Max (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Max

Amy was always cocky.

She grew up the only child as a publican’
daughter, she had a lifetime protection of the Onslow Boys at her beck and call
and was now dating one of the most self-wealthy, popular, likeable blokes in
town. So, yeah, there was a lot to be cocky about.

So when she sidled up to the bar with a new
air of smugness, I was concerned. This one said, ‘I know something you don’t
know.’ And if kitchen bonding was in full swing like I suspected, I think I
knew exactly what was behind that smugness. It took everything in me to not
match that smugness. Instead, I went with indifference.

“Refill?” I asked, grabbing the empty jug
from her.

“Yes, please.”

“Sleep well last night?” she asked
innocently enough.

“Eventually.”

“Yeah, well, we will be on our best
behaviour tonight, promise.”

“And yet, here I have put cruisers on ice
for you already.” I gave her a knowing look as I screwed the lid back on the
soda water.

“Oh, well, who are we to let such an effort
go to waste?” she asked, smiling sweetly.

What was she fishing for?

I passed her the fresh jug, watching on
with interest.

“Well, don’t forget to put something on ice
for yourself, you’re not going to be a dirty stop-out tonight again, are you?”

“What? And miss all the entertainment
again, not a chance.”

Something flashed in Amy’s eyes, she was
about as good at controlling her emotions as was Mel. At this point I would
have given anything to have Adam knock the intercom into life again, see what
was really unravelling in that kitchen.

“Very good,” she said while nodding, then
took the jug and headed toward the kitchen. I waited until she had disappeared
before backing away, moving to the phone to do the very thing that Amy had
interrupted in the first place. I picked up the bar phone, placing my hand over
the receiver, and pressed redial, thinking how incredibly unfunny it would be
if Ben Erickson answered the phone, and how I would simply give up trying to be
clever, and for someone who didn’t break into a sweat much, by the fifth
unanswered ring a feeling of doubt started to creep in, until of course a voice
cut through the line
.

Hi, you’ve reached the mobile of Amy. I
can’t come to the phone right now, but if you leave your name and your number I
will get back to you … beeeeeeep.

Fucking Bingo!

***

The day was an ongoing drag, with only a
few stragglers in the bar. The restaurant got smashed with a big table of
tourists from the caravan park but that was about it. By ten o’clock I made the
call to start shutting up shop. Pulling down blinds, dimming the lights in the
main bar, emptying the beer tray, rolling up beer mats and organising the till
for the safe.

By the time everything was in its place, I
was lazily sitting back on the other side of the bar downing an ice cold beer,
rocking back on my stool, alone in the pool room like I was the Mayor of Smug
Town.

So Amy was in on it too, not that I was
overly surprised. The two of them had become fast friends, and as if conjuring
them up through thought the two appeared in the bar, the usual kitchen-hand
look about them: flushed cheeks and wispy hair curled by the heat.

Most kitchen staff had the unfortunate
passive cooked onion smell infused in their clothes by being stuck in the
kitchen, but as Mel sidled up to the bar the first thing that hit me was that
she smelt nothing like that. She smelt amazing and I tried not to get
distracted by what such a simple pleasure was doing to my brain.

I let the front legs of my stool hit the
floor as I upped and moved past her, making sure to deliberately brush against
her. On cue, her cheeks turned a brighter red. I leant over the main bar
digging into the icy recess of the ice tub. I produced two Raspberry Cruisers,
and twisting off the lids, I walked back into the pool room, setting them down
on the bar with a knowing look lingering on Mel.

“Take it easy tonight, yeah? I don’t fancy
having to carry you to bed for the third night in a row.” I smirked.

I was aiming for light-hearted joking, but
by the way Mel’s eyes bugged out, I think instead I embarrassed her.

Okay, so I was way out of practice.

Amy was on her mobile, standing in the
corner with her back to us, her arms waving animatedly. She looked cross one
minute, laughing and smiling the next; there was no doubt that she was on the
phone to Sean. It was rather predictable to watch the varying emotions play out
across her face, it was almost enough to make your stomach turn, and by the way
Mel looked on with a slight frown, I knew she thought the same thing.

Amy ended her call with a small smile and a
sigh, before eventually lifting her gaze to us as if noticing us for the first
time.

“Sean’s picking me up, he’s just managed to
send everyone home from his place.”

“Ah, so that’s where everyone is,” I said,
thinking that made sense; if the Onslow Boys weren’t here they were usually at
Sean’s Lake House.

“Well, it accounts for the Onslow Boys, not
sure where the rest of the bloody town is,” said Amy.

I was about to offer some theories but was
cut off with a snicker next to me that caused both Amy and me to snap our
attention towards Mel who appeared deeply amused, even enough to break into a
low laugh, something that I hadn’t heard from her … well, sober anyway.

My brow pressed into an amused state of
confusion. “What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I just think it’s funny
you refer to them as ‘The Onslow Boys’.”

Amy didn’t seem to find it particularly
funny. “It’s just what they’re known as, I don’t think it’s funny.” Amy had
that underlying pissed-off tone in her voice.

Mel turned to me. “Could you imagine if we
called any group ‘The Ballan Boys’ back home? We would be shot.” She laughed,
and I couldn’t help but smile broadly; the thought was bloody hilarious.

“So who would be the Ballan Boys?” I mused.
“Stuie Cameron?”

“Oh God!” Mel laughed. “Tim Nixon.”

“Michael Hodges, oh, he’d be the ring
leader,” I said, laughing at the absurdity. Mel was doubled over, her laughter
filling the empty bar as she wiped away a tear.

“There wouldn’t be a Lake House though,
only Roy Dunn’s shed near his dam.”

Mel screamed and pointed. “Oh my God, Roy,
Yes! How could I have forgotten about him?”

Trying to gather ourselves from the fits of
laughter of putting mental images against these unlikely suspects, and, yeah,
kind of taking the piss out of the Onslow Boys, our laughter soon died down
when we noticed the unimpressed glare from Amy, who was clearly not amused.

“You two quite right?” she deadpanned.

I chuckled. “I, ah, guess you had to be
there.”

Amy pocketed her phone and moved to pull up
a stool next to Mel, her eyes fixing on us with interest.

“Apparently so.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mel

I didn’t need to look at Amy. I
felt
the very present dig of her elbow in my rib cage.

It was not the most subtle of gestures but
then again, nothing about Amy was. I only hoped Max hadn’t caught onto it as I
did my best not to react. For now I was just trying to remain calm with the
fact Max was sitting right beside me, so close our knees were almost touching.

Don’t over think it, Melanie. He is only
bloody sitting next to you, for God’s sake. Pull yourself together.

But when I felt the brush of his jean-clad
leg next to mine when he shifted, I thought I might have a heart attack over
such a simple gesture, and I really wanted him to move again. I could die right
now and be happy: Max sitting so close I could sense the rise and fall of his
chest, the clean-cut musty tones of his after shave, the fact we had almost
fallen off our stools with shared laughter, lost in a moment of whimsical
Ballan nostalgia. The genuine laugh that came from him was so warm and welcomed
and that smile, oh that smile, I instinctively clenched my thighs together
thinking I might catch on fire just by looking at it. Why did he have to be so
damn gorgeous? It was like sweet torture sitting here, seeing him in the corner
of my eye.

Amy was talking to me but I was only half
listening, this very moment deserved my full concentration on the hot boy next
to me, the very hot boy that had just asked me a question … wait what?

I blinked, my head snapping around thinking
I had been imagining things but when I met those sexy green eyes, I had
definitely missed something; so much for me paying attention.

Another elbow in the side snapped me to
attention. “S-sorry?”

A smile creased the corner of his lips as
his eyes flicked down to my hand. “Do you like the Raspberry Cruiser?”

My eyes drifted down to the glass bottle I
held of the vodka raspberry drink he had put on ice for me. “Oh, yeah, it’s
nice, it tastes like raspberries,” I stammered.

I wanted to kick myself the moment the
idiotic words fell out of my mouth.

A raspberry vodka tasting like
raspberries, oh, do go on with your sparkling wit, Mel. Really.

I was such a conversationalist. Wow, so
riveting was my company.

Max’s brows raised, a subtly mocking
gesture, as his lips fought not to smile too openly about what an idiot I was. “Can
I have a taste?”

Amy mixed things up a bit this time,
choosing to go to the next level and kick me. I could imagine her inner monologue
freaking out; it was probably mirroring my own voice.

Oh-my-God-Oh-my-God-Oh-my-God …

Deep breath, Mel. “Sure,” I managed.
Coolly, calmly holding it out to him.

He reached out, taking the bottle from my
hand, his fingers briefly skimming across mine, sending an electric jolt
through me. He looked at the bottle, surveying the label before lifting it up
to press against his lips, his gaze unnervingly and unapologetically fixed on
me the entire time he took a deep swig of the sweet, red liquid. I could feel
my cheeks flush thinking about his mouth being where mine had been, and there
was this utter relief at the fact he hadn’t used his hand or shirt to wipe off
my cooties before he took a drink. That would have been particularly
devastating, to say the least, but he didn’t. He downed a deep mouthful like a
man; well, as much as a man could downing a Raspberry Cruiser.

He snapped together his lips
appreciatively. “Hmm, not bad,” he said, re-examining the label.

I straightened on my stool. “I know, right?
It’s nice.”

Max nodded, holding it back out for me to
take. “Tastes like raspberries,” he added with a cheeky grin, one that had me
inwardly cringing. I would never live that down. He waited, watching me,
probably wondering if I would wipe away his germs with my top, but instead I
lifted the bottle unflinching to my mouth, using the same unnerving method of
watching him the entire time I drank from it. A certain thrill ran through me
thinking about my lips being where his lips were, the power I felt from not
breaking eye contact like I would usually do.

The trance was painfully broken by the
sound of a car horn blasting from outside. Amy jumped off her stool. “Gotta go,
that’ll be Sean,” she said, skulling the last of her Cruiser.

My head snapped around. “You’re going?” I
asked, a bit too high pitched.

“I’m staying at Sean’s tonight,” she said,
shouldering her bag, before her eyes flicked between us, the sudden realisation
that, yes, in fact she was leaving us alone together. A small knowing smile
lifted the corner of her mouth.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Be good now.” Amy
winked, actually fucking winked. About as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.

“Max, you wanna lock up after me?” Amy
nodded toward the door.

If Max seemed uneasy about being left alone
with me, he didn’t show it. He was still his cool, casual self as he sauntered
toward the door, unlocked the dead bolt, and opened the door for Amy—who was
once again checking her phone, she was bloody glued to the thing. “Hey, I have
a missed call,” she said mainly to herself before pausing at the opened bar
door. She looked confused. “Why would someone from the bar call my phone? I was
working.”

Max leant casually against the door jamb. “Oh,
that was probably me, I pressed redial on the phone. I forgot I wasn’t the last
one to use it.”

Oh God.

The realisation read clearly across Amy’s
face, I only hoped I was more subtle in my panic. Mercifully, she was saved by
the blasting of another car horn.

“Oh, weird.” She brushed it off quickly
with a small laugh. “Well, better go,” she said, darting through the door, not
before looking at me with a ‘tell me everything tomorrow’ look. Amy was just
damn right embarrassing.

Max leaned out the door, waving to Sean
before stepping back in and locking the door behind him. Each, twist, click and
thud caused my heart to beat faster, even more so when Max turned and leaned
against the door folding his arms with such smugness. And as the sound of Sean’s
car became nothing more than a distant hum in the night, it became oh so clear.
It was just Max and me … alone.