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Chapter 20
Stripping off, Solo stepped into the shower cubicle and grinned as he pulled at the rope that promptly dumped a bucket of warm water on his head. Heck, he’d forgotten how much he loved bush showers. Makeshift wrought-iron shelters, the water heated by what got to be called a donkey by bush folk, but was actually a wood-fired burner, and then hoisting the water up in a metal bucket andwhoooshhhh.
He wiped rivulets of water off his face and, grabbing the bar of soap, lathered away the sweat and dust from a solid afternoon’s labour.
Working side-by-side with Joe and Polly had felt good, reminded him of those days when Drew and he used to help Pop on the farm, rounding up the sheep for the shearers. He’d kept watching Polly out of the corner of his eye, the play of her strong, shapely arms, the curve of her beautiful butt cheeks in her jeans, the little display of belly when her T-shirt rose and the glint of her belly button ring. And somehow he’d kept the yearning and the throb of desire in the background.
He blinked water—and the images of Polly—out of his eyes and soaped over his abdomen and there it was again, a frigging half mongrel between his legs. He did his level best to ignore it but it clearly had a mind of its own as it bobbed into a salute. Once a week wasn’t keeping his libido in check, not with the fresh air and exercise and constant nearness of her. She must feel it too, surely?
He yanked the towel off its hook, stepped out… andoomph, a body bowled straight into him. Curls tangled in his mouth and stuck to his damp skin, arms flailed wildly. Both of them reeled backwards.
Polly’s eyes flew straight to his groin. Oh shit, he still had an erection. It was true, when you blushed naked, it didn’t just stop at your face.
“Jesus, Polly!” It came out gruff, because his dick was now tenting the towel he’d slung round his midriff.
“I—oh?” she panted. Her eyes rounded and then shot to his face and that’s when he realised something was wrong.
Not turned on. Or even amused. Scared.
Twisting the towel into a tight knot round his waist, he asked sharply, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Dad. No-one can find him and he’s not answering his mobile. I was wondering—would you—could you help look for him?”
Solo sprang into professional mode. “Sure. I’ll just throw on some clothes.”
The tension was ebbing out of her, flowing into him, stoking his body with adrenaline.
She said, frowning, “I’ll um, just wait outside.”
When he got out she was standing with her arms bunched over her chest.
“What’s going on?”
“No-one can get him on his mobile. Which is Dad all over, of course, but he promised Mim today he’d keep it on. And he was supposed to be back well over an hour ago. The guests are due to arrive soon. Mim’s out of her mind with worry.”
“Okay. Where was he working?”
“Joe’s gone to check the far paddocks. Though, to be honest, the most likely place he’ll be now is his den. I said I’d check, but I— I don’t want to find him…”
He looked at her, alarmed. “You don’t think he’d harm himself?”
She shook her head. “No—I don’t think so. Not nowadays. Ask me fifteen years ago, I’d say something different, but, eshhh.” Her shoulders hunched nearly up to her ears, her hand came up and she chewed on the cuticle of her thumb. “Drinking, I bet.” The eyes that met his were dulled by dread. “But the thing is, when Dad starts… he doesn’t stop…”
“Fuck!”
“Yeah.” Her laugh was mirthless. “Not a good look, punching your guests’ lights out.”
“Would he?”
“He used to get aggressive. Mostly, as he’s got older, he just gets maudlin and loud and embarrasses his family.”
Solo braced. “Okay, tell me how to get to his den.”
“It will take three minutes on your bike. It’s the building you can see on the road in, just before you get to the farm gate, with the eucalypts around it.”
He remembered seeing it.
She grimaced. “I know this sounds pathetic but can you check it out first? I’ll follow in my car and you can phone me and let me know if…” Her voice trailed off and he saw fear pinching her features.
