The Grass is Greener (20 page)

Speaking of whom …

‘What does Chris think of this lawyer?'

‘Taken with 'er, of course. Impossible not to be. Though still reluctant to give her too much information on the business. I don't blame him. Oak Hills is practically bankrupt. All zey are doing now is trying to stop the rest of Yallingup from finding out.'

‘I see.'

By now they'd walked all the way to the cellar door and quietly entered the premises. Antoine went in first.

‘What are you doing back, Ant?' Chris's voice came from behind the bar. ‘I thought I told you you were needed elsewhere.'

A lump formed in Jack's throat when he heard the familiar tone and he quickly doubled his stride to get into the room. Then he saw him, sitting there in a wheelchair, his fingers resting lightly against the spokes. His face hadn't aged much. It still held that kind, good nature, the quiet determination, with only a couple extra lines. However, the sight of him in the chair …

It made it real.

Everything he'd heard.

The pictures.

It was strange seeing his legs like that, skinny and wasted. He couldn't take his eyes off them and felt tears forming. He blinked furiously.

For fuck's sake.

‘Jack.' Chris's voice cracked in the dry air. ‘
What are you doing here?
'

He cleared his throat. ‘I'm home, mate. I've come to help you.'

Chris lip curled. ‘Too little, too late,
mate
,' he snarled.

His brother couldn't have hurt him more if he'd punched him in the face. Chris spun in his chair, so expertly that he left the room faster than Jack could walk.

‘Zat went well.' Antoine clapped him on the back cheerfully. ‘You must be glad to have got ze first meeting out of ze way. What shall we do now? Go out for breakfast? Celebrate?'

‘Are you kidding me?' Jack returned tightly, feeling like someone had just sucked all the oxygen out of the room. ‘You playing up on the job will make Chris hate me even more. Seriously, Ant, can't you be a little more sensitive?'

‘Firstly,' Ant puffed out his chest and held up a finger, ‘I'm a Frenchman. My heart bleeds with empathy every moment I am awake. Secondly, I do not take kindly to you copying the indigenous of these parts and calling me Ant. It is most insulting.'

Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘There are worse nicknames and this one suits you.'

Ant snorted loudly.

‘Anyway, I think I'll return to the house now and speak to my mum.'

‘You might want to freshen up,' Ant flicked the comment at him pettily. ‘You smell like three hours on the road.'

Jack grinned, his good humour returning. ‘So is that French tact or just your empathy outdoing itself?'

‘Bah! Why you Aussies must have no care for your appearance, I do not know. Zat is your impression. And I …' He looked down his long nose at him, ‘always leave a lasting one.'

On this note, he walked away towards the bar, leaving Jack shaking his head. He left the cellar door shortly after and headed back to the house. With the vineyard all around him again the scenery lightened his step, but not completely. He had noted all the asphalt paths his parents had added to the property. The ramps going up into the winery and behind a section of the bar. There had been a lot of adjustments while he was gone and the sting of culpability and helplessness pricked him again.

It was all very well for them to say that he had abandoned them back then, but from his recollection it was far more like he'd been pushed out kicking and screaming.

Not that he was in any way downplaying the accident. He took full responsibility for that and had never known peace since. As his gaze stretched over the hill in the direction of the neighbouring property, Gum Leaf Grove, his heart shrank in his chest. No one lived there.

There was an old house on the land but it had been vacant for years. He shuddered to think what it would look like inside, probably a haven for wildlife. The land around the house had been leased to grape growers, so it had a vineyard that was mostly well kept. However, there was one section behind the house – a giant flat gravelly area – where he and his friends used to muck about as teenagers. He was told that when the house was occupied they used to run a casual drive-in for the locals there. There was no longer any trace of that movie screen but the car park certainly made a great place to meet up and hang out. Particularly if you wanted to smoke, drink or make out away from disapproving eyes.

As they grew older and became less interested in being delinquents and more concerned about just having a good time, Gum Leaf Grove had become the place to hold a party. He often wondered whether the owner knew about their frequent piss-ups on his land. Nobody ever came to tell them off. It was the perfect venue, BYO barbecue and esky. You could let loose without causing damage to anyone's home.

That was your problem, wasn't it?

You let
too
loose.

It was easy to do. Back then he'd thought the sun and the moon shone out of his own arse. He was always blowing off steam on women and booze and that night had been pretty run of the mill.

Oh, except for the part where he'd decided that he was in love with Bronwyn Eddings but couldn't ever have her.

He cringed when he thought of the mess he'd created that had ended in that tragic event; a mess that had been brewing for months because of his blatant insensitivity. Not just to Bronwyn but Chris as well.

He kicked a pebble with his shoe as he pulled his eyes away from Gum Leaf Grove to somewhere a little closer to home – the family's gazebo. It sat at the top of the hill overlooking the vineyard, white and hexagonal in shape with a traditional pitched roof of light brown tiling. Bronwyn had always loved that spot back when she was in uni.

She often went there to study all those years ago. The picturesque surroundings and the quietness of the countryside made it the perfect place to reflect and digest. It had also represented a great opportunity for him to catch her alone.

He used to get a real kick out of teasing her there. One time in particular would always stick in his mind. It had been during one of her study weeks, just before end-of-year exams.

As he sauntered up those gazebo steps for the fourth time in four days, he tried not to think too closely about why he enjoyed riling her so much. Bronwyn did not raise her eyes from
Torts: Cases and Commentary, Fourth Edition
but she did release a sigh when she said, ‘Go away, Jack.'

He ignored her, of course, and sat down on the other end of the bench, an arm stretched across the back and one leg hooked up so that his ankle rested on his knee in a manner he knew she found irritating. She smelled like frangipanis and fig leaves but he didn't look at her just yet. Instead he turned his attention to a gorgeous metallic-blue wren hopping around in the flourishing bushes of red kangaroo paws that lined the sides of the gazebo.

‘So where's Claud?' he asked. ‘Why isn't she studying with you?'

With a groan she finally looked up. ‘She doesn't need to. She's smarter than I am.'

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘I love my sister to bits, Numbat, but she's not smarter. She's just knows when to take a break. Why are you so afraid of failing?'

‘I'm not afraid of failing.' She tossed her head.

No, she wasn't, was she? Passing was in the bag. She was
afraid of was not being in the top two per cent, the cream of her class, as was expected of an Eddings.

‘Hmm,' he murmured, keeping those thoughts to himself. ‘So why not study at home if you don't want the company?'

She ignored him, as he knew she would. Why he liked asking her questions she had no desire to answer, he had no idea. Perhaps he enjoyed the leap of the pulse at the base of her neck too much.

‘Come on, Numbat, you can tell me, I'm practically your brother! What's going on at home that makes you keep hiding out here every second weekend and on holidays?'

Her brother.

He'd rolled out that wagon one too many times and he wondered how much longer he was going to be able to make it stick.

‘No particular reason.' Her tone was defensive. ‘I just find home more stressful, that's all. It's … so peaceful here. I feel like part of the family.'

Jack picked up her textbook and flipped it over. ‘So what are you going to specialise in? Torts?'

She gnawed on her lower lip. ‘Maybe family law.'

‘Family law?'

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I know it can get a bit depressing, all the divorces you have to deal with …' She seemed to buoy herself. ‘But it's the children. They are always the losers in situations like that and I just want to be in a position where I can protect their interests.'

‘Like nobody protected yours?' He immediately wished he could yank the question back.

A little too deep, Jack.

She stuck out her tongue at him. ‘Stop reading into everything I say. It just is what it is.' She took her book off him and reopened it to the page she was at.

‘So you're not even going to take a five-minute break?' he teased.

‘No.'

‘What do you normally do for fun?'

She groaned at his persistence and clearly threw out the first answer that came into her head. ‘I read.'

‘So when you're not studying,' he squinted at the ceiling of the gazebo, ‘you read. Wow. Bit of wild child, aren't ya? Haven't you got a boyfriend or something?'

‘No.'

And then, dumbarse that he was, he brought George up.

‘What about that guy you met in Margaret River last time you were here? Isn't he taking you out?'

She turned her head quickly, realising for the first time that he was studying her as intently as she had been studying
Torts
ten seconds earlier.

‘How do you know about him? Have you been eavesdropping on my conversations again?'

‘It would help if you girls didn't giggle so loudly,' he returned gruffly.

‘That was a private conversation.' She was blushing bright red and clearly wondering just how much he'd heard.

‘Don't worry, I didn't hear it all. Just the first bit,' he lied, and should have ended the conversation there. A decent man would have, but not him. ‘So he's not your boyfriend?'

‘No.'

‘Why not?'

She glared at him. ‘Why is that your business?'

He shrugged, his eyes twinkling. ‘Because I'm asking.'

‘He just wasn't my type, all right.'

He gave a bark of laughter. ‘You have a type. Numbat has a type!'

‘Of course I do. Doesn't everybody?'

‘I don't.'

‘Yes, you do.' She shook her finger. ‘Curvy, blonde and easy.'

‘True,' he grinned, ‘but I'm not opposed to other shapes
and sizes. Even you wouldn't be half bad if your eyes weren't so big and you didn't have so many freckles.'

She gasped and self-consciously touched her face.

‘Don't do that.' He captured her hand and pulled it away. ‘I was just teasing.'

‘About my eyes or my freckles?' she asked in a small voice.

He leaned in close, squinting at her face as though trying to make up his mind, and suddenly got lost in her eyes. Big blue orbs, deep and mesmerising. He was also enjoying the sensation of her breath on his face and her hand still in his. He watched in fascination as heat infused her face, building slowly from the base of her neck, parting her pretty pink lips like a blatant invitation. If he really was trying to count every freckle on her face, he was going to find it difficult to see them soon.

She yanked her fingers out of his, moved right over and opened up
Torts
a second time. ‘Stop it, Jack. You're not funny.'

No, not funny. Just fascinated and quite suddenly taken by a need to have more of her. ‘You've never been kissed,' he stated matter-of-factly, almost like a note to self rather than engaging her opinion.

Heat scorched her face. She gasped. ‘You
did
eavesdrop on the whole conversation! Liar!'

‘Even if I hadn't, it's as plain as –'

‘The freckles on my face? Yeah, yeah I get it, whatever. Go away. You're really starting to annoy me now.'

‘Bron, how old are you now? Nineteen or twenty? You gotta do somethin' about that.'

She lowered the book. ‘Since I last checked there's no age limit on a first kiss.'

‘No, but if it's stopping you from dating people you really should get it out of the way.'

She blew her fringe out of her face. ‘Oh, for Pete's sake. Haven't you got something better to do?'

He felt his expression sour. ‘I would if Horace would just bloody let me.'

‘He'll come around.'

‘He's a micro-manager. He watches everything I do and gives me no freedom at all.'

He stood up, the move motivated by frustration and flung his hands up to clasp the back of his head. ‘He's driving me mad.'

‘Like father, like son.' She snapped her book closed, shoved it in a bag that held a couple of others and stood up too.

‘Where do you think you're going?'

‘I'm trying to study and I'm not getting anything done.' She looked at him pointedly. ‘I might as well see if I can find Claud. Maybe we can test each other or something.' She hugged her books to her chest. ‘I'll see you round.'

‘Hey, Numbat, before you go …'

Maybe it was that he was piqued she could dismiss him so easily that made him do it, he really wasn't sure, but when she turned around he cupped her face with two hands so she had to look at him.

Her eyes darted worriedly. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Helping you out.'

On her gasp of outrage, he captured her conveniently open mouth and proceeded to kiss her in a fashion that brothers would never use on sisters. He had half expected her to pull away immediately and when she didn't, he lost the point of the whole exercise …
if
there was one. He pulled her closer, devouring her softness and her honesty like a lifeline. She felt good. So good. And he didn't want to let her go.