Tumble Creek (26 page)

‘You know what,' Brock began, calmly, ‘I think it's time we relaxed, let's see what problems Mum has … she might not have any. Besides, I have a distraction she will love.'

Brock plucked Gypsy off the chair, settled her in the crook of his arm, and headed down the hall. Sofie shrugged at Claudia who stared back at her, face pinched, and then reminded her mum that they meant what they'd said, a restraining order ASAP. Sofie nodded.

Murmuring, Brock came down the hall with his parents. She hoped he was filling Walter in about Sofie's face and why she happened to look like she'd been roughed up by a mugger.

They rounded the corner to the dine-in kitchen, and calm as you please, Walter said, ‘You look very pretty today, Sofie.'

Thank you, Brock.

She couldn't prevent a grin from flickering on her lips before it eased into a careful smile. ‘Thank you, Walter. Lovely to see you both. Hello, Doreen.' Sofie leaned in and kissed her cheek.

‘Lovely make-up, sweetie,' Doreen said pointing at Sofie's bruised eye, then frowning, she peered at her other eye. ‘You forgot to do that one.' She fluttered her hand as if to say, silly girl, go fix it. Then, stroking Gypsy who was curled up in her arms, Doreen sat down, staring at Claudia. ‘You're lovely, you really are.

‘Oh, thank you, Doreen.' Claudia sat next to her and said, ‘Do you remember our kitten, Gypsy?'

‘Yes, yes please.' Doreen's smile was huge. ‘Mopsy is a lovely name.' She stroked the tiny kitten's soft fur, and held it close to her chest.

Brock touched Sofie's arm. ‘While you were having a lie-in this morning, I made pancakes, they're in the oven keeping warm.'

‘Awesome,' Claudia voiced with unabashed glee, and headed around the island bench to get to the oven, closely followed by Sarge.

***

Sofie waited at least four days before she dared look in the mirror again—occasional glimpses were more than enough. The swelling had almost gone, but Brock and Claudia had definitely downplayed the ‘colours'. They weren't at all ‘fine' but rather magnificent shades of blue, yellow and green.

She was sitting by the fire sipping coffee when Claudia came in talking on her mobile. ‘Yeah, thanks, Michelle, but I don't know … I'll ask and ring you back.'

Sofie assured Claudia she was fine and insisted she take up Michelle's offer for some school holiday fun at the farm. Half an hour later, Calum waited outside in his Range Rover. Claudia ushered Sarge in the back, who wasted no time shoving his head out the window to catch the wind with a plethora of scents … and probably insects. Gypsy, curled up on a blanket in her travel cage, preferred to ignore everything. Sofie hoped they had a great time, because come Friday the girls would both have their shifts at Veronica's; it was now or never to hang out and have fun.

The house was quiet, peaceful. Sofie sat cross-legged on the comfy couch in front of the fire, wearing her favourite jeans, and a cream, lamb's-wool, cowl-necked jumper. She had a magazine open on her lap when Brock came through from the back door, lugging an armful of logs.

‘What're you reading?' he asked, hunkering down to drop the logs into a huge basket that sat next to the hearth.

‘An eco-friendly house design magazine.' She flipped the pages to the design she liked best so far. ‘This one looks great, it's a two-storey rammed-earth home with solar panels on the roof and a water tank underneath the slab.'

Mumbling to herself while her fingers traced the text about insulation when something, almost like a physical touch, made her look up. Vibes in the room, seeping in through her flesh, touching her inside, touching her heart, had changed, dramatically. Brock had stopped dealing with the logs and stared at nothing in particular, not unless something fascinating was crawling out of the firewood. His hands rested on the side of the basket, his body still, except for his muscles strung tight under his long-sleeved T-shirt. Without moving his shoulders, he turned his head towards her, and his eyes … dear God his eyes … she didn't know what to make of the look he gave her, other than it was profound, powerful and brimming with emotion. Her mouth went dry and her chest seized. And still he kept staring at her. Sofie started to worry, then fear took hold, twisting her stomach, seizing her lungs making her heart thump heavily, to the point of being painful.

Sofie forced herself to take a breath, and with a worried frown, she whispered, ‘Brock?'

He turned back, brushed sawdust off his chest and hands, pushed himself up and moved to sit next to her on the couch. His arm went around her shoulder and he tucked her in to his side.

‘You look scared out of your wits,' he said. ‘What's with that, Babe?'

Maybe her fears were unfounded, but damn it, it wasn't her fault her thoughts went to the dark side. ‘After that look you gave me, you can hardly expect anything else.'

‘Yeah, but there's no connection with whatever you're worrying about and what I was thinking—none whatsoever.'

‘You'd better fill me in because I can't read your mind—yet.' She gave him a tentative smile.

Mouth twitching at the corners, he reached forward and pulled her in closer. ‘I've never had anything or anyone as beautiful as you. I love looking at you, sometimes I can't believe that I could be this lucky.'

‘I'm not going anywhere.' Sofie's heart eased its pounding rhythm. Perhaps he was a big guy with big emotions. She had to say what was on her mind, so she did.

‘I can read your moods most of the time, but other times, like just before, I couldn't and obviously I misread you. So I have a few questions that will put all my fears to rest, hopefully.'

Brock shifted his arm away from her shoulder and moved his hips so he could face her, one knee bent and resting on the couch, the other at a right angle, his foot on the floor.

‘Fire away,' he urged, taking her hand in his and giving it a squeeze.

‘Okay, and anything you want to know about me, just ask.' Eyes penetrating his, she added, ‘Please.'

‘Yeah, you got it.'

‘This isn't easy for me, understand?' He studied her closely while Sofie waited for his acknowledgement. Finally, Brock nodded, and relief settled through her. Gathering her resolve, she said in a clear, compassionate voice, ‘Something happened to you the moment you squatted down and examined my messed up face at the cottage. Your eyes glazed over, you went somewhere else for a little while. Almost like just now at the wood basket. I need to know what happened.'

It was heartbreaking to watch his face overcome with sorrow—deep sorrow. Sofie would do anything to spare him going through any pain again, but it was far better for him to open up and share. And better for Sofie, so she could understand. She held her breath and waited for Brock to control his anger, but especially his grief.

‘I went back to Afghanistan … a flashback.' He held her gaze, a muscle flinched above his jaw. He took a deep breath and gripped her hand.

‘Brock,' Sofie whispered, ‘sorry if this is too difficult, but it's better talked about than have it fester inside you.'

‘Yeah, it's okay. It's only fair that you know. As long as you can handle it?' This time Sofie nodded. ‘Can't put my finger on what triggered this one. Could be the way your sweet arse is planted on the couch studying a magazine.' He grinned, and Sofie started to shift to a different position. All humour gone, he grabbed her thighs. ‘
Don't
, Babe. Do not change anything about yourself; that would piss me right the hell off.'

‘I won't, I promise.'

‘Okay, the first one I had was at your house to rescue your … toy.' He gave her a small, provocative, sexy smile.

‘Oh shit.' The heat of embarrassment stole up Sofie's neck and into her face. ‘I'm so terribly sorry. I—I don't know what to say, except had I known, I would never have let you go in and get it.'

‘I enjoyed doing that for you, not a problem until it turned on me.' He paused for a moment to study her face. ‘Look, Sofe. Women have vibrators, men are either turned on by the whole idea, or feel intimidated. Personally, I don't have a problem.' He chuckled and gave her a grin, eyes full of sensual promises.

‘Really?'

‘Sure, having sex—great. Having sex and toys—also great.' He leaned in close so all she could see were his wicked, dark-brown eyes. ‘I love watching your face change during sex, the passion, the fiery abandonment when you're close to coming. It excites me, turns me on.'

She couldn't help a little squirm of her hips. Brock threw his head back and laughed.

She playfully smacked him on the arm. ‘When I feel brave enough we might.'

‘Babe, I get you hot, I bring out that toy, you won't complain and I can't wait,' he chuckled.

‘Oh,' Sofie sighed. Her cheeks were on fire, and a tingle flared straight down between her thighs. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. But right in front of her, Brock's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

‘I don't think this is going to work anymore,' Sofie grumbled, sounding pissed, but not meaning to.

Brock quit laughing and his body went still. ‘What isn't?'

‘Talking things through. Me getting to understand.' When Sofie got a blank expression, she rolled her eyes.

‘Course we are. We're doing this now, not waiting, but there's nothing wrong with having a laugh along the way.'

She let that percolate for maybe two seconds. Of course he was right, laughing was always good. ‘Okay, okay, back to what you were explaining.'

‘It started with the explosion under the truck, voices calling, smoke dust, the rubble all around me. I'd been through enough debriefings and counselling to recognise what was happening. My mind was in two places at once. I forced myself to pick up pieces of your crockery, look at photos, anything that would keep me grounded here in Tumble Creek, at Lavender Lane, in your house. It took effort, but it worked.'

‘That would've taken an enormous effort, you're amazing.' Awestruck, Sofie pushed back her hair, and murmured, ‘You want to go on?'

‘Yeah, I'm good.' His expression darkened, his body tensed. ‘It happened in Afghanistan, but I'll spare you the gory details. An American journalist—Susanna Adumari—was a friend. Eager to get her story, and reckless in her pursuit.'

Knowing there'd be a horrible ending, Sofie's heart clenched.

Brock studied her face. ‘Yeah, Sofe, I see you get where I'm going.' His chest expanded with a slow deep breath and a long sigh. ‘I met Susanna in a Sydney bar over twenty years ago. Me and my army mates were celebrating the end of training, we were soldiers now and proud to have made it through at all, let alone with the highest points.' He gave her a wide grin. ‘We were full of chest-beating testosterone. A young attractive woman approached us, said she was studying journalism at Boston University. She singled me out, asking questions about what we endured during training. Seeing as my mates weren't the centre of attention, they got bored and slowly filtered away to find their own fascinating female. Susanna and I had drinks, probably too many, and spent the night together. The next morning, I woke up alone in the hotel. She left a note saying it was great to meet me, keep safe, and left correspondence details, if I wanted to keep in touch. And I did. We were both young, she was refreshing, from the US, an amazing young woman. We had a brief moment in time together. But the emails dwindled and I don't remember how it even happened, but we lost contact with each other. Years later, I was SAS and visiting the US base in Kandahar. I happened to be in their bar and she walked in. The smile on her face … we made plans and—' Tormented, Brock shook his head, and hands curled into tight fists, he stopped talking.

Sofie blinked back the tears that pooled and threatened to spill down her cheeks. She tried hard to hold her emotions in check, but couldn't deny that hearing Brock had a relationship with a hip, attractive American journalist didn't hurt. Common sense told her that she had nothing to be jealous about, after all, she'd been married and had a baby, but that was okay, Jett was a self-obsessed idiot.

‘Babe, you have to let that shit go.'

While Sofie was off dreaming up scenarios in her head, apparently Brock was studying her face. ‘What shit?' Oh bugger, who was the idiot now?

‘That shit you're trying to bury. I can see it.' His hand came up to circle her face. ‘Susanna is gone, she's
no
threat. And what I had with Susanna would
never
have worked. She lived for journalism and nothing was going to get in the way of that, of being the best she could possibly be. You should know without me having to spell it out … what I have with you
cannot
be replaced.' He was sounding pissed off, and really, Sofie couldn't blame him. He leaned closer and cupped her face with both hands; eyes locked with hers, he pulled her in and kissed her mouth. At first his kiss was firm, deliberate, almost like a warning; slowly it turned, became warm, sensual. Sofie relaxed and Brock went in for the killer, hot, sexy, melt-her-bones-until-heat-throbbed-between-her-thighs kiss. She started to pant, he let her go and with force added, ‘Ever!' He waited for a response, but Sofie was still in the moment. ‘You understand, Sofe?'

She nodded.

‘Not good enough. I want to hear it.'

‘Brock, I understand, I really do. You have to remember, there's never been any word or rumour about you having a girlfriend, a partner … a romantic connection with someone. And I'm being stupid.'

‘Never
say that about yourself, Babe—
never
.' He shook his head. ‘I want you to stop hurting yourself with this, because it's all at your expense, and cuts into what we have together. Having said that, it also shows me how much you think of me, and I like that a hell of a lot too, but negative shit tends to stick.'