Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Gibbo
It didn’t take long for the team to make it to the pub after I sent the text saying that’s where I was going. I wasn’t prepared for Hudson to arrive with a cake. Or a Ziplock bag full of candles. Age jokes never get old when you’re the oldest on the team.
Now, sitting at our usual table, cake half demolished, candles still in their bag, I think I’m enjoying myself. Although, to be fair, I could be wrong.
The girl from the grocery store is dominating my every thought. I can’t get her out of my head.
Who is she? She’s not a local. A tourist?
Peak tourist season has passed, but who knows.
If she is a tourist, she’s not camping. As part of the weekly safety monitoring, Hartley Ridge brigade gets a list of how many people are staying in the Ridge’s two camping grounds, along with contact details.
This week, there are four parties—two backpackers from France, an elderly couple from Western Australia, a young family from New Zealand in a Winnebago, and a corporate team-building group from Sydney consisting of six men who have already got the ire of the village up after one of them thought it was funny to do the zipline course on the outskirts of town starkers.
So she’s not camping.
Why are you so interested? Do you really think a gorgeous young woman like her would even think about spending any time with you?
“What do you reckon, Gibbo?”
Jerking myself back to the table, I nod. “Sure. Sure.”
Opposite me, Jared Shaw laughs. “You have no clue what Riggs just said, do you?”
I frown at Damon Riggs, the youngest member of the team. He’s a good firefighter. Still a little green, but no fear, and always cheery. “Err.”
Riggs grins, waiting. Letting me dangle.
“Alright,” I concede with a grunt. “No clue at all.”
Shaw laughs again.
“I’m thinking,” Riggs says, “of taking another look at the burn patterns at the last callout.”
“The school fire?” Last week, a fire at the primary school threatened the demountable classroom used as the art room.
Thankfully, we contained the fire before it could destroy anything except a couple of garbage bins and the student garden located behind the demountable.
Unfortunately, the wooden totems made by the year six class were on display in the garden.
All lost. The tears of the little kids had torn me apart.
Riggs nods. “There’s something wrong about it. It’s not sitting well in my gut.”
“What’s…” I trailed off as my ears picked up a voice already branded in my soul.
Heart thumping, I twist in my seat and scan the busy pub.
A flash of wavy dark hair near the side exit, almost hidden by the crowd, sends a shard of tight heat straight to my core, and I jolt to my feet, my chair toppling backward to the floor.
The crowd falls silent, curious glances directed my way.
Except for her and the guy blocking her access to the door: one of the corporate bros from the team-building group.
A steel knot twists in my gut. I stare at them, aware on a distant level the pub crowd is back to its typical rowdiness, although the rest of the team is still watching me.
“Everything okay, Gibbo?” Riggs asks.
The corporate guy lifts his hand, brushing the back of his finger up the length of her arm.
She flinches and half turns away, her eyes darting from person to person around her.
She’s scared.
Corporate Douche snakes his hand over her shoulder, and I’m moving.
Moving toward them in long, steady strides.
The crowd melts away from my path like I’m parting a sea of people. When I’m barely a few feet away, her eyes find me.
Those incredible green eyes.
“Honey, you made it,” she exclaims, shrugging his hand away, her smile wide. But I can see the truth in her lips, in the unblinking stare she’s locked on me. Panic. Discomfort. “I was wondering where you were.”
Corporate Douche pivots to see who she’s talking to, taking a step back to look up at me. Skepticism curls his lip. And something else.
I know exactly what it is. I’m a big man. Six foot six and enjoy working out—both my brain and my body. He’s thinking that if I want to pick him up and break him in two, he’s got no hope of stopping me.
But he still doesn’t look like he believes a gorgeous young woman like her is with someone like me. Which makes him unpredictable.
“Hey, babe,” I murmur, locking my gaze on her, only her, as if it’s not worth my energy to acknowledge his existence. “Sorry I’m late.” I smooth my palm over the small of her back and bend down, smiling as I bring my lips to her cheek.
She turns, sliding her hand up my chest, and lifts her face, her lips, to mine.
It’s the softest of kisses, barely a contact, but it shears through me. Unmaking me and making me again. In that one moment, everything in my life changes. I am hers. Nothing else matters except her.
Her fingers brush the side of my neck, and with her lips still near mine, she whispers, “I’m sorry, but also thank you.”
She steps back, smiling up at me as if I’m the most amazing, important person in her life.
And fuck me, that’s exactly what I want to be.