Chapter 40
TEASE
Hot nights during fire season were dangerous. In October, the Cape Cleveland bushfires tore through the Townsville area burning rainforest, farms, RV parks, and houses.
Nev listened to radio coverage of the bushfires while baling hay on the largest Kubota tractor, pulling the hay wagon behind her with Ric-Rac and Kazi in it.
“Yeah, nah, mate,” the man whose house had burned told a reporter on the radio.
“Me and my wife, we beat it out of there, went to me brother’s house.
Couldn’t enjoy the game, understand? Ruined it for me. ”
Nev had been drinking water, but spat it out. The laugh caught her by surprise.
Queenslanders cared more about rugby than life itself. Ron would get a kick out of that.
The next morning, skid marks in the grass near the Upsend Downs sign made her frown.
Three pickup trucks sat in front of the machine shop. Barney, Ric-Rac and Ron blasted punk rock inside and may or may not have been doing anything useful. Nev tossed her keys on the shop bench. “Oi. Who skidded into the ditch after the sign?”
“What sign?” Barney asked. He was still here, on what Ron called probation.
She looked at Ron. “Please tell me you haven’t been whipper-snippering with your tits out again.”
Ron grinned. Guilty. Unrepentant.
“When I said take a course on marketing that was not what I meant.”
“You’re the one who taught me about topless tanning.”
Barney and Ric-Rac laughed. Nev frowned as blood rushed into her face. Relax. Too early in the day for this shit.
“How are third quarter sales?” Ron asked innocently. Cheeky. She knew sales at the plant nursery had doubled. They had been inundated by soccer mums of late. Nev hadn’t known why. Now she suspected it had to do with Ron landscaping the verge every morning with her top off.
She sighed.
The lads snickered. Ron lifted her shirt and flashed her tits.
“I could fire you for sexual harassment,” Nev said, matter-of-fact, in the same flat tone.
They all knew it was an empty threat. None of her farmhands looked concerned.
They didn’t take her seriously anymore, not since Ron talked her into letting Barney back.
They knew she was wrapped around Ron’s little finger.
Barney and Ric-Rac lifted their shirts, flashed their tits, too. “I am Spartacus!” Barney said.
“I am Spartacus!” Ric-Rac said.
“If you sack her, you have to sack us, too!” Barney said.
“Understood, thank you.” Nev tossed her work gloves on the shop bench next to her keys.
She felt strange this morning, tight, impatient.
Normally she would laugh it off, ignore them, but she didn’t feel like being the butt of their jokes today.
She didn’t feel like being the butt of jokes in general.
“Go on then. Give us another show,” she said.
Ron lifted her shirt obligingly. As an athlete with a weight-lifting habit bordering on obsessive, she should have had not much there. Genetics dictated otherwise. The undersides were perfect half-spheres.
“May I?” Nev asked, flapping her upturned palms. She squeezed the air, giving the old honk honk, the way you would toot an old-fashioned horn. She was taking this joke too far, but that was the point.
“Knock yourself out. They’re all natural, baby.”
Nev cupped Ron’s breasts. The soft weight of them felt nice. Ron’s skin was cool.
Barney and Ric-Rac stumbled over each other running for the door. They were smart enough to get the hell out of there.
Nev dropped her hands and took a step back. “Don’t tease me at work.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were. It’s unprofessional. I don’t advertise what I do in my free time. Now everyone in town will laugh at me about topless tanning.”
“No one’s laughing at you, mate.”
“I have a reputation to maintain, a reputation as a serious person. My role in the community is a professional one. If people think I’m a loony tune they won’t respect what we do or value our products. We’ll lose customers. The farm can’t afford that.”
“Serious people don’t announce that they are, they just are. Having a hissy fit about how people perceive you does not prove your point.” Ron crossed her arms, smiling. “You’re cheeky today. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I like it. You feeling all right?”
Anxious and horny was a dangerous mix. “I think I’ve explained myself.”
Ron spat her gum in the bin before she stepped into Nev’s personal space, crowding her against the shop bench. On the ancient CD player, Stevie Nicks’ moody “Edge of Seventeen” droned.
Nev gently pushed her away. “Snap out of it. You’re being a nympho.”
“You got me excited, mate. I’m keen.”
“Not here,” Nev said.
“Where?”
It was a sincere question. Nev gave a flippant answer. “Tomorrow.” By tomorrow Ron would have forgotten about this and be on to the next thing, like her mother at the hospital. Easily distracted. Peterson women had short attention spans.
“Now,” Ron muttered into the side of Nev’s neck, breath hot.
“Tonight,” Nev compromised.
Ron’s eyelids were at half-mast. “Take a shower.”
Nev swallowed.