Some Girls Don't (Outback Heat Book 2) (8 page)

Selena had thought she was
pregnant.
He couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of panic she must have felt.
Christ.
Even thinking about it now brought him out in a cold sweat. What would he have done had she been pregnant? Because she was right, they had been
very
careless on a few occasions.

Too turned on—
too far gone
—to employ some self-control.

They would have worked it out. An unplanned teenage pregnancy wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world but yeah … not the way he’d pictured his life with Selena going.

Not that it had turned out the way his seventeen-year-old brain had imagined anyway.

“Penalty!”

Jarrod pulled his attention back to the game as Marcus yelled from the sideline, pacing up and down in front of them like an expectant father, as his under-twelve team played the game of their lives for a chance to win the local footy cup in this, the grand final.

Marcus had been a stalwart of the Bucks’ Football Club since he’d played as a six year old. Even though he’d given up playing due to injury a few years back, he’d been a passionate coach to a lot of junior teams over the years.

The atmosphere was tense. They were two points behind with five minutes remaining in the game. Last year the team had played the grand final but lost and the entire town was pumped for a win this time around.

The whole family had turned out to support Marcus and the team, although not all were as enthusiastic about the actual play by play. Connie was painting Delia’s fingernails. Ethan was trying to appear like it wasn’t a problem that his ex was here. Lacey was parked between Coop’s legs, leaning back into him, whispering something dirty in his ear, if Coop’s reaction was anything to go by.

“C’mon the Bucks,” Mrs D roared right beside him, once again belying her advanced age and making up for everyone else’s inattention. She was even wearing her own red and green Bucks jersey. “It’s not over yet. Not ’til the final hooter,” she told Jarrod.

He admired Mrs D’s loyalty, but it looked like the Bucks were going to miss out on the cup again this year. “Fingers crossed, Mrs D,” he said.

“Those kids would do anything for Marcus—you wait and see. It’s just such a shame the grass isn’t looking better.”

“Yes,” Jarrod agreed. The field had patchy cover and the grass that existed was brown and brittle. It was dusty, as well as hard on knees and elbows. Drought had forced the local council to employ severe water restrictions, which did not cover luxuries such as sports fields.

“We need rain so badly,” she tsked. “The Channel Four weatherman said none in sight.”

“Apparently not,” Jarrod said grimly. All the advanced weather modelling he’d seen through work had been dire. For rainfall and for fire conditions.

“Another six tackles, that’s good, bring it back!” Marcus called from the sideline.

“I’m so pleased you could stay for the match,” Mrs D said, giving Selena’s hand a squeeze.

“So am I,” Selena said, smiling at her grandmother, and she sounded genuine to Jarrod.

After last night, he’d expected her to do another disappearing act back to Brisbane—do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

Do not say goodbye.

To find her car still parked outside this morning had been a surprise. To find her at the football even more so.

They hadn’t said much last night afterwards. They’d righted their clothes, and he’d driven them back home. He hadn’t known what
to
say, his brain too busy trying to figure out how the hell they’d ended up screwing in his dual cab. And she’d seemed equally as lost for words. When he’d pulled up outside their houses she’d opened her door and simply said, “Goodnight,” before sliding out of the vehicle, and he’d let her go because what did you say to the woman you’d just nailed in your car, who you used to love but had spent the last fifteen years not liking very much?

What the fuck? Even now his head was spinning.

“Do you remember how we used to come here every Sunday and watch Marcus play for the Bucks?” Mrs D said.

“Yes.” Selena shot him a sideways glance, fanning the coals of desire that had been smouldering in his balls since she’d sat down beside him in a pair of teeny tiny shorts and a V-necked T-shirt with two buttons popped at the cleavage. “I remember.”

Was she remembering the day they’d had sex in the team change rooms after everyone had gone home? It had smelled like sweat and feet but neither of them had cared at the time. All he’d been able to smell was her Lulu perfume and the jasmine in her hair.

“Hard to believe he’s the one doing the coaching now,” Selena murmured, returning her gaze to her grandmother.

“He’d still be playing if he hadn’t blown out his knee that third time,” Connie chimed in like she was an authority on sports injuries.

“Yes! Go Reggie!” Marcus yelled from the sideline. “Go man, you can do it.”

Jarrod was pleased for the distraction as everyone on the blanket along with every Bucks’ supporter at the field got to their feet and whooped and hollered as little Reggie Wyndham, the runt of the team, became a blur of red and green as he streaked down the field towards the goal posts. Reggie and his family had emigrated from northern England last year and lived on one of the outlying properties. He always gave one hundred and fifty per cent; unfortunately he was clumsy as hell and hadn’t scored a try all season.

But, just before the full-time hooter went, he managed to dodge the larger but slower opposition player and put the ball down on the line.

Reggie leapt in the air with a grin on his face a mile wide as the rest of his team piled on top of him. Marcus and his excited parents ran onto the field, along with about half of Jumbuck Springs.

“Did you see that, Selena?” Mrs D exclaimed, clapping wildly. “What a little ripper that Reggie is! I always knew he had it in him. Jarrod,” she beamed at him, “wasn’t that brilliant?”

Jarrod laughed. “It was bloody awesome,” he agreed. Reggie was a good kid and a real team player. It was fantastic to see him have his moment in the sun.

Reggie was carried from the field on Marcus’s shoulders, followed by the rest of the team. He was beaming when he was finally put down right near the Weston’s blanket.

“I did it, coach,” he said, excitement emphasising his northern accent, looking up at Marcus like he’d hung the fucking moon instead of making him do endless ball catching drills to counteract his clumsiness. Drills that had definitely paid off today.

“You did it, Reggie. I told you you could, didn’t I?” Marcus grinned, ruffling the kid’s hair. “All that hard work paid off. You were a real champ out there today. I’m proud of you.”

Marcus pulled Reggie in for a big, tough-guy chest bump and then the whole team was swamped by people wanting to congratulate them. It was twenty minutes before they were all called back into the middle of the field for the medal ceremony. But Jarrod couldn’t hang around for it. He was due to start work soon.

“I have to go,” he announced.

Selena glanced at him, startled, as Mrs D said, “Oh no, really?”

Jarrod nodded. “My shift starts in half an hour.”

“You work too hard,” Mrs D said, smiling at him, giving Selena’s hand a squeeze before turning her attention to Delia’s fingernails. “That’s very artistic, Connie,” she said, sitting herself down next to mother and daughter.

Jarrod glanced at Selena. No-one else seemed to be paying any attention to them but they weren’t exactly alone either, with people milling around everywhere waiting for the awards ceremony to start. He wanted to ask her to come back to the house with him. She was leaving later, and he wouldn’t be home until eight. Shouldn’t they at least talk about what happened? Even if he didn’t have the words?

He sure as shit didn’t want to do it here in front of everyone.

“So you’re off, then?” she said.

“Yeah. Sorry. Shift work,” he shrugged.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “Well it was …” She looked around her, obviously not comfortable with their lack of privacy either. Jarrod was pretty sure Mrs D was eavesdropping and possibly also Lacey. “Nice seeing you again.”

He blinked. Nice? Seeing her again had been a lot of things, none of them in the ballpark of nice. “You too,” he said stiffly, because that’s what people said, right?

“And thanks for …” She dropped her gaze to the brittle grass. “The ride last night.”

Jarrod’s breath cut out for a moment before an absurd urge to laugh pushed against his diaphragm. He wasn’t sure if she’d deliberately chosen those words, but it was just one more idiosyncrasy in this bizarre reunion they’d had. “It was my pleasure,” he murmured, unable to suppress a small smile.

She glanced up at him sharply, a frown on her face that quickly melted as her lips briefly quirked up at the side.

“Well anyway … goodbye,” she said, awkward again.

For an awful moment Jarrod thought she was going to stick out her hand. He stepped forward and leaned in, a hand sliding onto her waist as he kissed her on the cheek, lingering a little longer than strictly necessary.

“Goodbye,” he murmured, before dropping his hand and stepping back.

At least it was a goodbye this time. Still unsatisfying. Still a sense of unfinished business, but a goodbye nonetheless.

He was just pleased Marcus wasn’t here to witness it. And hang shit on him later.

Their gazes locked and in that moment everything and everyone around them faded, and he was seventeen again, standing with his girl at the footy on a Sunday afternoon.

He wanted to tell her that he was glad she’d come back. That he was glad they’d talked, glad he knew what had happened all those years ago, but a loud squeal of feedback from the crappy sound system rent the air between them and Selena broke eye contact.

A tinny, “Welcome ladies and gentleman and thank you for staying on for the medal ceremony,” announced the start of the awards.

“Gotta go,” he said.

She nodded. “Yeah.” And she turned away heading toward her grandmother, her ass in those shorts taunting him all the way to work.

*     *     *

Selena had every
intention of driving straight out of Jumbuck Springs later that afternoon and never looking back. But when she got to the main road through town, instead of turning right and heading east towards Brisbane, she turned left heading out of town in the other direction.

Saying goodbye to Jarrod at the football had been awkward and stilted. Things had been left unsaid between them, and she didn’t want to leave like that again. Last night they hadn’t really talked about what had happened between them—it had been too raw to even analyse—and she needed to know that Jarrod wasn’t freaking out about it.

He’d seemed kind of freaked out at the footy—distracted—his gaze landing on her frequently, hot and heavy on her neck.

And she didn’t want that. She may not have any plans to return to Jumbuck Springs any time soon, but she didn’t want to leave with any resentment between them this time. She wanted to talk to him. Say the things she’d wanted to say to him at the football, but hadn’t felt able to amongst a crowd of people.

That she had missed him. And she had been wrong to leave like she did fifteen years ago. That she had hurt him and she was sorry.

That it was great to see him again. Not just nice as she’d told him.
Great
. Really great.

Too
great …

Something that maybe they’d both needed in order to move forward.

Then she could leave with a clear conscience. Something she hadn’t had as far as Jarrod Weston was concerned for fifteen years.

She’d hightailed it out of Jumbuck Springs with the ghost of her mother on her tail—a woman she didn’t even remember—and never looked back. In hindsight, telling him the real reason last night
had
been cathartic. For both of them. Even if it hadn’t been easy hearing his pain. Knowing she’d caused it. Jarrod had spoken the truth—he wouldn’t have been like her father. And she should never have judged him through that lens.

She had to live with the fact that she’d destroyed something good. Something that could have been better.

And she needed to tell him that too.

*     *     *