Chapter 14

Kendall

Operation Beef Stock Cube was go.

I’d fucked around with the shower head with great trepidation, but before she let me out of the door, Alan and Barbie had me practise on their fancy, schmancy waterfall shower head. It was surprisingly easy to get it off and then put the stock cube in. So I did just that as I stood dripping in the guys’ shower, then I towelled off and sprinted down the hall and into my own room, as if I might get caught at any second. Maybe they had showers in the evening, wanting to freshen up before bed.

Nope.

I put some sheets on my bed and slipped under the covers, marvelling at the space in my new room and the coolness that came from the ducted air conditioning, and surprisingly fell easily asleep.

Right up until early the next morning.

“What the fuck!”

My eyes flicked open at the shout that reverberated through the entire house, and I was up and out of bed, grabbing my work uniform that I’d set out before I went to sleep and pulling it on at record speed. Socks, undies, bra, pants, shirt. I was shoving my feet into my shoes as I heard the others rouse.

“What the fuck, Connor?” Van asked.

Oh my god, I’d got Connor with the bone-broth shower trick? I tried not to grin, failed, and then shoved my phone in my pocket. Car keys, house keys, wallet—I had everything I needed, so I jerked the bedroom door open and made a beeline for the front door.

“Who put something in the fucking shower?” Connor shouted, stomping out into the hallway dripping wet and… My eyes widened. Naked, very, very naked.

“Put what…?” Gage leaned in, dressed only in a paper thin pair of sleep shorts, all those tattoos on display. He sniffed at Connor’s hair, who shoved him away. “Why the fuck do you stink like Bonox?”

Bonox was this weird beef paste thing that nannas used to make into a hot, savoury drink. Kinda like vegemite but even weirder.

“Wasn’t me,” Van said.

“Not me either,” Gage replied, throwing up his hands, which just made me chuckle.

I wasn’t about to pretend that I didn’t do it. Why the hell should I? I understood now exactly why they pulled all those pranks on me. Catching someone like Connor Woods by surprise? That was all too delicious.

“Didn’t like the shower steamer I installed for you?” I said with a wide grin. “Sorry. I just thought it would be a nice way to thank you…” My head tilted sideways. “For all the bullshit you used to put me through.”

“You did this?”

Connor’s growl had my smile fading, and when he took a few steps forward, my whole body tensed. Run the fuck away, my brain declared, knowing how this would go. That was what I did when the boys turned on me when we were kids, but not now. I forced my feet to plant firmly, my back straightening to the sound of the others’ laughter, right as I was forced to confront something I’d missed.

Connor moved like a goddamn panther, and being naked did nothing to create a sense of vulnerability. He was perfectly, completely comfortable in his own skin, and as he got closer, I could see why. I’d watched plenty of movies with guys that had washboard abs but that wasn’t the same as seeing them in reality. My smile faded as I traced the shape of each muscle, my eyes dropping down, down, down, until…

Shit, I was staring at Connor’s dick.

Like it was impossible not to, because even on the slack, he was impressive. Like a girl had to hope he was a shower not a grower, or he’d wreck her cervix on the first stroke.

Stop looking at his dick!my brain screeched.

But my eyes had a mind of their own, tracing the long vein that traversed the impressive length, catching the moment something jerked and then started to swell.

Look away. Look away. Look away.

My body quivered, all of this adrenaline pumping through me, but not sure to what purpose. Did I run away or towards the massive dick that was slowly thickening, showing me just what I’d have to deal with if I got closer?

Away.

My brain finally started firing properly and I just wiggled my fingers in the air in goodbye as I grinned at the lot of them.

“Gotta go or I’ll be late for work. Have a good one and watch out for stray dogs!”

It didn’t happen often, but somehow I had the key in the deadlock, flicking it open before I strode down the front path. Connor couldn’t follow without flashing the whole street, and the other two idiots were too busy laughing to stop me, so I was in my car by the time Connor reached the door. He was forced to close it mostly, staring through the crack as I started Daisy. The damn car had a sixth sense, the engine firing the first time I turned the key, so I threw her into gear and made a quick getaway.

“Fuck yes!” I shouted as I took off down the road. No matter how long I stayed with the guys, the look on Connor’s face was now a core memory I’d pull out and revisit any time I was down.

Work,of course, was a bit of a let-down in comparison. Chris, the baker that ran the place, greeted me the minute I walked in the door but was too busy bringing out all of the baked goods he’d been working on since the early hours to bother with chit chat. I set up the register, flipped the open sign, and then dealt with a steady stream of customers.

That was a good thing.

I loved and hated working at a bakery. The smell of flour and yeast that hit me the moment I walked in. The sweetness of icing sugar, the spice of cinnamon and nutmeg. It was familiar, and comforting, and stressful, and trauma-inducing all at the same time, but I could ignore it if I focussed on work, so I made coffees and placed pies and pastries into paper bags, handed over sliced loaves of bread all morning, right up until the point they came in.

The sight of bright-yellow, high-vis gear didn’t alert me to anything. We had a lot of the local tradies come through for smoko breaks, and as it was mid-morning, I expected to get a few through. They were always big spenders, needing a steady supply of carbs and protein to keep them going, as well as endless cups of coffee. These guys, I quickly realised, were not my regulars.

“How can I…?” My throat threatened to close up as three familiar figures came and leaned against the counter. “Oh.” I looked around me, even though the bakery was relatively quiet right now, I still had an audience. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s smoko,” Connor said, a slow smile forming. “And I told the fellas I had a hankering for a beef pie this morning.”

“I was pretty keen for a beef sausage roll myself,” Van said, his blue eyes dancing.

“Fuck that,” Gage added. “I just want one of those finger buns.” He peered at the display case. “The ones with the hundreds and thousands on them.”

“A pie, a sausage roll, and a finger bun,” I said tightly. “Coming right up.”

“Hey, Bonox!” More men in high-vis gear came in through the door, all of them chuckling to themselves as they approached the counter. The one who’d yelled that went and ruffled Connor’s hair right before he elbowed him in the ribs.

“Your shout, eh boss?” another said before turning to me. “So are you the new house mate that got the jump on this dickhead?” He looked me up and down then turned to the other guys. “You didn’t tell me she was hot.” He thrust out a hand for me to take, and I went to shake it awkwardly, right before he turned it around, ready to kiss the back. “Well hello, I’m—”

“Dead if you don’t let go of Kendall’s hand right now.”

Where the hell had that ferocious growl come from? Gage stared at the man in question, but everyone else was watching him. His massive hand had grabbed the front of the other man’s shirt, twisting the collar until it started to turn his victim’s face reddish purple.

“All of you fucks go and take a seat and we’ll bring you a feed and some coffees over,” Van said smoothly, reaching out to release Gage’s grip. “If you’re quiet and well behaved, I might even grab something sweet for you.”

“I dunno, she looks good enough to eat,” one of the other guys muttered, but the rest of them pulled away and took a seat at one of the larger tables.

“How the hell did you find where I worked?” I asked, then reached for the phone in my pocket. “Did you track me?”

“No, we didn’t track you,” Connor replied. “We may have found one of your work shirts on top of your bag—”

“What did you do to my clothes?” I went stiff. “What the hell did you do to my clothes? Not itching powder again. That stuff is really bloody hard to get out, you know.”

“We didn’t do anything to your clothes.” Connor looked genuinely upset I’d jump to that conclusion, but hey, trauma does what it does. “We needed to work out where you were so we could give you this.”

He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and slid them across the counter.

“What’s that?”

“A trade,” Gage said. “You give us the keys to that death… car of yours, and you can drive the van around until we get your car fixed.”

“I’m not giving you Daisy.”

My arms crossed my chest.

“We could break into Daisy, hot wire her in about two point three seconds, and have her on the road to the mechanics without you even knowing it,” Connor replied, then pushed his keys closer. “This way you still have a car to drive.”

“A safe one…” Van muttered.

“I don’t need—” I started to splutter.

“Yes, you do.” Gage looked like he was going to rip a guy’s throat out moments ago, but now those hazel eyes were all soft and warm as a big cup of hot chocolate. His stare went on and on before an ooh sound from the guys had him shaking his head. “The car is fucked, Ken—”

“It gets me from A to B.”

“We’d like to make sure that is a certainty, all right?” Connor said. “And anyway, what the fuck is Finn doing, letting you drive that piece of shit around?”

I was just about to come on board with the idea because hell, if they wanted to spend their time and money on my car, I wasn’t about to stop them, but then they had to mention my brother.

“Bold of you to assume he gives the slightest shit what I do.” I moved to the coffee machine, but to do what, I didn’t know. They hadn’t given me their order yet, but I moved anyway, pouring out a few long black coffees. I remembered that Van had said Connor liked his super milky, so I made three of them, adding some extra milk to his before shoving the mugs their way. “Finn and I never really got along when we were kids, so why would we willingly spend time around each other now?” I pushed the pastries in their paper bags towards them. “So was it just the coffee and the pastries?”

Connor nodded slowly.

“Just a few more of those,” he said, nodding to the coffees, “and enough pies and sausage rolls to feed a horse.”

“A whole herd of them,” Van sighed, pulling out a credit card. “And some vanilla slices, lamingtons…”

I fell into the rhythm of the job, which helped block everything out. The lure of the kitchen, the fact that I would’ve iced the cakes a whole lot differently, taking care to add some pretty little details that elevated the offerings, even the guys. I grabbed everything they asked for and then rang the lot up, telling them the total.

“Put it on the card,” Van said, “and a little something for yourself.”

“We don”t do tips here,” I said, taking his card and tapping it for him before handing it and the receipt back.

“Then let us fix your damn car.”

Connor seemed way too intense; they all did. There was something almost desperate in his gaze, which I couldn’t stand looking at for long. I shoved my hand in my pocket and handed them over.

“Thank you for offering to fix my damn car,” I shot back. “Now, if there’s not anything else?”

They turned to see the line that was starting to form behind them and collected their orders.

“We’ll see you tonight then,” he said, right before they moved away.

“Yeah, you will!” one of his guys shouted from the tables, the lot cackling like a bunch of old biddies. I paid them no mind, turning to the next customer with a smile.