The Goodbye Girl (5 page)

The shower was hot, welcome, returning warmth to his cold, damp body, and by the time he came out steam was filling the air.

His toilet bag was on the floor, the deodorant stick being batted all around the bathroom floor by a delighted Sunny.  His comb was behind the door, and his toothbrush - ye gods, she’d managed to get it out of the toothbrush container and cover it in cat hair.

“Last time you come in with me, missy,” Nick growled.

Sunny shot the deodorant stick across the floor so it landed against his foot.

“I don’t care how well you play deodorant ball, you are not
ever
coming in here with me again.”

She head-butted him.

“Don’t try and be cute.”

Sitting at his feet, she looked up at him.  It was only when her eyes got big, the pupils enlarging, that he suddenly realised he was naked.

“Oh shit, no.”  Scooping her up in one hand, he opened the door a fraction and pushed her through it to the hallway.  “No way.”

Talk about close encounters.

Shaking his head, Nick dried off and dressed in jeans, t-shirt and open flannel shirt before gathering his scattered toiletries and heading for his bedroom, where he donned socks before padding out to the kitchen.

Harly was at the stove cooking, her smile welcoming.  “’Morning, Nick.  How did you sleep?”

“’Morning, Harly.”  He dropped a kiss on top of her head before sitting at the table opposite Alex.  “Excellent as always.  If I ever buy my own house, I’m taking that bed with me.”

“Not likely,” Alex said.  “I have fond memories of that bed.”

“Yeah, not sure I want you to go further with that.”

Harly gestured to the frying pan.  “Bacon and eggs?”

“Please.”  His belly chose that moment to rumble.  “I worked up an appetite already.”

Alex yawned.  “Some of us like to stay snuggled in bed.”

“Some of us,” Nick whispered as Harly turned back to the stove, “have someone worth staying in bed for.”

“Right hand not good enough?” Alex asked, poker-faced.

“Not today.  You do realise we’re talking about me being in your guest bed, the one you have fond memories of?”

Alex grimaced.

“Yeah, I thought so.”  He smiled up at Harly as she placed a cup of hot tea before him.  “Thanks.”

She ruffled his hair like a child before returning to the stove.  God,
Harly was mothering him.  That felt nice.  Even though she was a little younger than him, she had that motherly, caring air about her.  It was a wonder Alex hadn’t knocked her up yet.

Curiously
, he cast a glance across the table to where Alex was cradling his cup of tea between his palms.  His friend was watching his wife with eyes warm with love, the contentment practically oozing from him.  It was nice to see, comforting in a way.  It proved that marriages could remain strong even when couples had to spend a lot of time apart.

The
love that binds.  He wondered what that would feel like, he’d probably never know.

“Got any plans for today?”
Harly broke eggs into the frying pan.

Rousing from his thoughts, Nick sat back in the chair.  “Thought I’d go into town, have a look around.”

“That takes care of ten minutes.” Alex laughed.

Nick grinned when Harly looked pointedly at Alex.  “And what are
you
doing today?”

“Hmmm, let’s see.”  Alex ran his gaze up and down
her, a gleam in his eyes.

She blushed.

Grinning, he slouched in his chair.  “Actually, I told Paul I’d help him build the new room onto Maryanne’s café.”

“
He’s starting today?” Harly kept her gaze on the frypan.

“Yep.”  Alex looked at Nick.  “If you come to a loose end, you can join us.  Bit of work will be good for you.”

Nick nodded.  “Sure.”

“You’re on holiday, Nick.”  Harly slid fried eggs onto the plates.  “Don’t feel you need to do anything.”

“It’s fine.  I like working with my hands.”

“Makes a change,” Alex said.

“Hey, I work with my hands.”

“Being Sarge means you tell others to work with their hands.  You were smiling the whole time you told Hollins and Barker to dig the new latrines.”

“Your point?”

“I didn’t see you pick up a shovel in your lily white hands.”

“Some of us are born to lead.”  Nick buttered toast.  “Don’t be bitter.”

“Sarge, huh?”  Harly sat down opposite him.  “Doesn’t that mean you’
re working under Alex’s orders?”

“Don’t be bitter, Nick.”  Alex smirked.

Nick flipped him the bird.

“Ooohh, if my mother saw you now,
she’d box your ears.”

“Eat your breakfast before it gets cold
.” Harly passed him the salt shaker.

Alex slid her a look.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

She arched her brow at him.

He saluted.

“That’s my soldier boy.”  Laughing, Harly reached for the butter.

The by-play between his friends made Nick smile, but her words nudged at him. 
‘Soldier boy’
.  Today he was on a stealth mission to find the elusive Goodbye Girl.  Actually, now that he thought about it…

Nick caught himself before he asked Harly if she knew a woman called Bree.  To be fair, he hadn’t told Alex that he was looking for Bree while he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure that his friend would agree.  He hadn’t discussed it with Alex and he wasn’t about to, not right now.
  Maybe later, depending what happened.

He got a lift into town with Alex, getting out of the Je
ep at the back of the café where Paul and his workers were already at work.

“Come to do a bit of honest labour?” Paul stood with the plans spread
out on the bonnet of the work ute.  “Two tough soldiers, we should have this room up in no time, hey boys?”

The carpenters, Smithy,
Mack and Bundy, all of whom Nick had met the last time he’d come, grinned.

“’Course, without the snazzy uniforms the sheilas won’t be
salivating at your feet,” Smithy drawled.

“I have
Harly,” Alex replied.  “The pick of the bunch.”

“I have no-one.”  Nick sighed.  “I better go and put my
uniform back on.”

Bundy
strutted past fastening a tool belt around his waist.  “Real men don’t need uniforms to attract women.  Take me for instance-”

“
Here we go.”  Smithy rolled his eyes under his shaggy brows.

“Women pant after me.” 
Bundy waved his hand around.  “Paul had to clear the place before I came, give me the all clear before he’d let me out of the ute.”

“Jesus,” Paul said.  “Am I paying you to gab or what?”

“Or what,” Bundy replied without batting an eyelid.  “So once all the sheilas are cleared away - protesting mightily, mind you - he lets me out.  In fact, Paul told me he’d hired two professional soldiers to guard this manly body.” He ran his hand down his skinny chest, his bow legs with the knobbly knees hairy and decidedly unattractive.  “Guard this body well, boys.”

Smithy
gagged.

“I know.” 
Bundy nodded.  “It’s hard to stop the jealousy, but I understand.”

“You’ll understand my foot up your arse if you don’t get to work,” Paul muttered.

“I didn’t bring my tank,” Alex stated.  “How about if I just stand guard with a shovel?”

“I’ll patrol the perimeter,” Nick offered.  “Divert the lovely ladies with my manly good looks.”

“Son,” Bundy replied kindly, “why would the sheilas go for you when they can have this?”  He held out one hairy leg with a mud-spattered boot on the end.  “This is a man’s leg.  It’s tough, hairy, and full of muscle.”

“Sinew.” Paul folded the plans.  “Sinew and bone.  Your leg is bloody unattractive
.  Put it away before I bring up my baked beans on toast.”

“Baked beans on toast?
” Mack looked around.  “You’re not coming into close quarters with us, are you?”

“I’m the boss,”
Paul returned.  “I fart where I want, when I want.”  He lifted the corner of his lip.  “I even had a double helping of baked beans knowing we’d be working
real
close together.”

Alex tu
rned to Nick.  “I’m joining you in patrolling the perimeter.”

Nick laughed.

Maryanne came out of the back of the café bearing a cardboard box with six takeaway mugs in it, steam escaping from the lids.  “How are you boys holding up out here?”

Smithy,
Mack and Bundy swarmed her.

“Good
, if we actually get going,” Paul answered.

Maryanne cast him a look.  “Becky feeling the hormone surges?”

Paul shuddered.  “God, please, don’t bring up the
hormones.
”

Nick and Alex looked at each other then back at
Paul.

“
Becky’s pregnant again?” Alex queried.

Paul nodded, a grin breaking out.

Alex pounded him on the back.  “Congrats.”

“Yeah, man.”  Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Nick grinned.  “Number two, huh?”

“Yep.”  Paul was obviously pleased as punch.  “Got a bun in the oven.”

“Shall I tell Becky that?” Maryanne asked dryly.

“Why not?  She quite elegantly told her sister that I got her knocked up.  In comparison, ‘bun in the oven’ is quite mild.”

Shaking
her head, Maryanne headed back inside.

Standing
with the men drinking hot coffee, Nick felt relaxed, yet eagerness pulled at him, too.  He liked Alex’s friends, had grown to know them well, but his urge to discover who The Goodbye Girl was, was uppermost in his mind.  Draining the last of his coffee, he informed Paul that he had a few things to do, but as soon as he was free he’d be back to help.

Leaving Alex hefting several planks of wood with Smithy, Nick went around the
café into the main street.

A
s small towns went, Whicha was small.  Small and friendly.  It shouldn’t be too hard to find Bree.  How to do it without being too obvious was the question, however.

Pondering, he swept his gaze up and down the street.  It was early morning, shops just starting to open.  As he watched, a now-familiar blue van came up the road to disappear behind the hairdresser.

Hello, his other mystery woman was a hairdresser.  Or maybe just a customer?

Attention caught, he kept his gaze on the shop door.  Within minutes he was rewarded by the door swinging open and his mystery woman stepping out.  As he watched, she ti
lted her head back and took a deep breath, a smile wreathing her red lips.

Hmmmm
.  She was wearing lipstick.  She had pretty pink lips anyway, didn’t really need lipstick, but he had to admit he wouldn’t mind licking it off if it was that flavoured gloss stuff women sometimes used.

Lick it off?
  Now where had that come from?

Nick’s gaze wandered over her.  No slender nymph, this one.  Generously proportioned, but in such a way it more than had his approval. 
A voluptuous hourglass figure was the only way to describe her, all big bosom and lush hips in a loose, pale blue top that was cinched at her waist with a narrow belt, and a firmly rounded derriere in black slacks that begged to be grabbed and squeezed.  He just bet it was a soft handful.

His fingers actually flexed.

That bosom, well, it was a man’s wet dream.  He liked that she didn’t try to hide her figure, enhancing the best parts with colour and flair as though thumbing her nose at convention.  Yeah, he liked that.

He bet she was a soft armful, too.  Warm and soft and sweet
and funny.

From where he stood, a mere two shop doors down, he could see her face clearly.  Sunny smile, big eyes, cheekily tilted nose, and dark hair pulled up in some arty-farty top knot that had tendrils dancing around her face in the breeze.

He itched to take that top knot apart, to see if the thick hair was as silky as it looked.

Hmmmm
.  Maybe he should think about asking her out, though a woman like her probably had a husband or boyfriend already.  Any red-blooded man would be an idiot to let this lush piece of womanhood pass him by.

His gaze dropped to her
hands where they rested on her hips.  No wedding or engagement ring that he could see, though maybe she took it off for work. Or maybe it was a friendship ring, didn’t women wear them on another finger?  She wore several rings.

He rubbed his chin.

Turning, the woman spotted him and smiled widely.  “Hey there.”

Nick smiled back.  “Hey there yourself.”