Page 40 of Love Grows

* * *

In the late afternoon,I dropped Steph back at her place and both of us agreed that we were absolutely wrecked.

“Shower is a must,” Steph said, wrapped in my arms as we leaned against the bike. “Then a cheese toasted sandwich and bed.” She looked at me. “Is it okay if you don’t stay over?”

“Of course it’s okay,” I replied. “I’m in need of all those things as well. In fact, I’m even leaving the pieces we found still wrapped in the pannier. I’ll just unload the detector. I’ll get to the rest in the morning.”

So, after kisses and sexy words, I rode home and duly showered, ate dinner, and went to bed, dreaming of Steph being in my arms for more than just an orgasm or two.

* * *

Steph was barcoding pottedLawrencia helmsiisucculents on the two flatbed trolleys. I came up behind and hugged her around her waist.

“Careful. I’m armed with a pricing gun. You’ll be marked at a discount.” She turned in my arms.

“I’m priceless,” I said, grinning.

Steph sobered. “Yes,” she said simply and my heart soared.

“How well did the pieces clean up?” she continued.

“Oh!” I pulled away. “I have to shove them into the coke bucket.”

“Coke?”

“Yeah. Best ever rust remover before a vinegar wash.”

I hustled to the back of the store to the table where I’d set up two large tubs, one filled with coke and the other with vinegar. Next to the buckets were my rubber gloves, a steel scrubbing brush, and the wrapped bits of metal.

Suddenly, Steph yelled. “Mail!” It was an excellent imitation of Lucas’ baritone, and I chuckled. It was probably a bill or something equally as horrible, but I figured I should investigate. I looked at the contents on the table, seemingly vibrating with potential, and said, “Stay,” to the pieces, then wandered down to the front.

“It’s got a council logo on the front,” said Steph, handing me the envelope.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. This’ll be a letter saying they’re going to stick a roundabout through Mrs G’s chip shop.”

I tore open the envelope and shook out the letter, then scanned the words.

“Oh my god,” I whispered.

“What?” Steph ducked her head so she could read my expression.

“We won. We bloody won. Walker’s has to move one kilometre back from the highway, so that people will need to travel to the warehouse via a side road. Yes! This is amazing.”

I tossed the letter on the counter, grabbed Steph around the middle, and swung her in the air. She squealed, then when I placed her feet back on the ground, a shadow passed over her face and she didn’t look as excited as I though she would.

Probably didn’t enjoy the swing around. I was about to apologise when she grinned at me.

“Go. Go, do your coke immersion then we can tell the others,” she said, making shooing motions.

I rushed back to the iron work, still scattered over the newspaper. Carefully putting to the side the evidence of our win over big business, I donned rubber gloves and picked the first piece, pausing to smile at the age of the photo in the paper underneath.

Suddenly, my hand froze mid-air, then I placed the cog piece down, took off my gloves, and brushed the iron flakes away.

I knew that face, that body. I knew that woman intimately. But the caption was surely incorrect. ‘Stephanie and Benjamin Walker attend the opening of the first Walker Warehouse in Ballarat’. I studied the photo in disbelief. There was Steph—Stephanie bloody Walker—with slightly longer hair, dressed in a business suit and heels, standing between an anonymous guy and her brother. She didn’t look overly happy to be there. I knew Steph’s smiles and that one plastered on her face was one of simply tolerating the situation.

“I can’t believe this,” I whispered, then after moving all the iron pieces off the paper, I gave it a final shake and marched down to the counter.

ChapterTwelve

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