Tangled Desires (Wattle Creek #3)

11

M y Hilux rattles and shakes, tearing through the bumpy track like a bloody beast.

This old ‘80s Toyota was made for this shit, and every jolt of the suspension gets my blood pumping. Been doing this since I got my P’s, and nothing beats it. Up ahead, the riverbed’s coming into view—just as sandy and gnarly as I remember. Imogen’s next to me, stiff as a board, white-knuckling the edge of the seat like the thing’s about to throw her off.

She didn’t come along willingly, but having her here? Yeah, I’m loving every fucking second of it. The river’s just up ahead. The terrain’s getting rougher now, dips and rises, throwing the ute around. Out of nowhere, Xavier’s ute hits a massive bump, the whole thing lifting into the air like it’s about to take off. Imogen gasps, clutching the door.

“Shit! Can these things tip over? Because that was way too close.”

“Nah, we’re good.” I chuckle. “That’s nothing. Trust me, Xavier and I have driven over way more fucked terrain than this. One time, we hit this ridge so steep I thought we were gonna roll right back down.”

“Sounds like a real party. Can’t believe I’m missing out on all that action.”

She tries to hide her smirk, but it’s there—just barely. I grin back, but it drops when she rolls down the window, her face paling a shade or two. “You alright?” I slow the ute, eyeing her. “Want me to pull over?”

“No. We’ve come this far, right? I took a tablet for nausea before we left.” She digs into her bag, pulling out a small open packet. “I’ve also got these disgusting gummies from the chemist this morning.”

“Let me try one.”

“Trust me.” She sighs. “They taste worse than they look.” I grab one, pop two into my mouth. Instantly, my taste buds are on fire.

“What the fuck is this flavour?”

“Tumeric and ginger,” she mutters. “It’s on the packet. Can’t you read?”

“I wasn’t paying attention!”

“I told you. I can’t get past the spice.”

I’m about to spit them out, but the burn fades fast and something sweet hits instead. I smack my lips, surprised. “Wait... they’re sweet now. What the hell?”

Imogen shakes her head, unimpressed. “Good for you.”

“These are actually pretty decent,” I say, grinning. “And if they help with the nausea? Shit, I feel like a new man.”

“You’re an idiot.” She grabs the packet back, tossing one in her mouth. Her face scrunches up instantly.

“Wait for it. Just keep sucking it. It’ll get sweet soon.”

She shoots me a side-eye, and I catch the innuendo too late. My smirk deepens, and I wiggle my eyebrows at her. Imogen scoffs. But a second later, her face changes as the sweetness kicks in. I can’t help but gloat.

“Told you. Just gotta trust me, baby.”

“Ugh,” she groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna throw up now.”

We rumble along, the ute handling the rough patches like a champ. The sand kicks up under the tyres as we hit a sharp turn, opening up to a massive sandy stretch leading down to a river that shimmers in the light. Imogen sits up, eyes wide. “Oh, wow. Is this a beach?”

“Sort of,” I answer, cruising over the sand. “It’s a river, but the ocean’s been pushing the sand up for years. Now, it’s a sandy river.” She looks impressed. I might’ve just won some imaginary award for that.

I park next to Xavier, the sand crunching under the tires. He’s already out, stretching with a groan. “Perfect day for this,” he says, taking in the view. It really is a perfect day, considering it’s March. Last autumn was fucked—nothing but rain. But after a bit of rainfall, we usually get skies like this. Sun’s out, and it’s shining like it’s the middle of summer, even though the terrain’s still pretty muddy. That’s the best part, though—mud’s perfect for the ride ahead.

Isla climbs out, adjusting her sunglasses. “Couldn’t have picked a better spot.”

Imogen steps out, brushing sand off her jeans. “I’m not sunbaking if there’re crocs around.”

Xavier laughs. “No crocs, princess. Just sun, sand, and maybe a few seagulls.” I toss a water bottle to Imogen.

“You’re fine. No crocs. Looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves.” Imogen rolls her eyes, but a small smirk tugs at her lips.

She takes a sip. “Goody.”

Xavier wraps an arm around Isla and gives me a nod. “You ready to hit the riverbank?”

I grin, looking at Imogen. “We won’t be long. You two good?”

Isla waves me off. “We’ll be fine. Go enjoy your boy time.”

Imogen shrugs. “Just don’t roll the ute.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” I shoot her a wink before climbing back in the ute, Xavier following suit.

About an hour later, Xavier and I push the Hilux further up the riverbank, hitting the rough stuff. The ute bucks over rocks, the river roaring alongside us. I shift gears, scanning the path ahead.

“This next bit’s tricky,” I warn, eyeing a steep incline with jagged rocks. Each bump makes me grin. This is it—the reason I love off-roading. The dangerous ground that keeps me on my toes. Xavier leans forward, squinting.

“Stick left, avoid those rocks. You’ll be fine.”

I gun it over the rough patch, feeling the tyres grip. “I think this track’s tougher than last time?”

He laughs. “Or maybe you’ve gone soft.”

“Soft? Nah, mate. Never.”

We ride in silence for a minute, the roar of the river and the hum of the Hilux filling the space, until Xavier clears his throat. “So, how’s things with Imogen?” he asks, voice softer. “I don’t know much, apart from what Isla’s told me. But how’s it going, mate?”

I keep my eyes locked on the path, my hands firm on the wheel. “It’s... different, you know? I mean, fuck, I’ve been obsessed with her for so long, and now we’re here, and it just feels... weird. Like, I want this. I want her, but I don’t know. It’s a lot.” I pause, searching for the words that make sense. “It’s a fresh start. Deep down, I’m fucking glad it’s with her. If there’s anyone I could see myself settling down with, it’s her.”

I slow the ute down, letting out a short laugh. “Fuck, maybe I’m the one going all soft.”

Xavier smirks. “Mate, if obsessing over a woman makes you soft, you’ve got company. Welcome to the club.”

I chew on that for a second, “I just... I don’t want to fuck this up. I’m worried she’ll push me away once the baby’s born. I don’t know how to handle that, you know?”

Xavier nods, his eyes narrowing like he’s weighing his words. “Mate, I get it. You’ve been through a lot, and yeah, it’s a big shift. Don’t worry about her pushing you away. Imogen’s tough, but that doesn’t mean she’ll shut you out. You just gotta be there, you know? Be steady, even when things get messy.”

I take in his words, but they don’t settle right. Xavier might be talking about toughness, but I’ve been through it—grew up tough, had my life handed to me in ways no kid should. Tough’s something I know.

This? This doesn’t feel like that. Not even close. “Yeah, right,” I mutter, trying to push the thoughts down. “Just don’t wanna fuck it all up.”

Xavier slaps me on the back. “You won’t. You’ve got this, mate. Just stay in it. Trust me, when that baby gets here, it’ll be different—but in a good way. Tough, but good.”

I snort. “You reckon she’ll ever move in? She’d rather run barefoot over broken glass than admit she’s even thinking about it.”

Xavier grins. “If she does, it’ll be on her terms. And forget about picking the baby’s name—that’s all hers.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I laugh, the thought lingering. “But I’d want nothing more.”

“She’ll come around. And if you need tips on pregnancy mood swings, just ask. Been there, mate.”

I grin back, but his words stick with me as we hit the next bump. We head back to where the girls are sprawled on their towels. As we get closer, I catch sight of Imogen—blonde curls spread on the towel, her body as fucking phenomenal as ever. That killer rack, those curves... She doesn’t even try, and still, she wrecks me every time. Xavier’s already on Isla’s towel, scattering sand everywhere.

“Miss me, Doc?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows like the cocky bastard he is.

“Sooo much,” Isla deadpans, before he leans in for a kiss.

I walk up behind Imogen, spotting the red on her shoulders. “Your shoulders are torched, Immy,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Isla turns, taking a glance. “Shit, Midge, you’re burnt bad. Why didn’t you reapply?”

“I didn’t think I needed to. Checked the weather app—UV’s supposed to be low.”

I shake my head. “Yeah, well, not low enough, apparently.”

Xavier stands, stretching. “We’re packing up and heading home. I’m missing Cal, and could definitely use a shower.” Isla’s up in a flash.

“Don’t have to ask me twice. I miss our baby girl.”

Imogen

Isla glances over at me as the boys load the utes. “Have you talked to Harrison? About… anything? The baby?”

I shrug, keeping my eyes on the esky I’m pretending to reorganise. “We talked a bit the other day. He mentioned co- parenting. Wants to ‘figure it out.’” My voice is flat, but the weight behind the words feels crushing. “It all sounds neat, right? But I’m just… unsure.”

Isla tilts her head. “Unsure about what?”

“Everything,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “How this is going to work? If it even can work. Moving in with him, leaving Dad, figuring out life with a baby. I’m anxious, Isla. More than that. I feel like I could cry at any second.” I blink rapidly, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

Isla shifts closer, her hand resting gently on my arm. “Midge, I know you’ve got a million things racing through your mind. But imagine what he’s thinking. Honestly? He’s willing to help. I think you two could be good for each other.”

“Yeah, sure.” I huff. “Good at tearing each other’s throats out, maybe. I can’t help that he irritates me.”

“Have you ever asked yourself why ?” Isla’s tone is maddeningly calm, her brow raised in that knowing way she always pulls when she’s about to make a point.

“No. Because it’s just that. He irritates me.”

“He irritates you? Or are you just irritated with yourself because, deep down, you enjoy his attention?” I narrow my eyes. Damn her for digging that deep. No. It’s not that. It’s not. He just irritates me. End of story.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” I mutter.

Isla smirks. “You just did, babe.” The guys decide to stroll over at that moment.

“Ready to go?” Harrison asks, his gaze flicking to mine.

“Yep, we’re all set,” Isla chirps, her usual bright tone back in place. As she moves past me, she leans in. “It’s okay to feel like this. Honestly. You’re allowed to be scared. But you’re not alone in this. Harrison’s in it, too. Remember that.” I nod absently, not sure what to say. She gives me a quick smile before heading toward Xavier, and I follow, dragging my feet a little.

I slide into Harrison’s car, the familiar scent of his vehicle filling the space. Harrison starts the engine, and his car hums to life, pulling away from the beach.

“So,” Harrison breaks the silence. “Did you have fun?”

I glance out the window, watching the scenery blur past. “Yeah, it was actually pretty relaxing.”

“Pity you got sunburnt,” he says, his tone almost teasing.

“Oh well, nothing a little aloe vera won’t fix.”

He tsks in disapproval. “You should try to be more careful next time.”

“It’s just a sunburn. I’ll be fine.”

For a brief moment, I see the concern in his gaze, something deeper than just the sunburn. I settle back into my seat, letting the silence stretch between us. A song comes on the radio— Lose Yourself by Eminem. I glance over and notice Harrison tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. I’d never have pegged him for an Eminem fan, but now it kind of makes sense. He’s got that edge to him—maybe it’s the fire in the lyrics that matches his own intensity.

The road feels endless, but I’m too exhausted to care. I’m starving though. Isla packed an esky full of snacks earlier, and I think we decimated it while the boys were off mucking about.

Still, I’m pretty sure it barely made a dent. A proper meal is going to be a must when we get home. Surprisingly, today hasn’t been the vomit fest I expected. Not once did I have to hurl. Those ginger gummies might actually be magic. Miracles, people.

Xavier and Isla’s car has disappeared further up the road somewhere, but I’m not worried. Harrison’s old ‘80 Hilux clatters down the dirt road. I’m no car snob, but Dad taught me a thing or two. I can respect a solid piece of metal, even if it’s not some shiny new thing. But this? This bloody beast jerks around like we’re on a rollercoaster, and every bump has me bouncing like a rag doll. The road’s narrow, uneven, and full of bloody mud when, out of nowhere, a kangaroo… yes, a fucking kangaroo leaps right in front of us.

“Holy shit!” My heart shoots into my throat.

“Shit!” Harrison wrenches the wheel left, the Hilux skidding sideways. The tyres screech, then slam into a ditch with a sloshing thud. His knuckles whiten on the wheel. “Fuck me.”

I glance out the window. The whole tyre is buried in the mud. “Yeah, good luck with that,” I mutter, folding my arms. “You’re bogged.”

“Not yet,” he snaps, jaw tight. “I can get us out.”

“Should I call Isla?”

“No, wait.” He’s already halfway out the door. “I’ve got this.” I watch as he marches to the back of the ute, muscles straining under his shirt, hat turned backward, like he’s about to wrestle this thing out of the mud with his bare hands. My stomach flips. Why the fuck does him being covered in mud and swearing get me so damn worked up?

“Get in the driver’s seat,” he orders, voice low and commanding. “Alright, here’s what you’re gonna do,” he says, leaning in the window. “Accelerate slightly forward, put it in reverse, roll back a bit, then switch to drive and go forward again. Got it?”

“What, you gonna push it out with your bare hands, Hulk?” I shoot back, crossing my arms.

“You admiring my muscles, sugar?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

I scoff. “You wish.”

“Just hit the accelerator when I tell you!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I’m doing. My dad taught me.”

He leans in, that cocky grin plastered on his face. “Oh, did he now? Well, let’s see if you can handle it, firecracker.”

“Watch and learn, caveman,” I shoot back, sliding the car into gear.

The way he moves? Yeah, alright, maybe I’m enjoying the show. He braces himself behind the ute, his shoes sinking into the mud, arms flexing like he’s about to save the day all by himself. I slide into the seat, hands gripping the wheel, waiting for him to give me the signal.

“Alright,” he yells over the engine, “go!”

I follow his instructions, easing the car forward, tires spinning as they dig into the mud. Then, like he said, I shift into reverse and roll back slightly, keeping one eye on the side mirror, where Harrison’s braced behind the Hilux, ready to push. “Alright, now drive!” he shouts, voice strained.

I slam it back into gear, pressing the accelerator. The engine roars, but the noise drowns out whatever he’s yelling. The rear wheels spin like crazy, flinging mud in every direction. Before I can blink, “Fuck, stop, stop!” Harrison yells, his voice thick with frustration... and mud. So much mud.

I check the mirror, trying to hold it together, but the sight of him—soaked from head to toe in thick, brown sludge—breaks me. “Oh shit, my bad,” I say, half-heartedly, but the giggle that slips out betrays me. He storms around the side, chest heaving, dripping with mud, wiping his face with a growl. But that cocky grin? Still there.

I snort. “Well, obviously, I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh, it’s funny now, is it? I’m covered in fucking dirt. I have to drive home like this.”

“Oh, please, like you weren’t going to get dirty, anyway.”

He raises an eyebrow, wiping his brow again, the grin sneaking back. “Hm. Yeah, I bet you did it on purpose.”

“Did what?” I scowl.

“You just wanted me all covered in mud.”

“Get over yourself, Harrison.” I scoff. “You’re the one who went out back. No one asked you to. I would’ve gotten the car out just fine.”

He tilts his head, eyes glinting. “You think you’re all smart, huh?”

“I know I am,” I snap, narrowing my eyes, daring him to say more. Suddenly, he yanks the door open and pulls me forward, smearing mud all over me. I squeal, half-laughing, half-disgusted.

“Ughhh. What the fuck, Harrison? You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

His smirk spreads, hand tightening on my waist as he leans in. “And you love every second of it.”

“Not even close,” I shoot back. But his gaze—mud dripping off his jaw, those dark eyes daring me—has my heart thudding in my chest.

“You sure about that?” He raises an eyebrow, daring me to say something. His hands stay on my hips, pulling me closer until our bodies are flush, heat bleeding through the muck. I tilt my chin up, trying to stay defiant.

“You’re a fucking caveman.”

“Maybe,” he growls. It’s that low, teasing tone, and fuck, it makes my stomach tighten. “But I think you like it.”

I open my mouth to snap back, but before I can get the words out, his lips crash into mine. Hard. Hungry. It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as I have. His hand drags me against him, the heat of his body burning through the mess of mud. I gasp, and he takes advantage, his tongue sliding against mine, rough and greedy. My fingers grip his shirt, slipping on the mud, but I hold on tight.

Nothing else matters—just the feel of him, the press of his lips, the fire between us.

The kiss is wild—frustration, want, and everything between us crashing together. His low groan rumbles against me, mixing with my breathless whimpers. His hand grabs my hair, pulling just enough to send a jolt of heat down my spine, and I moan, my resolve crumbling. He takes advantage, deepening the kiss like he’s marking me. I bite his lip, and he growls, gripping me harder, one hand sliding lower, daring me to fight back. But I don’t. I can’t. I’m lost—lost in him, in the heat, the mess. The mud, the damn kangaroo—they all disappear. It’s just us, tangled in desire, the tension finally snapping. A car horn blares, and we jerk apart.

Gasping for air, I whip around to see Xavier’s ute rolling up, his window down, eyes wide.

“What the fuck happened?” he yells. Harrison steps away, still catching his breath, wiping mud from his face.

“A fucking roo, that’s what happened,” Harrison calls back. “Car got bogged down, but we’re all good.” I scramble back into the passenger seat, heart racing, fingers fumbling for my phone. The screen lights up with a text.

Isla: Well, that looked cosy.

My stomach does a fucking backflip.

Me: Shut up. You saw nothing. No idea what you’re talking about.

I send it off, glancing at Harrison, who’s chatting with Xavier. Isla doesn’t take long to reply.

Isla: Please. You can’t fool me, Midge. You’ve already fucked, clearly, so why the shyness now?

Isla: Who cares?

I groan, typing a single shushing face emoji. Isla responds instantly with a ‘Haha’ tapback, and I can practically hear her fucking cackling.

Harrison climbs back into the driver’s seat, wiping his hands on his shirt, covered in dried mud. Not a word as he starts the car, but the look he shoots me says it all—this isn’t over.

My stomach tightens—not with excitement this time, but something heavier. Like all the shit between us just sank straight into my gut. As the car jerks forward, rolling smoothly now that we’re free, I stare out the window, trying to shake it. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t do a damn thing. It’s not the baby making me sick this time.