The Goodbye Girl (13 page)

“Ah,” she said.

Nick felt a surge of annoyance.  “‘Ah’ is right.  What happened?”

“An altercation with the ground, Your Honour.”

“A smart lip won’t save you.”

“From what?  Are you here to silence me?”

“I’m here to make you talk, actually.”

“Truth serum?”

“What?”  He blinked.

“
Handcuffs?  Torture?  Truth serum?”

Jesus.
  “Bree, this isn’t funny.”

“Do I look like I’m
joking?”

That was the scary part.  Now that he got a good look at her
solemn face, he was very afraid she was dead serious.  When she just kept watching him closely, he dropped her wrist and sighed.  “You are really serious about this bullshit, aren’t you?”

“
You’re military and you’re here demanding answers.  What do you think?”

That spark of annoyance flared back to life but he tamped it down, taking a step sideways to lean one shoulder
against the side of the van.  Putting distance between them, if only a few feet, just might calm the crazy woman down.

Though she didn’t look hysterical.  But she was crazy, so who knew?

Bree folded her arms beneath her breasts, the movement pushing them up and against the front of her jumper. 

It almost diverted his attention immediately, but he was made of sterner stuff and when he looked back up at her face, it was to find her with a …
shit, surely not
. 
She looked really disappointed that he was looking at her face.

For God’s sake, surely she hadn’t… “Bree, did you just try to distract me with your
breasts
?”

“It
obviously didn’t work,” she retorted, dropping her arms to her sides.

“I do not believe this.”  Astonished, he stared at her.

She shrugged.  “Hey, it’s worked before, I thought it worth trying again.”

“You’ve done this
before
?  Are you insane?”

“
Hey, it worked.  While he was distracted I kneed him in the nuts and ran.”

Nick straightened.  “He?”

“It doesn’t always work for other women, unless they’re lesbian and interested, right?”

She was crazier than he first thought.  “Do you know how dangerous flaunting yourself is?”

“Depends on the situation.”

“What if things hadn’t turned out the way you’d
planned with that bloke?  You could have been raped.”

“Uh…”  She coughed, turning back to the door to reach in and snag a cloth and bucket.

What the hell…?  Nick peered around the door to find the floor of the van damp from an obvious scrubbing.  “Getting rid of evidence?”

“What evidence?”

“Alien blood?  Some poor bastard’s nuts?”

“Laugh if you must,” she said a trifle snootily, lifting her nose in the air in a way that had a reluctant grin tugging at his lips.  “But the truth is
definitely out there.”

“And you aim to prove it?”

“A lot of us aim to prove it.”  She slid the van door shut.

Nick straightened as she emptied the bucket and dropped the cloth into it.  “Anyone else of that ilk here right now?”

She looked suspiciously at him.  “You mean here at my house, or here in Whicha?”

“I have a choice?”

“The answer is no, it’s just me.”

Nick squinted at her.

“It’s the truth.”  Bucket swinging in her hand, she strode towards the veranda.

He
fell easily into step beside her.  “Look, Bree, apart from all that, what about our agreement?”

She looked sideways at him.

“Did you or did you not go out alien hunting last night?”

“You’ve been listening to gossip.”

“Is it true?”

“Gossip is never reliable, Nick.”

God, the woman could try the patience of a saint.  “Bree-”

“I didn’t set out to hunt aliens last night.”  Stepping up onto the veranda, she toed off her sneakers.

“So what happened?”

Bree opened the screen door.  “Come in.”

He removed his own muddy sneakers before placing one hand above her head to hold the security screen open.  “After you.”

She walked ahead of him, which gave him a good view of her backside as she went down the hall.  Talk about a good handful and more, he’d sure like to slap his
palms against those rounded cheeks and squeeze-

There came a thump, a scrabble, and a blue-eyed
, blue-masked cat came hurtling through a doorway further down the hall.  In a manoeuvre he could appreciate for its dexterity, the cat saved itself from slamming into the wall by the simple act of hooking it’s claws into the hall runner and halting the front momentum, it’s back quarters swaying alarmingly before it righted itself to run down the hall towards him.  It stopped as soon as it must have realised he was a stranger, whereupon it sat down and stared at him.

Nick had never seen a Siamese cat outside of a magazine, and this one was pretty unnerving with the way it stared at him,
its blue front paws shifting restlessly on the runner.

“That’s Bast,” Bree said.  “She won’t hurt you.”

Bast pricked her blue ears up, her blue eyes so vivid and curious as she continued to stare at him.  Rather than shift as he neared, she simply kept putting her head back further and further to see him as he loomed over her, then she shifted as he passed, but only so she could swivel on her bum to watch him.

Weird cat.  Nick could swear he could feel her staring after him and a glance over his shoulder proved it.  Bast was sitting there, just staring at him, and then she unnerved him completely by standing, putting her head low to the ground and following.

Was she getting ready to pounce him or something?

Nick was prepared to defend himself, which
was pretty funny considering it was just a freakin’ cat.  The blokes back at base would laugh their arses off if they ever knew how one small cat was unnerving him.

Maybe being in Bree’s company wasn’t healthy for his sanity.

He followed her down the hall and into a big kitchen area that spanned the back of the house.  Standing in the doorway, he looked around.  The kitchen area was to the left, dining area to the right.  A door in the back wall led to a screened in veranda and a room on the left of it, possibly the laundry.

“Have a seat.” 
She pointed at the dining table, a big wooden affair with six chairs and a vase of roses in the middle.

Pulling out t
he furtherest chair, Nick sat down so he could watch her as she walked through the back door to place the bucket and cloth on the veranda before returning inside and taking the chair opposite him at the table.

Folding her hands on the table, she looked at him.  “Ready to interrogate?”

He eyed her.  “Little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“I’m trying to gauge the amount of drama that is required.”

“Fine.  Do we start with the insubordination?”

“Do I need a
lawyer?”

“Did you do anything to warrant needing a lawyer?”

“Would trespassing on private property be in that category?”

“Why don’t you tell me?  I reckon you’ve done it enough times.”

“Hey, that’s just the way I roll.”  Her eyes twinkled.  “Stick with me, you’ll be rolling the same way.”

“Wow.  Walking the edge.”

“Someone has to do it.”

Tamping down on his amusement, Nick frowned at her.  “
What happened?”

“Do you want the presentation in point form or essay?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Point form.  I don’t believe in wasting time.”

“And yet you’re sitting here.”

“I don’t consider this a waste of time.”

Bree’s eyes crinkled engagingly at the corners as she smiled.  “That’s so sweet.”

“I also don’t get diverted easily.  What happened last night?”

“Sir.  I left t
he Lawson’s house after a most scrumptious dinner.  Saw a big light.  Saw two laser beams, one green and one red. Investigated. Fell over a fence, Sir.  Climbed a hill.  Light and lasers disappeared.  I came back.  Fell over again.  In the course of my investigation, Sir, I sustained two minor injuries, a cut to my wrist and a scratch to my face.  Sir.”

“Is that all?”

“I’ll have my written report on your desk in the morning.  Sir.”

Nick smothered a laugh.  Bree spoke seriously, her face solemn, but her eyes were dancing with wicked delight.  He maintained his frown.  “You’re giving out a lot
of attitude, woman.”

“Can’t be helped.  Sir.  It’s how I-”

“Roll?”

“Ah, so you
do
get me!”

“I think I always have.”

Almost immediately the laughter faded from her eyes to be replaced with intense scrutiny.  “Always?”

Hmmm.  Which way to play this?
  Nick badly wanted her to reveal herself, to lay it out in the open so they could just discuss it.  Their letters, the friendship, her weirdness about revealing herself.  Why the secrecy?  Why-

An ear-piercing yowl shattered his ear drums,
making him jump violently and swing around in his chair.  “Jesus!  What was that?”

Was the freakin’ house haunted or something?

Another ear piercing shriek rent the air from the direction of the back veranda.

Air raid?  Missile coming in?

“Poor baby,” crooned Bree, getting up and opening the back door.

Nick watched as a dainty little Siamese walked in, dark little paws prancing sweetly along, lithe body coming through.  It didn’t look afraid, he’d have half expected it to come spitting and hissing through the door, seeking shelter from whatever infernal thing was out there.

“This is Sheba,” Bree said.

The dainty Sheba sat and looked at him, all sweetness and cuteness, with huge blue eyes that fastened themselves on his face.

Then she opened her mouth and shrieked.

Nick actually flinched.  “Holy
shit
!”

Proudly,
Bree stroked the little head.  “Got quite a set of lungs on her, doesn’t she?”

“Lungs?  More like an air raid siren!”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

How the hell the woman could possibly think he was exaggerating when her cat gave another screech that was like nails running down a blackboard, he’d never understand.

Nick could only stare at Sheba.  How in God’s name did such a tiny, dainty, little thing end up with such a nerve-shattering yowl?  “Did she have an accident or something?”

“No.”

“So what happened to her voice box?”

Scooping Sheba up, Bree rubbed her nose on top of her head between the two little dark ears.  “This is Sheba’s voice, her meow.  Nothing went wrong.  This is all Sheba, all natural. 
Aren’t you, darling?”  She dropped a kiss between Sheba’s ears.

“There’s nothing remotely natural about it.”

Laughing, Bree crossed to where he sat and handed Sheba to him.  “Look, isn’t she sweet?”

Sheba
was actually quite small, particularly held in Nick’s big hands.  His hands each side of her little ribcage, he looked her directly in the eyes. She blinked slowly at him, opened her mouth and howled.

He
nearly dropped her.  “Bree, I think the paint is peeling off your wall.”

Sheba started purring, blinking at him several times.

Carefully he gathered her close to him, realising that this was the little Siamese that Bree had written to him about.  He’d forgotten about Sheba, but he sure remembered laughing about her antics.  Actually, Bast had featured a lot in the letters, too, yet he’d forgotten them as soon as he’d fixated upon their owner.

Yeah, fixated.  Sighing inwardly, Nick glanced to where Bree stood smiling at him.

“See?” she said.  “Sweet.”

“Sweet,” he agreed, and he didn’t mean only the cat.

Standing there smiling at him, her hair in a loose ponytail that had tendrils sweeping across her cheeks, her lush lips curved in amusement, her apple cheeks flushed pink from the chill air outside, Bree looked sweet.

Sweet enough to lick and eat.  Everywhere.

Man, he wanted to taste her.  Everywhere.

Bugger this messing around wondering which of them was going to admit previous knowledge of the other first.  Time was short, he wanted to get to know Bree more closely, to talk and take the light friendship further and-

“So if you’re coming, you better get a move on.”  Bree walked out of the kitchen.

“What?”  Nick stared at the empty doorway.