Only We Know (29 page)

‘You all right?'

‘Yep. No big deal. Old football injury.' He pressed a palm into the mattress and heaved himself up to sitting. When he turned his eyes away from her, she looked away too. Charlie's words about Sam's accident came back to her in a flash, his fraught voice in her head as clear as day.
I thought I'd lost him too.
Ben had told her that Sam had been stuck behind a desk for a year — how had he put it? — ‘pushing paperclips around' while he'd recovered. It must have been bad. Sam wasn't old; Calla guessed he was in his late thirties, but he was as stiff this morning as someone twice his age.

She gave him as much space as she could by perching herself on the very end of the bed to tug on her socks. She found her most nonchalant voice. ‘Need a hand?'

His feet hit the floor with a thud. And then out of the corner of her eye, she could see him standing tall.

‘No. Thanks.'

Calla looked down at her toes. There was a tingling sensation in every part of her body but most noticeably in her chest. Her brain thudded with her pulse and she couldn't catch her breath. She knew there was no way to fight this desire for him, the hunger he'd unleashed in her, the desperate need to touch him and be touched.

And her time was running out.

She slowly turned to look at him. He was naked and spectacular in the light as well as the dark. Strong and tall, muscled and firm. But what really took her breath away was the look on his face. His dark eyes shone, gazing at her like she was a prize.

She stood up, went to him, wrapped her arms around him.

Didn't say another word.

When Sam was dressed, they went out to the kitchen to get some breakfast. Charlie was pushing his chair back. He was dressed, already wearing a coat and a beanie pulled low on his head. He took a sideways look at his son and walked over to the sink to put his empty cup on the bench.

‘Morning, Charlie,' Calla called.

Sam noted the curious look he shot her. He could guess why Charlie had the shits on. ‘Warm enough for you, Dad? I put some more wood on the fire last night. Didn't want you to go getting cold this morning.'

Charlie harrumphed, didn't look at either of them. ‘It's too hot. You're wasting my wood. I'm bloody well going for a walk.' The door opened to the excited yelp of the dogs and then it slammed behind him, like a huge apostrophe on his determination to get away from his son.

Maybe the old man's memory wasn't going after all. Sam felt a new urgency about talking to him today. He would talk to him about the nursing home and then drive Calla back to Penneshaw. He'd have to stick around for the final week of his leave to get Charlie moved and get the house and property ready for sale. There was a real-estate agent in Kingscote he knew from school and she'd already promised to get it listed as soon as she could. That way, Charlie could have some money in the bank and some to spend. Hell, Charlie could spend the whole lot as far as Sam was concerned. Charlie's safety was priority one and, judging by the way he'd been losing his marbles, Sam knew it wouldn't be long before he was found on the side of the road, crashed into a bloody tree.

He stared out the window above the kitchen sink, watched Charlie trudge up the hill, the dogs racing ahead of him to the gate at the top. What was Roo's Rest anyway without any of the Hunters living there? It would be empty paddocks and an abandoned house. Someone else could buy it, make new memories and a life on it. Sam didn't want it. Had never wanted it.

‘Sam?'

‘Yeah?'

Calla's hand was on his arm. ‘I was asking if you want some breakfast.'

He turned and leant back against the sink. When he widened his stance, Calla stepped in against him, pressed her hands to his chest and turned her soft green eyes up to him. He reached around and cupped her arse. He could stop thinking about his old man for a minute. It should be easy with a redhead in your arms, right? She looked up at him with a smile that killed him. The bloke who was fortunate enough to wake up to this woman every day would be one lucky bastard.

‘Breakfast? Mmm,' he said. ‘Coffee maybe. Then more getting naked.'

Her sexy smile was exactly the reaction he was hoping to get. ‘I meant food. I'm starving.'

‘I'll make breakfast but there's something I need to say.' Sam kissed her gently, played with her hair, which felt like silky strands against his fingers. ‘I'd planned to say it last night but I got distracted.'

Calla shrugged. ‘That's only natural. You are a man, after all. You can only think about one thing at once.'

‘You got that right.' He was all man and she was most definitely all woman. And she'd nailed it. He could only think about one thing. Her. He looked at her, took her in. There were freckles on her face, not just on her nose and her cheeks but faint ones almost everywhere. There were black smudges around her sea-green eyes. Her pale lips were parted in a smile and he wanted to kiss that mouth all over again.

‘The thing is …' he started before forgetting what he'd been about to say. ‘The thing is … I'm sorry to land you with all of this Charlie stuff. I know you had a lot to deal with, down at Hidden Bay.'

Calla dipped her eyes and shrugged. ‘It's not your fault. I'm glad you pushed me to see Jem when I got the wobbles; I really am. I feel like it's done now.'

Sam caressed her cheek. He couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. He traced imaginary lines between the freckles on her cheeks. ‘You want to go back, try again? I think Jessie would want you to. She looked pretty cut up about what Jem said.'

‘She seems really lovely and I'm sure if we'd met some other way, we'd really like each other,' Calla said. ‘But I'm not fighting him any more, Sam. I've done what I came here to do. I've given him the money. We never wanted to spend what was rightfully his. It's up to him what he does with it.'

‘You sure?'

Was she sure? Absolutely. ‘I'm really sure. I'm simplifying my life so I can find a new one.' Saying it out loud was strangely liberating to Calla. ‘What happened with Jem has been hanging over my head for too long. And … what happened with Josh.' His name hung in the air like fog. She hadn't wanted to say it, hadn't wanted to bring him back to life when she was with Sam. She waited for a reaction. He didn't flinch, kept her pulled close.

‘You haven't got another long-lost brother, have you?'

Calla closed her eyes, breathed in the scent of him. ‘No. One's enough.'

‘So who's
Josh
?' Sam twisted the word as he twisted one of her curls.

‘He was …' Calla sighed. ‘He was my big mistake.'

Sam raised his eyebrows. ‘How big?'

‘Oh, massive.'

‘What the hell.' He shrugged. ‘We've all made them. The thing is … they never seem like mistakes at the time, do they?' Sam smiled wryly. ‘I had a big mistake too. Married her. So, were you married to this guy?
Josh
?'

Calla laughed and even she could hear the bitterness in the sound of it, tight in her throat. ‘A little hard when he was married to someone else.'

‘I see. That is a massive mistake.'

‘A colossal one. So was the size of my broken heart.'

‘He broke your heart? Sounds serious.' Sam laid his palm on her chest, just to the left of her breastbone. She wondered if he could feel it start to beat faster. ‘What happened?'

‘Between Josh and me? You really want to know about what happened?'

‘He hurt you. Of course I want to know.'

Calla closed her eyes and pondered where to begin that story, one of wasted years and her stubborn determination to break her own heart.

It had been instant and complicated the moment she'd met Josh. She'd heard him laughing across the staffroom in a school that she visited regularly. She'd looked up to see where the sound had come from. At the same time, he'd looked over at her. That was the first smile.

And from there, it took off like a frightened bird. From the very beginning, she knew he was married. Had seen the chunky gold ring on his finger when he waved at her across the car park in the warm early mornings before the students began arriving for lessons. At first, it was a new and easy friendship. A shared sense of humour and a common eye-rolling frustration with the older teachers. They'd run into each other in the coffee shop down the road from school and he started inviting her to share his table. They talked so easily they'd almost missed the bell more than once. And after that, he always managed to stumble into her. Mysteriously, they often seemed to be walking to the car park at the same time and a wave to say
see you later
would turn into a lingering goodbye. Sometimes they talked for half an hour by his car, Calla not even noticing how heavy her artist's bag had become in her hand.

It grew and she wanted it to. Her father had just died, Jem had disappeared and it seemed to Calla that everything else in her life was conspiring to hurt her. Many times since, she'd tried to remember exactly when she'd fallen in love with Josh. It was impossible to pinpoint the exact day or date or time. It grew slowly, unconsciously, until suddenly she was in it and had no idea how she'd got there, and was trapped in the maze of him.

And then it was over. It was the day he'd told her that he and his wife were having a baby. He'd pulled her into his arms and then told her that whatever their thing was, it had to stop.

Whatever it was?

And then she'd slapped his face. She could still feel the sting on her palm. And as she walked away, she wanted to believe that the tears in his eyes weren't from the slap alone. She'd hoped there was just a little bit of regret and love in those tears too, because the idea that she'd been duped by someone who hadn't cared for her at all was too crushing a blow to even consider.

Calla looked past Sam, out the kitchen window to the green paddocks of Roo's Rest. That piece of her life felt like a million years ago. She took a deep breath. If she was going to simplify her life, she had better start by speaking her most painful truth.

‘I knew he was married and I knew it was wrong, but I fell really hard. I thought he was the one, tried to convince myself that he'd made a huge mistake by marrying someone else before he met me and that, when he realised it, he would leave her. I know how ridiculous and desperate that sounds now; I really do.'

Sam was quiet. His hands moved from her bum to her back and he moved them in reassuring circles. ‘I don't think it's ridiculous or desperate to want to be loved.'

‘Someone said once, I can't remember who, that the heart wants what it wants. I wanted him.'

Sam seemed to be considering what she'd said. It was a moment before he spoke, his voice low and deep. ‘He sounds like a grade-A fuckwit to me.'

‘That's hilarious,' Calla said wryly. ‘I've spent all this time thinking I was the grade-A fuckwit.'

‘He was the one who lied and cheated. And he's the one who had the chance to be with someone incredible and didn't take it. Which means he didn't really want you. And that, Red, is what makes him a fuckwit.'

Calla linked her fingers together at the back of Sam's neck and pulled him down to her mouth. ‘I think I like you, Sam Hunter.'

‘I know I like you … what's your name again? Callie? Calla?'

Sam brought his hands to her face, cupped her cheeks and kissed her again. It was gentle, tender, lovely. She would definitely remember this forever. He looked at her so openly that she didn't dare blink in case it broke the spell of the moment.

‘Why don't you stay?'

The spell was broken.

CHAPTER

37

Stay?

A buzz stronger than caffeine lit her up from her toes to the top of her head. ‘You mean here on the island?'

Sam ran his fingers through her hair. ‘I mean here with me. At Roo's Rest. I've got another week's leave up my sleeve and I figure I'll need it get the old man sorted. And then, after all that's done, you can come back to Adelaide with me.'

Another week with Sam. Another week of sex with Sam. There he was, spectacular Sam, his eyes on her like lasers, his fingers in her hair, his body pressed up against hers. He wanted her. No doubt about that. And she wanted him right back.

Why hadn't she already said yes? Why was she hesitating? Because there was always a ‘but'. She wanted him right back but she was finally, determinedly giving up
one night
so she could have
forever
.

And everything about Sam seemed like one night. Or maybe three. A week at the most.

He wanted her to stay.

She wanted to say yes, desperately wanted to be in a place where saying yes seemed like the most sensible, logical thing in the world. But she couldn't.

Her new and simplified life couldn't involve a man, at least not in the foreseeable future.

‘Sam, I—'

He lifted his head, glanced over her shoulder. ‘That's a mobile phone ringing. It's not my ring tone. It must be yours.'

Calla let go of him and surveyed the room. Where was her bag? She spotted it on the floor over by the coffee table. By the time she crossed the room and stuck her hand inside, it had stopped ringing. She checked the display.

‘It's Rose.' Calla turned away from Sam's gaze, relieved at the interruption. She was still a little crazy with lust and post-sex euphoria and didn't know what she should say. She pressed the keypad. Within the pace of one ring, the call connected.

‘Hey, Rose. Sorry, I missed your call.'

A breathless voice answered, ‘It's not Rose; it's me, Calla.'

David. Calla stilled. ‘What's wrong?'

‘The baby's coming. We're in hospital. Rose wants you and I'm not arguing with my wife when she's in labour.' His voice became distant. ‘Breathe, honey.'