Our Kind of Love (30 page)

He smiled at his wife, who absentmindedly rubbed her growing tummy and glowed at him.
Yes
, Lizzie decided,
Jools was actually glowing
.

And she looked as happy as she’d ever seen her. Life was good for Julia and Ry.

And it was unbelievably good for her and Dan, too.

She so wished the same for her brother.

CHAPTER
36

Joe decided he was getting the hang of being a bartender. It had been a few weeks since he’d ingloriously covered himself in beer, and he was now getting used to the pace of life and service at the Middle Point pub. In fact, he woke up every day looking forward to going to work. He liked shooting the shit with Reg and Shorty, the two old blokes who propped up the bar every afternoon. The dinnertime regulars smiled at him now and said g’day, and even though the weekend crowds were slowing as winter set in, he liked it.

He’d just left work, and was on his way to Ry and Julia’s for Dan and Lizzie’s farewell party. There was a definite spring in his step about the thought that he was going to see Anna again. They’d spoken a few times on the phone, sometimes a snatched conversation between patients or during his lunch break. She’d been busy with her Nonna’s birthday and he’d been doing a couple of weekend shifts, so tonight was going to be the first night they’d seen each other in three weeks. He’d endured twenty-one days of torture and he was about to be relieved of his suffering. That had to feel good.

Joe rounded the corner and the glass palace came into view. There in the driveway, shining like a nose on a drunk, was Anna’s little red sports car. The spring in Joe’s step just got springier and the anticipation of another weekend with Anna sent an adrenaline rush from his grin straight to his groin. Being together this weekend, down here at the Point, with the loved-up super-couples Ry and Julia, and Dan and Lizzie, was a coming out of the closet, of sorts.
Breaking news
, he thought. They talked about what they’d say and, in line with Joe’s no-bullshit policy, he wanted to come right out and tell everyone they were friends with benefits. Weekend fuck-buddies. Joe laughed. Neither of those seemed quite right. A couple of broken hearts who needed someone? Too sad. Two adults in their sexual prime who didn’t want to waste their hormones? Maybe that medical definition would suit Anna better.

For him it was pretty simple. If he was writing a headline, it would have said, ‘More Anna, All The Time’. Tight. Concise. The whole story right there in five words. As he crossed the designed-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life front garden of Ry and Julia’s place, he decided he’d nailed it. He wanted more of Anna. More time. More sex. More of that laugh. More of her craziness. More of everything.

He hesitated just a moment before pushing the front door open, checking his watch with a frustrated glance. How long before he could drag her out of the party and back to his place?

‘Hello fight fans.’ When he stepped inside the house, he found himself addressing an empty living room. Over in the kitchen, he spied a huddle of heads and he followed his nose. Damn, what was that incredible aroma?

‘What’s going on?’ His voice echoed across the cavernous space.

Lizzie’s head was the first to pop out of the huddle. ‘Hey Stinkface. Come and check this out.’ She waved him over with a frantic wave and a beaming smile.

When he rounded the marble breakfast bar, he found Lizzie, Dan, Ry and Julia standing in a row, peering into something on the stove. They all turned to him, smiled the biggest, cheesiest damn grins he’d ever seen outside of politics, and parted like the Red Sea.

When Anna turned, Joe tried to find words but was struck silent. Her long, silky hair was pulled back from her face, and it swished in a high ponytail as she moved. Her caramel eyes sparkled and she was pulling her lips together in an attempt not to smile, but the emotion won and her mouth parted in a grin. Man. Not even the huge white cooking apron, which was wrapped around her and tied in the middle, could hide the body he was getting to know so well. Joe decided she looked better than Nigella. And he’d always had a thing for Nigella.

‘Hey Joe.’ Anna presented a wooden spoon dripping with tomato sauce, and cupped her hand under it to catch any drips. ‘Try this.’

The loved-up couples took a step or two backwards and Joe moved closer to Anna. He didn’t want to taste her cooking. He wanted to taste her. He reached for her, pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers like he didn’t care who was watching. Anna trembled under his touch and that almost sent him wild.

He reluctantly peeled his lips from hers. For a long moment, neither of them could seem to move, caught up in the moment and each other. Finally, she laughed and reached around to smack him on the butt with her free hand.

‘You’re lucky I didn’t use the spoon,’ Anna said.

‘Promises, promises,’ Joe grinned back. ‘So. You’re cooking?’

‘You’re not a reporter for nothing, are you?’

‘It smells incredible. What is it?’

Anna dipped her little finger into the red puddle of sauce on the wooden spoon she was holding and held it in front of his mouth. He saw the challenge in her eyes and, oh boy, was he up for it. He held her hand, pulled it closer to him and then wrapped his lips around that pinkie and sucked it like it was her nipple.

He enjoyed the flare in her eyes and the rising blush in her cheeks.

‘That is … I’ve never tasted anything like it.’ Joe shook his head in disbelief. A thick, half-drunk feeling flowed through his veins like honey.

‘It’s a real, authentic, pork ragu, the way my Nonna makes it.’

Julia nudged past Joe and gave the bubbling sauce a closer inspection. ‘Anna promised to show me how to make it, seeing it was always my mum’s favourite pasta dish, but,’ Julia laughed and looked to the ceiling, ‘Forgive me, Mum, I don’t think yours ever tasted this good.’

‘Or smelled this good,’ Lizzie added and joined Julia, Joe and Anna at the stove.

‘We can’t stop staring at it,’ Julia added. ‘Look at those little shreds of basil.’

‘And the crunchy pancetta,’ Lizzie moaned. ‘It’s like bacon, only better.’

‘It’s the tomato sugo that makes it. It’s my Nonna’s recipe, bottled last summer in my parents’ kitchen. We had a big production line, the whole family, with kilos of tomatoes, olive oil, sea salt and basil, and rows and rows of those old brown beer bottles.’

‘Promise me I can come next year,’ Lizzie demanded.

‘Hey. You two,’ Joe said. ‘Why don’t you two go and do something useful?’ He slipped his arm around Lizzie and Julia’s shoulders and urged them towards the living room.

‘He’s so bossy,’ Julia announced to Lizzie with a wink.

‘Big brothers are such bullies,’ Lizzie added with a cheeky grin in his direction.

‘Go and join your men.’ Joe noticed that Ry and Dan, like smart blokes everywhere, had slipped away from the kitchen and were relaxing on the sofa with beers in their hands. ‘They’re looking lonely.’

When Lizzie and Julia were safely out of earshot, Joe turned back to Anna. She was holding a glass of red wine to him. He took it and she watched him sip it. He slipped an arm around her waist.

‘I didn’t know you could cook.’

Anna’s eyes shone and she gave him the kind of knowing gaze that said something along the lines of we haven’t done anything much other than dance, surf and fuck. ‘A little.’

So she could cook, too? Joe realised he’d hit the trifecta. Brains, beauty and a chef all in one sweet package.

He may just have to marry her.

What the hell?

Lizzie and Julia sat close on the sofa, whispering.

‘Did you see the way he kissed her?’ Julia asked.

Lizzie grimaced. ‘Yes and as weird as it was to watch my brother kiss someone, I think he’s totally into her.

‘And did you see the way he licked her finger?’

‘No,’ Lizzie shook her head and squeezed her eyes closed. ‘That jumped the shark for me. I had to look away.’

‘What are you two talking about?’ Ry shifted closer to the clandestine conversation and narrowed his eyes at his wife.

‘What do you think? We’re talking about Joe and Anna.’

Dan sighed out loud. ‘Can’t you two stop? Leave them alone.’

‘No, as a matter of fact, I can’t stop,’ Julia whispered with a surreptitious glance towards the kitchen to make sure she wasn’t being heard. The way Joe and Anna were standing so close to each other, and in such deep conversation, Julia figured she could sing show tunes at the top of her lungs and they wouldn’t hear.

‘We are good at this, don’t you remember? Dan, if we hadn’t pushed, Ry and Julia wouldn’t be married now.’

‘That is bullshit,’ Ry said with a laugh.

‘It’s true,’ Julia nodded. ‘And Dan, if Ry and I hadn’t done the same for you, you might still be cooped up in your house like the wild man of Borneo.’

Dan smiled at Lizzie and reached out for her hand.

‘So, we know what we’re doing here. We’ve added all the ingredients and now we’re watching and waiting for the magic to happen.’

All four heads turned to the kitchen at the exact moment Joe pressed his palms to Anna’s cheeks, looked deep into her eyes, and kissed her.

‘I can’t watch that,’ Lizzie squirmed.

Anna’s lips tasted like red wine and Italian food. Joe didn’t want to take his hands from her cheeks, so soft, and when he found her eyes, so focused on him, the drunk feeling only got stronger.

‘I think they’re all watching,’ she whispered.

‘I don’t care. This is my no-bullshit policy remember? No lies. And why the hell would I want to hide you?’

‘Okay,’ she said and there was a sideways glance, just a slight one.

He released her from his grasp and sidled up next to her. ‘You may well be the perfect woman.’ He peered over her shoulder into the burbling ragu.

‘What?’

‘You’re smart. Highly paid. Gorgeous. Drive a wicked car and you bang like a dunny door.’

Anna snorted. ‘What did you say?’

‘The gorgeous thing?’

‘No, not the gorgeous thing. Or the smart thing or the highly paid or the car thing. The other one.’

‘Bang like a dunny door?’

‘That’s a disgusting expression.’

‘You’ve never heard it before? It’s a classic, isn’t it? Working at the pub the past few weeks has renewed my appreciation for those old Aussie expressions. Shorty came in yesterday and demanded a beer, saying he was “as dry as a lime-burner’s boot”.’

Anna looked up at Joe with a furrowed brow. ‘I have no idea what that means.’

‘It means you’re thirsty. So,’ Joe reached around to run his fingers through her ponytail, ‘when I say you bang like a dunny door, what I mean is that you are incredible in the sack, and everywhere else, and that you go off like a rocket. Got it?’

Anna laughed, pushed him away. ‘Thanks for the compliment. I think.’ She picked up her glass and took another sip of wine, then poured the rest of the liquid into the pot. The ragu slurped and bubbled and Anna stirred it slowly.

Joe moved close behind her, pressing himself against Anna. He simply couldn’t stop himself.

‘What else do I love about you? Of yeah, that’s right. You can surf. And you can cook. You might just be the perfect woman.’

There it was again. He hadn’t mistaken it the first time. Anna stiffened as if a cold wind had blown through the house and touched only her.

‘No one’s perfect,’ Anna said, talking to the bubbling sauce.

‘I used to think that, too,’ Joe said.

Anna moved sideways and away from him. ‘I’d better get the pasta on.’

After Anna successfully shooed Joe from the kitchen, she reached for another bottle of red and filled her glass. She needed some space. Had he downed a couple of drinks before he’d arrived? That would be the only excuse for all this talk, about how ‘perfect’ she was. Telling her what he loved about her? Loved. His word, not hers. Oh, she knew it was a figure of speech, from a man who played fast and loose with words. But it was out there now, floating around in the kitchen, and it couldn’t be unsaid. Why did she feel so tetchy and nervous about it?

Anna wiped her hands on the apron and looked down to see splatters of tomato sauce all over it. ‘Who has a white apron?’ she muttered to herself. A quick glance around at the white house and she figured out why. Of course, it matched the colour scheme.

There was laughter from the others and she looked over to the living room. Ry, Julia, Dan and Lizzie were watching Joe, who was standing in front of them like a stand-up comedian. He’d clearly hit the punch line, because all five of them burst into another round of laughter all at once.

Did she deserve to be here, with them, like this? As … what the hell was she? Joe’s friend? Julia’s doctor? Dan’s ex? Maybe that’s why she was happy to hide in the kitchen with the pots and the boiling water. She didn’t quite know where she fit in. Back home it was easy. She had her family and her patients. It was clear; she was daughter and sister. And then she was Dr Morelli. There was one thing she’d hoped to be but it hadn’t happened. And that was mother.

But here? In Middle Point? All of those labels – and none of them – seemed right.