Outback Secrets by Rachael Johns

Chapter Twenty-six

‘You took your time,’ Lara said as Liam slipped back behind the bar half an hour after he’d told her and Dylan he’d be gone five minutes, ten max.

‘I had to help Henri re-bandage her ankle.’

Dylan wiggled his thick dark eyebrows. ‘Is that what the kids are calling it these days?’

Lara laughed. ‘Young love.’

Liam shook his head, hoping his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. He almost said ‘it’s not love’, but bit back the words just in time.

‘Things under control down here?’ he asked instead.

Dylan nodded. ‘Pretty much. The guys at the pool table were getting a little rowdy but Macca went out and threatened to never cook for them again and they shut the hell up.’

Liam glanced that way to see a bunch of about eight young men crowded around the table. Jaxon and Brad were at opposite ends, clearly keeping their distance from each other. When they’d turned up with their other mates this evening, he’d been in such a good mood that he’d reneged on the ban.

Was that really only last Sunday? In some ways it felt like a month. Since Henri arrived, time seemed to have warped somehow. He couldn’t believe they’d barely known each other two weeks—probably because they’d been spending so much time together, it felt like so much longer.

‘You look like the cat that got the rat,’ Rex said after downing the dregs of his last pint.

On autopilot, Liam grabbed his glass and refilled it. ‘That’s it for you now,’ he told him.

As Rex lifted the beer to his lips, Liam removed the empty plate in front of him and took it into the kitchen where Macca was putting the finishing touches on desserts for a table of tourists in the dining room.

‘I’ll take those,’ he offered, eager to keep busy, while at the same time hoping his guests wouldn’t linger too long that night.

Usually, he loved his job and didn’t mind if people chatted in the dining room long after they’d finished eating, but already he felt the pull to head back upstairs.

‘Who’s having the sticky date pudding?’ Liam asked the family sitting at table four.

The youngest—a girl who looked to be about eight—shot her hand into the air. ‘Me, me, me.’

‘We’re sharing it,’ added her mother.

He put it down in front of the kid, who immediately picked up her spoon and dug in. ‘Good luck with that,’ he said to the mom as he distributed the other desserts.

On his way back to the bar, he took an order for two more sticky date puddings and three servings of his signature dish: apple pie. Macca and his kitchen hands made absolutely everything they served up from scratch, except for Liam’s apple pie. It was the one thing he baked himself and the locals had told him it beat the one Frankie served in her café.

What nobody knew was that it was his dad’s recipe and baking it every week was the one time he allowed himself to ponder happy family memories.

Perhaps he should take Henri up a slice? Then again, that could be dangerous. Watching her devour Macca’s burger had been excruciating enough. He didn’t think he could control himself watching her eat his pie.

Control?scoffed a voice in his head. Is that what you call what happened upstairs when you took her dinner?

Shut up, he replied as he went to collect empties.

He was returning to the bar when his phone beeped in his pocket, and he grinned when he saw the message from ‘Henrietta’. She’d probably kill him if she knew he’d put her full name in his contacts, but that was a risk he was willing to take. He rather liked the glare she gave him whenever he used it.

Things busy down there?

He glanced from the dining room to the pool table and the casual lounge area in between. There were very few vacant spots, and everyone looked settled in for the evening.

Yep. What you up to?

Just watching YouTube videos on my phone.

Her phone?That didn’t sound like much fun—he should have moved the TV into the bedroom for her. It annoyed him he hadn’t thought about it because hadn’t he told her mom he was going to take care of her? If he was honest with himself, it was more than that. Henri made him want to take care of her.

His grip tightened on the phone, but he pushed his anxiety aside, telling himself he’d do the same for anyone. Well, not exactly the same, but he liked looking after people—it was the main reason he’d bought the pub. And Henri would be gone soon anyway.

Need anything else? A drink? Dessert?

They the only options on the menu?

God, are you always this wicked?

Maybe you should come upstairs and punish me.

He snorted. For such a tiny package, Henri was definitely a handful, but as much as he wanted to abandon his duties and race upstairs, it was a busy night, and he didn’t trust himself to come back down if he did.

LOL. Hold that thought. I’ll try to close up early.

Try hard.

Shoving his phone back in his pocket, he did his best to focus on work but he poured drinks on autopilot and every conversation he had for the rest of the night was half-assed. Knowing Henri was still upstairs in his bed made concentrating on anything else almost impossible.

Finally, the last customers left and, under the ruse of going to make sure Henri didn’t need any more painkillers, Liam accepted Dylan and Lara’s offer to finish cleaning up. Sheila could barely keep up with him as he bounded up the stairs and she was puffing by the time he opened the door. Liam slid off his shoes, flicked off the lights and headed into the bedroom to find Henri asleep, her phone still in her hand playing some stand-up comedy video and the light from his bedside lamp spilling across her face.

Man, she was cute. With her hair spread messily all over the pillow, she looked like a pixie in his giant king-size bed.

He gently eased the phone from her grasp, half-hoping she’d wake up, but as he swiped off the video and put the phone aside, she merely rolled over and curled in on herself, her hands clasped together just under her chin. She didn’t even wake as Sheila climbed up on the bed and snuggled in beside her; then again, she’d had a very hectic twenty-four hours.

So had Liam, but he wasn’t feeling tired at all. It appeared hormones pumping through your body had a similar effect to caffeine.

Resisting the urge to wake her, he tucked the light sheet over her shoulders. His fingers brushed against her smooth skin and every muscle in his body tightened. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to touch her again.

Instead, he went into the bathroom, shucked off his clothes and stepped into the shower. A cold shower. But once the cool water had dealt with one problem, another struck.

Where the hell was he going to sleep?

His grip tightened on the sponge as the water pummelled him. He hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since Katie. When he slept with a woman, he usually managed to convince her to take him back to her room. Then, after the obligatory post-sex cuddles and a bit of light conversation, he made his excuses and went back to his own apartment. To his own bed.

The bed where Henri was currently fast asleep.

The knot in his stomach pulled tighter. It wasn’t that he had anything against spending the whole night with someone, not exactly. It was more that he didn’t want to subject anyone to his night terrors or have to explain why he had them. Over the last thirteen years, although their intensity had never waned, their occurrence had been sporadic. Sometimes he’d gone whole months without waking up sweating, screaming, kicking and thrashing about, his thoughts smack bang in the middle of the worst day of his life, but he never knew when they were going to rear their ugly head again.

Tonight could very easily be the night.

He didn’t want to scare Henri but was also worried about accidentally hurting her if the terrors did strike. He’d seen a counsellor once when he’d first started having them and his doctor had diagnosed him with PTSD, and she’d told him there was a possibility that he could accidentally injure himself or even someone else in the midst of one of his episodes.

He turned off the shower, grabbed a fresh towel and started to dry himself a little more vigorously than necessary as he tried to work out what to do.

After everything they’d done that afternoon, what would Henri think if she woke up and found him sleeping on the couch? Maybe he could say he hadn’t wanted to disturb her or accidentally knock her ankle and make it worse? Or that with her and Sheila spread out there’d been no room for him?

Yeah right.Only a fool would buy that story—the king-size could fit the three of them and then some—and Henri was no fool.

Snoring.Yes!

He’d tell her he snored terribly and didn’t want to subject her to that. Surely she wouldn’t be able to argue with that?

Relaxing a little, Liam finished drying himself, brushed his teeth and headed for the couch. But even though he was knackered, even though it was dark and deadly silent in his apartment, sleep refused to come.

After half an hour of tossing and turning, he sat up and punched his pillow. He wanted to sleep beside Henri, and although that set off alarm bells in his head, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to lie his naked body alongside hers, to feel the warmth emanate off her and to find out whether she made cute little noises while sleeping. Did she snore? Did she lie completely still, or did she move about a lot? Would she hog the sheets?

There were so many Henrietta questions he wanted answers to, but could he risk it?

If only he had some kind of barometer that could predict when a nightmare might strike. The thought of exposing that side of himself to someone left him cold. But then again, Henri already knew about the shooting. If he did have a nightmare, at least he wouldn’t have to explain that all over again.

Maybe it was worth the risk. Sheila would be there as well, and he’d seen the way the dog doted on Henri—if the worst happened and he did get violent, she wouldn’t let him do any harm. Not that Henri would either. She might be small, but what she lacked in size, she more than made up for in strength and determination.

Less than a minute later, Liam crept back into his bedroom, placed his pillow quietly down next to Henri’s and then gently lifted the sheet and eased himself beneath it. Sheila raised her head in a brief acknowledgement from the bottom of the bed, but Henri didn’t move.

He lay there frozen for a few moments. Was this a terrible mistake?

Yet just when he was contemplating heading back to the couch, he felt a hand slip into his and squeeze it ever so softly.

A rush of warmth spread from that spot right through his body and, for the first time in so many years, he rolled over and curled his body around someone else’s. Henri sighed and snuggled back into him, her cute little ass pressing against his groin.

Liam smiled and pulled her even closer. Even if he didn’t get a wink of sleep tonight, it’d be worth it. Because right now, he couldn’t think of any place he’d rather be.