Twenty-One
A week later, Rowena’s horniness hit a new peak. Or maybe a new low …
She’d just got back from an early shift and was sitting cross-legged on the grass, still in her uniform, after being accosted by Shirley demanding a brush. It was then she’d noticed Lachlan coming from the direction of the bunkhouse.
Bow chicka wow wow started playing in her head. And she was suddenly squirming.
Literally squirming, with an animal that was more sheep than lamb in her lap, as another animal—big and male and sexy—ate up the distance between them with his mesmerising long-legged gait.
Oh, Jesus … she had it bad.
If she wasn’t careful she’d start rubbing herself against the bloody grass. And if her nipples were any tighter they’d drop right off.
As if Shirley could sense the uproar in her undies, she picked up her head, which had been lolling backwards as though she was the freaking queen of Egypt. Perking up at the sight of Lachlan, she bleated enthusiastically like the hussy she was.
‘Back off, lady,’ Rowena murmured. ‘I saw him first.’
He was wearing what he usually wore now the days had turned warm.
A pair of cargo pants with multiple pockets that sat just above his knee, showcasing quads and calves.
A t-shirt that hugged his torso. Thick socks were pushed down around the top of his dusty boots, and his ever-present hat assumed its position low on his forehead.
It was just another day at Blairgowrie but, ugh, her hormones were like live wires, sparking through her belly.
‘Here are my two girls,’ Lachlan said with a grin.
A month ago, Rowena would have bristled at the girl tag (and the my) but his voice was light and teasing and, frankly, her mouth had gone too dry to talk.
He knelt then, pushing the brim of his hat back as he administered a long scratch under Shirley’s chin. She lolled again under his skilful hands, but not before eyeballing Rowena with a look that said—How you like them apples, lady.
An intoxicating waft of Lachlan’s scent engulfed her and Rowena’s mouth watered. Which at least helped the dry situation. It was the usual mix of earthy farm guy but this time there was a dash of sweat, which caused her nostrils to flare in what must surely be a most unflattering way.
Not stinky sweaty, more of the fresh, sunshiny, hard work variety that was like a dozen oysters to her buzzing libido.
Bloody hell. Who even was she right now?
Since her sex drive had gotten out of control, Rowena had tried to limit her exposure to Lachlan.
She didn’t need his chauffeur services any more so it had seemed sensible to keep out of his way.
Hence, she usually only saw him in the evenings—after he’d showered—or in the mornings, before he went to work.
So this version of him was new. Up close, anyway.
‘You’re sweaty,’ she said without thinking, taking in the slick of moisture at his hairline.
He grimaced, his fingers stilling on Shirley’s coat, who bleated her displeasure at the interruption. ‘Sorry.’
Belatedly remembering the conversation they’d had about his ex’s abhorrence of sweat, Rowena rushed to assure him. ‘Don’t be.’
Her nostrils flared again as her gaze found the beads of sweat collecting in the shallow dip where his collarbones met. A flood of pheromones swamped her system as she zeroed in on that fascinating hollow, wondering what he might taste like there if she leaned in and licked.
Salty, probably. And his skin would be hot on her tongue. How Gabby hadn’t torn his clothes off every day on his return to the homestead, Rowena had no idea.
Dragging her eyes off the spot before she disgraced herself, her eyes met his. ‘I like it.’
He frowned. ‘You like … sweat?’
‘Sure.’ Which, she realised suddenly, probably made her sound a little weird. ‘I mean … it’s not some kind of fetish. I don’t have a BO kink or anything. I just think a fine sheen of perspiration after a hard day’s work can be very …’
Rowena stopped herself before she said stimulating. Or sexy. For god’s sake, this was going from bad to worse. What was she doing here? Trying to seduce him?
‘Sorry,’ she apologised. ‘That was a kinda weird thing to say. I seriously don’t know what happened there.’
Which was the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. Her libido had taken control of her mouth.
‘Note to self,’ he murmured with a grin, clearly unperturbed by her admission. ‘She likes her men sweaty.’
Rowena couldn’t stop her answering grin. Nor could she stop the little hitch in her breath at the thought he was cataloguing her likes. ‘That’s what you got from that?’
He shrugged. ‘I am but a simple country guy.’
She laughed. There was nothing simple about Lachlan McCabe. Or their relationship. It sure as hell was becoming more and more entwined every day. But she liked that he didn’t take himself or the situation too seriously.
That he could find the levity.
Her life—for the longest time—had been so damn serious. It was nice being able to breathe in his company.
Shirley, clearly deciding she was being neglected as they grinned at each other, bleated pathetically. ‘Yes, yes, bossy britches,’ Lachlan said, turning his attention to the lamb, offering another scratch under the chin.
If sheep could shudder, Shirley shuddered.
‘You want to go to trivia tonight?’ he asked, as he petted the lamb.
Rowena had stopped going to trivia when the morning sickness had been bad, but there was no reason not to now. Except for the fact she should stay the hell away from Lachlan McCabe and his damn pheromones.
But the alternative was spending the night with him here in a house with a lot of beds and their chaperones retiring ridiculously early. At least there’d be other company at trivia and the distraction of the game.
‘That’d be great.’
He nodded. ‘We’ll leave at six.’
*
Except when they pulled up outside The Stockman, Rowena got cold feet. She could tell from out here that the pub was jumping tonight. All the parking spaces in close proximity were taken and the muted chatter from inside drifted in through her open car window from across the street.
She didn’t move as he cut the engine, just sat and stared for what felt like a very long time. Lachlan broke into her contemplation when he opened his door.
‘You coming?’
Rowena glanced across at him as he swung his legs out before returning her attention to the glow of lights spilling from the windows that ran down either side of the building.
Given they’d been at the centre of town gossip since her pregnancy became common knowledge, their entrance would probably cause quite the stir, and she suddenly wasn’t keen to be a curiosity.
People would stare. They’d wonder. They for damn sure would speculate.
About her and Lachlan. About their relationship status.
And she wasn’t sure she could shoulder their expectations.
She didn’t want to make some kind of public statement but she feared the good people of Acacia Junction would take it as one anyway.
Glancing across at Lachlan, who was looking over his shoulder at her, Rowena worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a beat or two. ‘Would you mind if we didn’t go in?’
He folded his legs back into the car and shut the door. ‘Everything okay?’
Rowena nodded. ‘I don’t think I’m up for public scrutiny tonight.’
If he was disappointed he didn’t show it. He just said, ‘Wanna do some stargazing?’
‘Yeah.’ She nodded. ‘That sounds great.’ Anything where they weren’t going to be observed was good.
Much to her surprise, though, Lachlan didn’t take her back to Blairgowrie. He drove in the opposite direction out of town for ten minutes before making a left turn off the highway onto a much smaller, unsealed road.
They were in the fancy dual cab tonight as his old trusty ute had a load of hay in the back for tomorrow, but it was just as equipped to navigate the potholes and corrugations. Probably better, actually, the suspension clearly superior on the newer vehicle.
The ute’s high beam was the only light for miles in the clear, moonless night, as a vast expanse of landscape unfolded before them.
The dark outline of trees peppering the area detracted from its relentless flatness, while wattle trees, low scrub and tussocks of Mitchell grass gave the land depth and definition.
Two kangaroos jumped across the road well ahead of them. Behind, kicked up by the wheels, a plume of powdery beige dust drifted into the inky black of the night.
‘Nearly there,’ he said.
He took a curve in the road and that’s when Rowena noticed it, looming out of the dark up ahead. A cleared area. Then the ghostly presence of a big, white screen.
‘Is that what I think it is?’
He grinned, taking his eyes off the road for a second to confirm. ‘Sure is.’
As they neared, Rowena could make out several small buildings, all shut up and in varying degrees of disrepair. She assumed they would once have been the ticket office, the candy bar and the amenities.
A large chain-link fence had been erected around the perimeter but it, too, had seen better days, evidenced by the fact Lachlan drove through a hole in it big enough to admit an aircraft carrier.
The parking area had suffered the ravages of time, too.
The asphalt surface was cracked and pockmarked, weeds growing up out of the gaping fissures as the inexorable march of nature had reclaimed the space.
Most of the posts where speakers would once have been mounted were missing, but a half-dozen beheaded ones remained.
Slowly navigating the rise and fall of a typical drive-in terrain, Lachlan parked right in the centre, facing the screen. Or what was left of it anyway. Several panels were missing, revealing the rusting exoskeleton beneath.
Lachlan cut the engine, plunging them into the eerie outback silence. ‘Welcome to the Acacia Junction drive-in.’