Riverboat Point (25 page)

“My shout.”

“Red please.” It seemed the right thing to choose but it brought an instant vision of Belinda, her arm through Ethan's, clutching a glass of red in her other hand.

He poured two glasses, turned on some music and sat opposite her.

“Tuck in,” he said.

Savannah hadn't felt hungry but her mouth watered and she took an eager mouthful.

“Mmm! That's good.”

“Glad you like it.”

“I can't believe how much I've eaten today.”

“All that fresh air and exercise.”

“I enjoyed it,” Savannah said. “I'd be happy to help again. Are you sure Blake will be okay?”

“He only put in a few hours this afternoon and Barb will make sure he gets a good rest tonight. He should be fine.”

They were silent for a few minutes while they ate.

“Your mum's a good cook,” Savannah said. “Is that where you get it from?”

“Maybe. I've only taught myself since I left the army.”

“Sick of army food?”

“They fed us well. Too well really. Some blokes don't know how to look after themselves when they leave. I didn't want that to be me. I eat a lot of fish here but I haven't had time to catch any lately. I don't have a very wide repertoire. If it can go in the slow cooker or I can fry it in a pan, I can manage.”

Savannah took another mouthful. What did she say next? She'd never been good at small talk.

“Jaxon said you used to be a fitness instructor.”

She lifted her head. Ethan was studying her across the table. His brown eyes were dark pools in the soft light.

“Yes.”

She hadn't realised there was only one light on in the kitchen and the light over the table didn't seem as bright. There must be a dimmer switch but she hadn't noticed him use it. Music played softly in the background. She gripped her knife and fork tighter and kept eating. What was she doing here?

“I've got a small gym set up in my spare room,” Ethan said.

“I don't use much equipment these days.”

“You like to run?”

“When I can. It's good cardio.”

“You can't flex cardio.” He grinned at her.

She looked down. That grin made her stomach flip. She studied his deep green shirt. They'd both gone home for a shower before dinner. He'd changed his farm shirt for a t-shirt that hugged the muscles of his arms and accentuated his well-toned chest.

“It's a joke.”

She dragged her gaze from his body back to his face. He was looking past her. It was dark outside so she knew he would only be able to see his own reflection in the glass.

“What is?”

“In the FOB there's a lot of waiting.” He was still focused on something behind her.

“FOB?”

“Everything revolves around the gym.”

“Ethan?”

He was somewhere else. Savannah recognised the look. She'd experienced it herself often enough, reliving a past event while the real world receded.

“Ethan,” she said gently. She reached across the table and placed her hand on his.

He lowered his gaze at her touch then looked directly into her eyes. She saw the pain before the recognition.

“Sorry.” He rolled his shoulders and continued eating. They ate the rest of their meal in silence.

Finally he reached for her plate. “Finished?”

“Yes, thank you. That was delicious.”

He took the dishes to the kitchen. He kept himself busy scraping plates and stacking the dishwasher.

She was curious. There was a hidden side to Ethan. Perhaps something to do with the army.

“What's FOB?” she asked.

He stopped wiping the bench and looked at her. It was hard to gauge his expression across the room in the dim light.

“Forward operating base.”

Something about the way he said it chilled her.

“I'm sorry I can't offer any dessert,” he said.

“I don't need it.”

“Have another wine.”

“It's late.” She stood up and took her jumper from the back of the chair. “Thanks again for a fantastic meal.”

He crossed the space between them in an instant.

“Sav, please don't go yet.”

Her stomach flipped at his use of her nickname. It sounded so intimate coming from him.

“I'm sorry about before,” he said. “I don't know why I was suddenly on another planet.” He shrugged his shoulders. “It has nothing to do with you. I didn't mean to put you off.”

“You didn't,” she said.

He took her hand and locked his eyes on hers.

“Stay a little longer,” he said.

She tried to ignore the effect his touch was having on her body.

“It's been a long day.”

“I know.”

He drew her closer.

“I …”

Her words were lost by his mouth on hers. His lips were warm and soft, his tongue gently probing. His arms wrapped around her, pressing their bodies together. A tingle started in the pit of her stomach and spread with a warming sensation that made her toes curl. The jumper slid from her fingers as she reached around him. She could feel the firmness of his back beneath the softness of his shirt. At the same time she was aware of the sensuous feel of his hands moving over her.

She eased her lips from his. Was this how it had been with Belinda? She looked into his eyes. Could she trust this man? He leaned forward and they were kissing again. Their bodies locked together. She melted in his arms. He dragged his lips from hers and kissed her neck.

“Savannah,” he groaned in her ear.

Suddenly she was aware of the music and Meatloaf's gravelly
I would do anything for love.
How many times had she worked out to that music, punching the bag? She pulled away from Ethan.
But I won't do that.
The words were loud in her ears. She wasn't going to give herself to this man, not any man, not again.

“I really do have to go,” she said.

She bent to pick up her jumper. He reached a hand towards her.

“Why?”

His eyes were pleading.

“We can catch up tomorrow.”

“I'll be at the farm all day,” he said.

“I'll cook you dinner.” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think about them.

His face lit up and he reached for her again.

She turned and fled. She knew if he touched her one more time her resolve would be totally undone. Her heart pounded in time with her feet on the wooden steps. She was a teenager again. Awkward and embarrassed and yet …

She stopped at the spot where she'd climbed the fence between the two properties and looked up at his house. The dim light glowed from the living area windows but there was no sign of Ethan. She shivered. The warmth she had felt in his arms was gone. She climbed the fence and hurried into the shack.

“Watch it!” Mal yelled.

Ethan ducked out of the way as his father urged a mob of shorn sheep through the gate.

“If you've got nothing to do, Pam could use a hand clearing the boards.”

Mal turned on his heel and walked back towards the shearing shed. Ethan followed. He'd been daydreaming again and yet he felt a ripple of tension through his body. All day he'd had trouble keeping thoughts of Savannah out of his head. Last night she'd melted into his arms, returned his kisses and then run away. He'd felt her quick departure like a blow to his chest. Had he moved too fast? Did she regret kissing him? Surely not if she'd offered to cook dinner. It created another opportunity for them to be together.

Savannah was an enigma. She was a striking woman yet oblivious of her good looks. She had an injury of some kind but she enjoyed exercise. In spite of her city background she had adapted to the isolation of the river. He didn't know what to make of her other than he felt the need to be with her. Not as someone just to take to his bed, although he wouldn't deny he'd relish that, but someone to spend time with in other ways. He felt relaxed when he was with Savannah.

So relaxed he'd drifted off for a moment when they'd talked about exercise. The old joke, “you can't flex cardio” had taken him back to the FOB and the gym they created to pass the time between trips beyond the wire. Lumps of concrete became weights. They kept fit, trying to outdo each other and forget for a while where they were. Most blokes took up smoking to help pass the time. He'd managed to avoid it. He'd chewed gum until his jaw ached and played patience with the earphones of his iPod jammed in his ears.

Ethan rubbed at his chest. What was he meant to be doing? His hands tingled.

“Ethan!” He jumped. Mal's shout brought him back to the shed.

“Bloody hell, man. Pam's going under. Do you want to be here or not?”

Not, Ethan thought. He glared at his father. Mal held his look. Pam moved around Ethan to reach the edges of the fleece on the table. He was aware of Chas, the wool classer, continuing his methodical inspection of the fleece.

Ethan spun and strode along the boards behind the shearers.

“I'm here because you need help, old man,” he breathed. Sheep were annoying bloody animals. He wouldn't work with them by choice. Give him an engine any day. He picked up a fleece, carried it to the sorting table and threw it out. The wool billowed in the air then settled on the table where he proceeded to pull off the dirty tufts. Chas, looking like a chef in his back apron, inspected the fleece without looking up. Pam took up the broom to sweep away the scattered clumps around their feet.

Ethan could sense Mal in the background. It gave him some satisfaction to know that as much as he didn't really want to be here, for Mal it must be even more irksome to have the black sheep of the family working in his shed. The neighbour's daughter was here as well but with Blake being injured and another local lad off at boarding school, Mal needed all the help he could get.

Ethan ducked his head and looked behind. His father was busy inking their label on a full bale. He gave Ethan no more thought than he'd give anyone who worked for him – possibly less. Ethan couldn't help wondering if things might have turned out differently had he not joined the army. Probably not. There were cracks in their relationship long before that. The army was the last straw. Mal and even Barb had cut him off back then. His own parents.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the dusty louvre windows. Ethan kept working. Not long till smoko then only a few hours and he could head on home for whatever Savannah was cooking for dinner. Not that he cared. He just wanted to be with her. He was curious to see where it would lead. Did she feel the same way about him?

“Ethan!”

He took a deep breath to still the rage that simmered in his belly. Across the table Pam gave him a sympathetic look. He glanced over to his father who was standing beside the off-cut bins beckoning him.

“Here,” Mal called.

At least he hadn't whistled. Although the farm dogs were probably held in higher esteem than the younger son. Ethan crossed to his father.

“You put that last lot of wool in the wrong bin.”

Mal jabbed a finger towards the wire cages they used to store any low-grade wool that didn't go in the bales.

Ethan shook his head and the rage burned deeper. There was little difference between the contents of the bins.

“Keep your shirt on,” he said.

“What do you mean, keep my shirt on?”

“It doesn't matter in the scheme of things.” Ethan clenched his hands at his sides, it was only a bit of wool, not life and death.

“And what scheme would that be? The one according to Ethan Daly, who doesn't give a damn about what happens here?”

Ethan opened his mouth and the rage surged up like vomit from inside him. He yelled at his father, spewing forth a tirade of abuse. Nothing he said made sense but the anger drove him on.

Blake's voice came to him as if through a tunnel.

“Take it easy, mate. Calm down.”

Ethan looked around. He was outside squatting with his back against the tin of the shed. When had he come outside? Blake was beside him, bent over, concern on his face.

“What's going on?”

Barb hurried towards them. The car door left open behind her.

“You're lucky you missed your son using language that wouldn't be heard in the gutter.” Mal had come outside.

“Leave it,” Blake murmured.

Ethan felt the gentle pressure of his brother's hand on his shoulder. He gripped his head in his hands. What had he said?

“Are you sick?” Barb squatted in front of him, her face close to his.

“I'm all right,” Ethan rasped. The words echoed in his head.

Barb used her sleeve to wipe his forehead.

“You don't look all right,” she said.

“I'm fine, Barb. Don't fuss.”

“There's work to be done.” Mal turned on his heel and went back inside the shed.

“For goodness sake, Mal.” Barb looked back at Ethan. “What happened?”

“It was my fault.” Ethan tried to get up but nausea swept over him. Perspiration formed on his forehead again.

“You're as white as a ghost,” Barb said.

Ethan's stomach gurgled and saliva squirted into his mouth. He leant to the side and spat. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and noticed the tremble in his fingers.

“This is no good.” Barb stood up. “I'll unpack the food from the car then you're coming home with me.”

“I can't.” Ethan's words were overridden by Barb's.

“Blake, stay with him while I set up smoko.”

Ethan stared after her.

“I want to go home,” he said.

“This is one time I agree with Barb,” Blake replied. “You need to rest before you get on your bike.”

“I'll be all right.”

“I've never seen you like that, mate.” Blake slid down the corrugated iron and sat on the ground stretching his legs out carefully in front of him. “I know Mal can be frustrating –”