnapping me for
the day, and he still hasn’t budged. Then he’d started rifling
through my underwear drawer, picked up a pair of frilly pink
knickers and inspected them, as if they held the answers to all
life’s questions.

“
Okay, I hate
to be the one to break this to you, but I really don’t think those
are your size, Cade,” I’d mumbled as I’d tried to tame my bedhead
without appearing obvious.

“
Why haven’t
I seen these on you yet?”

“
The day’s
still early,” I remarked caustically and he waggled his eyebrows at
me and tucked them into his back pocket.

“
You own a
swimsuit?”

“
I live in
subtropical climate. Of course I own swimmers.”

“
One-piece?
Or bikini?”

“
Are you
going somewhere with this?”

“
Where is
it?”

“
Top drawer
on the left.”

He yanked
open the drawer and rifled through until he found what he was
looking for. Producing my yellow string bikini he held it up in
front of him and whistled. “Holy shit! I knew this was gonna be a
good day.”

Then he’d
shoved me out of bed by dumping half my wardrobe on me and
promising me ice cream if I got dressed and came
quietly.

The downfall
of riding bikes is that, even on a warm summer day, you still have
to factor in wind chill. It makes dressing for days like this
difficult, because Australian summers are merciless and jeans and
leather are the last things I felt like putting on my body in 40 °C
heat. I’d just prayed he was taking me somewhere cool enough that
string bikinis were considered acceptable attire.

Elijah slows
the bike and turns off the highway. It’s quieter now, but instead
of pestering him again about where he’s taking me, I tuck my head
in against his back and watch the trees fly by in a haze of
brilliant greens. Another ten minutes sees him pull the bike over
at a tiny shoulder in the road marked out with bollards. There is
room enough for three cars, but we’re the only ones inhabiting the
space.

“
Admit it,
you brought me to the woods to off me.” I ease off the bike and
begin working on my chin strap. All around us is bushland, but the
ground beneath my feet is mostly made up of grass and sand, and I
can hear the gentle lull of the ocean nearby. In front of us lies a
small winding track surrounded by more trees. “Aww, and you haven’t
even had the chance to see my bikini yet.”

“
Ah, but this
way I’ll have the chance to do both. They don’t call this place
Shark Bay for no reason.”

Elijah was
already off the bike and taking out the ammo cases that he stored
his belongings in while he was on the road. He’d quite cleverly
crafted his own way to carry his belongings through the use of a
custom made sissy bar that housed them. I smile down at him as he
chocks up the side kickstand with a small wooden block so it won’t
sink into the soft ground.

“
You know, if
you rode a Vespa you wouldn’t have to chock your bike up with
kindling. They have these amazing new things now called centre
stands.”

He stands and
snakes his arm around my waist, pulling me into an embrace, only
instead of kissing me he takes my chin in between his thumb and
forefinger and gives me his sternest face. “Do not mock my baby.”
He pulls away and strokes his palm over the seat. “She was my first
love.”

“
Well, your
current … er … girl, is getting jealous with all the attention
you’re paying your first love, and
she
has orifices you can stick
things in without having your boy bits burnt off.”

He pulls me
into him again and his mouth goes to work on my neck. “Fuck I love
it when you talk dirty.”

“
Come on,
before we get arrested for roadside indecent exposure.”

“
Yes, ma’am,”
he replies and leads me to the path.

The beach was
beautiful, pure white sand, calm crystal azure waters and not a
single soul in sight, but Elijah wasn’t happy stopping near the
track. No. He made us walk for another kilometre before choosing
too plonk down our belongings near a huge paperbark tree that had
long since succumbed to dune erosion and was now firmly embedded in
the beach.

He unrolls
the picnic rug he’d carried and sets it and an ammo case down
before us.

“
What’s in
the case?”

“
Breakfast.”
He sets out some grapes, apple juice and a few white takeaway bags,
the kind that hamburgers usually came in. They’re sodden and the
oil has soaked through, but I couldn’t care less. This impromptu
picnic is singlehandedly the most romantic thing a guy has ever
done for me.

“
You brought
me on a picnic?” Tears were springing to my eyes, which was so
unbelievably stupid and girly.

Elijah
glances up at the quaver in my voice and baulks. “Shit, baby girl,
don’t cry. It’s just a couple of soggy egg and bacon rolls and the
beach on a beautiful day.”

“
I love soggy
egg and bacon rolls.” I say and plonk myself down on the Tartan
blanket, knowing all the while that I mean infinitely more than
loving greasy breakfast hamburgers. I know next to nothing about
Elijah’s past. It drives me crazy, knowing that in a small way I
have him, and yet the secrets that he keeps ensure I’ll never
really have him at all, not until he learns he can open up to me
and trust me the way I want him to. Despite all his secrecy and the
fact that I haven’t really had anything else to compare it to, I
think I’m in love with him. Each day I feel myself falling a little
more, and I don’t really know what that means for either of us.
Sure, he’s here with me now. And yes, he seems content living in
Sugartown and working at the shop with my dad, but for how
long?

Elijah wipes
away a tear and cups my cheek. “You okay?”

God, I’m such
a head case. He’d probably start running for the hills if I said
the words I’d just been thinking out loud.

“
Yeah.” I
nod, and set about schooling my features into something that don’t
resemble a sobbing, snivelling crazy person. “It’s just, every time
I think you couldn’t possibly get any more perfect, you do
something that surprises me.”

He laughs and
then seems to sober a little when he realises I’m serious. “I’m far
from perfect, darlin’.”

“
No you’re
not. Not to me.” I crawl across the mat towards him and take his
face in my hands, kissing his lips softly. He lifts me up and sets
me back down in his lap so I’m straddling him.

“
You’re
incredible.” I pepper his face with kisses as I say, “You’re
generous, sweet and unbelievably accommodating between the
sheets.”

He laughs and
tucks a strand of hair behind my ear as he says, “You’re
unbelievably easy to accommodate.”

“
You’re
beautiful.” He raises a brow and I roll my eyes and add, “In a very
rugged, manly sort of way. And the way you are with Sammy? He’s
special, and a lot of people don’t see that, but you do. Plus, you
said you like my pie.”

“
Darlin’,
there isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t like your pie,” he mocks, and
I give him a playful slap across the arm.

“
Face it,
mister. You’re a catch and I’m not letting you get
away.”

“
Then it’s a
good thing I’m not going anywhere,” he says and falls backward onto
the soft sand, kissing me senseless.

After our
soggy rolls and a swim we lay on the blanket, wrapped in one
another’s arms, despite the heat. I trace the tattoo over his chest
and say, “Tell me about your tattoos.”

“
What do you
want to know?”

Everything.
But namely why another girl’s name is emblazoned on your heart, and
is there a reason why you haven’t had it removed before now when
you’re clearly not together?

I can’t say
that, though. I have to ease my way into questions with Elijah
because his instinct is to shut down my questions by distracting me
with bone-melting orgasms. Which is not necessarily a bad thing,
but it does make it difficult to get to know him better.

“
Who’s
Lilly?”

Crap. So much
for easing into it.

He makes this
scoffing sound in the back of his throat, like a derisive laugh,
only it’s laced with anger. “Somethin’ on your mind,
Ana?”

“
I think it’s
a fair question, considering you had her name permanently etched
into your skin. And over your heart, no less.” Even as I’m saying
the words, I’m still not sure why it’s all that important. I don’t
know why I’m being so irrational about it. I mean, it’s a bit of
ink, for god’s sake, just five little letters that could have
belonged to anyone. It could be the name of his beloved pet pooch,
but my blood feels like it’s simmering inside my veins no
less.

Elijah shifts
out from under me and begins gathering together our
things.

“
What are you
doing?”

“
I think we
should head back. You’ve got some work to do at the shop, and I’ve
got some things to take care of.”

“
Seriously?”
I stand up, too, so that he’s not doubled over talking to me like
I’m a naughty child. He’s incredibly intimidating when he towers
above me like that. Even if I wasn’t 5’2, he’d be intimidating
regardless, but at least this way I’m able to look him in the eye.
Kind of. “You’d seriously rather run than have a conversation about
your ex?”

“
She’s not my
ex.”

“
Then who is
she?”

He looks me
dead in the face, and the rage I see swirling in those pretty dark
eyes makes my stomach clench. “No one you need to worry about.
She’s dead.”

I know
that.
Or at some point I’d guessed as
much, but I still feel like crap when I hear the words flee his
mouth and see his anger turn to sadness. Irrationally, that just
makes me angrier.

“
You don’t
talk about your past. In fact, you go out of your way to change the
subject, like you’re ashamed of where you come from.”

“
I am
ashamed!” he bellows, and I snap my head back as if he’s just
struck a physical blow. I spin on my heel and start heading for the
path, though I have absolutely no idea what I’ll do when I get
there. I’m not crazy enough to hitchhike—I saw
Wolf Creek
, people—but I’m not sure
I want to spend the next hour on the back of the bike snuggled up
to Elijah, either.