Tumble Creek (10 page)

‘Not personally,' he murmured, sending her a heart-stopping grin.

‘Uh-huh.' Sofie caught his steady gaze and pursed her lips. She believed him, but teased him anyway.

‘I'll let that pass,' he mumbled, not losing contact with her eyes. He raised his coffee mug to his mouth and drank, then slowly put it down again. A wide, panther-ate-the-cream-bad-man-grin played his mouth when he said, ‘I'd love to stay, see where this is going, explore, but got to get to the station.'

‘What?' Confusion taking over, Sofie pulled a face.
Where is what going?
Sofie thought.
Oh, yeah please, let's explore.

He ignored her ‘what?' and said, ‘Sarge has had his breakfast, but hasn't been for a walk. I might take him to the station. He can cruise with me for a while.'

‘You can do that?' she asked, astonished at the freedom.

‘If someone comes in, we're looking for the owner, which is true.' Brock ate the last of his eggs. ‘What're you doing today?'

‘I'll buy some clothes, then this afternoon I'll spend some time with Claudia.'

He gulped down the remainder of his coffee, moved to her side of the table, lifted her chin and planted a soft kiss on her mouth. ‘Car keys, Sofe?'

She stopped breathing. He tasted of sweet coffee; who would've guessed the man took sugar? His face barely inches away from hers, Sofie didn't miss the suggestive promises flickering in his eyes. She wished he could stay, and given time she'd see those promises come to fruition, whatever they were. But there was one emotion she did recognise, and that was longing. Involuntarily, Sofie's tongue slid out to lick her lips. Brock's intense gaze dropped to her mouth and back to her eyes. His groan rumbled deep within his chest, sending delicious shivers through her. A naughty idea entered her mind, and she stifled the giggle that threatened. She had a sudden impulse to tie him to his enormous bed, he'd have no choice but to speak up, and tell her exactly what he wanted of her. The very idea of seeing him writhing and becoming sexual aroused under her touch made her tingle all over.
‘Hmm.'

A teasing smile tweaked his mouth and softened his gaze. ‘Babe, keys.'

‘Huh … Oh yes. I'll move it.'

‘Not necessary, stay here where it's warm.'

Brock swapped the cars around while Sofie peeked at him through the window. Quickly moving away as he came back inside. He gathered her hand, cupped it, dropped the keys in her palm, and said, ‘Tonight …' He let that hang, opened the gate for Sarge to follow, and headed back to his car. Though Sarge had long legs, he wasn't a leaper and needed help. Brock swung an arm under Sarge's rump and heaved him up so he could clamber in the back of the car.

Sofie called out, ‘What about tonight?'

He gave her an over-the-shoulder naughty grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes, hopped in his car and drove off.

‘Well …' Sofie said on a breath. ‘Whoever said Brock had a pole up his arse didn't know what they were talking about.'

***

Sofie drove past her house where, just as Brock had told her, men were hauling scaffolding from a truck and more men were erecting it around the house. The roof was covered in tarpaulins, but she was sure the frosty mornings were damaging her refurbished nineteen-forties furniture. Sofie heaved a sigh—there wasn't anything she could do about the situation—, drove down Lavender Lane and headed for the shops. Not knowing what she could salvage of her clothes buried in the rubble, she only bought a few essentials: underwear, a couple of pairs of warm bootleg pants, and a few jumpers. That is until she clapped eyes on the cobalt-blue dress. A figure-hugging, long-sleeved, boat neck, stretch-velvet, stunning creation. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Did she dare? More to the point, would they have one in her size? The fabric stretched across the mannequin's thighs; Sofie pinched it between her finger and thumb, pulled it back and released it. Just like elastic it popped right back with a soft, hollow thump.

An early birthday present, she told herself.

After parking in the restaurant's garage, Sofie dragged her parcels out of the passenger side, strode through the courtyard and headed upstairs, calling out for Claudia.

‘She's with Michelle at the farm,' Jennifer yelled from the kitchen.

Calum's little sister and Claudia had become close friends. And Sofie was glad of it. Michelle was a sweet, sassy, no-nonsense girl, much like her grandmother, Connie, who had helped her and Jennifer's Uncle Bob keep his secret for so many years. Together with their uncle's housekeeper, Shirley, Connie had dressed him for his funeral, which would've been a tough ask but one they fulfilled with love.

Sofie walked into the kitchen and found Jennifer rolling out pastry. ‘Why aren't they at school?'

‘Teachers are having a meeting, so years eleven and twelve are having a free day. They are expected to study of course.'

‘Why do I feel like I'm out of the loop?'

‘You're not, it just so happened I caught sight of her rear end as she was leaving, wearing civvies, so I asked. Otherwise neither of us would know.'

Sofie pulled out her mobile and sent Claudia a text message:
It would be nice to know your whereabouts BEFORE the fact!

Seconds later:
Oops. At Mich's.

No kidding!

U OK I stay the night?

Getting grumpier by the minute, Sofie turned to Jennifer. ‘She's asking if she can stay the night.'

Jennifer pulled a ‘whatever' face and shrugged.

Sofie narrowed her eyes, and questioned her sister, ‘Calum still away?'

‘Yeah, but that's not a problem. I was alone when we were here for Uncle Bob's funeral and all that weird shit was happening.'

‘That's not my point. Claud said she would be here to keep you company and now that's suddenly forgotten, because something better came up? No—' Sofie shook her head, ‘—that's not happening.'

‘I know, but she's a teenager. You've done the ground work, she's a brilliant, sweet girl, the best. You can be very proud of who she is.'

‘I can't leave this, she needs to be reminded.' Jennifer rolled her eyes and groaned. ‘Don't worry I'll be nice. I won't yell.' Sofie's fingers tapped across the little screen.
You were going to look after Aunt Jen.

Shit! I'll be there.

Sofie turned the phone around so Jennifer could read the message.

‘Why do I feel like a heel?' Jennifer muttered unhappily.

‘That's okay, you've got company.'

‘Text her back, tell her it's okay, you're staying with me.'

Oh bugger, that would mean no time with Brock. The shoe was on the other foot now. What a fuck-up. But Jennifer was right. Sofie sent another text.
I'll stay with Jen.

Cool. Be there for work tomorrow.

Sofie sent kisses back and turned to Jennifer. ‘What time are they on tomorrow?'

‘Lunch shift. The motels are booked out, so we should have quite a crowd.'

‘I'll be here to help Fiona and Ryan with the brekkie crowd and stay on until you don't need me.'

‘Thanks, Sis.' Jennifer blew her a kiss.

‘One great waitress down makes it so much harder. I'll have to assume Britt isn't coming back. I just don't have the time to interview right now.'

‘We'll manage fine, Jen. We can put the word out after the long weekend.' With all that was going on in her life, Sofie had made another decision. ‘Sis?' she said, her tone suggesting she didn't like what she was about to say next.

Jennifer stopped rolling her pastry, eyes round, expression expectant. ‘Don't think I'm going to like what you're about to tell me,' she said, hands squeezing into the dough, making it curl out between her fingers.

Sofie took a deep breath, and went straight for it. ‘We need to talk about getting more staff. You said I should tell you the moment I want to stop the breakfast. Well, I want to stop breakfast.'

Jennifer sagged with relief. ‘Shit, Sofe, thought you were going to tell me that you and Claud were heading back to Sydney, or something horrible like that.' She pulled her hands out of the dough, rounded the kitchen table and hugged Sofie, then stepped back to study her face and asked, ‘Is that it?'

‘Not quite. I've done a cost analysis on opening for breakfast. It's making a profit, but I'm wondering if we really need to keep it going. Initially it was to feed the blokes in town, who told their wives, wives made bookings for dinner, and all kinds of celebrations. Word got around your menu was to die for. But are we keeping it on so we don't disappoint the early morning regulars?'

‘Probably. We need to find a breakfast chef. Leave it with me, your days of getting up at sparrows fart are nearly over.' Jennifer grinned. ‘What about the bookkeeping, you happy doing that?'

‘Absolutely.' She smiled. ‘You should come with me next time I visit the vineyards, see how they're managing.'

‘Sure, would love to.' Jennifer slapped her hands over her chest, a cloud of flour hit the air between them and Sofie sneezed. ‘You know, I still can't get my head around what Uncle Bob left us.' She wrapped her dough in cling film and put it in the fridge.

‘Yeah, it's real though. No more struggle street … in fact we are a wealthy little family.'

‘Kinda scary and kinda brilliant all at once,' Jennifer said softly.

‘Yeah …' Sofie said on a breath, ‘you're not wrong.'

It was a good thing she stayed. The day fled, yet at the same time, she couldn't wait for it to end. Everyone was run off their feet. Too tired to do anything other than have a soothing glass of wine with Jennifer, then a hot shower and bed. Sleeping in Bob's old room should've been the same as any other time, but it wasn't. After spending one night with Brock's arms wrapped firmly around her on a couch, she missed him. Shaking her head, she shoved the thoughts aside and, grumbling to herself, snuggled deeper under the quilt.

Sofie fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Chapter 5

‘Calum, you on your way home?' Brock asked, mobile at his ear.

‘Yeah, finished earlier than expected, just turning into Main Street, what's up?'

‘Had to work late. Sofe is staying with me—'

‘What?! When did that happen?'

‘Yesterday. Look, I'll fill you in later. She wasn't there when I got home. Tried her phone, no answer. Don't want to ring your place or hammer on the door and wake everyone for no reason.'

‘Er … she's a big girl, Brock.'

‘Mate—seen too much not to make sure.'

‘Gotcha, meet me in the back lane.'

As soon as Calum parked and turned his lights off, Brock uncurled out of his car, locked it and followed him through the garage to the back door and sunroom. Calum opened up, the alarm beeped, and he punched in the code to reset it. ‘When you leave you've got five seconds to key in the code and …'

Brock gave him a look.

‘Right. Pay no attention to me, I'm beat,' Calum whispered, ‘and I smell like cow dung.'

‘Cow dung makes you think weird?' Brock fought back a grin.

‘Nah, dung is good stuff.' He chuckled and tiptoed down the hall, Brock at his side. They both peeked in the spare room. ‘Sofie's here. What're
you
doin'?'

‘Making sure it's Sofe, then I'll go home.'

Calum pointed at the human shape under the quilt. ‘It
is
Sofe,' he mumbled as if to say, are you blind?

‘It's a bunch of lumps under a quilt, Cal.'

‘Right,'
he said slowly, nodding but nevertheless looking confused. Then his brow furrowed, and eyes questioning he asked, ‘What're you waitin' for? When're you goin' to make her yours?'

‘Soon as I feel Sofie's not mourning her house and everything in it.' For the most part that was true; as for the rest, well, his friend didn't need to know, yet.

Calum raised his chin, and said, ‘Good call. Takin' a shower, so I'm not thinking weird when I hit the sack,' the humour in his voice unmistakable as he sauntered down the hall to Jennifer's room.

Silently, Brock moved into the room. Of course it was Sofie, but before he hit the sack, he needed to see her face. He peeked under the thick quilted mound Sofe was buried in up to her eyes and nose, breathing softly. He dared to smooth a few stray curls away from her forehead. She stirred; he was about to back away when her arm snaked out and wrapped around his neck. She pulled him down. He grinned, kissed her cheek, moved her arm away, slid it back under the covers, and said, ‘We'll have words tomorrow about communication.'

‘Mmmm,' she moaned, and snuggled into her bed.

***

By seven-thirty, with Fiona and Ryan helping, Jennifer and Sofie had everything prepared for breakfast at Veronica's. The expected tourists were already wandering in, chatting about the eerie fog and the mournful sound of Scottish bagpipes. The conversations in the heritage-listed Edwardian building that was Veronica's soon became a discussion about which was the best song the pipers played. Was it ‘Mull of Kintyre' or ‘Scotland the Brave'? Laughing and teasing filled the restaurant with happy vibes. The decorations and fairy lights in the big picture windows, plus the wood fires crackling in the old hearths on opposite walls, gave the restaurant atmosphere and warmth. Veronica's Christmas celebration was like any depicted on many Christmas cards sent from England or Europe.

Delicious aromas of hearty eggs, bacon, sausages and muffins filled the air and wafted out the door every time someone came in or left with a full belly. It cheered Sofie and Jennifer, and carried them easily through the morning.

Sofie had just taken a tray of empty plates to the kitchen when Claudia and Michelle walked in, fresh faced, and already dressed in white shirt and black pants.