So there I was, as the plot, as they say, thickened. I was doing some work on my second book and actually making excellent progress, I was beginning to enjoy my holiday at Nana, I was enjoying my time with Jo even more, I was becoming friends fast with Sadie, and an interesting companionship, or whatever it was, seemed to be developing between me and Martin. All that was good.

And Quentin, who shook me to the core whether I liked it or not, was back as suddenly as he had disappeared earlier. And though the woman who he claimed was the love of his life was wearing his engagement ring, he almost kissed me again. That probably wasn’t so good. I should have left the moment I heard Jo say 'Finch family' when I got off the plane at Coffs, if I had any sense – soon as I heard the alarms in my head going off. But apparently I don't have as much sense as I should. I have no sense at all. I'm a masochist, no doubt about it.

Sadie came back to my cabin much earlier than both Quentin and I had expected, and she found us there, silent and confused. She wasn't too happy herself; her date with Colin hadn't turned out to be what she hoped for but she refused to give us any details, no matter how hard we pestered her. It lightened our moods a little, though, pestering her. Quentin then decided to go back to the big house to see how Bree was doing, and Sade and I hung for a while. She had in all the commotion – the news of Bree and the engagement had of course traveled faster than a bush fire – completely forgotten to give her uncle an earful about pilfering her copy of my book. She did however ask me how I felt about the whole situation.

I didn't like it, to put it mildly, but I wasn't prepared to admit that. So I shrugged and said: 'You?'

'Dunno. Out of the blue, eh?' She grinned at me. 'Didn't he make a move on you then?'

'Who, Quentin?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Who else?! I mean, my dad has a thing for you but uncle Quent looks at you like he could eat you for dinner too. Or, no, that's not quite right, he looks at you like, like…' Now she shrugged. 'I don't know like what, but it's intense.'

'Doesn't he look like that at women in general?'

'Well, you know, he's been a bit of a slut from time to time,' here she grinned wickedly, 'and he has this certain light in his eye when he's on the prowl, but I saw him looking at you just now, before he left, and it's a different thing with you. Really Taz, he had a look on his face that I have never seen before.'

I thought about that for a bit. 'Hmm,' I said. 'But did you really expect him to “make a move on me”?' I curled my fingers into the quote-marks. 'I mean, he's engaged now, don't you think he'll take that seriously?'

'Dunno,' said Sadie again, 'nothing's ever stopped him before from getting what he wanted… God, he certainly made a mess of things, but I'm sure Nanna told you all about it.'

'Yeah, she did. So what do you want, asking me questions like that; you want things to be messy? You like that? You want your dad and your uncle to fight over me or something? And have Bree Roberts scratch my eyes out in the process?' I made scratching moves, crossed my eyes and we giggled like teenagers.

'No,' she said when we had calmed down, 'that wouldn't be right. I guess… I guess I'd want uncle Quent to find someone before my dad does, because he's, well, lonely and hurting. All that other stuff, the screaming fits and the attitude, that's just for show. I think deep down my uncle is just a little boy who needs a lot of cuddles.' She grinned indulgently. 'My dad's different. I mean, he would like to have a girlfriend I guess, but he wouldn't die if he had to wait a while longer, the old badger. He's content, in a manner of speaking.' She grinned again and looked at me, suddenly wise beyond her years.

'You talk about it like it hasn't happened, Sade,' I said, smiling.

'What?' She raised her eyebrows.

'Well, Quent has found someone, hasn't he? It's hardly a hypothesis now.' I sighed and didn't even know it.

Sadie nodded, sort of reluctantly. 'Reckon you're right. I must be in denial, and I don't mean a river in Egypt. You saw Bree this morning, didn't ya? Was she nice to you?'

'Alright, I guess,' said I, 'She and I didn't really speak and I only saw her for a couple of minutes, so I can't really say whether I like her or not.' Well, I knew exactly how I felt about her, but I couldn't say, now could I? So I just swallowed and went on: 'She doesn't seem like the, erm, cuddly type though.'

Sadie looked at me sharply. 'Too right she doesn't... But… Taz, what do you think? What would you want?'

'We-ell...That's not as easy a question to answer as it seems, oddly enough.' I thought for a bit and then decided to be honest, 'There is something between your uncle and me but…'

'I knew it!' Sadie squeaked happily.

'No wait, I meant to say,' said I, hastily, 'I meant to say a… a thing, no not a thing, it's not like something happened between us, well, he kissed me, before he went to Sydney, but…'

'He KISSED you!'  Sadie was actually jumping up and down now. 'Now stop backpedaling and give me the gory.'

'Harrumph, pardon me?' I said, and we giggled some more. She let her hand wheel around as if to say “go on, go on”, so I said: 'Well, we kissed, yeah, but it's not… I mean, it's just that I pick up on his emotions so easily, and he's, like, well, you said it, he's been with a lot of women – your dad told me as well, so I'm quite sure it really doesn't mean anything…'

'What d'you mean you pick up his emotions, like, in a clairvoyant way?'

'It's clairsentient. Clairvoyant is when you see things, and I… well, feel things, I guess.'

'Oh, right. So what do you feel then? You feel me too?'

'Well I guess I could make an effort, and with a bit of luck I might get a notion of your mood. The difference with Quentin is, I don't even have to try. It's like he's really loud in my brain. Or in my soul, I don't know where it is where I pick up on this stuff. I've never had that before with anyone, and it sort of feels like an instant bonding, like I've known him forever, like it's, it's…' …meant to be, fate, I wanted to say, but I couldn't get the words out of my mouth. It was what Quentin had said about him and Bree.

'Wow. That's really beautiful, Taz. To feel something like that. Do you think my uncle feels it too?'

'I don't know, Sade, I think he feels something, but I really can't tell if it's the same for him. Maybe he just reacts to the fact that I'm a woman. Strange, isn't it, how I can pick up on his emotional state but I can't figure out how he feels about me. Oh well, I'm sure it's nothing.'

'Or maybe… it isn't.  Maybe… maybe he does feel it, and that's why he ran off like he did!' Sadie sounded like she cracked it, and apparently it made her really happy.

For in instant I allowed myself to feel hopeful, but then I remembered I’m a grown up. Nooo, oh no, no, no. Taryn, I said to myself, stop being so bloody silly. 'Don't you think you're just interpreting the facts a tad too freely, Sade?' I said to her, seriously.

'Well, he'd probably freak out, don't you think?'

I looked at her, and suddenly remembered how he said that he had to get away and think, because... Because of what? Because he met me and was suddenly and violently overwhelmed by feelings of confusion, attraction, love even? Or because he read my book, had a bit of an epiphany, and saw the necessity of having to decide where to go from here in his life? Now, which of the two sounded like the more realistic option?

'You see, maybe it's really big for him too,' Sadie went on, 'maybe it's something he never felt before, same as you, and he only did what most men do when they bump into a really big emotion and they can't handle it. They get scared, so they try to escape.' Sadie nodded like she knew and understood it all.

'Do most men do that? I mean, he's an intelligent, well traveled person, he's eloquent…'

'He's a bloke! And an Australian bloke on top of that. Talking about or dealing with emotions are not top of the list of preferred skills, luv.'

I had to laugh. 'Oh really? Come on, Sade, do you honestly think he'd run away from this, straight into marriage with someone else? His ex? I mean, he only just met me!  There just wasn't enough time to even get properly scared!'

'Yeah, well, anything can happen, and you know therefore it probably will.'

I smiled. 'Too right. It probably will.'

~*~

So there was to be a big dinner in honour of the engagement. Sadie and I decided to make ourselves useful and pitch in, and so Jo, Sade and I spent the rest of the afternoon up to our elbows in food. It all looked wonderful and my stomach rumbled in anticipation.

Bree didn't show her face. She was still napping. Quentin was... well I don't know where he was all afternoon. I do know that at one point he came in, looked around the kitchen rather wildly and ran up the stairs, avoiding eye contact with me at all cost. Or so it seemed. He came down again a little later, and when Jo asked how Bree was doing, he muttered something about her being jet-lagged and that he reckoned she should, finally, be getting up any moment now. I observed him as best I could while keeping my back turned: his reflection in one of the windows was all I had to work with. I thought he looked, well I don't know, stressed out. Not right. Not necessarily brimming with happiness in any case. But again - I was getting tired of having to tell myself over and over - I was more than likely reading into things.

Quentin stayed put in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, and I remember thinking, or rather, hoping: maybe he's waiting for me to turn around. But before I could, to see what would happen if I did, Jo chased him out when his mobile went off. She said, hands waving in mock annoyance, that he was in the way, making a nuisance of himself. He didn't respond to that, didn't even smile, but instead took off in a couple of giant loping strides, talking concentratedly into his mobile. He almost missed the door and banged into the wall, but managed to change course just in time. I turned around to see Jo looking at the ceiling, exasperated, then shrug and sigh. She gave Sadie and me a meaningful look. 'And still no Bree,' she mouthed.

'Maybe she doesn't like to help out?' Sadie volunteered.

Jo shrugged again and started to set the big table in the dining room.

I made my way towards the dining room with a big stack of plates. The kitchen door flew open all of a sudden and Quentin stormed back in without looking, nearly running me down. I already saw myself dropping the whole stack of plates I was desperately hugging and a horrible, embarrassing, girlish sort of shriek escaped me as I tried to avoid bumping into him. But, surprisingly enough, everything held. The plates only jingled.

He made an 'oomph' sound and grabbed my arms in an awkward hug, whirling around with me, taking the speed out of our run-in.

'Oh, Quentin!' Jo said, coming back into the kitchen. 'Can't you just look where you're going for once?' She gave him another exasperated look.

'Mum, I'm just...' He stopped, looked into my eyes, pinched his lips and immediately looked away again, letting go of my arms, turning me around and pushing me toward the dining room door. It happened in seconds, but I felt like it lasted for a couple of hours. I had registered every tiny movement on his face, every expression, every hint... And I couldn't make sense of it. Couldn't make sense of him. He practically pushed me away. Was he afraid that if he wouldn't be quick about it, he'd... What? WHAT?!? Kiss me again, in full view of everybody? Well, hardly. Dammit, was there no way I could get that little voice to give it a rest? I clenched my teeth and started to distribute the plates.  Only when I was almost finished did I realize that I had smelled beer on his breath. And not just a little.

I couldn't help overhearing Quentin excitedly, or, more accurately, over-excitedly to the point of incoherence, explaining to Jo that it was his American lawyer on the phone, telling him that his case would be up for review really soon now. Jo was happy for him; he would have to go over and attend, obviously, and I heard him say, the words tumbling over each other: 'It'll be good to be away for a bit. Get back to the States, you know, move around, get back in, get this sorted, I'm sure they'll revoke, I mean, bloody fuck, you know, Mum?'

My heart sank, whether I liked it or not. He was going to the USA. Shit. Well, good for him if he got his license back, and no doubt good for the film industry as well, but... Oh fuck it, let it lie. For once? For just once??

He rattled on, almost mindlessly: 'I love being here, with you, and, well you know, the family, but bloody oath, I get restless, I could do with a change of scenery. And Bree will be happy, we can go together. We're really great together, you know, just like at first, right before the Oscars. Remember, when I was first nominated?'

'And you didn't get it.' Jo said, dryly.

'Oh well fuck it, it's just a stupid little statue,' Quentin laughed, a little too loudly.

I had by then truly finished with my plates and I leaned against the door jamb, observing. Quentin waved a hand in the air as if he couldn't care less about the Academy Awards.

'And she was off like a bucket of prawns on a hot day the moment she heard you didn't get it,' Jo continued, almost mercilessly.

I was really proud of her for being so direct; apparently all our talks had made a big difference in her attitude towards her son. At the same time I found the notion that Bree, or any woman for that matter, would leave this man just because he didn't get the, in his own words, stupid little statue, almost too weird to contemplate. Do people like that actually exist?

Apparently they do, because Quentin gave his mother a simmering stare, clenched his jaw, but didn't argue. He patted his pockets.

'You gave them up,' Jo reminded him.

'Yeah, so I did, didn't I? I could do with a fag now though, I really could.' He sighed and shook his head, apparently trying to get a handle on himself.

At that point Martin, Evan the manager, Colin, and a few other farm hands came in. Sadie blushed furiously. All the boys greeted her warmly, to say the least, and Martin felt it necessary to give it an 'Oi, mind yer manners!'

Then he and Quentin clapped eyes on each other. They looked at each other for a second without moving, then gave each other a quick, hard hug. I hid my smile and was happy to see it: they were brothers and they loved one another even when they sometimes hated each other's guts.

The whole gathering noisily sat down at the table. I noticed, with another inward grin, that Colin, not so noisily, chose a chair right next to Sadie. Things were looking up for her.

I felt the tiniest twinge of jealousy, I'm ashamed to admit, and couldn't help looking around for Quentin when I sat down myself. It was as natural as, I dunno what, it just felt like he and I should be sitting together.

He saw me looking and for an instant I thought that he was about to come over, to sit down beside me. For only an instant, because then, Brianna finally decided to make her grand appearance and that brought proceedings to a temporary, screeching silence.

She came, believe it or not, gliding down the stairs in a black evening gown. A very expensive designer evening gown. It was just too ridiculous. Quentin in jeans and a black hoodie, Martin and the other lads mostly in well worn flannel shirts, I in my old cammo pants from the army dump… We all sat and stared.

Bree hesitated on the last step of the stairs. ‘Well, Q?’ she said, and stretched out an almost helpless, but at the same time utterly demanding hand toward him. He came to the rescue without hesitation.

She looked very glamorous. Stunningly beautiful, even. Out of place, too. She took a look around at the unruly bunch and seemed, or maybe only acted, just a bit fazed. ‘Q, I thought we were to have a grand dinner?’ Her voice sounded as whiney as ever. How do they get it to sound like anything acceptable on film, I bitched silently, does she have a voice double or something? Or do they just EQ out all the high, nasal frequencies?

‘Well it is a grand dinner, luv,’ Sadie said with a dangerous glint in her eye, ‘just look at what’s on the table. If that isn’t grand, I don’t know what is.’

‘Yes but I mean, doesn’t anyone here change for dinner?’ Brianna said it as if she had accidentally ended up amongst a bunch of cave people.

‘We’re always very informal, Bree,’ said Jo calmly, but I could tell she was not a happy camper.

'Yeee-ees, I can see that,' drawled Bree, and I silently disliked her even more, if that was at all humanly possible.

‘Everyone,’ Quentin said in a rather forced manner, as he helped Bree sit down in a chair on the other side of the table from me, ‘I'm sure you all know her face, even if you weren't around last time she was here, but I would like you to meet Bree Roberts.’

She looked up at him lovingly and gave him a sensuous red lipped smile. It looked so Scarlett O’Hara to me, it was almost frightening.

The various people in the dining room shouted greetings like ‘Hiya, mate,’ and ‘Beaut!’ and ‘G’day’, and then started, matter-of-factly, to ladle food onto their plates. In no time at all, the general din had recommenced as if it had never been silent in the first place.

Bree looked up at Quentin again in dismay. I guessed she had expected more, well, shock, surprise and awe. Maybe she was used to everyone getting up and kissing her hand. Bow. Dance a jig. Whatever, fuck if I knew. But these people were just way too down to earth to play court to her. Quentin was, judging by the set of his face, beginning to get annoyed, and I was painfully curious to know whether it was at us for not paying proper respect, or at her for demanding so much attention.

He stood there for a bit, jaw working, and suddenly burst out: ‘Oi!’ loud and gruff, ‘will you all just shut yer gobs for fucking five seconds? Bree and I are engaged to be married.’

That helped. Everybody froze, cutlery in mid-air. No one said a word.

In the silence, Bree chirped: ‘Don’t be so rude, Q, honey, there’s no need to be rude. You know how I can’t abide swearing.’ It sounded very loud in the silence. Very awkward.

Quentin looked at her with a dangerous frown, his lips a narrow line, his eyes silver slits. He sat down with a thump, next to her, and scraped his chair toward the table. He grabbed a random bowl of salad and started filling his plate, not really looking at what he was doing. ‘And cheers for all yer heartfelt congratulations,’ he growled, still not looking at anyone in particular, throwing the salad bowl back on the table with a loud bang when his plate was full. A couple of leaves fluttered out over the side.

An eternity passed in deafening silence.

‘Erm, would you like some wine?' said I to Bree, bottle in hand, desperate to break the moment. I got up to pour, heard Sadie whisper something to Colin about 'throwing a wobbly,' and in spite of myself, I grinned.

'And what the fuck do you think is so funny, Taryn,' Quentin said to me, low and threatening, speaking my full name slowly, disdainfully.

'N-nothing,' I said, coming around the table with the bottle. Still, nobody said anything. 'I just wanted to...'

He shot up from his chair again so fast he nearly launched it through the room, grabbed the bottle by the neck and twisted it from my grip. 'Give me that, bloody...'  he muttered, tipping it over Brianna's glass so that the wine poured in too quickly and sloshed out again and onto the table, then turning around and stomping out of the dining room. With the bottle.

I stood there, stunned. Brianna made a show of mopping up the wine with her napkin, careful that none would spill on her expensive dress. Slowly, everyone turned their attention back to their food and still I stood there, almost forgotten. Except for Jo, she looked at me, and gestured with her head that I should go after him.

Should I, now? Considering how he just treated me, I was likely to get my head chopped off. My eyebrows creeped upwards. Jo gestured again. The little voice said something along the lines of: 'Go, he'll be alone, he might need you,' and before I knew it, my feet dragged the rest of me out the dining room, into the corridor and out the front door.

Which was where I found him, sitting on the steps of the porch. He had the wine bottle between his knees and a cloud of smoke around his head. I looked down on him without saying anything. He didn't turn around, just tilted his head back to give me a quick look. He had a cigarette cupped in his hand and he took a long drag. Exhaled the smoke with obvious relish.

'Yeah, yeah...' he then rumbled, resigned, 'I'm smoking again. Well I just... fuckin'...' he started to get up, steadying himself on one of the posts, '...couldn't be bloody bothered any more.' He slurred, it almost came out “bovvered”. 'I just needed a flamin' fag, so I nicked Evan's packet of Silks when he wasn't looking.' By now he'd gotten himself upright again and he faced me, swaying a bit, shoulder against the post, fag in the one hand and bottle in the other.

'You wanna...?' he said, holding out the bottle.

I took it and was surprised at how little there was left. 'You drank all that down in one go?' I asked, and took a small swig myself. It was good wine.

He shrugged and took another drag on his ciggie.

'You'll have a frightful headache in the morning, with all the beer first and now this,' holding up the bottle. It was out before I could stop it and I felt stupid and prissy.

'Nah, VBs never gi... give me any wuckin... furries and you're supposed to be right as rain... with wine... on top of beer, luv,' he shot me a slow, sexy grin and I saw he had to be very, very drunk. He probably had been already at the start of dinner, though he hid it really well. The wine must have been, literally, the last drop.

He blinked and wiped his hand over his face. 'Reckon I ought to ap... pologize for being so, so...' he swallowed and blinked again, and apparently he couldn't remember what he wanted to say. He sighed, swayed, then suddenly whispered: 'Ohhh, no you don't, you bloody bastard,' to himself, and then to me, urgently: 'Tazzie, help me get to the... the...' and he turned around, barely in time, and threw up over the railing, into a flowerbed.

He moaned, 'Fu-u-uck, my Mum will kill me,' then another wave hit him.

I put a hand on his back and rubbed up and down, softly. It seemed to do him some good because he came up and leaned his hands on the railing. He looked absolutely awful.

'How much did you have to drink before dinner, Quent?' I inquired quietly, still rubbing his back.

'Dunno,' he sighed, eyes closed, 'can't remember, I was waiting for Bree to come down from her kip, but she just wouldn't come out of that fuck… -ing... bed... Ohhh, my God.'

He turned to me and half fell against me. I could barely hold on to him and we stumbled halfway back into the house. I grabbed him as best I could and dragged him further in, and into a downstairs guest room. I knew that there was a bathroom attached and I managed to get him in and park him against the sink. Told him to hold on. He peered nearsightedly at himself in the mirror while I turned on the tap and grabbed a towel.

'Any more coming?' I inquired, and held the towel under the running water. 'Here, let me give you a wipe.'

He doubled over for another go, but apparently most of it was gone now. I wiped his face like he was a child.

'Oh fuckin... Tazzie, I'm so sorry,' he moaned into the towel.

'Yes, and you'll be even more sorry in the morning,' I whispered, and wiped his hair back with the damp towel. His eyes were closed. It was, for some reason, incredibly intimate.

He let me turn him around and lead him to the bed.

'Now just get in,' I said, turning down the covers. He managed to kick off his blunnies all by himself and crawl in. I started to tuck him in, but suddenly his hand shot out and he pulled me in as well, rolling as I tumbled into the bed so that I ended up wedged in between him and the wall.

'Quent,' I squeaked, 'What are you...'

'Just want you to stay with me, Tazzzzieie,' he half sang into my ear, 'Just don't leave me  alone, no, no, no, no more, never no more,' now he really was singing, in a soft, inebriated, atonal sort of way, and he was also, I noticed with some alarm, nuzzling my hair, right above my ear.

'Hey,' said I, giving him a soft, and in all honesty halfhearted, push, 'hey, hey, hey, you're drunk. And engaged to someone else. Get your nose out of my hair.'

'Oh, Tazzie,' he softly rumbled, contentedly, 'you make me feel so... so...' His voice grew softer. And softer still. And then he started snoring a small, happy, endearing, utterly lovable little snore.

I just lay there pinned under his arm, his nose almost in my ear, and I felt the essence of him deep inside with every breath. All warm, loving, giving, generous... He really was a good bloke at heart, I could not but agree.

~*~

At first, I couldn't sleep. I just lay there, full of warm feelings for Quentin. I was beginning to be seriously worried: I couldn't remember ever falling so fast and so hard for anyone. It was like Martin had said. He was completely irresistible. I tried to get more comfortable and toed off my shoes. Wriggled away from the cold wall a bit, which meant snuggling up more to Quent. He didn't wake up but only wrapped his arm around me a little more snugly, and snored on unperturbed.

And what, I worried, would happen if Bree would decide to come look for her husband-to-be and she found him here, in a drunken stupor, in bed with me in his arms? We were of course fully clothed and by no means in flagrante, but my heart pounded audibly in my chest at the thought nonetheless. And... speak of the devil, the door to the guest room creaked and was opened very carefully. I held my breath. It opened a few inches wider, another few inches... I peered into the dark but couldn't make out who it was.

'Taz, are you there?' A whisper.

'Jo?' I whispered back. 'I'm here, in the bed, I can't get up, he fell asleep on top of me.'

She came in and quickly closed the door behind her, then took in the scene in one glance. She sighed. 'Is he alright?'

'Yes he's fine, he'll have a sore head in the morning. Your flowers took the brunt of it, I'm sorry to say.' I whispered, and tried to claim a few inches more of the pillow. Quentin's arm around me tightened even more and he snuggled up even closer. I gave Jo an apologetic look in the gloom.

Jo went over to the window, peered out for a sec and then closed the curtains. 'So I'll tell Bree that he passed out in one of the guest rooms and that you went back to your cottage to do some work, right?'

'Don't want you to lie for me, Jo,' I whispered.

'White lie,' her shadow whispered back. 'And thanks for looking after him.' Then, she left and closed the door behind her.

Eventually, I must have fallen asleep, because I had the most vividly erotic dream of my entire life. My whole body felt as if electrified; I was kissed by the most perfect, sexiest mouth in the history of mankind. My upper lip was explored and it received hot little tantalizing licks, then my lower lip, then our tongues met for a fiery dance that had me moaning little needy moans into his mouth. His hand crept down and pulled my leg up and over his and he nestled snugly, grinding slowly and sensuously against my most sensitive spot. It was heaven. It was lovemaking at its most beautiful. I was in no doubt of whom I was dreaming.

I reluctantly began to gain consciousness. Waking from this particular dream was the least thing I wanted, but my eyes opened to the half dark nonetheless… and I found Quent's lips really were on mine and it definitely was him that I felt slowly moving against me. Well-endowed was the word that sprang to mind. Well-endowed and fully functional. Fully asleep, also. I pulled away a little and he moaned low. It was almost a growl. He pulled me on top of him, then rolled over and had me half pinned under him. He was still fast asleep, he had his eyes closed and I could just make out a gloriously content smile before he buried his face in my neck, all the while slowly moving, rocking against me. It felt so good that I nearly lost it. I arched against him and ached for more. 'Taz... wanna be with you... need you...' he breathed, almost inaudibly, in between sizzling exploratory kisses behind my ear.

I swallowed and decided, God knows why, to be wise for once in my life. So I reached up, moved my hand into his unruly mop from the neck up and grabbed a handful of thick chestnut hair. Pulled, softly. 'Quent. Quentin? Wake up, love, please wake up now.'

He wasn’t very cooperative. I carefully tried to work my way out from under him and that did provoke a response, albeit a totally unexpected one. His eyes snapped open, unseeing, and he whispered urgently, clearly still sleeping: 'Don't leave me, no, don't, don't go, no, n-no...' He sounded small, scared almost.

I didn’t think he could be scared of anything. He’d never admit to it when awake, I was certain. He always came across as extremely confident to the point of cocksure, even when he was moody or bad tempered, even when he showed his vulnerable side... I felt a strange kind of pride; I imagined not even Bree would know this of him. Maybe he wasn’t even aware himself… My heart ached for him, it went hot and liquid in my chest and all I wanted was to hold him and keep him safe from harm forever. I stroked his cheek and ran a finger over his eyebrow. 'I'm here, sweetness, shhh, don't worry, I'm not going to leave you... just wake up now, right... that's it, come on... Quent?'

He blinked.

'You awake now?'

He nodded, then winced. 'Ow... fuck's sake... my head… Taz, uh, Tazzie?' He sounded almost surprised.

'Mmm?'

‘…I was dreaming, about you, about us... We were, uh...' he frowned. He apparently didn’t remember what he’d said just before he woke up.

I touched his face again and smiled up at him. A moonbeam sliced through a slit in the curtains and made a silver streak on the wall. 'Wasn't a dream, Quent... That's why I woke you up.'

'Wasn't?' He looked at me for real now, sleepy and smouldering, and slowly took in our tangled limbs. His eyes swept back up at mine, he licked his lower lip and gave it a slow, tentative, but nonetheless deliberate grind.

I closed my eyes, breathed a ragged breath and suppressed the urge to moan the pleasure of it. I couldn’t think, it was just too good. Then, he kissed me again, hot and insisting, with more demand, more urgency now that he was awake, moving faster against me, making small noises… I looked at his face for only a second and he had his eyes closed in blissful concentration. It became almost unbearable and then he suddenly froze and blinked his eyes wide open. He swallowed audibly, adam’s apple bobbing, and tried to force his breathing back to normal. Very carefully, he rolled off me, letting his head flop back on the pillow, eyes closed, sighing: 'Fuck... I'll make a mess if we're not careful. Makes me feel like I'm eleven again.'

I was foggy, but grinned nonetheless. 'You did that when you were eleven?'

He lazily rolled on his side, put his head in his hand and looked at me warmly, his hair an endearing sleepy tangle hanging in his eyes. 'What, come in my daks when I snogged a sheila? Well, yeah... She was sixteen if I remember correctly and she laughed her head off.'

'Really?' I put a hand to the side of his face and swept the hair out of his eyes; he nuzzled my wrist and gave it a quick little kiss. 'God, Quent,’ I said, ‘you must have the drive of a space shuttle.'

He giggled at that, and it was the most contagious thing I ever heard. It bubbled up from deep within him like a little spring. It amazed me; God, whenever this bloke did something he didn't go in half arsed. He groused and rowed and moped, and kissed and loved and laughed, all with the same searing intensity.

I suddenly realized that it actually was the first time I saw him laughing, and it transformed his face. Made him almost unbearably beautiful, and I felt another jolt of pure love shoot through my heart.

At the same time, though, it was a reality check. There was so much of him I didn’t know, and there was so little actual time we spent together that I couldn't possibly feel this close to him. It just wasn't right, and I wasn't even getting into the fact that he was engaged to be married to someone who was on the list of the 100 most beautiful women of the world. The full absurdity of the situation suddenly hit me and I felt weird, embarrassed, uneasy… So I removed my hand, moved away from him a few inches and asked, as casually as I could: 'Hey, um, yeah, so how's your head, now?'

He blinked in surprise at my sudden mood shift and didn’t seem to like it too well. He imitated my tone: 'Well, um, rotten, Taz, now that you’ve stopped touching it. Felt good, that. But hey, you know, I’ll live; I have been hung over before.' He then carefully sat up in the bed, grunted unhappily and rubbed his face with both hands. 'Ohh, crikey, but it’s bloody awful every fuckin’ time.'

'Yes, well, maybe you should drink some water; you're probably dehydrated,' I said, and I quickly slipped out, feeling my way around in the dark corner at the foot of the bed in the hope of locating my shoes. I had to shift my backside in gear and get back to my cabin ASAP, that was the only thing that was painfully clear to me.

'Time is it, luv? Eh, oi! Where did you go?' He still had his eyes closed and patted the empty spot beside him, then pulled back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked very sleepy and rumpled, and very sweet.

The pull that came off him was so intense and I really, really wanted to grab him and kiss him silly, damn the consequences. But I knew very well where it would lead if I did, I had not a doubt in my mind, and it wasn’t a good plan. So I clung to the casual tone and said: 'I’m over here, looking for my… Oh there they are. It’s um, four 'o clock, looks like, I think,' peering at my watch. Took a deep breath and went on: 'I reckon I should go, before everybody gets up and, um...'

'Mmm,' he said, rubbing his face again.

I wasn’t sure if he agreed, or disagreed, or only made a sound without any meaning at all. I just thought I’d better keep moving, because if I looked at him any longer I probably wouldn’t be able to go at all. So put on my shoes, went into the bathroom, splashed some water on my face and went for a quick pee. I had gotten so sensitive that I winced at the toilet paper. God, I wanted him so, it was just insane. I leaned against the closed bathroom door for a second, allowing what I felt for him to wash over me, through me. A gush of warm, squirming longing. Then I sighed, steeled myself and opened the door.

He was at the window. The curtains were open and the fading moonlight was pale and still a little silvery. He turned when he heard me come out, his eyebrows in a determined straight line. He began: 'Taz, before you go, I really should apologize. I was on the piss the whole fuckin’ arvo, reckon I just didn't know how off my face I really was. I didn't mean to be like that, I mean, it was just... wonky, way out of order, and, I, uh...' he took a couple of steps in my direction, 'reckon I ought to lay off the grog eh? Makes my bad side come out.' He grimaced at that, then took a few more steps, almost as if he couldn’t help himself.

He stopped at an arm's length from me, immediately filling my mind with a confused intensity. He gave his bedroom hairdo a scratch, which made it even more messy. I felt him, deep inside my soul, radiating and beckoning. I couldn't speak, couldn't move. I just stood there wanting him till it hurt.

He went on, haltingly, 'I... dunno what it is, but when I get this close to you, all I want to do is... all I... just...' he took my hand and put it at the back of his neck, then ran his hand back down my arm until he could pull me into his embrace. I wanted to refuse, wanted to remain rigid, but I just couldn’t. My fingers tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck and I leaned against him, helplessly drowning in this wonderful feeling of belonging. He sighed right above my ear, 'Sorry about all that, yesterday, and about what just happened when we woke up; it wasn't right, that, it just, I don’t know how it could happen, I mean, we were still half asleep, weren’t we, eh?  Tazzie, luv?’ His nose was in my hair again and he gave it a good sniff before rumbling on happily, ’Ohhh, you're so good, so good to hold, I could cuddle you forever… you just fit right into my arms…' His hug tightened and he hummed a content 'Hmmmmm,' in my ear. I thought of what Sadie had said, about her uncle needing a lot of cuddles, and smiled against his jumper.

He rubbed his cheek against my temple. He was beginning to get stubbly but I didn't mind, I just loved his sleepy smell and his big, warm body... I sniffed his earlobe. His hands moved over my back. '...shouldn't have...' he muttered incoherently, and then suddenly we were kissing again, a whole string of quick, sloppy, hasty, desperate kisses, until he put an end to it by leaning his forehead against mine and letting go of me. He took a deep, steadying breath. 'Taz, I just can't fathom it. I love Brianna, love her very much, loved her from the moment I met her, and I'm happy as a pig in mud that we're havin' a crack at it for real now. I will marry her,' he said it almost as if he had to convince himself as much as me, 'and I was just so...' a big sigh, 'so sure that I had everything sussed, that I knew where I was going again, that I was back on track, and then you...'

I had worked my fingers in his hair as he talked, softly scratching little circles behind his ears like he was a big cat, and now he closed his eyes in mid sentence and breathed out through his nose. 'Mmmmmm, I can't think when you do that, luv, it's so nice, takes the headache away, makes me feel all fuzzy, I… ah, Christ, Tazzie...' He pulled me back in and hugged me as close as he could. 'I just can't seem to let go of you… I’m so sorry,' he whispered, 'I'm a bloody mess when I'm with you.'

'Yeah…it's really…. confusing; it’s big, this is... really, really big…' I said softly, my mouth against his neck. I closed my eyes for a second, then lifted my head and looked at him. 'And I know you'll marry Bree, I understand that, and I don't understand what it is between us, but… Quent?'

We let go of each other slowly and ended up holding both each other's hands.

'What is it, luvvie,' he said, softly, his teal eyes brimming with warmth. My heart melted.

'Just, please stop saying you’re sorry? I know we shouldn't have, well, you know, this morning and we shouldn’t right now, but as far as I'm concerned, it’s way too… special, to feel bad about any of it.'

He smiled like the sun came out.

'I do think however,' I went on, my heart hammering in my chest, 'that we should try to put a stop to it here and now; you and Bree are, well, the real thing, eh, so you need to focus on that, and, well, I’ve got my writing career to worry about, so… So I guess we’d better try to stay out of each other's way a little, don't you think? Give each other some space. Would probably be best.'

'Mmm,' he said, the smile gone now. 'I've got to get my arse back to the US, for the court case, so that would be relatively out of your way, I imagine.' He pinched his lips at that. Didn't make him look too happy.

I nodded. The thought alone of him leaving was pure horror to me and I subconsciously gripped his hands a little tighter. He clenched right back in answer. I almost whispered: 'When are you going?'

His voice came back as soft as mine; a low, sad rumble. 'Reckon in three, four days; need to give the heli bloke a bell in the morning, see when he can come pick us up... You're right though, Taz, we should just nip this in the bud and get on with what’s happening in our lives right now, because neither of us needs this, do we, and we'll only...' he faltered, 'only... end up being…' Big sigh. 'Fuck, I dunno what.'

'I’m really hoping for you, you'll get your permit back,' said I.

'You and me both, luv.' He was silent for a while, bit his lip, then said, 'We'll still be mates, yeah?' He gave me this look again, through his tangled mop, that shot straight to my heart.

I drank in as much of him as I could, thinking it might well be the last time I ever saw him. Then I thought it was now or never; if I was ever going to walk away from him I should square my shoulders and do it now. Now, now! So I said: 'Definitely. Definitely mates. Now, go and drink some water and get some pills in you, and then get some more zeds in; it's still really early. Okay?'

'Okey dokey.'

We clenched our hands together hard, one last time, and then let go. I turned and walked out of the room, out the front door and back to my cabin and I wasn't even halfway when tears started to run down my face.

Chapter Five

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